Chapter Twelve
Word of Lady Kincaid's remarkable healing ability swept through the Highlands as swiftly as a storm. The tale of Angus's recovery wasn't exaggerated, however, for the truth was thought to be impressive enough not to need flowering around the borders. The recounting always began the same way, too, with the announcement that the Kincaid warrior had just been given the last rites, he had, and was only a breath away from death. That beginning always gained just the amount of astonishment each storyteller wanted.
The members of the clans attending the annual spring festival at Gillebrid's holding heard the news a short half-day after they'd been told Angus was dead.
Lydia Louise, Angus's younger sister and only relative, save for his wife, Elizabeth, was in quite a state. She wept first with true anguish over her brother's untimely death, then wept with acute relief over his miraculous recovery. By long day's end, the confused woman had to be given a sizable dose of heavy wine and forcefully put to bed.
None of the McPherson clan attended the festival. The old chieftain's only child, a son of just three wee months, was doing so poorly the clan was convinced he was dying. The bairn, given a stubborn streak he'd inherited from his father, had suddenly taken an extreme dislike to his mama's milk. The violent vomiting after each feeding had soon made him too weak to suckle at all.
Laird McPherson had gone off to find solace in his peaceful woods. His grief was nearly uncontrollable. He wept like a child, for he fully expected to bury his namesake when he returned to his home.
It was a fact the Fergusons were united with the McPhersons against the hated fishermen, the McCoys. That feud had existed for so many years no one could recollect the beginning. The Kincaids, on the other hand, were allies with the McCoys, ever since a McCoy warrior fished a drowning Kincaid lass out of the river, and the Kincaids were therefore forced, for honor's sake, to stand beside the McCoys against the McPhersons.
Yet when word reached Lady Cecily McPherson of Lady Kincaid's healing skills, she ignored all the laws of the Highlands.
Cecily McPherson would have bargained with the devil to save her child. Without telling anyone her plan, she took the infant to the Ferguson holding and begged Lady Ferguson's assistance. Mary was most sympathetic to the poor woman's plight. Since Daniel was still away on the hunt for Angus's attackers, she didn't have to bother gaining his permission. She immediately took the little one to Jamie.
All the Kincaid soldiers knew whom the child belonged to, of course, as everyone in the mountains knew everyone else's business. None mentioned to their mistress the fact that she was taking care of their enemy's son, though. They guessed it wouldn't matter to her. Lady Kincaid was English, after all, and therefore ignorant of the feuds existing in their land. She was a woman, too, and the mothering instinct would probably mean more to her than war. Just as important, she was too gentle to understand a feud, and from the way she'd demanded to take over Angus's care in the face of Alec's resistance, she'd proven to be a mite too stubborn to understand.
Gavin knew what would happen if the bairn died on Kincaid land, however. After giving the pitiful infant one quick glance, he was convinced war was inevitable.
He commanded his troops to prepare for battle, sent two messengers to track Alec down, and then patiently waited for the McPhersons to attack.
The babe was fat and sassy four days later when the entire McPherson army came to demand the body for burial.
Gavin only allowed entrance to the laird and two others. With Marcus at his side, he waited on the steps of the castle.
Jamie had just put the baby to sleep on Alec's bed when she heard the shouts coming from the courtyard. She rushed outside to see what all the commotion was about, but came to a quick stop on the top step when she saw the three fierce-looking soldiers on horseback. She immediately knew they weren't Kincaid soldiers, as their dark plaid wasn't at all the same.
'I'll not leave without my dead,' the burly man in the middle bellowed. 'And when I come back, there'll be blood spattering your wails. Kincaid blood.'
'Has someone died, Gavin?' Jamie asked.
The second-in-command answered her without turning around. Jamie thought he didn't want to take his gaze off the strangers. She certainly couldn't fault Gavin, for the strangers did look the type to strike a man down when his back was turned. 'Laird McPherson has come to reclaim his son.'
The anger in Gavin's voice startled Jamie. She caught the tension in the air, then realized the three strangers were all glaring at her. She straightened her shoulders in reaction to their rudeness.
'Is she the Kincaid's woman?' the man in the middle bellowed.
'She is,' Gavin answered.
'Then she's the one who stole my son away.'
Did the laird have to shout every word? Jamie couldn't believe this was the father of such a sweet-tempered babe. The chieftain was an old man, with bushy brows that hid most of his dark eyes. She guessed he smelled as rank as he looked, too.
Marcus turned around to look at Jamie. His face didn't show a hint of what he was thinking. 'Go and get the bairn,' he ordered.
'Be quick about it, woman.'
Jamie had just started back into the castle when the laird shouted that order.
She stopped, then slowly turned around to face him again.
'I'll take my time,' she said.
'I want my dead.'
Her hearing was never going to be the same. The belligerent man was roaring like a wounded bear. Jamie tried to contain her temper. She told herself the man thought his son was dead, after all, and grief was robbing him of his manners.
Not a word was exchanged until Jamie came back outside. She carried the sleeping infant in her arms. The laird's son was completely covered by a thick woolen blanket to protect him from the biting wind.
The old laird's face showed no outward reaction. Jamie walked over to his side and pulled the cover away from the baby's face.
'Give him to me.'
'You will quit your shouting this minute,' she ordered in a low voice. 'If you wake this child after all the trouble I had hilling him to sleep, there'll be hell to pay and you'll be the one paying it. Do I make myself clear?'
'Wake him up?'
'I just told you not to shout,' Jamie reminded him in a near shout of her own.
She immediately regretted her outburst, for the infant opened his eyes and began to fidget in her arms. She paused to smile down at the child, then glared up at his father.
She missed the look of astonishment that crossed the laird's face when his little one moved.
'Now see what you've done? Your shouts have upset the baby,' Jamie muttered. She moved the infant up against her shoulder and began to pat his back. The baby immediately let out a loud belch. 'That's a good boy,' she crooned after placing a quick kiss on the top of his bald head.
Her expression hardened when she turned back to the laird. 'Why God blessed you with such a dear child I'll never understand. This little one has just had his noon feeding and if you get him riled, he's bound to throw up.'
The chieftain didn't respond to her comments. Jamie reluctantly handed the infant to his father. She noticed the man's hands shook when he took hold of his baby. 'I have instructions to give you before you leave,' she told him.
The old warrior didn't say a word for a long while. He squinted down at his son while he tried to regain his control. He couldn't show any joy now, for to do so would certainly soften his position in front of the Kincaids, yet it was a nearly impossible feat that made his eyes bulge. The bairn let out another lusty belch in the sudden stillness, then smiled sweetly over his feat, as if he knew of his father's struggles and was deliberately testing his endurance.
