Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
T he next fortnight passed by quickly. With the good care given to him by Margaret, Annabella, and the other Randall women, young Duncan thrived.
Gone now were the ashen skin and sunken eyes. In their place, rosier cheeks and eyes that, if one looked closely, held just a bit of hope and promise.
Symon and Hugh visited the lad every day, and the three of them quickly became friends. It was music to Margaret’s ears to hear the little boys laughing and giggling. Most of all, it was beautiful to hear them making plans for the future.
The horrible wounds on the child’s back and legs healed quite nicely, though there were scars. Margaret knew there were scars, deep scars, that no one else see. But she knew they were there. Those scars could take a lifetime to heal.
Aiden didn’t think he could be jealous of a child, but jealous he was. Young Duncan was taking up far too much of Margaret’s time.
Oh, he didn’t feel any true animosity towards the lad. Really, who could have?
Still, he was beginning to feel more than just a little annoyed that his wife was spending nearly every moment of her day tending to the boy.
On this especially bright, sunny afternoon, Aiden found his wife exactly where he knew she would be: in the very small room that housed her patient.
But, on this day, he was surprised to find that the boy was standing up, dressed in a brown tunic and matching trews.
In the room with her were Symon, Hugh, and Collin.
“What goes on here?” Aiden asked.
He had startled the boys, who all turned to look at him. “Uncle Aiden!” Symon exclaimed excitedly. “We are all movin’ into the men’s solar!”
The boys looked as proud as a highlander who had just won a war against the English. Aiden chuckled and looked to his wife for some explanation.
She was busy stripping the linens and blankets from Duncan’s bed. “’Tis true, Aiden,” she said without looking at him. “Duncan is well enough to get out of bed now.”
Scooping up the linens, she placed them into a basket at the foot of the bed. “But he cannae go outside yet,” she warned the boys. “He must still take it easy for a few more days.”
Not a one of them appeared happy with the warning, but they didn’t dare voice it. “Aye, Margaret, we understand.”
She finally looked up at Aiden. “I have discussed with Symon and Collin’s mothers, moving them into the solar with Hugh and Duncan,” she told him. “They believe the lads are old enough now.”
Aiden did his best to stifle a cheer. ’Twas good news, good news indeed. He felt damned near joyful knowing that he’d have his wife back where she belonged: in their marital bed.
“Ye have done well, tendin’ to Duncan,” Aiden told her.
Margaret shrugged his kind words off. “I was only doin’ what was right.”
Aiden wasn’t going to allow her to ignore him this time. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Lass, ’twas more than that. Ye have a good heart, and I am verra proud of ye.”
Her cheeks turned crimson. He resisted the urge to look away, feeling her discomfort reflected in himself but refusing to let it control him.
“Lass, please look at me,” he all but pleaded with her.
It took a few moments, but finally, she turned and looked him in his eyes. Satisfied that he had her full attention, he said, “Ye have done well with Duncan, and I need ye to ken that I truly appreciate what ye have done.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and for the life of him, he didn’t know why. Mayhap she was simply exhausted, but something niggling at his heart told him it wasn’t just that. Nay, his wife was unaccustomed to compliments.
He didn’t like that. Not one bit.
A moment later, he gently pulled her into his chest and held her close. He made a silent vow then to erase any bad memory from her life before becoming his wife. He vowed to replace every one of them with happy, blissful ones.
’Twas a dark and dreary morn at the end of February when Lizabet went into labor. Margaret had never helped to deliver a bairn before, and she had very little desire to start now.
She stood in the hallway with Elayne and Flossie, just outside Lizabet’s chamber. “Should we fetch the midwife?” Margaret asked.
“No!” Elayne and Flossie exclaimed in unison, startling Margaret.
Elayne glanced around the semi-dark corridor before leaning closer to Margaret. “Dinnae let that woman anywhere near Lizabet,” she whispered.
“Or any other woman who is with child,” Flossie added quickly.
’Twas then that Margaret remembered the conversation she had had with Annabella all those many weeks ago. The poor girl had been positively horrified by Mrs. McGinty.
“If she is such a bad midwife, then why is she still a midwife?” Margaret asked.
“Because many of the women still believe in her ways,” Elayne explained, still whispering as if by speaking the woman’s name, she might appear from a mystical ether.
“But ye dinnae?” she asked.
“Of course nae,” Elayne replied with a shudder. “I would nae let that woman help my dog to give birth.”
“Then someone needs to tell poor Annabella that,” Margaret said. “She is absolutely terrified of that woman.”
They promised her that they would speak with Annabella, to ease her fears and worries. Margaret promised never to speak Mrs. MacLeary’s name aloud.
Having no desire to witness Lizabet bringing a child into the world, Margaret left it to Elayne and Flossie.
When it became apparent that it would take some time before the child was actually born, Margaret sought out the assistance of her brothers-by-law, Danial, David, and Keith, to help tend to the children. These men were no more interested in staying in the keep than she or the children were.
Getting all the children together, including the weans, was akin to herding cats: nigh on impossible. Honestly, Margaret didn’t know how their mothers did it.
“Please, Collin! Stop chasing Symon!” Margaret called out to the boys. “And Duncan! I told ye ’tis too soon for ye to be runnin’ about like a heathen!”
Her three brothers-by-law stood in the corner of the gathering room, watching with delight as Margaret struggled to get boots onto the feet of one of the weans. “Fergus, keep still.”
Alyce was standing next to her. “Aunt Margaret, that be Magnus, nae Fergus.”
“Are ye certain?” Margaret asked, staring at the boy.
“Aye, I am.” Alyce giggled. “Fergus is the one standin’ on the table,” she added, with a nod towards the other side of the room.
Margaret’s eyes grew wide with horror when she saw Fergus standing on the table. He was far too close to the edge for her liking. “Fergus! Stop!” she called out to him as she raced across the room.
Magnus started to cry. His cousin Meredith decided to join in on the fuss, for no apparent reason.
Margaret scooped Fergus up and sat him down on the stone floor. “Do nae climb on the tables again,” she told him. “Ye scared me half to death.”
Fergus smiled up at her, unbothered by her distress.
“Aunt Margaret?” Alyce called out from across the room. “Magnus is cryin’.”
As if I cannae hear him, she thought to herself.
“And why are ye cryin’, Alyce?” she asked the little girl, who sat on the floor by the hearth.
“I am Alyce, Aunt Margaret. That is Meredith.”
“And why is she cryin’?” Margaret asked, not truly expecting any kind of answer.
“I think she is wet.”
The older boys were still running about the room, up and down the stairs, playing at God only knew what.
Fergus—or was it Magnus?—cried in unison with little Meredith.
’Twas absolute chaos.
Margaret didn’t know where to turn next, who to yell at, or which crying child to pick up. She stood in the middle of the room, with tears welling in her eyes.
“That is enough!”
’Twas Aiden’s voice calling out over the din of mayhem.
Every child that was moving came to an abrupt halt. The two who were crying stopped at once. Danial, David, and Keith stopped leaning against the wall and stood at attention.
’Twas miraculous, as far as Margaret was concerned.
Aiden walked to the middle of the room, snapped his fingers, and called for the children to come to him at once.
They all obeyed. Even little Meredith, who couldn’t yet walk, crawled over to her uncle. Aiden smiled down at the wean before scooping her up into his arms.
Looking at the children who surrounded him, he affected the most stern of expressions. “Is this any way at all for Randall children to behave?”
The older boys suspected ’twas a rhetorical question, therefore they hung their heads and stared at their feet.
Young Alyce, always ready to help, spoke up for her siblings and cousins. “Nay, Uncle Aiden, ’tis nae. I tried tellin’ them, but they would nae listen to me.”
Margaret caught a flicker of amusement flash in Aiden’s eyes. “It seems that our Alyce is smarter than the rest of ye,” he said as he turned his attention to his older brothers. “Including the three of ye.”
Even Margaret could see he was not happy with the three young men. He pinned them in place with a scowl that made Margaret’s legs feel a bit weak. In a loud, stern voice, he said, “Ye stood by, laughin’ like fools, as ye watched my wife struggle to get these children under control.”
They remained mute, which was probably a wise decision. “When I am nae with my wife, I expect my brothers”—he paused to look at ten-year-old Hugh—“ all of my brothers, to look after her.”
Hugh’s face burned dark red as he hung his head in shame. “I am sorry, Aiden,” he murmured softly.
“What is that?” Aiden said. “I dinnae quite hear ye.”
The boy lifted his head, pulled his shoulders back and looked directly at his older brother. “I said that I am sorry, Aiden.”
Satisfied with the boy’s response, he turned his other brothers. “I expect the children to behave like children,” Aiden said calmly yet firmly. “But the three of ye ?” He shook his head in disgust. “I expect far more from ye.”
Not a one of them turned away from him. They took their chastisement like men. “Ye will be on night watch for the next sennight,” he told them. “And, on the morrow, ye will be cleanin’ latrines.”
Margaret watched it all play out before her. Not one of the young men complained about their punishment. She assumed they knew better than to grouse, or the punishment could be far worse.
Turning away from the young men, he turned his attention to Margaret and smiled.
Something in that smile, she wasn’t quite certain what, made her heart skip a beat or ten. And when it started to beat again, it felt as though it was trying to find its way out of her chest.
Was it his smile or the twinkle in his dark-brown eyes that made her feel all weak and strange? These odd sensations left her feeling all discombobulated and uncertain.
“Margaret?” Aiden had stepped closer and was studying her closely. “Are ye well?”
’Twas then she realized he had been speaking to her. But, for the life of her, she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Nay, she was too busy drinking in dark-brown eyes, full lips, and broad shoulders.
“What?” she muttered.
He seemed genuinely concerned. “Are ye well, lass?”
She cleared her throat as she tried hard to clear her mind. “Aye,” she scratched out. “I am well.”
His brow was still drawn into a fine line, puzzled with her. “And?”
“And?” Had she lost her mind? Had she been stripped of any kind of decorum or propriety?
“I asked if ye wished for me to help ye take these beasties for a walk?”
“Yes, dear, that would be nice,” she said rather absentmindedly as she walked towards the large wooden doors. Aye, she was lost in deep thought as she grabbed her cloak and all but floated out of the room and the keep.
She left her befuddle husband and a room full of children behind.
Margaret had much thinking to do.
Her husband had smiled at her before, on numerous occasions. And not one of those times had she experienced the physical and emotional reaction of this morn.
Her palms had suddenly grown damp, along with the nape of her neck. For the life of her, her mouth had gone as dry as sand.
And her heart would not stop its incessant, rapid beating!
Although she had about as much experience with men as she had with children (which was next to nil), she had a sneaking suspicion that she was growing attracted to her husband.
But why? Why now? What on earth had suddenly changed?
One moment, she was perfectly content to think of him as nothing more than an acquaintance. And the next, she was ready to throw herself into his arms and kiss him soundly.
Ye are nae that kind of woman! She scolded herself and her racing heart. Behave as if ye have at least a tiny bit of common sense!
It took some time before her heart settled. She was halfway down the path before that happened. And before she realized her husband was calling out her name.
Embarrassment enveloped her the moment she turned around. There, running towards her, was her husband, his brothers, and all the many nieces and nephews.
“Oh, lord,” she mumbled. “I left them behind.”
Aiden, of course, hadn’t a clue what had gotten into his wife. Had the bad behavior of the children pushed her over the edge of insanity?
Without a word, she had simply walked away from them. As if she were in some sort of trance.
Worry washed over him as he called out her name several times. As if she had suddenly become deaf, she hadn’t heard a word he’d said to her.
She didn’t even pause when he called out to her as she walked out of the keep.
He would have reached her more quickly had he not had nine children in tow.
How was she going to explain herself? She couldn’t very well tell him the truth: I was envisioning ye naked and plying me with passionate kisses.
Nay, that wouldn’t work. Besides, he wouldn’t have believed her. She had repeatedly, politely reminded him that she was not ready for any kind of physical or intimate relationship with him.
“Will ye please explain yourself?” Aiden demanded as he drew nearer. He was carrying little Magnus on his hip whilst Meredith clung tightly to his cloak. Alyce was holding Fergus’s hand, with Hugh on the other side.
“Ye left without so much as a by-yer-leave.”
Somehow, she managed to stammer out what she considered to be a most plausible lie. “I needed a bit of fresh air.”
Aiden studied her closely for a long while before asking, “And ye could nae have waited for the rest of us?” He waved a hand towards the children who were just now catching up to him.
That seemed to be the question of the hour, as more than one of the children were asking the same thing. “Why did ye nae wait for us?”
Frustration grew from the pit of her stomach. There was no way to explain herself honestly. “I am sorry, children,” she said, trying to smile at them. “If ye must ken, yer Aunt Margaret sometimes gets lost in her own thoughts.”
Each of them, including her husband, were just as confused as she felt. “I do apologize and shall do my best, in the future, not to do such a thing. Now, who is ready to explore?”