Page 54 of Bride Takes a Laird

“Magnus, lad, ye finally returned. Ye had me worried. I’ve been awaiting ye and kept watch of the gate for your return. Come, there is much news to impart.” His grandda waved him onward and he followed him. “Where have ye been?”

“I will speak of it later. Tell me… What of Hayden and Oswald? Did they return? We were attacked by the Chattans and…” his words trailed off as he detected the troubled look in his grandfather’s eyes. “Tell me the news. Are they safe?”

“Hayden is being seen to by Clarance. He took a mighty blow to the head and hasn’t come to as yet. Wyren found them when he’d gone in search of ye because…well, ye took overlong to return and he worried that something happened… Ah, I’m afraid Oswald was struck dead. The men are preparing him for burial.”

Magnus stopped in his tracks. Oswald was killed? Rage heated him from within. He had promised to consider the Chattan’s truce but now that was impossible. Only vengeance would right the wrong done by them. The taking of one of their own assured they’d take to arms andthey would war with their hearts for their beloved soldier. Not only did he want to avenge Oswald but also for their ambush in the woods. He needed to speak to Wyren at the soonest to ready the soldiers. He would call upon his allies: the MacMillans, Stewarts, and the MacDonalds. Chattan’s sheep would starve before he’d allow them to graze on his land.

“That’s not all, lad. Your wife’s da… He drowned in the loch a sennight ago and she took him home. We sent a handful of Cameron soldiers to protect her on the journey. I’m sorry but your lass is gone.”

He stared at his grandfather as his news completely jolted him with trepidation. Kendra had left him? She was gone? His chest pounded and he wanted to rush off to find her, to prove his grandda was wrong. Kendra hadn’t left him, she wouldn’t. She’d taken a vow before the king and queen. She was his wife. She belonged to him.

“She was devastated by her da’s death and wanted to have him buried with his wife. Winston went with her, along with a few other men for her protection. Her maid and her da’s attendant also left with them,” his grandda explained further.

Magnus whirled around and noticed his parents standing on the fief’s steps. His mother looked beyond despaired and his father gave him a look of commiseration. He knew in an instant what his grandda had told him was true. When he could, he would go to Kendra but for now, there were too many pressing duties to handle. The first thing in order was the gathering of his men and calling up his allies. Then he’d check on Hayden and have Jake fetched from Lillith’s cottage. No one would be at the Chattan’s mercy. He’d make sure of it.

Thinking of Lillith reminded him that he’d promised to send herbs to her. When he could, he would have two of his soldiers attend to the duty.

“Magnus, let me take ye inside and have Clarance tend to your wound. Ye need some rest before ye hail off to do your duty. Aye, for ye look dead on your feet.” His father took his arm and led him toClarence’s cottage.

Inside the cottage, a foul scent engulfed him. Magnus peered at Hayden’s body which lay upon a table, where once his brother Ned had lain. He swallowed hard and prayed that his soldier had thrived and hadn’t died from his injury. Hayden couldn’t be dead. Emotion threatened to overtake him. Magnus fisted his hands to avert his need to succumb to his sorrow.

“Laird, let us see how bad your wound is. Ye have blood dried on your face.” Clarence’s bushy eyebrows rose as he pressed on his shoulder and bade him to sit on a stool by one of his tables. He prodded and assessed the wound. “’Tis naught but bluster and ye were only grazed. Ye do not need a stitch. I’ll put a healing salve on it and ye should be eased.”

“My head aches,” he said and closed his eyes briefly.

“Och, ye be fortunate, Laird. I’ll make ye a dram to ease your ache.” As the healer went about his tasks, Magnus couldn’t form the words to ask about Hayden but his grandda tried to relieve him when he crouched near him and gave a reassuring look.

Clarence saved him the trouble of explaining and said, “Laird, worry not for Hayden. He is only in a slumber. He’ll awaken soon.” After he handed him a cup with the dram, the healer dabbed the salve on the bump on his temple. “Och, he came to a short while ago. He might not be on his feet for a day or so, but I deem he should fare well once the headache subsides. At least, that is my hope. But he’s not dead, Laird, rest assured.”

The tightness in Magnus’s shoulders eased. Though he was dismayed by Oswald’s death, he was much gratified to know that Hayden lived. When Clarence was through with his ministrations, he’d go and see Wyren. Not only did he need to seek vengeance against the Chattans, but he still needed to find the two traitors within his clan.

Until those matters were concluded, he couldn’t seek Kendra, as much as he’d wanted to. Duty and vengeance took precedence overlocating his wife, and he was somewhat irked that he needed to fetch her. She’d have to await him.

Chapter Twenty-One

East Dunbartonshire

Glasgow, Scotland

September1260

Early autumn’s lightshone upon the stones and wooden crosses amid the burial grounds. Kendra stood before the hole that had been dug for her father’s final resting place. She peered at the stone carved into a square with rounded edges and etched withCatherine,the name of her mother, next to where her papa would be placed. Her parents would be rejoined in the hereafter just as her father had spoken of many times in the last few months. That thought didn’t do much to quell her sadness. She already missed her cantankerous papa but she was gladdened to know that he was now with her mother.

After the priest spoke prayers and praised her father, he bade the men to lower her papa into the ground. As he descended into the darkness, Kendra remained still. Her eyes stared without a single tear showing her emotion. She kept herself steeled against showing her true feelings. She had to endure and be strong. Besides, she’d wept most of the way home and her eyes had all but dried up and no tears remained.

Kendra waited until the last shovel of dirt was placed atop the small mound before she headed back to the walls of the manor. The mourners, several Dunbartonshire locals, the manor’s servants, soldiers, crofters, and merchants paid their respects. She bowed herhead in appreciation for their mournful words as they passed by her to exit. Her mouth had gone dry and she didn’t think she could utter a word without sobbing.

Linet stepped forward and set her arm around her shoulder. “Come away now. Unless you wish for more time…”

She shook her head. Kendra took one last glance at where her parents rested in a settled grave and the mounded new one, and stepped back. Linet guided her from the graves and they walked in a leisurely pace toward the manor. There, Mistress Gilda had a light early supper served but Kendra couldn’t eat a bite. Her stomach was in knots and flutters. Instead, she took small sips of mead and listened to those around her speak of her parents. Stories were told of how fond her father was of her mother and what a good lord he’d been.

Kendra wondered if the keep’s residents worried about who their next lord would be. She worried about that too, and considered writing to the king to give him the news that her father had passed. If Aston was there, he would take on the role of lord, but he hadn’t returned and might not, given the amount of time he’d been gone. Would the king place someone else as lord? Perhaps she should hold off informing the king of her father’s demise.

Winston approached and interrupted her thoughts. “Milady, now that ye have buried your da, we should make arrangements to return to Cameron land.” He spoke low. “I will see to the matter if that pleases ye.”

“Nay, I shall not return, at least not yet. You may go, Winston, and take the Cameron sentry with you.” She hadn’t told the young soldier why she wanted to remain, but she needed time to find the coins and return them to Heatherington. Only then could she return to Cameron land.

She wouldn’t tell him that his laird probably wouldn’t care if she returned or not, or that their last encounter was filled with his wrath. She firmed her lips at the remembrance of his anger when he’d lookedat the steward’s parchments. Perhaps she could find a little peace now that she was home—that was, if she could find and return Heatherington’s coins.