Chapter 5
Morning at MacMillan Castle kept the hour like a clock. The hall was warm, the floors clean, and the table laid in straight lines.
Alex sat at the long board with a tray of bread and cold beef. The girls took the bench to his left, and his grandmother, fondly referred to as Grandmamma, kept the head chair with her cane propped near her knee and her eyes on everything.
“Ye took me cup,” Bettie said, voice low.
“I didnae,” Katie said. “Ye left it on the floor. I saved it.”
“Ye drank from it.”
“Only a sip.”
“Then it is yers now.”
“It isnae,” Katie said, and looked at Alex. “Da.”
“Drink from mine,” Alex said without looking up. “It tastes the same.”
“It doesnae,” Bettie muttered, but she took his cup and sipped.
A maid set oatcakes down by his elbow and moved away. The girls’ feet swung under the bench, Katie’s hair loose in the wind and Bettie’s in tidy, intricate braids. The sound of them, the way they quibbled without heat, the scrape of knives on the board, all of it held a rhythm he knew.
Alex marked it without effort as he kept half an ear on them and half on the small noises of a castle starting its day.
At the back of the hall, a maid folded linen, and in the yard beyond the open arch, a dog barked once, then stopped. The festival felt far, despite having taken place just three days ago. Erica had returned to Bryden that night as well.
“Da,” Katie said. “May I have honey?”
“A little,” Alex said. “Ye both wash before lessons.”
“We always wash,” she said.
“Nay, ye daenae,” Bettie countered.
“We do now,” Katie said, and reached for the pot.
Grandmamma watched them argue and nodded once as if they had passed an exam. She rubbed her thumb along the cane’s carved head and glanced down the length of the table to see who had eaten enough and who needed a word. It was her morning sport, and she missed little.
“Ye should see the mason today,” she said to Alex. “The east wing needs a man who will listen, nae a lad who thinks lime is magic.”
“I will see him,” Alex said.
“And the kennels,” she added. “That pup will be a thief if we daenae set him straight this week.”
“I will kick him out of the kitchen,” Katie said at once.
“Ye willnae,” Grandmamma said. “Ye will leave him to men who ken how to teach.”
“Aye,” Katie muttered.
Bettie leaned on the table with her chin in her palm. “Da,” she said, “if the pup is good, can we keep him in our—”
“Nay,” Alex said.
“But if he is very good?”
“Nay.”
She sighed and gnawed on an oatcake.
Alex looked at them then, just to count the points of their faces and be sure they were the same as last night. He had learned to do that in hard months.
The doors at the far end opened, and a maid came in, quick but steady, hands clasped to keep them from fluttering. She walked the length of the hall and curtsied low.
“A carriage has arrived,” she announced.
The words fell odd in the room, as if they belonged to a completely different hour. A carriage at this time meant news, a visitor, or a small trouble dressed as courtesy.
Alex did not lift his head. He knew exactly who it was, and he had been expecting her since the previous day broke.
He set his knife down and wiped his fingers on the cloth, and only then did he speak.
“That must be me bride,” he said.
The hall went quiet. Even the dog barking outside stopped all of a sudden, as if it had heard the bombshell the Laird just dropped.
Alex swallowed and picked up his knife again. He was ready for the barrage of questions, but he needed something to tighten his hand around in the meantime. Otherwise, he would contemplate murder.
As he had expected, Grandmamma turned slowly in her chair, the cane’s lower end scraping once on the stone floor. “Yer… what?”
“Me bride,” Alex said, exhaling as loudly as he could.
The girls froze. Then they burst.
“Ye have a bride,” Katie said, half whisper, half shout. “Right now.”
“Is she nice?” Bettie asked. “Does she like games?”
“Does she like eggs?” Katie said. “Because I can give her mine.”
“Is she pretty?” Bettie said quickly. “Nae that it matters.”
“Is she from here?” Katie said. “Or somewhere else. Can she ride?”
“Will she stay?” Bettie said, and looked down the table at Grandmamma without meaning to, then back at Alex.
He kept his face plain. “She is very nice,” he said.
It was the safest ground. It gave the girls something, and gave Grandmamma nothing at all. However, it did not keep the older woman still. He knew she would waste no time in asking questions he might just hesitate to answer.
“When did ye meet her?” she asked. “Was it at the festival?”
He took a sip from his cup. “Aye.”
“Who are her people, and why am I only hearin’ of this now?”
Katie set her cup down and leaned forward. “Is she the one ye danced with?” she said.
“I didnae dance,” Alex said.
“Then how did ye find a bride without dancing?” Bettie said, logical. “Did ye draw straws?”
“Is she tall?” Katie said. “Because if she is tall, we can play with her shoes.”
“Ye cannae play with her shoes,” Grandmamma interjected, not taking her eyes off Alex. “Answer me, please.”
He lifted his gaze to hers and let her see what he meant to show. “I daenae intend to.”
There was no anger in his words, but he sounded final enough for his grandmother not to pry further. The look had stopped men with swords. It would most definitely stop her questions.
Grandmamma did not lower her eyes. She did not soften. She accepted the look for what it was and adjusted her chair by a thumb’s width, as if to say the board had shifted and she would still play. Her mouth pressed thin.
“Ye should introduce us properly,” she said. “And do it with the respect due this house.”
“Aye,” Alex said.
“Ye will also eat,” she said to the girls. “If ye stare at the door, ye will miss yer porridge, and I willnae save it when it clots.”
“We are looking at Da,” Bettie said.
“We are listening to Da,” Katie said.
“Then hear me instead,” Grandmamma said. “He will say what he means to say when he is ready.”
“Which is never,” Bettie murmured to her oatcake.
Alex cut another slice of beef and chewed. He did not taste much.
The girls exchanged a look that had a dozen plans in it and then glowed with questions, the kind that would come in sideways all day. He would parry them or ignore them. Or he would give them as little as he could and still keep the house easy. It would cost him, but not as much as explaining.
Grandmamma set her cane against the board and leaned her elbows on the wood, as if she meant to climb into his morning. “Is this a matter of council?” she asked, soft enough for the girls to miss it.
“Aye,” Alex replied.
“Good God. Now those shriveled-up old men will want to spend days in the castle preparing for the wedding,” she said. “I daenae ken if I’m ready for that just yet.”
He said nothing.
Katie swung her feet and hummed a tune, then stopped. “If she is nice,” she said, “can she sit by me?”
“She will sit where yer faither tells her to,” Grandmamma said.
“Which is by me,” Katie said, hopeful.
“We will see,” Grandmamma allowed, a flat answer that could mean anything.
Bettie worried the edge of her oatcake and then set it down whole. “Will she be our maither?” she asked bluntly.
Grandmamma’s head turned hard enough to pull the muscle along her neck.
Alex kept his hands flat on the board.
“She will be herself,” he said. “Just as the two of ye will be yerselves.”
“That is nae an answer,” Bettie said.
“It is what ye get,” he said.
Grandmamma took in that line and set it beside the look he had given her a minute ago. She nodded once. “Girls,” she said. “Go wash yer hands again. Ye missed yer thumbs.”
“We didnae,” Katie said, checking her hands and then standing anyway. “We only missed a little.”
They slid off the bench and went to the basin by the fireplace, whispering in a way that carried to every corner. Even though they spoke like they were in a rush, Alex could hear everything they were saying very clearly. He could even hear the curiosity and concern in their tone.
“Maybe she likes dogs.”
“Maybe she can sew.”
“Maybe she has a scar.”
“Maybe she is from a story.”
They laughed at themselves and then tried to look serious for their Grandmamma.
Grandmamma, on the other hand, watched them go and spoke without moving her mouth much. “I just hope ye understand what ye’re doing,” she said.
“I do,” Alex affirmed.
“Then I cannae wait to meet her,” she said. “I hope she is lovely.”
He did not nod or try to look away.
Grandmamma lifted her cup and took a small sip, as if they had settled something that mattered to both of them.
The hall breathed again as a boy brought fresh bread. The maid returned with more oatcakes and pretended not to look at Alex’s face.
Calum crossed beneath the arch at the far end, saw the table, saw Grandmamma, and chose to look for him later. Alex was well aware of the slight reservations his grandmother had about his man-at-arms.
“He let me bird fly away. I will never forget it.”
“Calum has been with me for years, Grandmaither. Ye need to find a way to get along with him,” he had responded, but the older woman was adamant.
The girls came back with wet fingers and the peace that came when a task gave them something to do.
“Are we done?” Bettie asked.
“Aye,” Grandmamma said. “Eat.”
They ate as Alex put meat on both their trenchers and watched them take it without argument. He recognized the small miracle and let it stand, grateful for not having to settle another fight.
He did not look at the door. He felt it like a weight in the hinge. The carriage was approaching the castle, which meant that in a few more minutes, Erica would walk through those doors.
He could still remember her face under the firelight, how full her cheeks had been, and how she filled out her dress with her curves.
Focus, Alex.
Silence had its use. He saw it now with fresh edges. Words called people closer and gave shape to things that were better left simple. He would not lie to his house. He would not hand them a truth they could not carry yet. He would carry it and let them walk beside him until he chose the hour.
No one needed to know about his deal with Erica. At least not this early into the arrangement. When he was ready, he would tell them.
“Da,” Katie said. “If she is very nice, can she read to us?”
“Aye,” he said. “If she wishes to.”
“Does she ken stories?” Bettie said.
“I expect she does,” he said. “Anyone kens stories.”
Grandmamma tapped her cane once and cut the talk. “All right, children. It is time to finish yer food,” she said. “Remember, ye have lessons in a quarter hour.”
The girls rushed the last mouthfuls while a standby maid took their plates and wiped the board. The small but somewhat relaxing motions of the morning went on.
Hoofbeats sounded at the gate, breaking into the routine, and Alex exhaled. Erica was no longer coming up the hill, that was for sure. She was here. He reached for his cup and sipped as slowly as he could.
The maid who had announced her arrival earlier stepped back into the room, less breathless now, steady. She curtsied again.
“The lady is in the yard, me Laird. She says she is under MacMillan protection,” she said.
Grandmamma’s eyes went to Alex. The girls’ mouths fell open.
Alex kept his expression steady and set down his cup with care.
For the first time that morning, he understood that letting moments like this pass would be his greatest defense. He held it and let it do the work instead. For now, he needed to let it all play out.
Grandmamma stood with a scrape of her cane and a lift of her chin that gave the room its cue. “Well then,” she said briskly, clapping her hands. “That explains everything.”
It explained nothing, Alex knew that. He could see that his grandmother was dying for any piece of information that he wasn’t ready to give. She did not wait.
“Girls, tidy yerselves. We daenae want to meet our guests with sticky fingers now, do we?”
The girls ran, half tripping over each other in their hurry. Their chatter rose and scattered toward the corridor.
Grandmamma paused beside Alex’s chair and dropped her voice just enough to keep the room from catching it.
“Daenae think all of this doesnae make me suspicious,” she murmured. “I’m just pleased to have a guest.”
She lifted the smile back onto her face and turned to the hall with the bright ease of a hostess who had been born to it.
“See, all of ye,” she said. “It is a happy day.”
“She willnae be alone,” Alex said, before the motion could carry her out of reach.
She paused and turned back to him. “What?”
“Her maither is coming as well.”
Grandmamma’s delight sharpened. “Och, my,” she said. “I must inform the kitchens then.”
She swept away, calling names and orders with quick precision. He could hear some of her words and wondered if he had made a mistake telling her that.
It didn’t matter; she would see them soon anyway.
The presence of a mother turned a visit into a settlement as Alex watched his grandmother go and felt a slow pull in his chest. The plan he had made at the fires was standing up in his hall and asking for its chair.
Calum came from the side door as the room thinned, his steps slow and his eyes working ahead of his words. He stopped at Alex’s elbow and kept his voice low.
“Ye were going to tell us eventually, were ye nae?” he said. No bite in it. Just careful.
“I was delaying the questions,” Alex said.
“And why is that?”
“Because I am nae in the mood to answer what I daenae want to answer.”
Calum glanced toward the arch where the girls had vanished. “Are ye sure this is wise?”
Alex held his gaze. “It is necessary.”
Calum’s lips pressed together, then eased. “Aye.”
A breath later, the same maid from earlier returned, a little flushed and trying not to show it. She curtsied.
“Should I show them to the dining hall, me Laird?”
Alex stood up. “Nay, I will meet them halfway. We still need to be good hosts, do we nae?”