Page 8 of Laird of Sighs (His Highland Heart #5)

CHAPTER 8

D espite Ailsa’s hope, Anders’ visit with her friends earlier that morning hadn’t cured his frustration at being confined to the herbal. Given what he’d heard and how he thought it might apply to him, the visit had made him even more restive and anxious to get outside. Was Maesie working in the kitchen by now? If he could talk the guard outside his door into letting him out of this chamber, he might be able to convince her to let him wander about the walled kitchen garden, even if he had to do it with the guard on his heels. Moving about would strengthen his injured leg. And he might learn more about how to escape the Sinclair castle.

Ailsa had left with her friends, and he didn’t know how long she’d be gone. Surely she had duties for the clan to deal with.

Mind made up, he opened the herbal door, expecting to be challenged and ready to plead for some time outside. Where was the guard? Had something happened to call him away? Anders hadn’t heard any shouting, but the herbal window didn’t look out onto the bailey, and with the door closed, even voices in the great hall were muted.

The hallway was empty. He closed the door behind him and headed for the kitchen. It was a busy hive of activity, and he didn’t see Maesie, but he could see out to the kitchen garden through an open doorway, so he simply walked in that direction. With each step he took, he inhaled the tempting scent of roasting meat, baking bread, and some sort of stew. The kitchen fell quieter and quieter as he moved through it. By the time he reached the open doorway, silence reigned, and his stomach was grumbling.

“Are ye hungry, lad?”

Resigned, he turned and looked at the Cook, a middle-aged woman of generous girth. She was frowning at him, but the lasses who were supposed to be preparing the next meal with her all had their gazes on him, too, only they were smiling. And sighing. Then hiding their smiles behind bashful hands.

“Ye’d be the lad Maighread and Ailsa have been caring for, aye?” Cook asked. “Maesie described ye to us.”

Anders gave her his best smile and a shallow bow. “I would. My name is Anders. Thank ye,” he said and paused to let his gaze travel the kitchen to take in every lass working there, “and all of ye, for taking such fine care of me. Yer good food has helped me heal all the faster.”

At his acknowledgement, the lasses began to trade glances with each other, sigh more sighs, and send more admiring glances his way.

“I’m of a mind to spend some time outside on such a pretty day,” he added. “I will take care no’ to step on any of yer garden, Cook. I ken how important it is.” That seemed to win her over, at least a little. She nodded, gave him a thin smile, then clapped her hands. “Back to work with the rest of ye. Now.”

Anders knew he’d better move on or she might be calling for guards with her next breath.

“Have some stew and fresh-baked bread, at least, before ye go wander about, aye? ’Tis time for the midday meal.”

Or maybe she would not. “I would enjoy that, Cook. It smells delicious.” But if he tarried here and the guard found him, he’d never get outside.

“Sit down, over here,” she said and pointed to a small, square table off to the side.

He knew when he was boxed in. He may as well enjoy the meal she offered, even if it meant missing out on where he’d wanted to go. He dared not give the clan’s Cook any reason to distrust or dislike him. Hers was an important voice in clan life. She could be an ally.

In moments, he was happily spooning up a rich venison stew, soaking up the sauce with warm, buttered bread, and washing it down with ale. “I canna recall the last time I ate so well,” he told Cook when he finished.

She laughed, making him certain she knew about his memory loss.

He gave her a sheepish grin, stood, and took her hand. “Thank ye for yer care. I do appreciate it.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles.

“None of that, my lad. I’m easily yer mam’s age.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “I wonder if she can cook half so well.”

Maesie entered the kitchen as he spoke. Anders supposed she’d been in the great hall helping to set up for the midday meal.

“Ach, Maesie, come show Anders the gardens ye are so proud of.”

“Of course,” Maesie answered and hurried over, mouthing, what are ye doing out here ? while the cook turned away from her and back to him.

Cook shooed Anders away. “Out with ye. Enjoy some sun while the day lasts.”

Grateful that wherever the guard had been when Anders looked out the herbal door, the man hadn’t bothered to check on his charge when he returned to his post or he would have found his missing prisoner by now. Anders stepped out of the kitchen with Maesie and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the bright sunshine. The day was as warm and lovely as it had appeared from the herbal’s window. He exhaled a sigh of relief to be out of doors, out of the same four walls. He would always remember how well he’d been treated there, but he was past the point of needing to be confined. Now they did it for their safety, not his health. Boden thought he could be a threat. Perhaps others did, as well.

Maesie took a few steps down the path from the kitchen door, stopped and beckoned for him to follow her. She walked the paths between the planted beds, some now harvested and empty of anything green, others wilting from the cooling changes in the weather, and others more suited to cold still thriving. But frost would damage even those. “A few weeks or a month, I think, ’till the frost.” She took a deep breath. “Ye can smell it. The trees are starting to show their colors and drop their leaves. The scent in the wind is different when it blows from the land side.”

Anders had never thought of the scent of the air being a harbinger, but the way Maesie described it, it made sense.

He stepped down onto the gravel path that ran straight through the garden toward what he assumed was a postern gate. He could see the tops of trees on the other side. How difficult would it be to escape through that gate? What lay on the other side?

“’Tis a very large garden,” he remarked. “’Tis yer responsibility?”

“For the most part, aye. Maighread also tends some of it. She and Cook have taught me well, but there’s always more to learn. We collect some herbs from the fields and woods, even near the seashore, but many will grow quite well here.”

“I’m impressed,” Anders told her. This far north, the growing season had to be even shorter than it was at home. Like many, the garden was laid out to take advantage of a southern exposure, surrounded by walls that collected heat during the day and kept the garden warmer at night. It also served to keep out pests such as coneys, deer, and other hungry animals.

As they walked the paths between planting areas, the lasses working in them ceased harvesting some things and plucking weeds from around others and stood. Maesie introduced each one. Anders enjoyed meeting them and learning a little about the work they did, but his gaze kept straying to that postern gate. It seemed familiar. This was really no different than the gardens at … where? Suddenly, images of expansive and well-tended gardens filled his mind, the sea off to one side, a castle up on its ridge and the fortifications behind them on the other. More gardens lay inside the castle’s walls. He could picture them even if he could not place them. Relief flooded him. He’d been right. For his memory to come back, he needed to get out, see more, and meet more people than he could sitting in the herbal.

Finally, they neared the gate set into the wall farthest from the kitchen. Anders asked, “Where does this go?”

Maesie shrugged. “We’ve an orchard in the next area. Beyond that is the keep’s outer wall.”

Anders stomach fell. Another barrier. He fought to hide his reaction, asking, “What of the orchard? What do ye grow?”

“Trees that bear fall fruits, apples and pears, to harvest. They’re a wee more hardy than the summer fruit trees, though we have cherries and such. The first frost, if ’tis light, willna do much to them, but we will soon harvest all we can. As the sun comes round to autumn, the forest throws more shade on this side of the keep, so the plants dinna grow as well.”

“The forest’s trees are close enough to do that?”

“Aye. No’ like near the main gate. On this side, the forest is much closer.” She opened the gate from the garden into the orchard. “Follow me.”

Anders marveled that she led him through the orchard so casually, not stopping until she found a spot with a clear line of sight beyond the orchard wall. He could see the tops of firs and pines close by over the wall, and touches of gold or red as well, in scattered hardwoods.

“Ye can see the fruit is near to ripe. We can start picking in a few days, I think,” she said, her gaze on the fruit trees rather than the trees visible over the wall.

He couldn’t resist one question. The answer might mean freedom when the time was right. “Do ye ever go outside the walls? Ach, of course ye do. Ye said ye gather some herbs and such from the forest and near the seashore.”

“Aye, we do. If we're going far, we take a guard with us and go through the main gate where ye came in.”

Had she just said what he thought she’d said? If he understood what she implied, there was a postern gate on this outer wall that they used for quick trips outside while staying near the keep. They only used the main gate if they were going farther afield. Though he hoped Maesie was trying to give him the idea that escape was close at hand from here, he still feared she was mistaken. He would never be given the chance.

But Anders held tightly to that bit of knowledge. He might yet need it.

Ailsa finished speaking to the clan’s new guests—or prisoners, she wasn’t certain how she would describe their actual status. In her mind, they’d done nothing violent that warranted them being considered prisoners, but the dungeon was no place for guests, either. She didn’t like that they were concealing their clan affiliation, but she could think of many reasons why stranded sailors might be inclined to do so. To protect themselves. To protect their clan from retaliation for some perceived slight. But also to conceal a purpose less aboveboard than trying to recover from a storm.

Well, for the time being, they were safe where they were and she would see that they had some comforts. It was the best she knew how to do until her parents returned.

Her brother could be a problem. He probably would be a problem, but Raghnall could help distract him. She hoped.

Stymied, she headed back to the herbal to see how Anders was doing. The guard stood by the door, his back to the wall, looking bored. She greeted him, then went inside the herbal and closed the door behind her. And froze. Anders wasn’t there. Frantic, she whirled around, feeling ridiculous while she looked in every corner and under every table. She eyed the small window for a moment, then snorted. There was no way a man Anders’ size could squeeze through that and drop a dangerous distance to the ground below. Yet he’d gotten by the guard.

Or perhaps not.

The guard looked too bored to have known he was guarding an empty chamber. If he left on a comfort break thinking that Anders was asleep inside, and Anders happened to look out the door while he was gone … aye, she could see it happening that way. She mentally retraced her steps. Nothing had seemed unusual in the great hall. He hadn’t gone that way, which meant he’d made his way to the kitchen.

Cook saw her arrive and came over. “What fashes ye, lass?”

“I, ah, was looking for Anders, but he’s no’ here.”

“He ate a hearty meal a while ago and is walking in the gardens outside with Maesie.”

Relief made Ailsa reach for the nearest tabletop to steady herself. “Thank goodness.” Chances were good that Boden hadn’t seen him. Yet. Anders hadn’t wandered out into the bailey or even out of the keep, though the guards, had they noticed him in the usual comings and goings of the clan, would have stopped him. “Thank ye, Cook. I’ll go find them.”

When she stepped out into the sunshine, she paused to let her eyes adjust, then swept the gardens with her gaze. Anders was impossible to miss, following Maesie through the gate from the orchard back into the main garden. Not only was he the only man within its walls, taller than the lasses working there, and much taller than Maesie, he had the power to draw her gaze no matter where he was. Sunlight brought out glints of red in his dark hair, and poured over his broad shoulders. He looked so perfectly formed, that save for his sun-kissed skin, he could have been carved from marble by some Italian master like the drawings in one of the books in the clan’s library.

Now that he was in her sights, she reminded herself that he could be perfectly irritating, as well. She stalked across the garden path to him. “Hello, Maesie. Anders, what are ye doing out here?” She fought to keep her tone light. Maesie was not at fault in this escapade of his.

“I was just showing Anders around the gardens,” Maesie said, stating the obvious.

“That was kind of ye,” Ailsa told her. “But I need to speak with him. Thank ye for taking care of him.”

Maesie nodded, gave Anders a quick smile, and hurried back to the kitchen.

“Ye are angry.” Anders studied her with that direct gaze that seemed capable of reading her mind.

“I’m … not sure what I am. I was frantic when I didna find ye in the herbal. And even more so with the thought ye might have overpowered the guard and gone to the great hall or outside in the bailey. I’m relieved ye were in Cook’s and Maisie’s company.”

“’Twas nay a problem. The guard was away when I happened to open the door. So, I took advantage of the opportunity. Cook and her helpers were kind, as was Maesie. Lasses always like me, and I them.”

“How do ye ken … never mind.” She frowned at the bemused expression on his face. That didn’t sound like another memory, just something he knew in the same way he recognized the name Sinclair. Just how many lasses had he been friendly—or more than just friends—with? How many had he remembered? An unfamiliar sensation soured Ailsa’s stomach. Was she jealous? “Lasses talk. Yer appearance here will be all over the keep before the evening meal is served.”

“So, there’s nay reason to stay in the herbal.”

Frustration made her clench her fists. “Ye ignored my caution about showing yerself. When my brother sees that ye are well enough to be out here, he will think ye no longer need Maighread’s care in the herbal. He will have ye moved to the dungeon and Maighread willna be able to contradict him. The dungeon is nearly full. Ye willna like being down there among so many strangers.”

She paused to let that sink in, then added, “And what do ye want me to tell my da, the Laird, about the strange man wandering about Sinclair by himself? I warned ye about this.”

Anders expression changed from confidence to consternation in a blink. “Is he back from the Orkneys?”

“Nay, no’ yet. Soon, I think. But he’s no’ yer problem right now. Boden is. And perhaps those men in the dungeon. Do ye ken someone named Tomas?”

Anders’ face went blank, then he shook his head. “Nay, I dinna think so.”

She huffed out a sigh. Perhaps that was good. Perhaps not. He might recognize Tomas if he saw him, but if the new strangers were hostile to Anders, she didn’t want them to see him. “I had hoped to break the news about ye to the laird privately, and to have Maighread with me so we would keep ye out of the dungeon. Ye being out here has made that much more difficult to do.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, frowning. “I’m sorry lass. I wasna thinking.”

“Mayhap that blow to yer head did more than hide yer memories from ye. It stole yer sense.”

The creases on Anders’s forehead deepened and he shook his head. “An unsettling thought, to be sure.”

“I’ll walk with ye back to the herbal.”

“The guard will think I left with ye. Will that no’ cause a problem for ye with yer brother?”

“Mayhap. I’ll deal with Boden if I must.”

“Ailsa, I am sorry. I …” He looked up, letting the sun hit his face as if it was the last time he’d feel its warmth there.

Ailsa’s heart broke for him. “If I could restore yer memory, I would. If ye kenned where home was and wished to leave, I would help ye. But I canna. All I can do is give ye time to heal and keep ye out of trouble until ye are well.”

“I dinna make it easy.” He gave her a heart-melting smile.

She gave him a laugh in reply. “Ye dinna. But ye already ken I think ye are worth the effort.”

“Ye are worth more to me than anything else I may have.”

She looked him up and down. “Well, the boots are likely worth something, but I’d no’ get much for the clothes.”

He laughed at that, then gestured her forward.

Despite his earlier despair at leaving the garden, he entered the kitchen with a smile on his face. That made Ailsa feel only a little better. She was returning him indoors to confinement. No matter how pleasant she tried to make it, it was little better than the dungeon if he was not free to leave it.

“Ailsa, come quick!” Excited shouts drew Ailsa from the kitchen late that afternoon. Had their new captives escaped the dungeon? She ran out to the bailey and instead of having a problem to deal with, happily joined the mob who greeted her parents and their men with shouts and cheers. Ailsa pushed through the crowd to them and hugged first her father, then her mother, welcoming them home. But she also whispered to her mother, “We must speak. Without Da. Soon.”

Her mother nodded. “I’ll come to yer chamber,” she promised before the crowd pulled her away and everyone headed indoors.

Maighread had said her mother would be an ally. For Anders’ sake, Ailsa was counting on it.

Less than an hour later, a soft knock announced her mother’s arrival.

“What is so urgent, Love?” She closed the door behind her and took a seat on Ailsa’s bed while Ailsa paced before her.

“We have a guest.” Ailsa told her what she knew of Anders, how he came to them, what his injuries had been, and that Maighread approved of him. “And he canna recall who he is or anything about his life before making his way to our gate. Only the name we think is his.”

“My, that is interesting,” her mother said. “Where is he?”

“In the herbal. At first he was too injured and ill to be anywhere else. As he got better, both Maighread and I thought it best to keep him there until Da got home. Boden wanted to put him in the dungeon, but he wasna well enough for that.” Now that he was, she didn’t want to say more. Ailsa paused and clenched her hands in front of her. “I have feelings for him. He’s a good man, Mother. I’m sure of it, no matter where he comes from or why he wound up here.”

“I must meet this good man,” her mother said and stood. “Now.”

Ailsa’s muscles tensed with worry. So much depended on her mother’s sympathy and willingness to help. “I hoped ye would say that.” On the way downstairs, she added the news about the men in the dungeon. “I dinna ken if they are connected in anyway. Since they arrived days after Anders, I doubt it. But ’tis a strange coincidence.”

“Yer father will deal with them. Once we ken what he uncovers, we’ll ken what to do.”

At the door to the herbal, Ailsa paused and looked inside while her mother greeted the guard. Anders was again reading, but Maighread looked up and noticed them. Ailsa beckoned her to come out into the hall, and closed the door after her.

“Welcome home, Lady Sinclair,” Maighread told Ailsa’s mother.

“’Tis good to be home, thank ye. Ailsa told me we have a visitor under yer care. What can ye tell me about him?”

Maighread glanced Ailsa’s way before turning her attention back to the Sinclair lady. “He arrived injured and no’ in possession of himself. He had a gash on his head and nay memory. He has regained little in the days he has been here, but part of that time was spent suffering with a fever. He is healing and regaining his health, and I have hope that with time, he will recover his memory and ken who he is.” She paused and added, “He’s been nay trouble. I like him.”

Ailsa smiled at that comment. It was high praise coming from Maighread, who generally reserved her opinions of others to herself.

Her mother studied Maighread for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow at Ailsa’s smile before turning back to the healer. “Is he well enough to leave the herbal?”

“In body, aye. Though I would object strongly to seeing him sent to the dungeon. His condition could worsen there. And I canna believe being confined there would help him regain his memory.”

Ailsa frowned. “Ye havena heard about the men Raghnall brought in this morning? They’re down there now.” She added what she’d seen and the little she knew about them.

“I stand by my words, even more so now that ye tell me that. He wouldna be fit to defend himself from other men.”

Ailsa doubted that, but she suspected Maighread didn’t believe it either. It was a convenient excuse to keep Anders out of harm’s way.

“I will advise my husband as ye suggest. My daughter seems to be taken with yer guest. He has told ye naught else about himself?”

Maighread shook her head.

Ailsa shrugged. “He hasna recalled much beyond his name. Nay clan name. He thinks he comes from south of here. We dinna ken much else.”

“South of here?” Her mother chuckled, clearly as bemused by the territory that claim encompassed as Ailsa had been. “He’s a puzzle, indeed. Well, let me meet him.”

Ailsa opened the door but stood back to let Maighread enter, then her mother. Anders set his book aside and stood, questions in his gaze as it shifted between the three women. Maighread went straight to her work table. Ailsa stepped up beside her mother and made the introductions.

“I’ve heard yer tale from my daughter and our healer. I wish to hear it from ye, Anders.”

“I’m pleased to meet ye, Lady Sinclair, and will answer as best I can. First, though, thank ye. I’ve been well treated during my stay. I appreciate Sinclair’s hospitality.”

Ailsa watched with interest as he set about charming her mother, telling her what he could, which wasn’t much. As he had to her, he apologized for not being able to reveal more about himself, and repeated that as yet, he had no more answers to give. When his gaze shifted to her, she gave him a supportive nod.

“Ye say ye sometimes see images in dreams. What sort of images?”

Anders pulled his attention back to her mother and shrugged. “Faces mostly. Some scenery. Trees, water from the deck of a sailing vessel. The beach below this keep, I think. Never enough to help.”

“What about yer parents, lad? Do ye recognize them among the faces ye see? Do ye have a wife or bairns of yer own among them?”

Ailsa held herself still, trying not to distract Anders. Her heart constricted painfully, and she feared he’d see her reaction in her eyes. Her mother trying to jog his memory was one thing, but asking if he had a family of his own waiting for him somewhere should have gotten more of a reaction that it did. That knowledge was important to both of them, but her mother’s question didn’t seem to help. Anders looked more crestfallen, and more frustrated the more he tried to summon answers that would satisfy her.

“I’m sorry, Lady Sinclair. I dinna ken.” His gaze shifted from her mother to her, grief and apology written plainly on his face. She hoped her mother didn’t recognize how much that lack hurt both of them.

“I’m sorry ye are going through this,” Ailsa’s mother told him. “It must be vexing. Maighread recommends ye remain in the keep until ye ken more about yerself. I will make arrangements for ye once I’ve spoken to the laird.”

“Lady—”

“ Dinna fash . I dinna propose to allow ye to be sent to the dungeon. Maighread will keep ye under her care as she sees fit.”

Anders bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Thank ye for that.”

“Ye are welcome, Anders. Ailsa, attend me, please.”

Ailsa followed her mother, but glanced back in time to see Anders give her a smile. He knew she had influenced her mother. His acknowledgement warmed her. He didn’t take her efforts for granted. She nodded and went out, closing the door behind her.

“What did ye think, Mother?”

“He is everything ye said, Daughter. Handsome, too, and clearly taken with ye. I saw how his gaze kept moving back to ye each time he finished answering my questions. But as complicated as his situation may be, if ye are harboring such feelings for him as I think ye are, yer situation is complicated, as well. Among the agreements yer laird and father reached with the Norse king for the clan, Sinclair has received an offer to betroth ye to one of the king’s sons. Yer da intends to speak to ye about it, but I must tell ye he is in favor of the match.”

Ailsa’s belly twisted. She clamped her lips together and shook her head. “I … Mother, I dinna think I can accept. No’ now. Da will be angry, but how can I?”

“Yer da will be angry at first, and disappointed the agreement he worked hard to make favorable for Sinclair may no’ suit ye. But Daughter, ye mustna tell him nay. No’ yet. Ye are infatuated with Anders. As ye find out more about him, especially if he recalls a wife and bairns, ye may find that attraction will fade. Ye must take the time to honor yer da’s intention. I will support ye as far as I am able, but if ye back yer da into a corner, and I ken ye are capable of doing that, I must stand with my husband and laird. Remember that.”

Ailsa’s vision swam, tears filled her eyes but she refused to shed them. “I will do my best.”

“Do better than that, lass. ’Tis important.”