Page 41 of Bride Takes a Charmer (Highland Vows & Vengeance #3)

T he day they were supposed to begin their travel, they laid Mamo to rest. Shaw had risen earlier but couldn’t bring himself to leave the bedchamber.

Once he did, he’d have to bury his grandmother and say farewell forever.

The journey to visit the crofters was put on hold for a time, at least until they’d gotten over the loss.

He stood at the window casement and peered at the somber, gray day. The door opened but he didn’t turn to see who had entered. The quiet of the chamber had allayed his sorrow until now and he took a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking.

The soft, familiar sound of Sorsha’s footfalls crossed the chamber and stopped when she stood behind him.

Shaw didn’t want to turn around to face her, certain his mood would dishearten her as much as it had him.

She hugged him from behind, placing her hands around his torso and pressing her face against his back.

“You are saddened. So am I. Why are you here alone?”

“I was thinking about Mamo.” Shaw turned and kept her from moving away by wrapping his arms around her. “My parents died when I was younger than Luthor. Mamo left her clan to come and care for me and Corliss.”

“She was a Chattan?”

He nodded. “Aye, she was married to the laird, my grandfather. He stayed on when his son, Rodick, took control of the clan. She didn’t return.

When my grandda passed, Mamo had him buried here so she could be close to him.

Mamo was the only mother that I ever had or at least remember.

She took good care of us and said she’d promised her daughter to look after us if anything ever happened to her. ”

“Mamo was a good woman.”

“I am dismayed to admit that I shall miss her sound advice. Sometimes in the late evening before we sought our sleep, we would meet by the hearth and she would listen to my problems or whatever was troubling me.”

Sorsha leaned back and regarded him with her pretty brown eyes. “Shaw, you are not alone. You have me now…and the children, your clan, and your comrades. Many here care for you. You are surrounded by people who love you.”

“I know. ’Tis just…hard to accept that she is gone.”

“Time will heal our sorrow,” she said and clasped his hand. “Are you ready?”

Shaw reached for his grandmother’s shawl and the small pouch of items Mamo wanted buried with her, which he had placed on the bed. He would set them with her before she was taken from them.

“We should go. ’Tis time and all await us.” Sorsha stepped to a trunk and picked up a bundle of flowers he’d only just noticed. She held them and opened the door.

Shaw followed her, quiet and mournful, down the stairs to the outside.

He hadn’t much family in his life and losing Mamo hurt deeply.

But Sorsha was right, he had her, the children, his comrades, and the clan.

He wasn’t alone and never would be. He took Sorsha’s arm and guided her past the gate where most of the clan who gathered.

Many bowed their heads to them as they passed, saying without words their sympathies.

Mamo’s body was draped in the finest Mackintosh tartan and had been set upon a board for her to be carried to the graves. The litter was held by Walen, Tray, Clovis, and Jonah, and they slowed their pace when they came upon clansmen and women who wanted to add tokens of farewell to her body.

Sorsha had found some late-blooming aster flowers and picked a good bunch of them to set atop Mamo’s grave.

She walked beside him and the rest of the clan followed.

It was such a glum day with not only their sadness of losing Mamo but the weather seemed to turn. Autumn was bidding them farewell too.

A hearty wind blew at their backs as they progressed over the bridge and small hills before the burial ground.

There, his clansmen set down the litter and stood silent in wait for the priest to begin his liturgy.

Father James made the sign of the cross and spoke prayers for a good length of time but adrift in his memories of Mamo, he didn’t pay attention to them.

He noticed Sorsha shift on her feet and he was gladdened that she hadn’t brought the children.

They would not have been able to withstand standing still and quiet for so long.

Father James sprinkled Mamo’s body with holy water and said, “God, we ask ye to receive the deceased into Your loving embrace. We ask that ye allow her entrance into Heaven so that she can rejoin her loving husband. Amen.”

When he finished, the priest drew back and stood to the side. Shaw stepped forward to cover Mamo’s upper body with her favorite shawl.

Two soldiers placed the newly-etched cross bearing both his grandparents’ names as Mamo had requested.

Shaw bowed his head in a final farewell and drew Sorsha to retreat with him.

The men lowered Mamo into the hole next to his grandfather’s grave.

Mamo was where she’d wanted to be. He hoped that she was happy in heaven and that she was at long last with his grandda and his parents.

Most left the area after the men began covering the hole. Shaw stood there for a while until Sorsha drew him away by taking his arm.

“Come, Shaw, we should get back to the keep. Edra is putting out a feast so we can celebrate Mamo’s incredible life. Many of the clan will attend.”

He was astounded. “Did ye plan this?”

“I did and hope you do not mind me taking the liberty. Mamo was important to me and I hardly knew her. I want to hear stories of her life, her kindness, and love.”

Shaw leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “I am pleased that ye thought of that. Mamo would have loved a celebration in her honor.”

The walk back to the fief took little time.

They entered the keep and he greeted the clansmen and women who lingered in the long hallway that led to the great hall.

Sorsha continued to the hall and left him.

Music came from the large room and when he entered, he noticed the musicians by the corner.

Their music sounded lively with chords meant to get people moving. They played Mamo’s favorite tunes.

Shaw mingled with his clan and listened to the wonderful things being said about Mamo.

His gaze roved the room until his eyes fell on Sorsha.

She sat at the table with Edra and Enid with Gillian on her lap.

Lord, she looked lovely, especially at the way she smiled at her bairn.

He reached the table and sat in the empty chair next to hers.

His sister and her husband sat on the opposite side of the table a little ways down toward the center. He smiled at his sister and hadn’t yet talked to her about losing their grandmother. Shaw wondered if she was sad. Corliss didn’t appear so as she spoke and appeared to laugh with her husband.

Sorsha repositioned Gillian on her lap and leaned toward him. “There you are. I lost track of you when we entered. Edra made a feast if you are hungry.”

Shaw shook his head. “I could use a drink.”

Walen marched forward and set before him a cup. “Laird, ’tis a potent brew. Ye look like ye could use it.” He held a cup of his own and raised it high. “To Milady Maven. There has never been nor will there be another woman akin to her.”

All those within hearing distance raised their cups and bellowed ayes .

Before long, many of his close comrades stood around the table. The conversation turned comical when Walen stood and called for attention and held up his hand for silence.

“I recall when Milady Maven replaced all the ale barrels with water-filled barrels. We all joined Shaw that night for supper and we were intent on getting well soddened with the laird’s ale, except when we poured our drinks and drank, most of us spit out the water.

She thought she outsmarted us and laughed about it for days after. ”

Shaw chuckled. He’d been proclaimed the laird right around then and many of the men supported him. Many times, he would invite soldiers and his close comrades to dine with him. But Mamo had said they made too much noise and often reprimanded them.

“I do not know why ye bother speaking of the dead. Lady Maven is gone and there is no sense in bringing up memories that should be put to rest.” Idris pushed back his chair and rose.

An instant ire came to him at the man’s affront. How dare he disrespect his grandmother? Shaw rose and with his stride long, he reached his brother-in-law in quick time and grabbed hold of his tunic. Before Shaw could stop himself, he’d punched Idris in the face, forcing him to stumble backward.

“What in hell…?” Idris scowled at him and pulled his dagger free. “Ye dare strike me?”

Shouts sounded around him and his clansmen pressed in behind Idris.

Shaw disliked the man immensely, but he shouldn’t have struck him.

He was wrong to do so, but he’d been unable to resist, especially since he’d all but insulted them.

Now the moment was rife with tension as his men appeared to want to murder the man and to be honest he was loath to stop them. Still, he needed to try.

“Ye will never speak of my grandmother in such a way. She was worthy of our devotion and we have every right to celebrate her life. If ye disagree, there is the door. Ye can find your way off my land and not return.”

His clansmen bobbed their heads and some bumped Idris’s body with theirs.

“I meant no offense, Laird Mackintosh…Shaw. ’Tis apparent ye are all distraught and I do not see why ye would cause yourselves further grief by recalling…”

Corliss approached and stood beside her husband.

“Shaw, he meant no offense. Are ye not taking his words a wee too much to heart? Idris has had too much to drink this day. I will put him to bed. Come along, Idris. We should go before ye cause more trouble.” His sister pressed her husband toward the exit of the hall and they disappeared beyond the threshold.

Shaw rubbed his hand because he’d struck the man with more force than he’d thought. Guilt prevented him from looking at Sorsha or the people who continued to linger in the hall. He retook his seat and slumped back. Idris, he supposed, was due an apology. He shouldn’t have been so quick to temper.

He didn’t know why, but the longer Idris stayed at the keep, the more he disliked him. The man reminded him of Rodick, Geoff, and most of the Chattans—self-serving. The men of that clan were more boastful and arrogant.

“Shaw…”

He didn’t trust the Chattans and now it occurred to him that because Idris was allied with them, he shouldn’t trust him either.

Yet the man was his sister’s husband and family by marriage.

Shouldn’t he trust his family? Nay, sometimes family was less trustworthy than an enemy.

On the morrow, he needed to speak with Idris and clear up the matter but also to scrutinize why he’d come and most importantly when he intended to leave and return to Tor as he’d promised.

“Shaw…” Sorsha stood beside his chair. She leaned close and spoke softly, “I need to put the children to bed. Will you be along soon?”

“I will be a while. Ye go on and get rest.”

Sorsha set a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Be sure to come to bed this night and do not get too sotted. You shall be sorry for it on the morrow.” She turned away and jostled Gillian on her hip. Gillian’s squeal of laughter lightened him and he felt the tugging of his lips.

“I will be along soon,” he said to himself. Shaw turned back, picked up his cup, and drank the harsh brew. It did wonders to settle his angst. That and the delightful laughter of a wee minx and his lovely wife.