Chapter 13
Bethia
Chapter Two
Bethia starts to see her mother differently, and herself, thanks to Brenna’s wisdom.
The thing that felt so different about Donnan was that he noticed her. He was a caring, gentle man, and he noticed her.
Unfortunately, when she stood in the middle of the Ramsay great hall among her beautiful sisters and cousins, Bethia often blended in with her surroundings.
She could walk the entire hall during a celebration, and no one would look at her twice.
Her hair was a plain brown, the same as her eyes, and she was wider in the hip than most, something she hated.
She didn’t have the arresting beauty of Maggie and Lily, the glossy hair and curves of Sorcha, or the skills and bravery of Molly. She was just plain Bethia. Lads never looked at her—until today.
Donnan was hardly a lad, but a man of at least twenty and six or twenty and seven summers. He had noticed her, stared at her, and actually gazed into her eyes with an expression of…appreciation that had never been directed toward her before.
She’d seen the way her sire looked at her mother, the way Uncle Logan admired Aunt Gwyneth, and even the scorching glances Cailean directed at Sorcha.
But no one had ever looked at her like that.
She’d almost felt special.
It was such an unusual experience that she decided to go speak with her mother about it.
She left her chamber and padded down the stairs to her mother’s healing chamber, knowing that was where she’d likely be this late in the day.
When she opened the door, the woman she looked up to more than any other stood to greet her.
She’d been scrubbing her table down again.
“Did you have someone with a large wound, Mama? Lots of blood?”
Her mother smiled at her, setting down the cloth she’d been using to scrub. “Nay, you know I like to clean at the end of the day. Just because. I see you were able to remove all signs of the trial you withstood today. How was your bath?”
“Wonderful. You know I could simmer in it until the last of the warm water goes cold. My hair needed washing, and there was more blood on my clothing than I’d realized. I had to wash up before I climbed in.”
As she spoke, she found herself staring at her mother. Brenna Grant Ramsay, sister to the renowned Alex Grant, was one of the great healers in the Highlands. Bethia had always idolized her, but now she found herself assessing her mother in a different way: as a woman.
Her mother shared her coloring—brown hair, brown eyes—yet no one would ever call her plain.
Could Bethia be considered pretty, too?
“What’s bothering you, daughter?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Tell Mama,” Brenna pressed. “I can see something bouncing back and forth in that intelligent mind of yours.” She washed her cloth out in the soapy bucket of water at her feet before running it across the table one more time.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek before she said, “Do you think I’ll ever marry? Will anyone ever want me?”
Her mother dropped the cloth and rushed over to her, cupping her face. “Of course someone will want you. How could you say such a thing?”
She did her best to control the tears that begged to flood her cheeks. “You know I’m not like the others. Sorcha, Maggie, Kyla, Gracie…they are all so beautiful, and I’m plain. I’m twenty, way beyond marrying age, and my weight…”
“Molly and Ashlyn were much older than you when they married. I know ‘tis oft customary for a lass to marry at ten and six, but not in my family. And you know how I feel about that other word you used.”
“Weight?”
“Aye. Weight has naught to do with your value. Have I not taught you that?”
Her mother had tried to convince her that her figure was fine, but after seeing the way lads looked at the shapelier lasses… “Aye, I remember, Mama.”
“You’ll find someone.”
“But how will I know?”
Her mother sat in a chair and patted the empty chair beside it.
“I can’t answer that. But you’ll be drawn to one person over any other.
The more you get to know him, the more you will be drawn to him, but it may not start out that way.
At the beginning, you may be more confused than aught else.
But Bethia? ‘Tis almost magical when it happens.”
“Papa said he loved you from the start.”
“Papa was delirious with fever when we met. Why all the questions? Would you like us to invite suitors to a party for you? I’ll talk to your papa if you do.”
“Do you think anyone would come?” No matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop fidgeting with her hands in her lap, playing with threads that weren’t really there.
“Of course. Bethia, you are more beautiful than you think—your heart beams out from the inside. Anyone who takes the time to get to know you will fall in love with all you represent: compassion, strength, and intelligence. Some men do fear women with a talented mind, but the man who’s right for you will not. ”
“I hope you’re right. I would like to have a family of my own, have my own bairns like Torrian and Heather, and Lily and Kyle. Lachlan and the twins are so cute.”
Her mother leaned over to give her a hug. “I’ll talk to Papa. See what he thinks. Mayhap he has someone in mind.”
“You’ll not choose for me, Mama, will you?”
The appalled expression that crossed her mother’s face soothed her nerves. “Nay. Never. ‘Tis your choice. I made my brothers promise that all the Grant women could choose their own husbands. I would accept nothing less for my own daughters and any Ramsay lass.”
She gave her mother a small nod.
At the same time, she hoped she hadn’t just made the worst decision of her life. It horrified her to think they’d hold an event in her honor, and no one would show up.
Chapter 13
Bethia finds another reason to adore her parents.
She patted his hand. “Nay, Papa. I wished to stay at home, but this was a verra different journey for me. Please sit down and I’ll tell you all.”
Once they settled, two expectant gazes settled on her from across her sire’s desk and her sire reached over to hold her mama’s hand, something he oft did.
“Donnan had a terrible injury, and I will say your teachings served me well, Mama. I was able to stitch his wound, though I did have to repair the stitches.”
“You stitched him twice? What happened? Did he fall and tear the first set?”
Her mother’s expression told her Uncle Logan had indeed kept her secrets.
“Mama, mayhap ‘twould be easier if I just explain that I have developed feelings for Donnan. When I was alone with him to check his bandage, I kissed him and Uncle Logan caught us sitting verra close together behind a closed door. I’m sure ‘tis what Uncle Logan wanted me to talk about with you. He was upset.”
Her mother, who had been leaning so far forward that Bethia had feared she would topple over, leaned back and whispered, “Oh my.”
Her father sat quietly as he oft did, giving careful consideration to his words before he spoke. “Allow me to fill in what happened next,” he finally said. “Logan lost his temper before speaking to anyone, causing a scene that caused you to be thrown out of the inn.”
Bethia couldn’t help but smile. “Not quite, Papa. We were not thrown out, but ‘twas quite a scene, and ‘tis why Donnan’s stitches needed to be repaired. Uncle Logan bellowed and swung his fists, Donnan fought back, and Torrian tried to stop it. Cailean and Sorcha were also involved. I ran outside crying. When I managed to control my tears, I came back inside to repair my stitchery, but not before I made all three men listen to my opinion, something they’d neglected to do before deciding Donnan and I were to marry immediately.”
She waited for their reaction, and she was totally taken aback. The two looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Once they were capable of speaking, her mother said, “Good for you, daughter. You are twenty years old. You are quite capable of making your own decisions. ‘Tis how we raised you, and both your grandmothers would be proud of you.”
Her papa added, “Forget about Uncle Logan. He will come around. He’s having a verra difficult time seeing all our wee lassies grow up and marry—Lily, Molly, Sorcha, and even Kyla.
I suspect he thought you’d never be interested in a man, although I told him many times the day would come.
He expected you’d stay the innocent forever.
I told him ‘twas time to move on to Lise and Liliana. In fact, when Jennet and Brigid marry, I suspect we’ll need to tie him up again. ”
Her mother said, “What your papa is trying to tell you is that Uncle Logan only acted so boorishly because he adores you.”
“I know. I recall him bellowing something about my innocence and sweetness being destroyed.” She rolled her eyes, pleased her parents were reacting as they were.
It struck her that neither of them seemed surprised she was interested in Donnan. Her mother sat back and said, “Now, why don’t you tell us about you and Donnan.”
She couldn’t contain her sigh, something her mother didn’t miss, quirking her brow at her.
“I’m verra confused. I have strong feelings for Donnan, but before we left for Edinburgh, he said he’d never marry again, that his first marriage ‘twas too painful. Yet he does not push me away, instead pulling me closer whenever we’re near.
” She held her hand up to her sire. “Papa, he’s verra respectful, much more so than the younger lads. ”
“Henson?”
“Aye, Henson.” She left it at that, not wishing to remind herself of the awful kiss he’d forced on her.
“I like that Donnan is more mature, but I still have my doubts. I fear he’s holding back.
” She explained the strange incident at the end of their journey, how someone had approached Donnan and called him the Earl of Panmure’s heir.
As soon as she finished explaining everything, her mother came over and pulled her to her feet, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “If you’d like my advice…”
“Aye, I would. I feel I know naught about men and relationships.”
“You need to have a private discussion with Donnan, and you need to ask him to be honest with you,” she said.
Her father added, “And if he’s not, I will be.
Bethia, Donnan is a good man, but he has not told you all you need to know.
Still, this isn’t a conversation you should have in front of Logan either.
If you’d like, I’ll escort you out to his cottage and give you the chance to speak to him alone.
He’ll not be inappropriate with me just outside your door. ”
“I would like that, Papa.”
“Then we’ll go after the midday meal.”