Page 18 of Bride Takes a Charmer (Highland Vows & Vengeance #3)
I t took over a sennight to reach the outskirts of Mackintosh land.
Days had passed since they found Luthor in the village of Fassiefern.
Along the way home, they found a stream of water where Luthor was able to bathe.
Shaw produced some boys’ clothes he’d found somewhere in the village—or perhaps he’d kept them in his pack—and he insisted the lad take a bath.
Since Luthor was to ride with her, Sorcha was grateful.
After his life on the lanes in the village, he was understandably filthy.
As he led the boy away from their camp, carrying a pot of heated water, she held back a giggle when she heard Shaw tell Luthor that he wouldn’t let Sorsha treat him like a bairn.
“After all, lad, ye are nearly a man och, soon to be a warrior, so ye can wash yourself. But ye have things living in your hair. The wee pesties must go.”
For the rest of their journey, the men stopped their mounts each night to rest before continuing.
Not only did they travel slowly but had to make frequent stops because the lad insisted he needed to seek nature’s call.
Sorsha felt for him when he squirmed and moaned until they agreed to halt but unlike most lads his age, Luthor was a quiet lad and rarely spoke except for moments when he needed to seek a tree.
Sorsha held Luthor between her thighs atop her horse and wrapped her cloak around him.
As they rode, he frequently held out one leg and then the other, admiring the shiny new boots Shaw had given him.
She knew they were probably the nicest—and newest—things Luthor had ever been given, at least that he could remember, and he was obviously proud of them.
It made Sorsha laugh to see him pointing his toes, and sometimes spitting on his fingers to rub away a mud-mark on the toes or heels.
The air cooled considerably the more northerly they rode. She prayed they would reach Shaw’s home soon because she was exhausted and ready to end the journey. Shifting her body sideways, she peered at Shaw and gave him a questioning gaze as if to ask, How much longer?
He chuckled low. “I know what ye are thinking, lass, and aye… Our home is yonder beyond those trees. We will reach the bridge to the island in a short time.”
“Praise God,” she mumbled.
As they rode past the trees, some of which rose high into the sky, the land opened to spectacular beauty.
The view of the cottages that dotted the hills and land beyond was enchanting.
Smoke wafted from chimneys in the late day’s sky and people moseyed about, greeting each other and conversing.
The Mackintosh clan’s people appeared friendly and kind.
A woman waved to them from afar. From a distance, Sorsha could tell that she had long flowing locks shaded in red.
She wondered who she was waving to—Shaw or Walen.
Whistles sounded as they crossed the bridge toward the gates. Men scurried from their posts and greeted Shaw with rambled words. He signaled to them and dismounted when a man approached.
“Clovis, all is well?”
The guard’s dark eyes shifted from Shaw to her, to Walen, and then to Luthor. “Aye, Laird, nothing to report except… We received a missive from Mistress Corliss. She wrote that she would be here within a fortnight or so. I told Edra so she could prepare her chamber.”
Shaw tugged the reins of his horse and motioned for her to follow. “My thanks, Clovis. Come and see me later when ye are off duty to give me your report.”
“Will do, Laird,” he said readily and returned to his post.
When they reached a corral near the main keep, Shaw helped her down from her horse and then she pulled Luthor from the horse’s back and set him on his feet.
As she waited for Shaw, she glanced around and regarded the main keep.
It was different from her former home. Here, a rectangular stone building sprawled yet, it had no turrets or adjacent towers.
A rocky walkway led to the door that had been painted white.
She decided that his home was as charming as he was and resembled an oversized cozy cottage. Thick thatch made a handsome roof with two chimney stacks set equally one on each side of the domain.
“Walen, take Luthor to the garrison where he can stay with the other fledglings. Get him settled in.” Shaw was about to turn but she stepped in front of him.
“Must he stay there? He is young and perhaps he would feel better if he stayed within the keep with us?” Sorsha flashed an appeasing smile, hoping Shaw would agree.
“What say ye, Luthor? Do ye wish to stay with the other lads in the garrison or at the keep with us?”
Luthor stepped away from her but turned and looked up.
“I…in the keep…with Milady,” he answered in a soft voice that rendered her heart.
As much as Shaw wanted to let the lad act the man, in truth, he was still very much a youngster who needed a woman’s touch.
She hoped that Shaw understood. And when she looked at her husband, he met her gaze with his own.
The corner of his mouth quirked with a secret smile, and his eyes danced.
He understood Luthor’s needs. Truly, she was a blessed woman to marry such a man.
“Very well then. Never ye mind, Walen. See to the horses and visit your brother. He must be itching to see ye,” Shaw said and as if to answer her questioning gaze, added, “Walen’s brother is Trey, our commander-in-arms.” He opened the door to his keep and gestured for her to go, following closely behind them.
Sorsha smiled in appreciation of the information. She took hold of Luthor’s small hand and guided him inside.
Immediately upon entering, she noticed a long corridor that ran down the center of the structure and a set of stairs that led to the upper floors. On each side of the hallway, ornately carved wooden doors led to other rooms. Shaw marched on and she followed.
“Let us get a drink and I will have Mistress Edra bring us food.”
As soon as they entered the great hall, a woman rushed forward.
She bowed to Shaw and awaited instruction.
The aged woman, Edra, wore her thick brown hair pulled back tied at her nape.
Her soft brown eyes seemed to peer at Shaw with motherly affection.
Sorsha envied him a little because it had been a long time since she’d received such a caring look.
That made her think of Aela and how much she missed her.
“Laird, ’tis good to have ye home.”
“Edra, ye are looking well. This is my wife Sorsha. We could do with some food. Our journey was long.”
Sorsha smiled and gave a slight nod to greet the woman.
“Oh, what wonderful news. Welcome, Milady, welcome. I’m afraid ye missed the mid-day meal but I will hasten and ready an early supper for ye.
And, Milady, I shall be gladdened to aid ye in any way.
Let me know if ye need anything…” Edra bent at the waist to peer in Luthor’s face.
“And who is this wee laddie? Is he your son?”
“Nay, he is a lad Laird Mackintosh found in Fassiefern.” Sorsha removed her cloak and set it on a nearby chair.
Luthor stood by the table and kept his gaze on his feet, quiet as usual.
Sorsha filled the space where a small boy would usually chatter.
“I am thankful for your gracious welcome, Mistress Edra.”
As they’d spoken, Shaw had strolled away.
Now he’d returned with two cups filled with ale for them.
He’d gone to the buttery, Sorsha realized.
She’d need to get a tour of the keep right away if she were to be in charge.
“My thanks, Edra, for the welcome. If you haven’t yet met, this is Luthor and he shall be staying with us.
Is there a chamber within where he can sleep? ”
“There are no other children here, but och there is a small chamber near yours that we can settle him in. I shall see to it after I bring food.” Edra curtseyed to her and stopped at the threshold when an elder woman appeared.
The elder woman spoke quietly to the maid at the doorway and left her, entering the hall with a smile and hastened steps. “My dear lad, ye have returned,” the woman said with a smile.
Shaw set the cups of ale on the nearby table.
“Ah…here she is. Sorsha, this is my grandmother. We call her Mamo. Mamo, this is my wife Sorsha. We were married in Edinburgh.” Shaw pulled a chair away from the table for his grandmother and she sat, never moving her eyes from her.
Then he shifted a chair back for her and Sorsha slid onto it.
He sat at the top of the trestle table in what appeared to be a larger chair probably meant for the laird while Luthor walked around the hall, gazing at some of the weapons that hung on the wall and at the tapestries.
He seemed to be enthralled and very much occupied, so she turned her gaze back to the woman Shaw had called Mamo.
Sorsha had never seen such a beautiful elder woman. Her shiny white-gray hair flowed over her shoulders and her face reflected love for Shaw. She instantly liked her but she was uncertain if the feeling was reciprocated. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mackintosh.”
“Come, lass, ye may call me Maven, or Mamo if it suits ye. Tell me how ye persuaded my grandson to marry ye because he swore never to marry, I despaired that he meant to remain unmarried for all his days.”
“Very well, Mamo.” Sorsha eyed Luthor to be sure he was all right before turning back to her. “I am afraid that it was not I who persuaded Shaw to marry me. King Alexander commanded that he take a wife and I just happened to be there as one of the choices.”
Shaw chuckled. “Aye, he did, but ye fail to mention, Sorsha, that we’d met many years before. I knew her, Mamo, when I went to serve the king before his marriage to Queen Margaret.”
Mamo’s mouth hung open slightly before she righted herself. “Oh, pray tell… Is this the woman ye professed to care for all those years ago? The one who married the Chattan laird?”