Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

CASTLE MACLACHLAN, ARGYLLSHIRE

C ora MacLachlan heaved a sigh at the firm rap on the bedchamber door—the same time as every morning since Tira and her wee bairns had arrived a week ago and set the entire castle into commotion.

Cora awakened from sleep by the startling news that her husband, Gavin, whom she had thought in Dumbarton with King Robert, had returned home to Argyll instead with a flaxen-haired lass weak from childbirth, two starving newborns, and a strapping Highland warrior named Errol Sutherland.

Not the poor young woman’s husband at all, but the man Tira had agreed to wed before her cruel abduction last year, Cora sighing again as she hastened to the door.

Was there any tale more heartrending than this one? In the four-poster bed behind her, Tira gasped at a second knock and rolled over onto her side, drawing the covers up tightly to her ear.

“Send him away, Cora, please !”

At Tira’s plaintive entreaty, Cora nodded, though in truth she wanted nothing more than to allow Errol entrance so he could at least see that Tira was feeling better than when Cora had first seen her.

Ah, God, what a night! Cora had immediately taken charge and directed Gavin’s helmsman to carry Tira upstairs to an empty bedchamber while Gavin had relinquished a swaddled babe from each arm to stunned maidservants—then rushed out to ride to the nearby village to fetch a wet nurse.

Errol, meanwhile, had been ordered to stay behind in the great hall where Cora had found him still pacing anxiously a few hours later, no matter Gavin had told him to try and get some rest.

Yet few in the castle had slept that night, an imminent calamity for the newborns indeed until a plump young woman with a babe of her own had arrived and both bairns had begun to suckle hungrily at her ample breasts.

Cora had deemed it a miracle a few days later when Tira’s wee daughter, who had cried so feebly when first placed in the wet nurse’s arms, had gained weight and healthy color enough to ensure her survival—though her sturdier brother’s had never really been in doubt.

Tira had gained color in her face, too, her cheekbones not half so prominent and her thinness not quite so stark at Cora’s gentle insistence that she try to eat every morsel of food set in front of her.

Not so easy a task for the lass, whose lovely eyes nonetheless had remained haunted and easily filled with tears. Cora had sat with Errol in the great hall that first night as he had spilled out what must have been Tira’s wretched existence during the past year and why, according to what Brody had told him, she didn’t want Errol to come near her.

Och, how could anyone blame her? In spite of her first inclination, Cora wasn’t going to allow him to see her now either, as Tira had begun to weep beneath the covers.

Pity swept Cora as she cracked the door to find Errol’s handsome face etched with worry, but she slowly shook her head.

“Not yet, I’m sorry tae tell you. Come back tomorrow morning and mayhap she will have changed her mind?—”

“Och, God, I canna wait any longer!” Errol whispered fiercely, his blue eyes narrowed with frustration—aye, and something more glistening there, Cora realized. Tears. He even went so far as to push upon the door, which startled her as she braced her knee against it to prevent him from entering.

“Will you disobey my husband?” she hissed, relieved when his hand at once fell away, and he appeared even more stricken when Tira’s sobs grew louder behind her. “He told you it was up tae the lass, you canna force these things, Errol! At least you’ve been able tae visit her bairns in the nursery—och, I will admit this much tae you. She was sleeping this morning when I came in and she cried out your name. That’s something tae give you hope, aye?”

Cora had kept her voice down so Tira wouldn’t hear her, which was aided by the sobbing that hadn’t ceased. Sighing, she closed the door on Errol without another word and turned back into the room, which was lit with sunshine from a high narrow window.

Sunshine that would do Tira much good if Cora could convince her to leave the bedchamber for the first time and mayhap venture a walk in the walled garden.

A walled garden filled with rose bushes, some already blooming, and where she had shared many walks with her beloved husband, Gavin having sailed on to Dumbarton only a day after his unexpected return.

A few precious hours of that day spent with their own twins, Sinclair and Maud, six years old now and growing so fast. Cora had longed for more children, but that prayer had gone unanswered—och, she was content enough with their family, and now she had Tira’s bairns to hold in her arms.

Nothing smelled sweeter than a babe…though Tira had yet to venture to the nursery or even ask about them, which deeply worried Cora.

Brody had told her that Tira wouldn’t look upon the two after their birth, so he had done what he could for them by dipping his finger in cool water so at least they would suckle and swaddling them in a blanket torn in half.

Yet was her apathy so surprising after what Tira must have suffered with Thorgren Sigurdson?

It made Cora shudder to remember the bite marks Seoras, her first husband, had inflicted upon her with his bestial ways in the bedchamber, the painful bruises and cruel slaps. Forcing away as best she could any thought of him, Cora lifted raven-black hair loosed from the coil at her nape to behind her ear and moved toward the bed.

Tira’s sobs had quieted now that the door was shut again, but she still huddled beneath the covers as if she didn’t trust that Errol hadn’t entered the room.

God help the poor lass, would she ever accept the bairns that had been spawned from ravishment and humiliation?

They were innocent, a gift from God…and there was a courageous young warrior walking desolately back down the hallway who had told Cora he would raise the two as his own if Tira would wed him?—

“H-he’s gone?”

“Aye, I sent him away.”

No answer came from beneath the bedclothes, which seemed to flutter as if Tira trembled with relief.

Cora wasn’t surprised she felt a twinge of frustration that mayhap Tira wished for the day when Errol would leave the castle, too.

Gavin had allowed him to stay for the time being, aye, admitting to Cora that he hoped Tira might somehow recover from her despair. A messenger had been sent north to Sutherland country to let Hamish, Errol’s father, know all that had happened, his youngest son safe and well, but any reply would take another week or more to arrive.

It had been Gavin to inform Tira that Errol would remain behind, which had elicited such a flood of tears that he had decided it was best not to tell her that her father had died months ago—and Cora had withheld the somber news as well. Why threaten the progress being made?

Tira strangely hadn’t asked about him either, which made Cora wonder if she blamed her father for not doing more to find her…just as Errol had revealed a similar fear that first night.

Cora had really said little to Tira other than to report upon the improving health of her bairns and to encourage her to eat and sleep, not wishing to cause her any distress. For three days now Tira had even risen from the bed to walk around the room, her shaky footsteps at first as two maidservants supported her, growing steady and stronger.

The castle’s kindly healer, Ambrose, had visited often as well to tend to her womanly needs after childbirth, and sponge baths when Tira had been too weak to leave the bed had become warm soaks in a tub set near the fireplace. Her hair had been washed and brushed, too, the gleaming gold color unlike anything Cora had seen before.

In the sunlight spilling across the bed, Tira’s long tresses upon the pillow seemed to shimmer, a ragged sigh escaping her as she lowered the covers and glanced at Cora over her shoulder.

“M-my thanks, Lady?—”

“Och, dinna call me Lady, please. Your rank is no less than my own, and I’m your friend, Tira, first and foremost. On my way tae your room, I saw the tray carried out by the serving maid and you ate well without any coaxing from me, a very good sign. Now let’s get you up and dressed. A week is long enough tae mostly lie abed, aye? Your sweet bairns are just down the hall and it’s time you greeted them?—”

“No, no, no, I canna…” Tira began, the same frustration flaring inside Cora that made her fling back the covers and hold out her hand.

“You can and you will . Your wee ones need their mother, and that’s you. Now take my hand and I’ll help you from the bed.”

Cora wasn’t sure if it was her frank tone or reaching out with a sigh of impatience that made Tira sit up and oblige her, but within a moment the younger woman was standing beside the bed in a swirl of white nightgown.

To Cora’s relief, Tira didn’t appear shaky at all, just startled, her eyes wide as Cora left her to fetch a gown from the chest at the foot of the bed.

“I think this one will do, a pretty blue. My seamstresses have been busy indeed these past days sewing gowns for you—and I believe it’s time you wear one, aye?”

Tira didn’t answer, but she didn’t protest, either, as Cora gently stripped her of the nightgown to toss it upon the bed, and then began to ease the silk gown over her head when a soft rap came at the door.

At once Tira gasped and turned to climb back into bed, but Cora caught her by the arm as a maidservant’s voice carried to them, requesting entrance.

“You see? Nothing tae fear, she’s here tae help us—aye, come in!”

Cora could feel the tension in Tira, who trembled now as the older woman entered the room, Tira’s eyes grown wider still as if she expected Errol to appear as well. She didn’t seem to relax until the door was shut, which made Cora sigh again at the task that lay in front of her.

How was she to coax Tira out of the room, let alone down the hall to see her bairns, when she was so clearly anxious about seeing Errol?

Fresh pity arose in Cora at how stricken he had looked while standing outside the door, her reminder to him of Gavin’s advice flying back to her.

Aye, mayhap she was forcing things, but how else would Tira begin to fully recover if she didn’t engage in the world around her? She wasn’t a raider’s captive anymore, but safe and surrounded by people who cared about her welfare and that of her children. If breathing in the sweet scent of her bairns didn’t help to revive her, what would?

Cora stood back as the maidservant finished with Tira by helping her don a pair of matching blue slippers and throwing a light shawl around her thin shoulders, and then brushing her hair for a few moments until it shone all the brighter.

In truth, Cora was stunned by Tira’s beauty, which brought Errol back to mind and how deeply he must love her not to be daunted at all by her avoidance of him.

Aye, the bairns first and then somehow…somehow if Cora could only bring the two of them together…

“You look lovely, Tira—och, now, no tears. You’ve cried enough for a lifetime these past days, you mustna be afraid. Come.”

Her gentle reassurance making Tira blink away the moisture welling in her eyes, Cora felt heartened as she seemed to square her shoulders and then walk with her across the room, though she hesitated as Cora opened the door.

“I willna leave you, we’ll see your bairns together. Take my hand.”

Tira nodded and clasped Cora’s fingers so tightly that she winced, but still she murmured words of encouragement as they walked down the hall lit by candles fluttering in wall sconces.

Her heart beat faster at the prospect of Tira seeing her bairns for the first time since they had arrived at Castle MacLachlan, and the maidservant hastened in front of them to open the door to the nursery as if she shared Cora’s hopeful excitement about the reunion.

She gently steered Tira in front of her only to feel her freeze just inside the door at the sight of Errol cradling one of the babies in his arms—his expression as stunned as the look of shock on Tira’s face when she glanced at Cora.

“Ah, God, I didna know he would be here,” was all she managed before Tira tried to push past her and flee from the room, though Cora caught her arm as Errol came toward them.

“Tira, dinna go, I beg you!”