Chapter Three #2
Her father had struggled with his grief for several years. Donnan and Alana had loved each other dearly and had hoped Alex might know the same happiness in marriage. The thought made Alex sigh out loud. How would she find a husband worthy of her clan’s chiefdom?
A new wave of sadness gripped her heart as she started off down the lane, this time helping Will pull the wagon to give his shoulder a rest. There had been a time when she believed she had found a worthy man.
When she was fifteen her father had betrothed her to one of his closest and most trusted friends, Lord Robin Campbell, who had possessed holdings several leagues south of MacKenzie territory.
Although Robin had been more than twenty years her senior, she had supported her father’s choice from the start.
Robin was a man of honor, conviction, and kindness—a truly great man like her father.
But like her father, Robin had been unable to sit idly by and watch Scotland fall to its knees in front of an English king, and so he had taken up the cause.
He put blacksmiths to work making weapons.
He ran messages and collected funds. And he fought alongside her father, raising his sword high for Scotland at the battle of Dunbar.
Despite honor being on their side, the Scots were defeated.
Her father returned from war on the brink of death with injuries from which he would never fully recover, while Robin did not return at all.
“Welcome home, Alex,” a raspy voice called out, thankfully releasing Alex’s thoughts from the mire of despair.
Shaking off the past, she jogged over to where an old man sat carving a piece of wood. “Good morrow, Corc. How do ye fare?”
Corc rubbed his knobby knees, which peeked out beneath his plaid. “My old bones do a lot of talking these days, but I choose to ignore them. They never have anything interesting to say.”
Alex smiled and reached down to squeeze the old man’s gnarled fingers. “Yer a brave man, Corc, but if ye’re uncomfortable, have Morag make ye up a tisane to sip in the evening.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Alex cocked a brow at him. “Ye know ye wouldn’t be any trouble. Anyway, Morag’s always good for a laugh, and ye know how she enjoys gossiping.”
Corc smiled, revealing the few teeth he still had left. “Aye, true enough—and then I’d have an excuse to see her other than my aches and pains. I can claim it’s all a ruse to find some decent conversation—no shame in that.”
Alex chuckled. “None at all.” Then she turned to Will. “Bring along some bread for Corc.”
Corc waved Will away. “Nay, the lassies here in the village keep me fat as butter. Give that to someone else.”
Alex took the loaf from her brother’s hand and thrust it at Corc. “It makes me happy. Accept it as a favor to me.”
Corc’s face softened. Then he flashed his wide, gummy smile. “Ye know I can’t refuse now.”
“Oh, I know,” Alex said, winking.
Corc wrapped his weathered fingers around the loaf.
“Thank ye, Alex. Ye’re a fine lass. Yer mother would be proud.
We all missed ye while ye were away. But I think it right good of ye to visit Haddington in your father’s stead.
Knowing yer father as I do, he values the time ye spend with the abbot, although I ken it must be dull for ye, cooped up praying with all those monks. The silence alone would kill me.”
Alex suppressed the smile Corc’s words prompted as flashes of her last ‘visit’ to Haddington Abbey came unbidden to her mind.
Of course, few knew where she had really been.
Even her escort to Haddington remained ignorant of her true purpose.
Every time she went, the warriors were put to work ploughing Haddington’s fields, harvesting crops, repairing outbuildings or doing anything else to help the community.
Alex, being the sole woman there, ate and slept in seclusion.
Her men were completely unaware that their lady had actually left the monastery altogether.
Likewise, her most trusted adviser, Michael, steward of Luthmore, had no notion that she was an agent for the righteous cause of Scottish independence.
Only Mary and her lady’s maid, Rosie, knew the truth.
As far as the rest of the MacKenzie’s were concerned, she traveled to the monastery in her father’s stead, bringing his donations and taking the opportunity for prayer and contemplation within its hallowed walls.
And once upon a time this story had been true. But only once.
It was on her first visit to Abbot Matthew that she confessed her desire to take up the cause in Robin’s stead, and from that moment on, she and the abbot had been in league together.
She smuggled stolen coin, delivered messages, and gathered weapons, just as Robin had done.
Her most recent mission had involved a great deal of planning.
The abbot had amassed a large amount of silver, which for more than two years had been hidden away within a small kirk in a village in the Highlands.
Alex had volunteered to move the coin. It had not taken her long to think of the idea of lining her tunic with the silver; however, it had taken her, Rosie, and Mary an age to sew the individual marks in place.
Alex’s breath caught. Remembering her coin-lined dress drove her thoughts instantly toward sky-blue eyes; coal-black hair; strong, capable hands; and full lips pressed hard against her own.
“Alex!”
She was jarred from her thoughts as a small body barreled into her. Alex smiled down into the upturned, impish face of a wee lass with tangled red curls and golden-brown eyes. “Good morrow, Cassie.”
“We’ve been waiting for ye over there,” the little girl said, raising a chubby arm and pointing at the next cottage farther down the lane.
Alex turned back to Corc. “Apparently, ‘tis time for Will and me to move on.”
“Go in peace, Alex. I’ll pray for yer health and safety and for the health of yer father.”
Alex bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to his wizened cheek. Then with a smile and a wave, she started back down the path with Cassie straddling her hip.
“Good morrow, dear friend,” Alex said to the woman standing in the cottage doorway with three wee bairns clinging to her skirts.
“’Tis a fine morning now that ye’ve returned, Alex.”
Alex put Cassie down and pulled Helen into a tight embrace. “Oh, I’ve missed ye.”
Helen furrowed her brow with concern. “Are ye well? Ye look a bit flushed.”
Alex could not entirely stop the smile that fought to spread her lips wide. “I’m well enough, but I tell ye, Helen,” she said, leaning closer and dropping her voice. “I met a man while I was away that could bring any woman to her knees with a single glance.”
“Dear me,” Helen said, her bright eyes shining with mischief. “Please tell me ye’re not speaking of one of the monks at Haddington.”
Alex cocked her brow at her friend. “I’m not entirely lacking in scruples.”
“I ken,” Helen said, laughing. “’Twas a jest. Thankfully, the principles of yer soul hold the rather wanton demands of yer body in check. ‘Tis a good thing too, or ye’d have lost yer virtue long ago. So, where did ye meet this man, and when are ye going to marry him and give Luthmore an heir?”
“Nay, not ye, too,” Alex groaned. “Ye sound just like Michael.” Her father’s steward never ceased pestering her about her duties as lady to Luthmore Castle—procuring a husband remained at the very top of his list, that and wearing shoes.
“’Tis high time ye settled down. Anyway, ye need to get yerself a man. He’ll help cool those flushed cheeks.”
“Ye ken ‘tis not a lack of desire to wed on my part, but who can I trust to hold authority over my people? The good men are dead or taken, and the bad ones simply won’t get past my gate. Anyway, Da’s health is not up to the task right now.”
Helen’s head tilted slightly to the side as she gave Alex a knowing look. “Is there no one who could capture yer heart?”
“I gave my heart to Robin.”
“I’m speaking of love, Alex,” Helen insisted, stepping closer.
Alex flinched. “Ye know I loved Robin.”
“Of course ye did,” Helen said, giving her hand a squeeze.
“Ye respected him and admired him, and deservedly so. But, Alex, ye were never in love with him. The sight of him never made yer knees weak or stole yer breath. And don’t play innocent with me.
Since ye lost him, I know ye’ve been kissed properly. ”
Alex smiled but lifted her shoulders in defeat. “I’m fairly certain ladies aren’t allowed to marry for love.”
Helen pointed at Alex’s grubby feet. “Nor are they meant to go about barefoot, allowing commoners to use their Christian names, but that’s never stopped ye.
” A slow smiled curved Helen’s lips as she studied Alex.
“I can tell ye’re losing patience with me, so I’ll stop nagging.
‘Tis just...God forbid something were to happen to yer da. Ye’d be leaving the lot of us without a laird for protection. ”
An ache coiled around Alex’s heart, nigh stealing her breath. What Helen didn’t know—what few knew—was how sick her father really was.