Chapter 33

Nhaimeth sat with his arm around Rowena. “Now, lass,” he patted her shoulder. “Ye can ne’er say I didnae give ye a wedding day nae one will ever forget.”

“I’m so fortunate to have found ye Nhaimeth. I always hoped that one day a fine knight would come and whisk me away to a new life.” She rubbed one hand over his knee, as if just touching him comforted her, even as her touch brought ease to him.

He heaved a deep sigh, as if to confirm his thought. “That’s the first time anybody ever compared me to a knight, though if the world had been kinder I might have been a Chieftain.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he sensed rather than saw her smile.

“Aye, that’s how I feel when I think on it,” he told her, smiling in return.

It wasnae to last, however, for in a little voice she brought up the subject that had lingered in his mind since he began comparing Rowena’s green eyes with Melinda’s and Ralf’s. “La Mont is my father. That’s right; wouldn’t ye agree?”

He could feel her quivering against him, his bonnie Rowena, who didnae have a fearful bone in her body, who had braved that terrible cavern—a hole in the earth where a gigantic bull’s head, eyes red and fierce had glowered down at her—without a moment’s hesitation. But this afternoon, Henry La Mont’s words when he spoke of a monster of a bairn had cut her to the quick. “It will all be taken care of. Ye can trust Rob and the McArthur to discover the truth of the matter. That said, life is not all bad; Melinda would be yer sister.”

“I understand that, but how will she feel about me as a member of her family?”

The beginnings of a growl lodged in Nhaimeth’s throat. “Whether she’s happy over the new situation or nae, there’s naught anyone can do. The die was cast many years ago when La Mont married Ester, a Scot. Why, we’ll ne’er really ken beyond speculating. Myself, I’d love to say it was because he couldn’t live without her, but truth to tell, it was more likely ambition. I’ve seen it afore in my own father. They crave power. God’s teeth, what of this secret society of knights? Power again. Mayhap he thinks he’s King Arthur wi’ all these brave young men willing to do his bidding. What puzzles me is why he didnae just send them to fetch Harry away? But then I doubt we’ll ever ken. He was fairly ranting when the McArthur shut him away.”

Twisting in his arms to look up at him, Rowena said, “This is not the end. It never is; but for La Mont it could be the beginning of it. The McArthur must nae keep him here. He needs to go back to Wolfsdale for the story to continue.”

He laughed and landed a kiss on her wee button nose. “Sometimes I wonder how so much wisdom can be contained in a wee lass’s head, but that wasnae why I married ye, as ye will come to understand. We’ve an adventure lying afore us, and it starts with our wedding feast. It’s time we walked into the Great Hall and let the guests cheer for the new husband and wife. Are ye ready?”

“With ye by my side, Nhaimeth, always. I’m ready for anything, come what may.”

The feast was well under way, the food abundant and the songs melancholy, which Melinda had discovered was how the Scots liked them. She had Harry on her knee, clingy despite it having been Ralf her father had almost killed. Rob had Ralf on his knee, feeding him titbits frae his plate; but Harry, who was more in need of feeding that his twin, was inclined to be fussy and rested his head on her upper arm, staring at his brother.

Rob popped a sweetmeat into Ralf’s questing mouth, a dried plum soaked in honey and far too cloying for her taste. “I’m reluctant to let them out of my sight. Mayhap they should sleep in our chamber tonight.”

One of her eyebrows rose of its own accord and Rob read its context without her needing to say a word. She couldn’t help but smile when he all but stammered, “Nae, nae I dinnae mean that they should sleep in our bed. We can make up a wee bed for the twins to share—just for a few nights.”

She made a small moue, a pout, as she considered what sharing their private place with their sons meant. “Ye intend them to sleep in our chamber until my father has gone, then?”

“I do.” Rob’s eyes swung towards Ralf, his palm softly swirling through the dark curls so like his own, which meant he was able to avoid her gaze as he told her, “I can’t bring myself to trust La Mont to walk free around Cragenlaw.”

She understood his reluctance, yet felt a need to counter with, “I can’t say as I blame ye, though it was his being over-trusting of us when ye were at Wolfsdale that tossed us into this situation.”

Rob’s broad shoulders lifted and fell as he huffed out a sharp breath, and when at last his eyes fixed on hers, she could feel her insides melt with the heat in them and the promise therein, but all he said was, “Eh, lass, be sure our sins will always find us out.”

Whose sins did he mean, his or hers? She had chased after him until he caught her and her life changed in a heart’s beat.

Feeling guilty, she changed the subject. “I’m amazed that Rowena has taken all the disruption so well.” Melinda glanced over to the centre two seats of the high board where Rowena and Nhaimeth sat like king and queen—and why not? Nhaimeth’s history would proclaim him as a Comlyn Chieftain. As for Rowena... “Do ye really believe she is my full-blood sister?” How could our father have done such a cruel thing? She looked at her sons—at Rob—and her heart filled with love and, worse, fear.

“Nhaimeth has been my closest friend, almost a brother for most of my life. I look at his wife and see her similarities to him, then I look in her eyes and see the resemblance to my wife. Nhaimeth says it’s all in the eyes. He has been noticing it for a while now. I suppose hearing yer father simply gave him the final piece of the puzzle, more’s the pity. Part of me doesnae want ye to have aught like him.”

Rob lifted Ralf’s fingers away frae another sweetmeat. “Nae lad, ye will get fat. Already ye have got over-heavy for yer mother to lift up and down the length of the Keep stairs.” He shifted Ralf onto his other knee, his blue eyes darkening as he stared straight into hers. “We did right, getting married, ye and me, even though I gave ye nae choice. Only look at what we made, love. Did ye ever see two finer looking lads? We gave them a name and cancelled out the inexcusable start they had in this world. Aye, we did right.”

Melinda did not reply for he didn’t need one. What he didn’t say was the sin had been hers and she was just now beginning to understand why: she was Henry La Mont’s daughter and carried his dark blood, as did their sons. They would have to protect their sons all right, and why? To keep the La Mont side of their personalities tamped down while they could. Heaven help them if their sons were given free rein. The results could be wicked.

“What we’re left with after this morning’s tragedy is two wounded souls—three if ye count Brodwyn’s bairn, yet I doubt it can survive such a beginning. What is actually being done for Brodwyn and my father?” She almost hated to use that title. Father didn’t cover by half the kind of man he had revealed himself to be that day.

“Kathryn is taking care of both sides. For La Mont she brewed a tisane of herbs to calm his nerves and, hopefully, bring him back to his true senses. Little does she ken, he might have already displayed his true colours when he attacked Brodwyn and Ralf, The affront of the man, showing his face at Cragenlaw after being part of the plot that killed our king.” Rob’s chin jutted, showing the last battle at Alnwick was still fresh in his memory.

He took a moment then went on, “Kathryn was able to stem the flow of blood and has bound up Brodwyn’s sword wound. Fortunately, she never travels without a supply of healing herbs. I remember when she healed a slash in Gavyn’s side with spider webs. For all that Brodwyn’s wound might heal, Kathryn doesnae believe she will ever walk again. She believes yer father’s sword cut the ligament that binds the thigh to the hipbone. That leg will always drag, even if she ever manages to get to her feet again.” Melinda watched Rob shudder. She could almost read his thoughts. What if it had been Ralf the sword had harmed?

She held Harry close. The twins were two separate souls, yet they had shared her womb and what affected one always seemed to trouble the other. As she sat there, letting the full measure of Rob’s words sink in, he added to her burden, saying, “Ye do remember that her bairn, if it survives, will be yer brother or sister.”

Melinda began to laugh. It was the type of laughter ye couldn’t hold in even when the tears flooded yer cheeks. Folk sitting near stared, yet she couldn’t hold back the hilarity bubbling up inside her belly and chest. At last Rob pulled her and the bairns both astride his generous lap and held her tight until the swell of laughter finished ripping frae her throat. The bairns snuggled their wee heads against her breasts and Rob rubbed away her tears with the heel of one of his enormous hands. With words broken up by hiccups of emotion bubbling out of her, she tried to produce a little moment of humour, “Ye do ken what this means, Rob. I’ve gone frae being a spoiled only child into one who has a sister and, with God’s help, another sister or a brother to call family.”

Rob kissed her, a deep, longing kiss taken over the top of their sons’ heads that burned her up frae belly to breast and left her face flushed for all around to see. “Ye ken what I think?” he asked, and answered himself. “I think that this was a morning when we should never have left our bed.”

The wedding feast was drawing to an end, and yon clansfolk that werenae drunk soon would be, so Rob gathered up a few housecarls and with their help sent home those who didn’t live at the castle. With that matter concluded, Rob stood up to make a speech, entitled since he was the one who had stood as Nhaimeth’s man when he was wed.

In the middle of the Great Hall, he surveyed those who were left: the McArthurs, the Farquhars, the Ruthvens and not to forget the Buchans, father and sons, who had arrived late. The pitch-tipped torches on the walls were flickering in the draught frae the big doors, sending smoke and weird shadows to dance together on the vaulted ceiling. On the long-boards stretching the length of the Great Hall, Morag had arranged for thick ochre-coloured candles to be lit, and all the faces were plain to see, including St Clair’s; it seemed he had a way of making himself feel at home wherever he went.

Clearing his throat, Rob began, “I know it’s late and yer beds are calling, but ye all, or should I say most of ye,” he added with a pointed glance in St Clair’s direction, “came to Cragenlaw with a special purpose in mind. We are here to give Nhaimeth Comlyn and Rowena, his new wife, a guid send-off.”

‘Send off’ brought out the elbow nudging along with a few sniggers. None of it sounded mean, so he tried for a bit more hilarity. “Nhaimeth has been like a wee brother to me.” That produced a few laughs. “He was the first person to call me friend after I arrived at Cragenlaw, and the first to offer help to two strangers.” He looked at his mother and said, “Morag and me.” He then smiled at Nhaimeth, whose place at the high board brought their faces level.

“I understand frae what folk have said that Cragenlaw is gaining a reputation for out-of-the ordinary weddings, but I can assure ye the McArthur is not to blame.” He encompassed the Ruthvens and Buchans with his gaze and decided enough time had passed that they could take a wee jest. “Within the last few years, three of us who became friends under the McArthur’s auspices have been wed in these bonnie grey halls. Jamie, since he was married first, has to take the prize for the most original evening, nae doubt, since arranging a murder at the wedding feast isn’t easy.” Rob watched Jamie’s fleeting smile lift one corner of his narrow mouth, while Buchan, whose brother had virtually arranged his own death, glowered the length of the board at Rob but made nae move to rise … and why should he? Buchan had been one of the first to stick his blade into his brother Hadron.

“My own wedding has to be thought dull by the absence of murder and mayhem, though there would probably have been a killing if La Mont had caught up with us. Nae, my wedding takes a prize for the most unwilling bride, but that can happen when ye abduct her, bundle her up in a wagon and four days later expect her to stand afore the priest with a smile on her face.” He glanced at Melinda who smiled and nodded her agreement. A lot had changed since that day, though to his mind not enough.

“As for Nhaimeth’s wedding, ye have all been part of it here today and have seen for yerself that Cragenlaw might be a guid place for a honeymoon but not for a wedding if ye want to live to the end of the day. So I would like ye all to charge yer Quaich with Uisge beatha, and drink a toast with the water-of-life that these two friends of ours may live happy and prosperous lives.” Rob lifted his Quaich and made a toast, “Slainge vah, to Nhaimeth and Rowena.”

He drank, they all did, and when he was done he realised he had one last piece to say. “And I warn ye, there will be nae more weddings held at Cragenlaw in the near future unless it’s Morag and the McArthur’s. It must be about time, Father, to give Morag her due. Curse be damned. I, for one, am tired of being called a bastard.”

That said, Rob went back to his place beside Melinda and gave her another kiss. He knew he must taste of Uisge beatha yet she didn’t cringe, simply lifted her mouth closer for a biting taste.

The sooner they accompanied Nhaimeth and his bride to their wedding chamber, the sooner the day would be over, allowing him to seek the comfort of his wife’s body on what had been an incredible day, with a story fit to be told in castles all over Scotland. “Slainte mhaith!”