“Five years older and havin’ two bairns doesnae make ye me elder,” Leith laughed. “Me faither is me elder and those of his ilk.”
The mention of his father and the mental image of the man’s deranged eyes had Leith sobering. He placed his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face with his hands. “I cannae allow me faither to die this way, Tarrant. All me life, he never failed me yet, so why cannae I do the same for him? It haunts me every day when I see him so…far from himself and knowing that I cannae pull him back.”
“Aye,” Tarrant sighed heavily. “I can imagine. We’ll find someone, Lenichton, I promise ye, we will. How is yer mother holding on with this?”
“Mother was already frail before Faither took sick and now I ken she’s withering away,” Leith said. “She hardly eats and when she does it is nae much. She spends every waking hour worrying about Faither, saying that she kens the man she married is gone from her for good.”
“Do ye ken sending her away to an abbey would help?” Tarrant asked.
“Nay,” Leith sighed heavily, and shook his head in dismay. “Sending her away would only kill her faster. I ken she takes some comfort in seeing Faither day after day but aside from that…” he shrugged, “there is nae much to bank on. He gets sicker day after day.”
“And ye?” Tarrant asked. “How are ye faring?”
“I have taken on a lot of the lairdship duties even without placing a foot on the appointment stone,” Leith replied. “Whatever the council cannae handle or whatever they need a leader figure to take the lead on, I step up.”
“That’s nay what I meant,” Tarrant said. “How are ye otherwise? Still nay woman in yer life?”
“Nay,” Leith said. “Dinnae ken it wrong, I get offers day after day but nay one seems right. And I’ve given off bedding tavern women a long time ago. I dinnae want a woman to only warm me bed…I want one to be what me Mother is to me Faither. Strong and dedicated, having unending springs of love and compassion in her heart. I suppose ye can say that sums up to me wanting a wife.”
“Aye,” Tarrant said sympathetically. “I’m sure she’ll come around one day.”
“Robasdan,” Leith said, “Ye need to work on giving yer sympathies. That compassion was colder than the ice-capped Beinn Nibheis mountain”
“Lenichton,” Tarrant said calmly. “Get out.”
7
“We ken ye are feeling better, Miss Thompson?” the head healer, Mrs. Baethag said. “But to be safe, please rest for this night and begin yer journey tomorrow.”
It was not what she wanted to hear but it was prudent. She had suffered a hard hit to her head, and they were being careful of letting her go in case some unknown secondary effect of her injury flared up.
“Do ye understand, Miss Thompson?”
“I do,” she replied. “It’s not what I wanted but it is sensible. Thank you Mother Beathag. Do you know if Mister Balloch is available to speak with me?”
“I will ask,” the older woman said as she stood with ease. Mary had not expected to see an older woman move so easily as the one she did know had various pains and aches by the time Mother Beathag’s age. “Please rest.”
Laying back on her bed, Mary allowed her mind to drift. Leith was kind and handsome and she felt a good spirit within him, but it felt inordinate that she would find such a gracious man so suddenly. She hated that she was going back to her doubts when she had thought she had put them away earlier that morning.
He is handsome, though. I suppose I will regret not getting to know him when I go to Aunt Linda’s tomorrow.
She spotted the first woman, Isla and called her over. “Yes, Miss Thompson?”
“Is it possible to have a bath?” she asked, “I have my own clothes I just feel the need to be clean. I promise, I will not drown.”
Isla’s lips twitched, “I ken ye wouldnae. I’ll see what I can do about it, Miss.”
“Thank you,” Mary said, and just as Isla left, another woman came in. This woman was dressed differently from the healers and had a lovely green and black tartan dress with a white under blouse and skirting. In her arms was a babe. This woman was much different from the rest, and she looked regal.
What does she want with me?
Sitting up, Mary felt apprehension curl in her stomach as the woman neared. She began to speak but nothing came out and she managed to close her mouth quickly so she did not look like a fish. The lady perched herself at her side and smiled, “Ye must be Miss Thompson.”
“I am,” she replied, “and you are?”
“Lady Robasdan, the wife of Laird Robasdan, and this is one of me bairns, Cailbhin Allanach, he was getting fussy,” the Scotswoman smiled.
Mary looked from the woman’s light-brown eyes and dark hair to the babe’s deep green. “He’s lovely, I suppose he gets his eyes from his father then?”
Lady Robasdan's eyebrows lifted, “Very astute of ye, Miss Thompson. Isla came to me about ye needing a bath. I can offer ye me own tub if ye like. Perhaps a dress too.”
“Oh,” Mary felt abashed, “you don’t need to give me any clothes. I have my own but I would be grateful for the bath. I left England in a hurry and barely took the time to cater to myself. I feel filthy.”
“Ye dinnae look any of the sorts,” Lady Robasdan shook her head. “But I always feel comforted after a bath.”
“Bah,” the babe called as he reached forward with grabby hands to Mary. Shocked into stillness, Mary did not move but the babe reached further and Lady Giselle laughed. “He wants to touch ye, Miss Thompson, ye dinnae have to if ye dinnae want to. Ye can hold him if ye want,” Lady
