“I’ll tell him,” she said quietly before they entered the castle. “Don’t worry about it.”
She went quickly to the kitchens while Rinalda went off elsewhere and in the warm room, she hastily drank a cup of nettle tea. As she folded her sleeves to get to work, the cook came and handed her a tray. “Please take this to our Laird.”
Lady Lenichton must be tired again.
Having no problem, she nodded and took the tray.
* * *
Stepping inside his mother’s room, Leith smiled at her. She was on her bed, sitting up with knitting needles in her hands. She did not look tired or worried so he began to wonder what his summons was for.
“Mornin’, Mother,” he said bending to kiss her cheek. “Knitting for that secret charity ye ken we dinnae ken ye have for the village bairns?”
His mother laughed. “I forget how astute ye are. But aye, I was.” She dropped the half-made blanket and put the whole thing away. “What I called ye about is something I’ve been worried about for the past few years…”
Leith tensed, knowing what she was going to say—his marriage.
“Ye need to choose a wife, son, more than ever with yer Faither still ill,” she said reaching out to hold his hand. “I don’t ken how long I have on this land either…I would like to hold me first grandbairn in me hands before I go to me grave. A lovely Scottish woman, with good bearing and a keen mind, so she can help ye lead yer people.”
Damn it. It was not as if he wasn’t feeling guilty enough with keeping the woman he wanted away from them, but now she had to go and say that. “Mother, ye arena going to die anytime soon.”
Her eyes were imploring, “Even so, I would like to see ye marry, to see ye hold yer firstborn and see ye happy. I can count on one hand the few times I’ve seen ye truly happy in the last five years. It pains me that yer nay happy, son. A good wife will make ye happy, I ken it.”
“Mother,” he groaned internally. “I’ll—I’ll…ken about it.”
Her head canted to the side and her look was one he hated receiving from her, a knowing look. “Is it Mary?”
Keeping in his shock and schooling a blank face was more of a reflex than instinct, “Why would it have anything to do with Mary?”
“Because like I said, in the past five years the only times I’ve seen ye happy, three of them came from after Mary arrived,” his mother said. “I cannot blame ye, Leith, she is a pretty woman and ye must be proud that ye saved her from death, but we still dinnae ken who she is or where she is from. She cannot be yer distraction, son. Ye need a wife of honorable heritage, nay one who has nay past to speak of and nay family to go to.”
Her words were calm and sensible but his anger was growing in his chest. He could not tell her that he knew about her speaking of marriage to Mary the day before. He was beginning to wonder what his mother was aiming for by trying to marry Mary off and now pushing to choose a wife and using her pending death as the impetus.
Rather sly of ye, Mother.
“And if I did choose to marry one nay from our land,” he said casually. “Would that matter?”
Her expression did not waver, “I dinnae ken it would but for me, I’d prefer if ye would marry a woman of our ways, who would sing to yer bairns the same lullabies I sang to ye or her mother sang to her.”
Leith frowned a little, Was there some…anger in her voice?
“I ken they are good women from all countries, son, but like Isaac said to Jacob, choose from those who are of us. Their cultures are nay ours, son, they might make ye stray.”
And now she is using the Bible against me.
Kicking back in his seat, Leith decided to push her a little more, “Seems to me that ye dinnae like outsiders, Mother. Is Nicolas’ hate for foreigners affecting ye so much?”
“Nay,” she replied, shrugging delicately as she reached for her needles again. But he saw a stubborn line in the set of shoulders that was not there before. “I ken of Nicolas’ distrust with foreigners, but that has naything to do with this. I just want ye to nay have to explain two cultures to yer children.”
Something was off with his mother and he did not know what it was or why. Uncertain as to what to think, he decided it best to allow his suspicions to linger in the back of his mind until he knew more. He shifted his feet; so now, it was not only Nicolas he had to watch, he needed to pay mind to his mother too.
Bloody hell.
He stood and kissed her cheek, “I’ll see ye soon, Mother.”
Leaving, he went directly to his father’s room. It pained him a little that guards were still stationed at his father’s door. After acknowledging them, he knocked, and went in to see his father balancing a book on his knees. It was better than balancing a sword, but Leith wanted to see his father sharpening a blade. All his life, his father’s image was with a sword.
“Faither…” he came in, “how are ye?”
The man closed the book and flung it on the bed. His grey eyes were dull, “Bloody bored out me mind. I’d like to be out in me office, or even mucking out the stable, but I cannae leave this bloody room or else I’d get tackled to the ground.
