Page 16 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)

Chapter Six

A fter trying and failing to talk with her granddaughter, Inga wandered through the stronghold’s passages, trying to fathom how she had failed so miserably to connect with Grace.

She avoided the other household staff, not wanting to answer their questions about the scene in the great hall.

She stepped into a storage room as a group of chambermaids carrying buckets of wood walked upstairs, all of them gossiping as usual.

“I heard they became lovers while trapped,” one of the girls said in a cutting tone. “On her first night at the stronghold, she’s happily spreading her legs for a man she doesnae ken? No wonder Chatelaine ran from her.”

“Or mayhap the lass and Farlan fell in love at first sight,” another countered .

“I think ’twas another matter that caused Inga and that outsider to quarrel. Rob wouldnae say, but you ken he’s ever in the gardens,” a third maid said. “Ask if he overheard the matter, Siofra, and what caused such.”

“Aye,” Siofra said, her voice disdainful, “and if he does, I’ll no’ repeat anything.”

Long after they left, Inga stood frozen, trying to fathom how Grace could have done such a thing as sleep with Farlan as soon as she had come into the spell trap.

Or was it all a product of spiteful jealousy on the part of the maids?

Not one of them could hope to compete; Grace was far more beautiful than any of them.

In fact, all her granddaughter would have to do was look at any male at Dun Talamh and he would fall for her.

Not Tasgall, Inga thought, swamped by a surge of old sadness. And Alec only has eyes for Olivia. But Farlan, yes.

She left the storage room and walked until she found herself standing just outside the armory.

Inside she could hear Rory hammering something, and slipped inside to watch him.

He wore only his leather apron over his trews, and sweat covered his big, pale body.

Like a god fallen to earth, he always seemed more than human, a being larger than life—and not just in his size.

When he glanced up and saw her he dropped his sledge and rushed over to her.

“Chatelaine, what happened to make you weep?” Rory asked, crouching down and looking all over her face.

“It’s nothing.” She quickly wiped the tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed from her cheeks. “I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk with me, but you’re busy—I’ll go.”

“Stay, please.” He stood and gazed down at her, his beautiful eyes filled with the admiration he didn’t know to hide. “If you wouldnae mind, I should like your company as I work.”

Since she had become trapped at Dun Talamh, Rory had been her most devoted friend.

He often sought her out, accompanying her on walks, sitting with her during the evening meal, and offering his help with her work.

She knew why, of course. He was the only man who had ever truly cared about her, Inga thought, and yet she couldn’t give him what he wanted.

Perhaps the way her granddaughter had treated her was divine punishment for that.

But the thought of being alone now repelled her more than taking advantage of the armorer’s unwavering affection.

“If you’re certain I won’t bother you,” Inga said, hating herself .

Rory led her over to a well-padded chair near the hearth, and brought her a mug of water before he went back to work.

Inga tried to focus on what he was doing, but tears kept burning at the back of her eyes, and only by sipping the water could she keep from breaking down.

She hadn’t become this upset since finding out she had been forever separated from her daughter.

I need to think it through and stop being so thin-skinned.

Nothing that had happened made sense. Grace hadn’t said anything about Tonje except that she was dead, and then after that she’d behaved as if she despised her.

Inga knew she had behaved badly, but surely her granddaughter could appreciate what a shock the news had been for her.

Of course she shouldn’t have run away, that had made a poor impression.

After all, Grace had come into the spell trap looking for her, and as a result had become trapped here as well.

Could that be the reason for her dislike? Did she resent her?

“Mistress Johansen, she’s a lovely lass,” Rory said, startling her. At some point during her fretting he’d finished his work and came to stand by the hearth. “You must be happy she’s found you.”

More guilt welled up in Inga; she shouldn’t have come here this upset. The armorer would probably worry even more about her now. Yet what the maids had been gossiping about still preyed on her as much as Grace’s rejection. She couldn’t repeat that to Rory, however.

“Meeting her was a wonderful thing,” she said, twisting her hands as she tried to smile brightly.

“I never imagined being a grandmother—I was just becoming accustomed to having a child when I came to the castle.” She hadn’t seen any of Tonje in Grace, but she noticed she and her granddaughter had the exact same hands. “I’m afraid I upset her.”

“Mayhap once Mistress Johansen adjusts to life here, she’ll warm to you,” Rory said. “The bloodline you share, ’tis a close bond. You’re her only family,” he added when she gave him a blank look.

“Family means so much to people from your time.” She often envied the McKeran for the bond they shared as half-brothers. “It’s not the same in my world.”

“As a lad I had but my màthair to name my kin.” A flash of sadness passed over his striking face. “After she died, I lived alone in the forest until the laird and Darro found me. By the time they came I couldnae understand them well. The language, ’twas so changed.”

Inga grew uneasy. “How long were you alone, exactly? ”

“I cannae tell you,” Rory said, shrugging. “I didnae learn to count until I joined the clan.”

He was so different from the other McKeran, and yet he had probably tried so hard to fit in with them. “It must have been very hard on you.”

“Aye.” His expression grew distant. “I yet wonder if I chose wisely when I joined the McKeran. ’Twasnae supposed to prove my fate.”

“Do you think–” Was she really going to ask him this? “Someone told me that our seneschal was with my granddaughter last night, in the collapsed passage. I was wondering if you’d heard anything about that.”

“No, Chatelaine, but you shouldnae fret. Farlan, he’s a good man.” He met her gaze. “I must go to the garrison now and collect some blades in need of repair.”

Inga wondered if she’d pried too much into his past. “Thank you for talking with me.”

He bowed to her. “Visit any time you wish, Chatelaine.”

Leaving the forge and going to her room to wash up gave Inga the chance to finish pulling herself together, and by the time she returned to her duties she had regained her customary calm.

That was something else she and Grace had in common, the ability to remain composed under duress.

In Inga’s case it had been her only weapon against her husband, who had been an angry drunk who blamed her for all of his troubles.

How would Farlan be with Grace? The thought of the two of them already becoming lovers kept gnawing at Inga. It was too soon, and it would probably end badly. Her granddaughter would become even more hurt by that.

I need to talk to him.

As chatelaine, supervising all the female vassals who worked inside the stronghold was part of her responsibilities; Farlan dealt with the male vassals.

They usually met a few times each month to discuss any difficulties with the staff, although the attacks by the ice beetles and the giant caterpillars and the speeding of the cycle of events had disrupted their routine.

She decided to use the excuse of catching up with him as a reason to find out more about what had actually happened between him and Grace, and headed downstairs to his workroom behind the kitchens.

“Facking eejit,” she heard Farlan muttering as she approached his open door. “Why didnae you wake with her?”

Inga stopped at the threshold and cleared her throat. The seneschal stopped pacing and gestured for her to enter.

“Forgive me for intruding,” she said, eyeing the scrolls on his work table. One had been rolled out, showing some kind of floor plan. “It’s been some time since you and I talked.”

“’Tis my fault, Chatelaine.” He gave her a shuttered look as he sat down with her by the hearth.

“All the vassals, they’ve been out of sorts of late, what with the attacks from these enchanted insects.

The laird’s delay of the binding ceremony and the changes in the event cycle didnae help.

I’ve been distracted as well by the walls of the stronghold failing.

’Tis my task now to prevent another collapse. ”

“And in the midst of all that, my granddaughter arrived.” She saw him tense and decided to press him. “I understand you and Grace were caught in a collapse together.”

“Aye.” He glanced at his boots for a moment before he met her gaze. “We remained trapped until dawn.”

Inga had a trick of remaining silent and waiting, which always seemed to compel men into saying more than they originally meant to. As always, it worked.

Farlan finally said, “You’ve heard we became lovers. ’Tis true, only naught that I planned, nor forced on her.”

Grace would sleep with a complete stranger, and yet shut down every hope Inga had of learning about her daughter’s fate.

Just what sort of woman was her granddaughter?

Yet even as she thought that, she sensed she was overreacting again.

Grace was an adult, as was Farlan, and what they did together was their business.

She couldn’t judge them like some jealous kitchen maid.