As he went, Leith took his seat and reached over to grasp his mother’s thin hand. She looked up, her watery blue eyes meeting his with deep grief. “He’s gone, Leith, me husband is gone from ye and me.”
Leith could see her despair, and though he could feel her pain and hopelessness, he wanted to hang onto the lingering thread of hope. He felt that, if he let go all hope for his father, a part of his soul would splinter away.
“Mother, I ken yer losing hope, but ye have to stand strong for him,” Leith advised. “Faither will come back to us, one day, I ken it as much as I ken the sky is blue.”
Sarah shook her head, slowly, her thin lips pressed tight. “I want to believe ye, but everything I see is contrary to what is before me eyes.”
“Mother—”
“I ken yer heart, Leith,” his mother said while tapping his hand. “I ken ye are so kindhearted and want to see the best, but one day we will have to face the truth. I do pray he will be well soon but we still have to prepare for what will come.”
His mother stood with a faint smile. “Get some rest, son. I can see yer tired. I’ll send the water up for ye.”
“Ye dinnae have to do that, Mother,” Leith began to protest, but she stopped him with a look, and he sank back to the stool with a chuckle. “Aye, Mother.”
After she directed water to be heated, and left, he requested some food. A servant woman, slender with dark hair and curvy body named Fiona, deposited a bowl of stew and hunks of warm bread before him. Her bodice was cut so low he could see the tempting rounds of her breasts.
“Is that all ye need, Sir?” she asked quietly.
“Aye,” he responded.
“Are ye going to be well tonight?” she asked again, her voice dipping lower with seductive tones. “I’d be happy to be yer company.”
The mention of that kind of company had a long-repressed feeling prick at his mind. It had been a while since he had felt the soft warmness of woman and though the temptation of having a pleasant body to join with was strong, he was not going to lay with her. Over the past few years, her attempts to sleep with him had gotten subtler but stronger.
“Nay,” he shook his head while taking his spoon, “but thank ye.”
She leaned in closer, the movement baring the fullness the tops of her breasts to him as she whispered sultrily into his ear, “Are ye sure, Sir?”
Now, Leith was getting exasperated, “Nay, lass, nay this time.” Or any other time for that matter.
“I am ready to be with ye wherever ye need,” she winked and walked off with a seductive sway of her hips.
Chucking into his food, Leith ate the stew with tired relish but finished with a cup of water. Many would have drunk wine or cider, but because of one terrible incident when he was younger—one that had nearly cost his life—he had been scared straight and had sworn off drinking spirits.
He never failed to be ridiculed and mocked about it when his comrades went to the taverns. He tolerated the jeering with good spirits, though, as no one was going to make him break his vow.
He was told the water was ready and being finished himself, he followed the servant women to his rooms and went to disrobe when they filled the copper tub. He was shirtless when the women called to say they were finished.
Emerging, he held back his smile when he felt their eyes run over his chest. His chest, broad and honed to ridged perfection, was lightly dusted with short, dark, springy hair and flat, dark nipples.
“Thank ye,” he nodded and turned away as they left. He slipped his boots, kilt, and his smallclothes off and then sank into the water. The warmth of the water was soothing to his aching body. His head lolled back as a soft groan left his lips. “Oh, thank ye, God.”
Feeling the warmth penetrate his tired limbs and soothe the strained muscles, he felt his mind wander back to his father. Six months had passed and each day his father was getting worse. They had sought the help of six healers already but none of them had come with a cure. He felt that he needed to find more, to seek any cure as small and obscure as it could be.
Even if he had to travel the length and breadth of Scotland, he would do it. He owed his father everything, down to his life, for it was Aaron’s seed who made him.
“I’ll do right by ye, Father,” he said with his eyes closed. “I swear it.”
His mind ran over the events after his father to the woman in the kitchen. He could have had the lass in his bed now, but he had refused her offer for good reason. He was tired of joining with women just for the sake of feeling carnal pleasure.
“I dinnae need just a woman, I need…I need a wife,” sighing, he lolled his head back, “but I have to fix me Faither first.”
As he lifted up from the water and went to dry himself, he made a mental note to ask around for the best healers in the lowlands and even the midlands. By God's strength, he would find each and every one of them.
In a long clean léine, he went to bed, determined to find a cure for his father.
3
Harlington, England
“I would leave this place and live like a pauper before I am forced to marry that man,” Mary said dourly. Her arms were braced on the wooden banister of the balcony of her room while staring out at the trees dressed in their red-autumn clothing.
Her maid, Tina, a tiny woman, five-foot-nothing, slender with dark blue eyes and brown hair came close. Tina rested her arms inches away from
