Chapter Twenty
“What do ye think of this place?” Logan’s mother asked Elspeth as she showed her around her home.
“This house is extraordinary,” she praised. “How long did it take yer husband to build eleven rooms?”
“Och, darling,” his mother laughed softly.
Elspeth found herself laughing softly with her. It didn’t matter that she had no idea what was so humorous.
“This house wasna built in a day,” she said. “It took him years, decades. He started before we met, while he was married to someone else.”
Elspeth didn’t mean to stop walking. It was just the shock of hearing such news.
“His first wife died while giving birth to his daughter. Sadly, the babe perished as well. He was away in battle and arrived home too late.”
Elspeth’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “How could such a terrible thing befall a man?”
Ismay MacPherson nodded and swiped a tear from her milky cheek. She put her arm through Elspeth’s and picked up her steps.
“It made a terrible mess of him,” the Lochiel’s wife told her. “He was surrounded by ghosts who refused to let him go.” She paused to smile. “I dinna blame them.”
“How did ye win him?” Elspeth asked as they came to a door at the end of the hall.
Her escort opened the door and invited her into her private sitting room.
Elspeth looked around as she stepped inside, her eyes wide, her lips parted. Sunlight streamed inside through wide windows. The walls were lined with tapestries and paintings in carved wooden frames.
“My children painted them when they were younger,” Ismay told her, noting Elspeth’s fascination with the art. “Ealar painted that one when he was three. He always had an affinity fer art in all its forms.”
Elspeth smiled at the painting of a dog, or…something like a dog.
“Have a seat and I will pour us something to drink.”
Elspeth looked around at the five high-back chairs covered in embroidered fabric, all positioned to face the others. There was a wooden settee with blue cushions in front of an ornately carved hearth.
The room had a family feel. It made Elspeth warm, unlike the warmth of the sun. This heat came from the inside, warming places, like her heart, that had been cold for so long.
Her host returned and handed her a cup of heather ale. She took a seat next to Elspeth and tilted her face to the sun while she sipped her drink.
“How did ye win my son’s heart?”
Elspeth was taken aback. She guessed it was only natural that his mother would be curious. “In truth, I dinna know. I think…” she let her voice trail off. She should not have spoken.
“What do ye think, Elspeth?”
Elspeth pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. What did she know of outright lying? She had tried it a few times and did not like how it made her feel. “I think he gave his heart to me long before we met.”
His mother sat upright and set her cup on the ground. “Speak plainly. What are ye saying?”
Elspeth didn’t know if she should tell his mother these things. Why had she started? It was just that…well, just that his mother felt more like a friend. The kind she could tell anything to…
“He came upon me six years ago and lingered in his hiding place, watching me. He says he returned the next day in the hopes of seeing me again. That was when my father and his men attacked him.”
His mother was quiet for a few moments, enough for Elspeth to count to ten three times. Then, she spoke slowly, measuring every word. “So, ye are saying that ’tis my son’s fault that he was stabbed by yer father?”
Elspeth shook her head, though if asked this same question a few days ago, her answer would have been different. “Nae, he did nothing deserving of his punishment. My father acted rashly—as he had done dozens of times with Roderick,” she added softly, quietly.
“A shame about yer brother, but I’m pleased ye feel that way, Elspeth. Do ye love Logan?”
Elspeth blinked at her and tried to take in the question. It was so sudden and unexpected that it near knocked Elspeth off her feet.
“I…I…”
“Come now,” his mother urged. “’Tis an easy enough question. Has he won yer heart, as well?”
Elspeth hated herself for the burning in her eyes as tears formed. Why was she feeling so emotional?
She nodded, unable to form any words, but finally she did.
“Fer so long I hated him. It didna matter if I didna know him. All these years I believed my kin died because of him. Then, when I met him and came to know him more, he surprised me by who he truly was. I hated myself fer the feelings I was developing fer him. Now that I know the truth, as terrible as ’tis, it frees me to love him. ”
Elspeth noted the slight shift of his mother’s body. Her eyes mostly, for they looked away as if with discomfort. Elspeth knew there would be. She had prayed she was wrong.
“There are still so many obstacles,” Elspeth acknowledged, setting down her cup. “But aye, my lady, yer son has won my heart.”
“And ye have clearly won his,” his mother remarked, still looking away.
“Logan has never had eyes fer anything but fighting fer the king—as his father had.” She returned her gaze to Elspeth.
It was softer than a few moments ago. “I worried that he might never experience the magic of love or have bairns. ’Twould be such a shame, because he has a good heart, as ye know. ”
Elspeth nodded, but she felt ill from the thought of Logan having bairns with some lass. She moved uncomfortably in her chair.
“What are the obstacles ye mentioned?”
Elspeth stared at her. “Ehm.”
“Yer brother?” she guessed. “If ye truly love someone, any obstacle can be overcome.”
“’Tis ye,” Elspeth confessed softly. “And yer husband. I know what I am. A Protestant. A Covenanter. The king is verra important to yer family. Though ye are nae longer my enemy, I am still yers.”
His mother smiled. “Ye have fergiven us?”
“Of course.”
The Lochiel’s wife reclined in her chair and sipped her drink. “I like that aboot ye, Elspeth. Ye fergive easily. It shows yer pure heart.”
“Nae, my lady, ’tis I who needs fergiveness from ye.”
“Call me Ismay,” his mother said, then, “Why would ye need fergiveness from us?”
“Fer blaming everything on yer son. Fer coming here to kill him.”
Hearing this, his mother took in a sharp intake of breath.
“But I have put that desire to death. I wouldna hurt yer son, not even fer the king.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” his mother…Ismay said, glancing at her. “Did ye try to kill Logan before ye lost yer heart to him?”
What could Elspeth do but tell her the truth? “Aye, I tried to hit him over the head, and to stab him. I didna succeed because I didna want to.”
His mother was visibly shaken. Elspeth should not have volunteered so much information. “My lady—”
She held up her hand to stop Elspeth from speaking. “Swear to me that ye will never hate my son fer what he believes.”
“I swear to ye that I will never hate Logan fer any reason.”
His mother grinned at her and lifted her cup.
Someone knocked at the door. “Who?”
“’Tis Logan.”
Upon hearing him speak his name, Elspeth was filled with warmth that had no beginning and no end. She wanted to cry out, ‘Enter!’
“Enter,” his mother granted, filling Elspeth with anticipation that made her tremble.
The sitting room door creaked open and Logan’s handsome face appeared. Seeing her, he smiled. She returned the gesture when she saw him.
Watching, his mother covered her mouth with her hand and chuckled.
“This looks cozy,” he remarked happily when his mother allowed him entry.
“’Tis. Grab a cup and pour yerself some heather ale.”
While he did so, his father entered the room. Elspeth was quick to note that they barely looked at each other. Had something taken place between them? Did it have to do with her?
“Constantine,” his wife scolded when she saw him, sensing the same thing as Elspeth, “Ye will leave yer disagreements at the door. Is that clear? Logan, the same goes fer ye. Dinna drag any bickering into this room.”
Elspeth watched with admiration, for Ismay MacPherson sparkled in her gaze like the summer sun dappling on the sea.
This mere wisp of a woman looked the Lochiel straight in the eyes without a thread of fear, and demanded he leave his disagreements at the door…
and he nodded in agreement! Her son also dipped his head and stared at his boots.
Elspeth had to know how she did it!
“Have some ale with us or leave.”
Both her husband and son filled their cups with the fragrant liquid.
The Lochiel took a seat beside his wife and smiled at her.
Without a knock, the door swung open and Ealar strolled inside the sitting room.
“Ah, good, ye are both here,” he said to his parents. “I want to go to the ridge and look oot with Ewen. If no’, then allow me to return home to Tor where I dinna have to wait alone.”
Ismay MacPherson rolled her eyes toward heaven. “Ealar, no one is going home until this villain is caught.”
“Go meet up with Ewen,” the Lochiel said to his son. “Dinna distract him.”
“I wanted the four of us to speak alone,” the Lochiel explained to his wife why he sent their son out alone. “Ealar can take care of himself.”
When his wife nodded her agreement, he turned to Elspeth. “Miss Woodburn.”
She had the feeling of looking into the eyes of a mountain lion deciding whether or not to pounce.
“I dinna think ’tis a wise decision fer ye and my son to remain here alone together. Ye are both young. It could lead to things.”
Elspeth heard a sound and tore her gaze off the Lochiel to set it on Logan, taking a seat beside her.
He’d made the sound; a scoff riddled with incredulity.
“Lead to things? Like what, Father? Me fallin’ in love with her and makin’ her my wife?
” He slipped his gaze to Elspeth. “If she will have me.”
The world stopped, along with the blood in her veins and the beat of her heart. He wanted her to…be his wife? She knew he wanted her to stay, but be his wife? That was a lifelong promise and involved being intimate in bed and bearing his children. She nearly fainted thinking of it.