Chapter 20 #2
For the remainder of the week, whilst her husband avoided her, Lianae occupied herself with Kenna and Lael, learning from each woman.
Having been raised on a farm in the bitter north, where men and women both tended their duties together, Lianae was only now learning how to sit and sew, beginning with the adjustment of her new gowns.
A few were too short. A few too tight. All, save one, had belonged to a young lady from the border lands—a daughter of the laird of Teviotdale, who’d perished some years past, although none of the women present seemed overly inclined to reveal how.
From Kenna, Lianae gleaned everything there was to be known about Lael’s mysterious brother.
It was curious to hear the girl speak of Keane, because Lianae had met a very different man—one who was not so aloof and who had taken Lianae under his wing from the instant they’d met. She longed to see that man returned.
“I will never forget the first time I saw him,” Kenna confessed, with rosy cheeks. “He was newly arrived and I thought to myself that he was the epitome of male beauty, so dark and handsome. But of course, the ladies were all half in love with him from the instant he rode through the gates.”
Lael laughed. “Dinna speak such things in front of my brother,” she forbade Kenna. “His head will grow overlarge, and Lianae will suffer his arrogance all the more.”
“I dinna find him arrogant,” Lianae demurred.
Kenna smiled. “Aye, well, until you, if wasna made of metal, feathers or horseflesh, Keane did not see it. One day, I thought I would come to sup dressed as a shield, with feathers in the front my head and a horse tail behind.” The ladies present all tittered over the image.
Lianae might have told a different tale, but she didn’t wish to make Kenna feel bad.
There were many things she might find to call her new husband, but inattentive was not one.
Blind was not one. And neither was passionless.
Despite that they had yet to consummate their vows, she knew this for a fact, for she’d certainly not missed that lump beneath his washcloth. Her cheeks heated over the memory.
But the bath had been a pointless endeavor.
Now, even more than before, he would come to bed in the wee hours, whenever he thought Lianae was fast asleep and he rose early, long before she could chance to open her eyes.
She took her frustration out on the cloth she was sewing, shoving her needle furiously through the hem.
There was only so much she could say, for today Lael’s daughters were all present in the solar.
Some of the ladies in attendance were the daughters of neighboring lords.
Others were the wives of Jaime’s wards. And some were lowly maids who served the lady of Keppenach.
Lael seemed prepared to invite anyone within, whether or not they were ladies in truth.
All were welcome in her solar, with the hearth fire blazing and the candlelight sparkling overhead.
A beautiful carpet had been laid out upon the floor, with enormous, brightly colored pillows tossed hither and thither—a style, Lael had explained, was inspired by her husband’s travels to the land of the Saracens.
“I have never traveled overmuch,” Lianae confessed.
“Mayhap you will now that my brother is sworn to David?” Lael suggested, smiling as she worked her needle through the hem of one of Lianae’s new gowns.
“Mayhap,” Lianae replied. Although, as of now, her husband was like to carry her back to Dunràth and leave her there ever more. Alone. “Green was the Lady Aveline’s favorite color?” she asked. It certainly seemed to be so, for nearly all the gowns she wore were some shade of green.
“Aye, but if the color does not please you—”
“Oh, nay!” Lianae reassured. “They are all lovely and I have never seen their like. My own gowns have always been far plainer. I am grateful for all you have done, m’lady.”
“Mine as well,” Lael confessed.
“And mine,” Kenna added. “But it surprises me that yours would be, Lianae.”
“Me?” Lianae asked, with some bewilderment.
“You are a princess!” one of Lael’s ladies interjected.
Lianae blushed. “Ach! A princess of what? Ye must have a people to rule to be a princess, and Moray is no longer what it was.”
Both Lael and Kenna shared a glance. “I ken what you mean,” Lael confessed with a sigh. “Neither is Dubhtolargg.”
Lianae’s needle stilled, remembering suddenly what King David had called her husband. Dún Scoti. “Dubhtolargg?”
Lael continued to sew, nodding, as though her revelation were ever so mundane.
Like Lilidbrugh, Dubhtolargg was a place only spoken of in whispers—the mountain stronghold named for the murdered king of the Southern Pechts.
It was said that, upon Black Tolargg’s death, his blood ran in rivulets down into the mountain streams and flowed red all the way to the mountain loch where the mother of winter lay slumbering in her cave.
Drawn forth to mourn the fallen king, her tears transformed the glen into a bounteous place surrounded by the roughest terrain known to man.
It was there, to that glen the last of the Pechts had flown to more than two centuries past, and there supposedly remained—in the red hills, stained crimson by the blood of Black Tolargg.
Lael was a dún Scoti. Certainly, that would explain their coloring, for they were darker than most Scots—in both complexion and hair—and their eyes were a peculiar shade of green as well.
Considering this, Lianae pushed her needle through the thick material of her gown.
On this particular dress she had adjusted the neckline, so that it would reveal the moons of her breasts.
Let her husband ignore her then, she thought to herself.
Kenna cast her a knowing glance, for they were fast becoming friends, despite their adoration for the same man. No matter that she tried to deny it, Lianae could see the heartbreak in Kenna’s eyes every time she spoke of him.
There was a sudden knock at the solar door. “Ailis?” Lael inquired of the well-rounded woman who appeared behind the door.
“M’lady… we’ve a messenger…” But the unhappy servant refused to meet her mistress’s gaze.
“Do we know from where?”
The servant nodded, staring at her feet.
“Who, Ailis? Speak up!”
At last, Ailis met her mistress’s gaze. “I shouldn’t say, m’lady. But my laird Jaime bids ye come at once.”
Commanding her daughters to stay, Lael leapt to her feet at once, leaving everyone staring after her as she hurried out the solar door.
Riders delivered news of the death of a dún Scoti kinswoman.
Thankfully Keane would not refuse Lianae the chance to stand beside him in his time of sorrow.
Together, they were bound for Dubhtolargg, and from Dubhtolargg, they were meant to travel north to Dunràth in Moray.
Lael and Jaime would go as well, though Jaime’s sister was asked to remain at Keppenach along with Lael’s daughters.
With Elspeth gone, Lianae would sorely miss the sisterly companionship, for while Keane’s sister was kind and sweet, she was not nearly so affable as Kenna.
The king himself intended to make the journey too, but from Dubhtolargg, he would ride south to Northumbria instead of traveling north to Moray.
So whilst the king lingered to ready his troops for war and collect his remaining liegemen, he sent the grieving family ahead.
Jaime Steorling remained to accompany the king into the Mounth, while Keane, Lael, Lianae, Cameron, and the messengers Fergus and Lachlann rode with all due haste.
Lianae attributed the hurry to Keane’s and Lael’s desire to be at home with their kinsmen in their time of grief, though it was a grueling pace they’d set, putting more and more distance between their party and that of the king’s.
It was as though they meant to make certain they arrived long before David mac Maíl Chaluim.
Along the way, Keane was far too distracted to trouble himself with their quarrels. He was neither angry, nor solicitous, but rather brooding, given to long stretches of silence that left Lianae feeling like a stranger amidst her new kin.