Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Page 13

  “You do?” Lindsey asked. “I agree with Grizel. Rory is a good lad, but he dinna find favor in my eyes, not the way...”

  “The way who does?” Grizel pressed.

  Lindsey did not answer. Instead, she watched as first Gowen, and then Marcus walked down the path. Both of them, she noticed, looked at Grizel. “Never have I seen so many lads go this way to the river.”

  Grizel shrugged. “Perhaps they are lost.”

  “Perhaps they have lost their wits, too,” Lindsey giggled. She stopped giggling when the next one to come was Rory. As usual, he checked her water bucket, found it half empty, and headed to the river to refill it. She turned to Elena and said, “At least Rory dinna look at Grizel.”

  “Because he only sees you,” Elena said. “‘Tis how it is when a lad is in love.”

  “Can a lad not fall out of love?” Lindsey asked.

  Before Elena could answer, Grizel said. “Hardly ever. Once smitten, smitten for life, it seems.”

  “Is there a lad who loves you?” Lindsey asked Grizel. She rolled another length of clay between her hands and began to add it to the pot she was making. Just then, she spotted Michael coming, so she wiped her hands on her apron and waited.

  “You are lookin’ well,” Michael said. “I have come to see your bruise.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes and looked at Elena, “‘Tis hardly a mark now. Michael thinks me a child still.”

  “Not true,” said Michael. “You are a handsome young lass who needs be married to Rory.”

  When he knelt down in front of her, she lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to let him look at her shin. “I dinna fancy Rory.”

  “So I hear.” Michael stood up and nodded. “You are healin’ well enough. Have you any other ailments?”

  “I do.” She smiled at the concerned look on her laird’s face. “His name is Rory.”

  “What about me,” Rory asked as he carried a full bucket of water up the path.

  “Michael is tryin’ to marry me off,” Lindsey answered.

  Rory set the bucket down. “To me, I hope.”

  “Aye, to you,” Lindsey said.

  “And your answer is?” Rory asked.

  “The same as yesterday and the day before.” Just then, Murran came down the path. He looked at Grizel first, then at a smiling Lindsey, and when he spotted Michael, he kept right on going.

  This time, Michael noticed Lindsey’s reaction to Murran, and ever so slightly nodded his confirmation to Elena. When he looked, Grizel was staring at him as though he had insulted her somehow. He ignored her.

  “How are the English lessons for the lads coming?” Elena asked Michael.

  “Owen yet refuses, but I cannae force him. I tell you a secret though. Yesterday as I walked past his shop, I heard him say his new fork was beautiful.”

  Elena grinned. “In English?”

  “Aye.” Michael kissed Lindsey on the forehead, and then walked away.

  With a perturbed look on her face, Grizel asked, “He kissed you?”

  “He loves me,” Lindsey answered with a touch of pure joy in her voice. “Tis nothin’ I would not do for Michael.”

  Grizel said, “No wonder you do not marry Rory, you wait for Michael.”

  Lindsey found her outburst befuddling. “I dinna wait for Michael, ‘tis another I love.”

  Just then, Murran walked back up the path from the river and this time Grizel did not miss the way Lindsey hopefully looked at him. Lindsey went back to work and pretended not to notice what Murran was doing or the look of concern on Elena’s face. “I dinna wait for Michael,” she muttered again. She was surprised when Grizel abruptly got up and marched up the path. “Did I upset her?”

  “Nay,” said Elena, “and who cares if you did.”

  “You dinna favor Grizel?”

  “I try to,” Elena answered, “but she is not easy to favor.”

  “I favor her. She comes to see me often, just as you do.”

  Elena finally smiled. “I doubt there is anyone in the world you dinna favor.”

  “Save Rory, on some days.”

  ELENA CHECKED ON HER children and then went to join Michael and her brother in the room Balric had chosen for his writing endeavors. The slanted table lacked only a board along the bottom to keep the parchment from sliding off. Otherwise, it was complete.

  Next to the hearth, in which only embers remained, Michael waited until Elena was comfortable, sat down, and began. “The first story is about a lad named Kevin. There was a plague in his day too, and when he recovered he and one sister were all that remained of his family. At nineteen, he had become a laird with enemies all around who wanted what the MacGreagors had. Although no one knows from where the edict came...”

  “What edict?” Balric asked.

  “Forgive me. I failed to speak of it when you first came. I suspect it was begun because there was a shortage of lasses, and therefore the edict was a reason to keep them safe in order for the clan to multiply. The edict proclaims that any lad who harms a woman or a child out of anger shall be put to death.”

  “Truly?” Balric gasped.

  “Truly, but only if he is a MacGreagor.”

  “And you would uphold this edict?”

  “If I am forced to.”

  Elena was just as surprised as her brother. “Is this why you give sanctuary to Grizel?”

  “I cannae force the edict on others, but the MacGreagors have given sanctuary to frightened lasses throughout the generations.”

  “Does all of Scotland know of it...save the two of us, that is?” Balric asked.

  “Perhaps,” Michael answered.

  Balric sank lower in his chair. “Then the lad who wishes to kill her shall come here looking for her, whoever he is.”

  Michael nodded. “I am expectin’ him to.”

  Elena shook her head. “‘Twas not very wise of her guard to leave her in the first place he will look.”

  “I wonder why he has not yet come,” Balric asked.

  “As do I,” said Michael.

  “And shall the MacGreagors fight to keep her safe?” Balric asked.

  Michael stared at the floor for a moment. “I dinna know what we shall do.”

  Elena thought not to say anything, but she did anyway. “Suppose she is lying?”

  “Why would she?” Michael asked. “It cannae be pleasant being away from her home and the people she loves.”

  “She loves no one,” Elena said before she thought to stop herself. She watched the curious look in Michael’s eyes and then looked away. “I mean to say, she speaks not of loving or missing anyone.”

  “Sister, perhaps she dinna want to...”

  “Elena,” Michael interrupted. “What do you know that I do not?”

  She pleadingly looked at her brother, but she was caught and there was nothing he could do to help her. “You might as well know. There are rumors,” she said when she finally looked at Michael.

  “What sort of rumors?” Michael asked.

  Elena hesitantly answered, “She...entices the lads.”

  Suspecting it was one thing, confirmation was something else again, and Michael did not like what he was hearing. “Which lads?”

  “I know not for certain, but you must know ‘tis you she hopes to marry.”

  Michael closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. “She is the last lass I would care to marry.”

  “Me too,” Balric muttered. He let the silence in the room linger for a time and then said, “Sister, we have interrupted Michael’s story.”

  “Indeed we have,” said Elena glad for the change of subject.

  Michael smiled at Balric and then gathered his thoughts. “Aye, well ‘Twas at age nineteen that Laird Kevin MacGreagor saw a bonnie lass in a glen, doing tricks on the back of a black stallion. He was quite taken with her and vowed he would have no other wife, but...”

  KENTIGERN MANOR, 1911

  When Nicholas nudged his wife, McKenna stopped reading and tu
rned to him. “What?”

  “My love, Alistair’s eyes are drooping and Jessie has already fallen asleep.”

  McKenna looked over the top of the book at her friends and smiled. “Shall we not put them to bed, then?”

  Nicholas nodded, waited until she put the marker in, gently took the book from her, and set it atop a high bookshelf where the children could not get to it. “I admit to being tired myself, and we promised to take them to see the castle tomorrow.”

  “I am most eager to see it again,” said Alistair as he helped his wife stand up.

  Alistair and Sarah had been in the castle the night it burned, and McKenna was concerned. “Sarah, shall you be very upset to see it again?”

  “I shall try not to be, but I confess to a great fear of fire these days.”

  “Well,” said Alistair, “if that be the case, I shall carry a bucket of water wherever we go.”

  Sarah giggled, swatted his arm, and then followed him up the stairs.

  After he gently woke her up, Cook Jessie let Nicholas escort her to her bedroom on the bottom floor. “What do you want for breakfast?” she asked.

  “There is a new restaurant in Glenartair these days,” Nicholas answered, “and I shall be happy to buy breakfast for us all.”

  Jessie huffed, “Is the cook worthy of my patronage?”

  “Not at all,” said Nicholas, “but the village needs the business. ‘Tis within walking distance.”

  “A walk of a Scottish morn? I am in heaven.” Jessie grinned and bid him goodnight, just before he closed the door.

  HAVING LIVED IN AMERICA for ten years, cook Jessie ate her first Scottish breakfast in a new restaurant that just happened to have a cook after her own heart. In fact, the meal was so good, she could not find one single thing to complain about. As well, they were greeted by people she remembered, but did not get a good look at the one that quickly darted out of sight. When they finished, she was not eager to see the ruins of a castle she had worked in and loved for many years.

  “I dinna care to see the castle this morn,” Jessie said after they returned home.

  “Dinna read the book,” McKenna charged her.

  Jessie simply rolled her eyes, watched them get in the Benz and drive away. As soon as they were out of sight, she gleefully went inside, took the book off the high shelf, and carried it to her bedroom.

  IT SEEMED UNUSUALLY warm out when Nicholas turned down the lane that ran through the middle of the MacGreagor glen. The outside of the castle did not look any better than it had the last time they were there, but the piles of rubble had grown considerably.

  Seated in the back, Sarah laid her head on her husband’s shoulder. “It burned so quickly, it is a wonder no one died.”

  “Aye, and I miss my slippers still,” said Alistair trying to lighten his wife’s mood.

  It worked, for she sat up straight, “You miss them? The soles were so thin, they would have worn completely out in another month.”

  “Aye, but I dearly loved...”

  Nicholas was not paying any attention. Instead, he studied the graveyard as they passed, to make certain there was not another fake headstone with McKenna’s name on it. Thankfully, nothing looked out of place. McKenna, on the other hand, was more interested in what lay on the recovery table Charles showed her the day before. It did not appear he had found anything more, and certainly not another box filled with missing MacGreagor books.

  For McKenna, the shock of seeing the ruins for the first time had worn off some and this time when she got out of the car, she looked the castle over more carefully. It was still a burned out shell of a building, but her happy memories had begun to fill in the empty spaces.

  She waited while Charles greeted Alistair and Sarah, and then asked, “Have my brothers designed it just the way it was?”

  “Aye, they have, and their memory of the place is quite remarkable.” Charles chuckled. “They dinna find the source of the draft and even mention it on the drawin’s.”

  “Uncle tried to find it too,” said McKenna. “We are readin’ the stories you found.”

  Charles nodded. “I thought you might be.”

  “I believe ‘twas Laird Michael MacGreagor who built the bridge over the river.”

  “Did he?” Charles asked. “He did a right fine job of it. We’ll have to pay the piper to build the castle as well as our ancestors built the bridge.” He paused to find just the right words for what he was about to say. “Miss McKenna, I...”

  “Miss? Why so formal suddenly. Did we not grow up together?”

  “Aye, but you are married now.”

  She looped her arm through his and walked with Charles to the table. “I can still beat you at croquet.”

  He abruptly jerked his arm away. “McKenna MacGreagor, when did you ever beat me at croquet?”

  She giggled and took his arm again. “That’s better. Now, what were you about to say?”

  He looked at Nicholas and then at McKenna again. “We found a note on the table this mornin’. ‘Twas kept from blowin’ away by the tip of a dagger stuck in the wood.”

  “A note? What did it say?” McKenna asked.

  Charles pulled it out of his pants pocket and handed it to her.

  Cautiously, she unfolded it and then read, “Build it and it shall burn again and again.” Disturbed, she handed it to her husband. “Who would threaten such a thing?”

  “I know not,” said Charles, “But ‘tis wise to pay heed to it. I have hired two guards to watch the place at night.” He gave Nicholas a slight, knowing nod.

  “I see. Well, there is little we can do about it.” McKenna handed the note to Alistair and waited until he finished reading it. “What do you say we should do? My brothers mean to build it back, and so do I.”

  “I shall see what I can learn in the village,” Alistair said, although he had already told Nicholas he would do that very thing. “I dinna recognize the hand, do you?” he asked.

  McKenna took the note out of his hand and examined it again. “Nay, I dinna recognize the writin’. Be she dead or not, and ‘tis considerable debate either way, ‘tis not the duchess’ writin’. I would know her hand anywhere.”

  “I am relieved to hear that,” said Nicholas. “Charles, do you recognize the knife?”

  Charles shook his head. “Nay, ‘tis store bought and could belong to anyone.”

  Alistair thought for a moment. “I recall a lad who treated you most heartlessly before you set sail for America.”

  “You mean the one Leesil and Cathleen shamed at a London ball?” Sarah asked.

  “That’s the one,” Alistair answered. “I doubt society easily welcomed him back, if at all, and perhaps he holds a grudge.”

  “Chilton,” McKenna muttered.

  “I remember him,” said Charles. “We dinna like him much.”

  “Can we not call someone to inquire?” Sarah asked.

  “Lady Bayington will know,” said McKenna. “I knew him to be a liar, but I dinna think him dangerous.”

  “We shall discover who it is soon enough,” said a determined Nicholas. “Meanwhile, it would do us all well to be constantly on guard.”

  “And so we shall,” said Charles.

  McKenna reassuringly smiled at Charles, and then looked toward the bridge. “Is it sound?”

  “As sturdy as the day it was finished,” Charles assured her. He watched as McKenna and Sarah walked to the bridge and then went to the middle of it and looked down at the water below. With the women out of hearing, he turned his concerned attention to Alistair. “I hired a guard to keep watch, but whoever it was managed to leave the note right under his nose.”

  ‘Tis a big glen,” said Alistair. “One guard cannae watch all of it.”

  “True,” Charles said as he turned to Nicholas. “I thought not to tell her, but...”

  “You were right to tell her,” Nicholas assured him. “McKenna shall be more cautious because of it. I have not yet told her about the grave marker and see no
reason to frighten her more just now.”

  “I agree,” said Charles. While Alistair went to greet the other men, some of whom he knew well. Nicholas seemed more interested in what lay on the table, so Charles walked to it with him. Nicholas was especially interested in the gold rings with a glass shard still in one of them.

  “Unless I am mistaken, this is the hourglass Lindsey gave Kester five hundred years ago.”

  Charles sighed, “What’s left of it, you mean.”

  “Even so, I shall take it home and have it put in a glass case for all to see. You shall love the stories, Charles. I love them, and I am not even Scottish.”

  FROM THE MIDDLE OF the bridge, the back of the castle ruins looked even worse than the front, although there were some partial interior walls still standing. “Are you very frightened of livin’ in it again once it is built?” McKenna asked Sarah.

  “I confess I have nightmares still. For a time, I thought we had no escape. The fire had reached our bedroom door and...”

  McKenna put an arm around her old friend to comfort her. “Forgive me for bringin’ up the subject. ‘Tis just that if you dinna wish to come back, we shall understand.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “I doubt my husband would understand. He loves this land and everything on it – fire or no fire.”

  “Aye, he does. I have been meanin’ to visit the graveyard now that we know what the leaves mean.”

  “The ones that died of the black death? I would like to see them too.” Sarah’s smile was back as the two of them left the bridge, went around the castle, walked between two vegetable gardens, and then through the tall grass to the graveyard. When they arrived and found the stones with the leaves carved into them, Sarah looked at her friend. “How sad that they died such an awful death, yet how wonderful it is to know what the markings mean.”

  “I agree.” McKenna weaved her way through the graves until she spotted a name she recognized. “Look, this one says Kester.” Do you suppose ‘tis the same Kester?”