'You sainted the man?' Marcus asked.
'It isn't official just yet,' Jamie said. 'But it's only a matter of time before the church does acknowledge his sainthood.'
'Why?' It was Marcus who asked what all three men were thinking.
Jamie was pleased that her husband and his soldiers were showing such interest in her history. She took her time explaining to them how William had single-handedly changed the way of life in England. In great detail she instructed them in the ways of the liege lord, the duties of a vassal, the bond each formed with the other. When she was finished, she was sure they had many questions to ask her.
No one, however, seemed inclined to ask her anything. 'Do you think such a system would work here?'
'It already has, Jamie, for several hundred years,' Alec snapped.
'You've just described the Scottish clan, lass,' Gavin said, trying to soften her disappointment in her husband's reaction.
'Tear it down.'
'Alec, you cannot mean it,' Jamie cried. 'My sisters spent long hours working on that tapestry. It was a present for my birthday. I want to look at it whenever the mood strikes me.'
Father Murdock strolled into the hall in time to overhear Jamie's remark. One good look above the hearth told him the reason for his laird's scowl.
He could see an argument was brewing. He didn't want the little lass's feelings injured and hurried to intervene in her behalf. 'Now, now, Alec, she isn't meaning to insult you by putting your enemy's likeness in your home.'
'Oh, no, of course I didn't mean to insult him,' Jamie said. 'He, on the other hand, is certainly testing my patience, I can tell you that much.'
'I'm testing your patience?' Alec all but strangled on his urge to shout. Her delicate nature was the only reason he held back.
'You certainly are, Alec Kincaid,' Jamie continued. 'This is my home, too, isn't it? I should be allowed to hang any tapestry I want to.'
'No.'
Jamie and Father Murdock frowned at Alec. Gavin and Marcus were smiling. Jamie gave Alec her back. 'Father, will you help me carry this chair into the hall? Or is this against your rules too, Alec?'
Father Murdock gave the piece of furniture a thorough inspection. 'There are warped blades of wood stuck to the bottom,' he noted aloud. 'Something's wrong here, lass.'
'The chair's supposed to rock back and forth,' Jamie patiently explained.
The priest wobbled his eyebrows in reaction to her statement. 'I know,' she said then. 'It will never catch on. Still, it's a most comfortable chair. You must try it, Father.'
'Perhaps another time,' the priest said, taking a step away from the strange-looking contraption.
Alec let his exasperation show. He lifted the chair and carried it down the three steps, then crossed the room with long strides and placed the chair adjacent to the hearth. He tried not to look up at William's ugly face smiling down at him.
'There. Are you happy now, wife?'
He sounded surly enough for Father Murdock to intervene once again. 'Why, the seat's big enough to swallow me whole.'
'My sisters would sit on Papa's lap after supper, and he would tell the most wonderful stories,' she confessed, a soft smile on her face over that remembrance.
Her voice held a wistful quality Alec hadn't heard before. He was puzzled by her comment, too, for she'd inadvertently failed to include herself. Or had it been inadvertent? Alec beckoned her forward with a crook of his finger.
When she stood directly in front of him and no one could overhear their conversation, he asked her to explain. 'Where did you sit, Jamie? Were you squeezed up next to Mary on one knee or next to one of the twins on the other?'
The picture of four little girls sitting on their father's lap for their bedtime story made Alec smile. The twins were probably crying, Mary was probably complaining, and Jamie was probably trying to soothe everyone.
'Eleanor and Mary usually sat on one knee and the twins took up the other side.'
'Eleanor?'
'The eldest daughter,' Jamie explained. 'She died when I was seven summers.
Alec, why are you frowning now? Did I say something to upset you?'
'As usual, you haven't given me a direct answer,' Alec pointed out. He was already beginning to understand, yet he wanted to make certain his guess was correct. 'I asked you where you sat.'
'I didn't. I usually stood by Papa's chair,' she answered. 'Or across the way.
Why is it so important to you where I sat?'
It wasn't important to him, but he believed it had been very important to her.
'Did you never have a turn?'
'There wasn't room.'
That simple statement, given so matter-of-factly, all but shattered his composure. She had been the outsider. Alec suddenly wanted to beat her unfeeling stepfather to a bloody pulp. The man damn well should have made room for her.
She'd just revealed to him exactly how her mind worked, too. She'd made her father notice her. The duties… yes, it was clear to him now. By making herself indispensable to her papa, she'd forced him to value her. Jamie had confused love with need. He thought that perhaps, in her mind, she really didn't know the difference.
And now she was trying to get him to treat her the same way. The more duties he piled on top of her, the more importance he would be giving her.
He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. The woman was daft, but she was his woman, and he wanted her to be happy. Still, he wasn't about to shorten her life by watching her work herself into an early grave.
There was much to consider now. Alec decided not to discuss the issue further until he'd found a way to give her proper instruction in loving and needing. He instinctively knew that simply telling her how much he cared for her wouldn't be enough. He was going to have to find a way to show her.
'No one's every going to sit in that ill-designed chair, wife,' Alec announced.
'You're afraid to try it?' she challenged.
He let her see his exasperation with her before giving in to her. The chair squeaked under his weight. It fit his back quite nicely too, even when he deliberately pushed the chair to make it rock. He was sure he was going to go flying backwards. He didn't topple over, though, and he had to smile over that fact.
'I fear you're right, wife,' Alec stated. 'It will never catch on. Still, if you're up to the jesting you'll be getting when the soldiers see this contraption, I'll allow you to keep your chair.'
'Well, of course you'll allow me to,' Jamie snapped. She had her hands on her hips again.
Alec bounded out of the chair so he could tower over her when he deliberately intimidated her. 'You may keep this by the hearth,' he announced. 'And now I'll have your appreciation.'
'And William?' she asked, ignoring his suggestion that she give him proper thanks.
'William can go to-'
'The bedroom?' Father Murdock blurted out as he bounded down the steps.
'He isn't the last face I want to see before I fall asleep,' Alec snapped. 'Put him in the wine cellar if you're bent on hanging him someplace, Jamie, but I don't want to see his face again.'
Jamie looked as if she wanted to argue with her husband. Father Murdock clasped her hand in both of his. 'One bite at a time, sweet lass,' he whispered to her.
Alec gave the priest a hard look, then went over to the table and poured himself a goblet of ale. The priest chased after him, pulling Jamie in his wake.
'Ill have me a goblet of water,' he told Alec. A sudden thought made the priest's eyebrows wobble again. 'Do you know, Alec, what you get when you mix water with ale?'
Alec nodded. 'Watered-down ale,' he announced.
'And once you've mixed the two, you can't separate them, can you?'
