Chapter Sixteen #2
She thought he might be trying to jest, but his horrified expression matched those of the other men, and she shrugged.
“I would have thought that this bruise would be nothing to battle-hardened warriors like yourselves. There is not even a trace of blood.” She touched her swollen cheek and they hissed as though in pain.
“Blood is no’ a problem, my lady,” Jamie said. “Or even severed limbs….”
“Do ye remember the time that Old Hamish lost his eye?” another chimed in. “Even seeing it hanging by a thread down his cheek didna bother me.”
The third began to regale her with another injury incident when Sebastien—thank the Lord!—interrupted them. “I think,” he said, and then louder, “I think it is seeing it on a woman that makes it more grievous than in battle.”
“Aye, my lord. Ye have the right of it,” Jamie said. “If the skin did not break—” he pointed to her face “—ye probably willna even have a scar.”
The other men just stared at her and then nodded at the apparent wisdom of their comrade. She looked to Sebastien and cleared her throat. He got the message.
“The lady is safe, so go back to your posts,” he ordered.
The soldiers put their swords back into their scabbards and bowed to her.
She heard their footsteps as they trod back down to where they were assigned, apparently not too far away.
Lara peeked into the outer chamber and noticed that Margaret had regained consciousness…
in Sir Hugh’s arms. The woman would be worthless for the rest of the day, so Lara waved her off as Sir Hugh helped her down the stairs.
“Are they truly necessary, my lord?” she asked, gathering the remnants of her meal and placing them on the table.
“Until I am certain that Eachann is no longer a threat to you, aye, they are.” He picked up the cloth that had covered the tray and began to wipe up the porridge from the floor with it.
“He is probably long gone, back to my father.”
“Mayhap or not, I will not take any chances with him,” he said. His lips moved into a slight smile. “Not as long as you are my concern, that is.”
She nodded, understanding that one of her choices was to leave him and go back to her family.
“I would say one thing on the matter of the choices before you, if I may?” He looked to her for permission. Lara nodded. “If your decision is to leave our marriage behind and seek an annulment, I would urge you to consider going to someone other than your father.”
“Why?” He did not know of the conciliatory letter and the tender greetings and promises made to her by her parent.
“In my dealings with your cousin, I’ve learned that he is a man who enjoys giving pain to others.”
“And in your dealings with other spies, have you never caused pain?”
“Aye, I have. But, when I forced someone to spill their secrets by heavy-handed methods, they were soldiers or spies, and even then, I had some measure of regret over their hard use. Eachann does not regret any methods he uses. Indeed, he relishes the giving of pain.”
She remembered her cousin’s shoving and hitting and how he seemed to get sexual pleasure from it. Lara’s mouth went dry.
“You do understand, then?” Sebastien asked. “So, consider seeking another refuge if you decide on the annulment.”
She turned away, not willing to let him see the tears in her eyes. “I will think on your words, my lord.”
“Good. I will send someone up with another tray for you and I will warn them of what to expect so we have no more fainting.”
“My thanks,” she said, finally able to look at him.
“Oh, the children have asked to see you. I did tell them of your injury, but I did not reveal the cause of it. So, if you want to tell them that you fell…?”
“That might be an easier explanation for them, and it is not far from the truth.”
He stood for another minute as though he had something more to say and could not get the words out. He offered her a bow and then left her alone.
Part of her longed to stop him and to throw herself into his arms. She wanted to accept his strength; she needed it when she felt this weak.
Another girl knocked on her door with a tray of fresh porridge and bread, and it was her expression that sent Lara searching for her looking glass.
When she saw what the others had, it put her off her food for the rest of the morning.
With the maid’s help, she contrived a hair covering that included a loose veil she could draw down to hide most of the swelling. By the afternoon she was ready to see the children, or at least as prepared as she could be.
Malcolm, as most boys his age, did not seem affected by it at all.
He entered her chambers and proceeded to ask all kinds of questions about Sebastien and the axes the soldiers carried and the new boats.
Catriona broke into tears and climbed into Lara’s lap.
Every few minutes she would lean back, stare at Lara’s face and utter her new favorite word—horrendous.
“Lara, it looks horrendous,” she would say, drawing out the word to make it last more than the count of ten. After the sixth time, Lara asked who had taught her such a word.
“Sir Hugh said it first. He told Margaret that your face looked horrrendousss.”
Lara reminded herself to have a talk with Sir Hugh about what he said in front of her sister. Catriona would use this new word endlessly for days until she discovered another she liked better. “Catriona, a lady does not point out someone’s misfortunes.”
“But it looks h—”
Lara grabbed her hand and put it back in her lap. “Aye, love, it does.” Guiding the girl to her feet, she stood. “Come, let us go down to the solar. Mayhap we can coax Margaret to join us.”
She walked down the steps and discovered the soldiers standing guard on the landing.
In spite of her veil, they all shook their heads and scrunched up their own faces at the sight of her.
Waving off their attention, she entered the bright chamber and decided to work on the tapestry that still taunted her.
Malcolm whined about being shut up and not permitted outside. Once Philippe arrived with some rope and a new knowledge of knots to share with him, both boys were occupied for a time. Margaret did join them and she spent her time brushing and arranging Catriona’s hair into elaborate braids.
After losing stitches and needles, Lara realized that her sight was impaired by the swelling, and gave up again on trying to embroider.
So she contented herself by watching the boys practice their skills, and even learned one or two herself under Philippe’s tutelage.
Gara came and applied a paste to her cheek, which she assured Lara would help with the swelling.
In the late afternoon, when Philippe was called back to his duties and Catriona and Margaret were napping in Catriona’s bed, Lara realized that one source of information sat right before her.
“Malcolm, tell me what you think of Lord Sebastien.”
Her brother began by outlining all of Sebastien’s accomplishments and abilities and manly skills in fighting.
“Nay, Malcolm. I know all of those things. I would hear what your thoughts are on his character.”
The boy stared off into the distance for a few minutes, then met her gaze. “He is a good man, Lara. You could not find a better man if you had sought one of your own choice.”
Stunned by the wisdom in one so young, she repeated in her mind his words. Could not find a better man…
“I think you are correct in this, Malcolm.”
“He does not rule through anger and fear as Father did, Lara. His men serve him of their own will. They know he would give up his life to protect any one of them, and it makes them pledge to him without hesitation.”
Where did this come from? How could one so innocent recognize the leadership in Sebastien? Surprised by his words, Lara thought on them.
“Philippe’s father is an earl, but Philippe will pledge to Sebastien when he finishes his training. As will I,” he said proudly. “We will be knights together in the service of the Bruce.”
Reeling from this declaration, she shook her head. Misunderstanding the gesture, Malcolm stated, “Sebastien said it will be my choice to make when the time comes.”
“So he is not forcing you to this way of thinking? Or is Philippe persuading you somehow?”
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head now. “Sebastien said that men of honor follow their consciences and honor their pledges. I want to be a man of honor.”
Sitting back in her chair, Lara was overwhelmed by the lessons taught and learned in just these last few months under Sebastien’s guidance.
Her husband had treated them all with infinite patience and care and honor.
Oh, she knew he manipulated her at times, but he never did it to hurt or harm her, and she recognized when he did it. Mayhap that was part of his plan?
She sought her bed earlier than usual that day, exhaustion driving her to it just after eating with the children. She was no less confused when she woke up in Sebastien’s embrace in the middle of the night. Once more he warmed and protected her, with no expectation of a return on his actions.
In the morning, when her face was less swollen and she could see more clearly, she sought out one of the books in her mother’s collection, an illuminated history of the MacDougalls.
One of the pictures portrayed her great-great-grandfather pledging himself to the king who had granted their original charter of lands and titles.
Looking at both the men involved, Lara noticed first that there was nothing subservient about her ancestor’s stance or gaze as his hands were held by those of his liege lord. And there was nothing prideful or gloating in the appearance of the king as he accepted the words spoken by his vassal.
As she translated the pledge from Latin, she let the meaning flow over her. Everything became clear to her as she contemplated what Sebastien offered and promised her.
She took to her chambers, chasing all away with a tale of tiredness, and spent the day thinking on the words that could express her decision to Sebastien. Finally, when Margaret brought news that he and his commanders would meet in the hall before their supper, Lara knew it was time.
Time to make her choice.