Page 7 of Bride Takes a Laird

“Good night, Mistress,” he said and bowed before leaving.

Kendra was saddened at the thought that she had to lock her father in his bedchamber at night. But it was for his safety and ever since he’d gone off in the middle of the night, they had to be sure that he stayed within. She always checked that the door was unlocked in the morning. So far, her papa was unaware of the lengths she went through to protect him.

After she entered, she grabbed a satchel and packed several tunics, tartans, and a light cloak for him. His snore startled her and she peered across the bedchamber. Kendra loved him and she was the only person who truly cared for him besides John. It was her duty to see that he was protected. With his ailment of failing memory, she worried. Was his time coming to an end? That thought had crossed her mind repeatedly the last few months and she’d gotten no answers from the many healers she’d hired.

When she finished his packing, she did a thorough search of his bedchamber for the coins. She searched the table where he attended to correspondence, the table beside the bed, the various trunks where he kept his belongings, even amongst his garments, and found nothing. She checked beneath his massive bed, behind the secret wall panel in his room he thought she wasn’t aware of, and the small jeweled coffer that sat on the window ledge. Nothing. There were no coins to befound. Kendra sighed heavily. Where in God’s name did he put them?

Quietly, she closed the door to his chamber, locked it, and hung the key on the hook next to the threshold. She went to the kitchens behind their home. Inside the small stone cottage, a good-sized worktable sat beside a hearth that took up one side of the room. On the other side, wooden shelves lined one wall to the other. On those shelves usually sat sacks of grain, and all the items needed to prepare meals for all those within the keep’s walls. Their stores had diminished and hardly any sacks took up the shelving but soon the crofters would send more to replenish their stock once the crops grew and were harvested.

The manor’s main maidservant and cook sat having her nightly brew. Gilda smiled widely when she saw her. Kendra was grateful to the woman because she worked tirelessly to keep them fed. Most of the servants had been let go when their coins dwindled and she was unable to feed extra mouths, but Gilda never complained regardless of what had been asked of her.

“’Tis a fine night this. Good eve, Mistress,” she said and hurried to fill a cup for her. “Linet has turned in for the night if you needed her.” After she set the cup in front of her, she pressed back the curly waves of her faded reddish hair and peered at her with inquisitive blue eyes. Nothing much got past Gilda. She probably already knew they would leave, but Kendra was disheartened to speak of it.

“Nay, I am about to turn in myself.” Kendra sat for a moment and took a breath. It had been a day, the most hellish that she could remember. She raised her cup and took a small sip of the potent drink. Gilda made a brew that was made from herbs and other items—her secret recipe.

“How are you, Gilda? Do you need anything?” The woman was a godsend and was married to their steward. Both she and Norman were loyal and took care of them. What would she have done without them? It was down to their good grace that she and her father survivedthe past few months. Linet, too, had been invaluable and Kendra would probably have fallen apart if it wasn’t for her support and friendship.

Gilda shook her head. “Oh, nay, nothing. Norman told me about your father going missing earlier. I took him a bite to eat for his supper and settled him with a goodly cup of brew.”

“You are kind to us. My thanks. I just left Papa and he’s sound asleep.”

Kendra set the cup down, got up from the table and began rummaging through the kitchen stores to find things she could pack for the journey to Edinburgh. She packed two loaves of clapbread, wrapped several strips of salted venison, and a jug of cider in an oversized pouch used for such journeys that was kept by the stores.

“Are you going somewhere?” Gilda asked as she watched her from the table.

“On the morrow, Papa and I are leaving for Edinburgh. I shall not return and I am unsure when Papa will. Will you look after the keep whilst we are away?”

Gilda drew in a breath and rushed to stand near her. She patted her shoulder. “Oh, Mistress, I am saddened to see you go. Why will you not return?”

Kendra muttered the king’s request. “I shall be married and will live with my husband. Aston likely will not return for some time. I’ll speak to Thomas and shall have the guards close up most of the keep to prevent our home from being ravaged until my brother can return.”

Gilda dabbed at her eyes. “I am happy to hear that you will marry, Mistress, but I shall miss you. Like a daughter, you are to me.”

Speaking of daughters, Kendra needed to ask Gilda if she would allow hers to leave their keep. A wave of guilt washed over her at the thought, but she knew she’d be completely lost otherwise. “Would you mind terribly if I took Linet with me? If she agrees, that is.”

“Try and keep her from going and I promise you, she’d be weepingfor days. I am sure she will be pleased to attend you. I’ll have her ready in the morning before you set out.”

“My thanks, Gilda, for all that you have done for me…for us.” Kendra bowed her head to the woman and hastily left the kitchen with the satchel of supplies in hand.

Tears gathered in her eyes at saying farewell to the kindly woman who had looked after her most of her life. Kendra pressed her eyes and sniffled her tears away. She wasn’t usually a weeper and rarely cried but the sentiment of leaving those she loved, the home she cherished, and what she was familiar with, threatened to send her into hysterics.

As she passed the manor’s entrance, she placed the satchel of foodstuff on a small bench just inside the doorway so she wouldn’t forget it on the morrow.

Then there was one more chore to be done before she could seek her bed and that was meeting with Norman. She found him in the small workplace on the main floor of the manor. Atop his worktable sat jars of ink, a scatter of quills, and several volumes of the manor’s expenses and income. Lately, the sums added were minimal and dismal. Their discussion was short-lived and expected. Norman handed her a small sack which held five coins.

“I fear that is all that remains, Mistress.”

She firmed her lips, nodded, and returned the coins to him. “Keep them in case you need them for the manor. I doubt we shall need them at the king’s castle. Whilst we are gone, you’ll see to the crofters’ payments. Do not threaten them though if they are unable to pay until after the harvest season. Safeguard the coins you receive and we’ll figure out what to pay later. I will send a missive when I get to where I am going.” Kendra didn’t like the unknown but for now, she couldn’t worry about it. Until she married whoever the king betrothed her to, she would make the best of the situation.

“Very well, Mistress. I’ll look after the manor and will take care of things. Worry not.”

“You are a good man, Master Norman. I thank you.” Kendra knew the promissory notes were piling up and many were overdue. Somehow, she had to figure out how to pay the merchants. But that was a problem for another day. At present, she worried about Heatherington, her papa’s ailment, and Dear Lord, the king’s command that she marry.

After speaking with the guard and steward, she finally sought her bed. It was well after dark and she was overtired and overwrought. In bed, she tossed and turned, plagued with the thoughts of who her new husband might be. She hoped to find a little happiness and solace in her new life. What she wouldn’t do for a little peace.

Chapter Three

Magnus was miserableand discontented. The trek to Edinburgh was hampered by spring rains that dampened his tartan. By the time he reached the gates to Edinburgh Castle, he was soddened through and somewhat cross. The weight of his vow to avenge his brother and the gloomy dismal rain dampened his spirit and temperment. He was in no mood to attend to whatever duty the king required of him, entertain his sovereign, or participate in the revelry that would keep him from his sacred duty.