Chapter Nine
Mhàiri smiled sweetly as she took the small cloth being handed to her. The large piece of bread nestled inside was still warm. She held on to it and waited as each person in the large circle was served their morsel and their beverage.
She stole a quick glance at Conan, who sat across from her, as he swallowed the contents from the cup, learning that it was not ale, not even mead, but water.
She had to admit that she was impressed.
His only sign of dissatisfaction was the brief moment of realization.
Then he crinkled his eyes and pasted on a smile that almost looked sincere.
It had been four days since their fight, and Mhàiri would have never dreamed that this setting would be their first encounter. She was still not even sure how she had been hoodwinked into coming. This was Maegan’s weekly thing, enduring the widows’ social circle.
Maegan was not a widow, but her grandmother had been a faithful member of the circle since before Maegan had been born.
And after Maegan’s parents had died and she had come to live with her grandmother, Maegan had dutifully joined her each week to listen to the older clanswomen talk as they sewed.
She loved it and had continued to come after her grandmother had passed.
Until this week, Mhàiri had always found a way to escape, but yesterday, she had finally succumbed to the pressure of her friend.
And then Maegan had the nerve to not even show up.
Conan lifted his bread as a sign of acknowledgement, his empty smile frozen in place. Mhàiri curled her lips into a similar expression.
“We are so glad you two joined us this week,” the lady on her left said, her voice warm and kind.
“Aye,” came a rickety voice from someone on her right.
“We normally just sew, but today, as we have special guests, we decided to have a treat first,” said another woman a couple of chairs down.
She had gray hair that was pulled back into a single plait.
Her face was wrinkled, but Mhàiri could tell it was due to excessive smiling.
The woman pointed to her bread. “Try it,” she said with a nod.
“It’s Almeda’s. No one’s bread is more delicious. ”
Mhàiri took a bite and had to agree it was very good.
The woman beaming with pride, who must have been Almeda, sat next to Conan on his left. She was large set with round cheeks and small, bright blue eyes that, despite her years, still looked young and bright.
Mhàiri’s gaze landed on Conan and narrowed.
What was he doing here? She could not imagine he did this sort of thing often.
She had never heard Maegan mention his attendance at the circle, and it was just not in his nature to sit patiently and listen as old women prattled about things in which he had no interest.
Seeing her inquisitive look, Conan arched a brow and then took a large bite. A second later, he turned and said, “Excellent, Almeda. Even Fiona would be envious of your skill.” This brought on giggles by several of the women.
“Please excuse us, Mhàiri, dear,” came from the woman on her left, “but we are so excited to have Conan with us.” And as if she knew Mhàiri needed further explanation, she added, “We have been asking him to come for years, but until today he has refused.”
Conan took a drink of water. “Seems my little niece thought it time I came as well, Gavina.”
Mhàiri pulled off a small piece of bread and popped it into her mouth, glad to have something to help mask her shocked expression.
She wondered how Bonny had convinced him to come today.
She could ask, but for a seven-year-old, Bonny was incredibly smart and evasive when she wanted to be.
She would be more successful asking Maegan, which she planned on doing right after she finished scolding her for leaving her alone with a bunch of strangers.
“We are so sad to hear you will be leaving us in the spring. Whatever will we do?” The question came from a thin woman who looked incredibly frail. Mhàiri feared a good wind would knock her over and wondered how the old woman was able to survive the cold winters.
“Now, Leane, you do not have to worry,” Conan answered. “I will make sure someone from Conor’s guard steps forward and continues when I leave.”
The woman sitting to her left leaned closer and said in a loud whisper, “A few years ago, us widows started finding meat at our door. Nothing very big, usually a bird or a rabbit, but the perfect size for us to prepare and eat without leaving anything to spoil. For months, we tried to figure out who it was, but it was not until Conan here”—a long finger pointed to him—“left several times over the course of a summer to visit some abbeys with Father Lanaghly that we discovered his secret. You see, each time he left, the meat ceased to appear.” Realizing that Conan was listening to her, as was everyone else, she spoke louder.
“And that is when we knew who our angel was.”
Mhàiri’s jaw had been dropping farther and farther as the story had been told. When it was finished, she raised her astonished gaze to Conan, but he was looking elsewhere.
Two hours later, Mhàiri was surprised to realize she was enjoying herself.
Each woman had regaled them with her own personal story of love, and when finished, they had wished for Conan to also find someone who would cherish him, like his brothers had.
Some shared tales of their children, most of whom were grown but lived near.
Once the bread was consumed, Mhàiri watched as the women brought out their sewing and was glad that Maegan had suggested she bring the drawing she had started sketching to give her something to do.
Only two women were working on the same piece, combining two pieces of fabric together to make a thicker, warmer blanket.
Most were doing mending, and another was fashioning a new leine for her son to wear during the upcoming festivities.
“Conan, young man, could you help me thread this needle?” Almeda asked, handing him some thread. He took the needle and thread in hand and deftly pushed the fiber through the small hole. “Tapadh leat,” she said when Conan handed it back. “I was hoping you could help me with one last favor.”
Mhàiri watched him arch a brow as he turned in Almeda’s direction. He looked as if he was agreeing, but Mhàiri noticed he had yet to actually commit himself. “Your brother Crevan found me the sweetest puppy when he lived here.”
“He was such a sweet man,” Gavina sighed, then tapped Mhàiri’s hand with a soft finger. “Not as sweet as our Conan though.”
“Piegi just passed,” Almeda continued, “and I was hoping you could find me another.”
Finally, Conan glanced Mhàiri’s way, catching her staring at him. He gave her a triumphant wink and then said, “Of course. I would be delighted.”
Mhàiri almost scoffed aloud, swallowing it just in time. Conan, delighted to find a puppy. Conan, eager to thread needles. Conan, feeding widows. The man sitting across from her might look like Conan. He might even have his name and his voice, but he certainly was not Conan.
“You are so kind.” Almeda gave his hand a little squeeze.
Conan coughed into his other hand, causing Mhàiri to look up.
As soon as she did, he caught her gaze, and that was when she knew.
Aye, some of his deeds proved he was charitable, but everything he had said and done that afternoon had been to prove her wrong.
“Some may disagree with you, I think,” he said.
“Why, just this week I was told that one of the very things I was not capable of was kindness.”
This brought about chuckles from the group, as they assumed he was just teasing them.
“What nonsense,” Leane said, plunging her needle through the thick material with more force than it seemed possible from her feeble form.
“Why, it was just yesterday that a wee lad—you know, Rona’s boy—was pestering you about learning how to sword fight.
I’ve heard him ask other soldiers, but they said they didn’t have time. ”
“Or that he was too small,” another remarked.
“Aye, but our Conan stopped and showed him a few ways to stop the teases of another child who was bigger and stronger. Made that lad’s day.”
“My granddaughter is your chambermaid and thinks you are the kindest man she knows,” Almeda commented, her plump cheeks turning pink.
Conan’s head jerked back, and Mhàiri could tell even he was surprised at that one. She had seen his room, and it was in a state of disarray. And while she did not know for certain, her gut said that was its normal state. “I, uh, must say I’m surprised,” Conan finally got out.
“Whenever you see her hauling a basket of clothes and linens, you always stop and carry it the rest of the way. You never yell for her to clean the stairwell, and you only ask her to help with your chambers a couple times a month. She considers it a blessing to work for you and will be sad to see you go.”
Conan licked his lips, and a large grin came over his face. He leaned back, crossed his legs at the ankles, and sent Mhàiri a large “so there” grin.
“And then there is little Bonny,” the woman who sat on Conan’s right said, finally joining the conversation.
Minna’s perfect posture clashed with the chaos of her white hair, which fought its braided constraints.
“Pretty little thing is as smart as they come, but I’ve noticed she doesn’t play with the other children much.
Don’t think just because we don’t live in the castle that we don’t know you have befriended the little lass. ”
“Aye,” Leane piped in again. “Maegan says you are never impatient with her, teaching her things, making time for her even when you are busy preparing for your trip.”