Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

C atriona was sitting, quietly sewing in her workroom, when Bernard appeared. The other seamstress who usually worked with her had gone to take her finished work to somewhere else in the castle, and she was alone. She was dressed in her grey working smock and looked clean, innocent, and as pretty as a china doll. She looked up from her work as she heard him approaching, but although she smiled when she saw him, there was a certain reticence about her.

"Good mornin', Bernard," she greeted him.

She stood up and leaned forward to kiss him, a soft, chaste peck on his lips, but she made no move to put her arms around him.

"Good morning, Katie," he replied nervously. He looked down at his hands, which he was twisting around each other without even being aware of it. He stilled them with an effort and made himself look at her. "I have something to tell you," he said reluctantly.

"I know," she told him, smiling. "Ye're goin' away."

"How did you know?" he asked in amazement.

"I had a feelin'. I heard about Laird Stewart, an' I just knew," she replied.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked. "It will mean that we will not see each other again."

She smiled sadly. "I knew it couldnae last, Bernard. Ye need somebody of yer own kind who knows a bit more about the world an' knows how tae kiss properly!" She laughed. "I told the girls what happened an' they a' laughed at me."

"I am really not worthy of you," he said thankfully.

"Pfft! Ye think ye are the first man who ever ended things wi' a woman?" She began to sew again, smiling. "There is somebody else, is there no'?"

Bernard was startled at her perspicacity. "N-Not exactly," he stuttered.

"But ye wish there was?" Catriona asked, raising her eyebrows in a question.

"Yes," he replied heavily.

"Then what are ye waitin' for?"

She stood up, turned him around, and gave him a little push.

He turned back, smiling. "Thank you." He bowed. "And is there someone else for you too?"

"I had given up waitin' for him, but when he heard about you, he declared himself," she replied. "I suppose we two were just comfortin' each other. My heart isnae broken."

"I am glad for you, Katie." He smiled warmly. "Good luck."

Then he turned and walked out, feeling a hundred pounds lighter.

William met him as he went to the stables.

"All ready?" he asked.

"I doubt I will ever be ready to face Janice," Bernard sighed wearily. "But I must try if I am not already a lost cause." His face was the picture of gloom. "Or if she was not betrothed to someone else as soon as I left."

"I think you should try to be more hopeful," William advised. "From what I could see, you two were already more than friends."

"It has to be more than lust, Will." Bernard sighed. "She has to love me."

"Why are you so miserable?" William gave him a playful punch on the arm. "You look as if the sky is going to fall on you. Look at you! I would kill to have your handsome face!"

Bernard chuckled. "Thank you, but it takes more than that. Look at Janice's brothers. Handsome devils, both of them, but not a brain between them!"

"Well, you have a brain, so go and use it!"

William gave Bernard another punch, this time a much harder one.

"Ow!" Bernard protested, rubbing his arm but laughing. Then he changed the subject as they arrived at the horses. "How is Mia? It must be nearly her time now."

William's face broke into a wide smile. "Aye, any day now," he said happily. "She swears it is a girl, but I want a son to bear my name, of course. But we will be happy with either."

"Have you told your father?" Bernard asked.

William shook his head. "I am waiting for the right moment," he replied, "but somehow I think there will never be one."

"You will have to suffer his wrath, then." Bernard's voice was grim. "If he gives you the same treatment he gave me…" He whistled. "I would not like to be in your shoes!"

"I will be careful." William agreed, nodding. "My biggest fear is not that he will be angry with me but that he will reject the child."

"What of Mia? Does she say?" Bernard asked.

William gave a half-laugh. "Mia does not care about my father's opinion," he answered. "She is her own woman. And she is my woman." His voice rang with pride.

"But where will you live when the child is born if the laird does not let you live here?" Bernard frowned.

William shrugged. "Mia's house is comfortable enough, and I don't think she wants to live here anyway. I have a feeling that she is a bit too much like Janice for him to tolerate for too long. Anyway, I want to go and see her now. I worry about her. Have you told your mother you are going away?"

"My mother has gone to see my aunt in Oban," Bernard answered. "I would love to have spoken to her."

"I am going to ask her to be our child's godmother," William informed him. "I think she will be a very good one. Then we will be godbrothers!"

Bernard patted him on the back. "You will be a very good father," he observed. "I have no doubts about that."

He was fixing the saddlebags onto his horse as he spoke, and his stomach was boiling in anticipation. He was soon going to see Janice again, and he could hardly wait.

"Get a message to me as soon as you can, old pal." William looked at him keenly. "I want to know what happens with you and Janice. I don't care what my father said. You are as good as my brother, and if you want to come back here, I will make sure there is a place for you."

Bernard looked at his friend's face, which was frowning with determination. He knew that when William got an idea into his head, he could be as stubborn as Janice.

"Thank you, Will. I know I will always have a friend in you." Then he smiled. "Give Mia and the baby my best wishes."

He gave his friend a brief hug and jumped into the saddle, then took a deep breath. Now that the moment of parting had come, he was loath to leave his friend and his home behind. He looked around him at the familiar towers and battlements of the castle and felt a lump rise in his throat. He would yearn for this place, he knew.

Damn! he thought angrily. I am not going to cry like a maid!

He reached down to grasp William's hand and pinned a smile on his face. "I will miss you, my friend."

"I will miss you too." William's voice had a slight tremor in it. "Ride safely, Bernard."

With a wave, William walked away into the castle and was soon out of sight, and suddenly Bernard was unaccountably jealous. He never had before thought about fatherhood, but now he was in love. The realization hit him like a blow.

In love. So that was what this all-consuming, overwhelming feeling was. He had thought his reaction to Janice was that of a lusty, healthy man, but now he realized it was more. She was in his thoughts and his dreams constantly, and he could never run away from her, even though he had tried. He had to return to her.

With that thought, he urged his horse into a canter and rode over the drawbridge. He had told himself he would not look back, and he kept his promise to himself. Whatever happened now, his old life was behind him.

The funeral had to be planned quickly and was scheduled to take place four days after the laird's death. Janice and Alasdair had organized it between them and had worked in harmony for the most part. Janice was surprised at this turn of events. Even though she felt hollow inside, and her eyes were red with weeping, her brother had stepped up to make sure that she did not bear the burden alone.

After the coffin had been made, notes to their neighbors sent out, and the wake organized, Janice and Alasdair had a few hours of peace before the mourners arrived. They were sitting by the fire in the parlor talking fondly about their father, swapping memories and tales about his kindness and the way the people on the estate loved him.

"This has all been such a revelation to me, Janice," Alasdair confessed as he drank his wine, looking into the fire. "When it was said that you did a lot of the estate work, I thought it was just keeping the accounts and perhaps ordering new livestock—things I regarded as easy." He chuckled wryly. "How wrong I was!"

Janice smiled. "There is something new to do every day," she told him. "You can never become bored. The part I like best is dealing with the tenants. I am not saying they are angels, because there are bad apples in every barrel, but for the most part, they are good, wholesome people, hardworking, and kind. We are lucky to have all this"—she waved her arms around to indicate their surroundings—"but even more, I think we are lucky in our tenants. They are the salt of the earth."

"I have begun to realize that," Alasdair agreed. "And I never knew how much I cared about our father until he was gone, Janice. I never thought I would miss him so much."

"It does not surprise me, Alasdair." She smiled sadly. "He was the best father I could have asked for, and I am proud to call myself his daughter."

She watched her brother's face and saw a tear running down his cheek. She was unexpectedly touched, for she had never seen Alasdair weep before.

He dashed the offending teardrop away, then sat up and pasted a smile on his face. "We will be welcoming the mourners soon," he observed. "Is Andrew coming?"

"Yes," Janice replied, sighing. "I have missed him, surprisingly. I never thought I would."

Alasdair smiled broadly. "Good. I miss him too."

"You shared a womb," Janice observed. "Of course you miss him. You have known each other since before you were born. I always envied you for that."

Alasdair laughed. "It is wonderful, especially for playing practical jokes. And we always knew what the other was thinking, which was very handy sometimes." Then his face became sober again. "Is it time to go and wait for the guests now? I must admit I am dreading their arrival."

"As am I," Janice admitted as she hugged her brother.

They went into the great hall, where their father's body was lying in his coffin, and stood, one on each side, looking in at his still body.

Janice had often thought that it was a cliché when people said that dead people looked as though they were asleep, but now that she was looking down at her father's face, she could see that it was true. It would be an exaggeration to say that every wrinkle had disappeared, but the expression of anxiety and pain had gone, and his face, although grey with the pallor of death, was relaxed and peaceful. Janice even thought she could see a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his cold forehead, smiling at him.

"Goodbye, Da," she whispered. "Leave this place and go to be with Mammy. I can see you now, a young, whole man again, spritely and healthy, with the love of your life by your side. Be happy."

Alasdair kissed his father's cheek and smiled at him. "I am sorry I was not a good enough son, Da," he said. "I promise to be better from now on."

They walked out to wait by the main entrance until the first carriages came in. Alasdair took one of Janice's hands and squeezed it.

"Ready?" he asked softly.

She smiled. "Yes, M'Laird," she replied.

Then she took a deep breath as the first of the mourners came in. It was going to be a long night.