Page 131 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Chapter 3
’Twaslong after the evening meal when Connor made his way to the tiny kirk that stood east of the keep. Made of stone, with tall, narrow windows, the kirk had been built by his great, great grandsire.
Just as he had done every day since losing his wife and son, he waited until the keep’s inhabitants had settled in for the night. A clear, inky sky filled with twinkling stars, he needed no moon to light his way, for he knew the route by heart. Stepping inside the cold night air of the kirk, he lit a candle from one of the torches that lined the entrance and made his way to the front. There he set the candle on the stone bench and knelt before the large wooden cross.
His prayers rarely differed from one night to the next. As always, he prayed for peace for his clan and for a wife who would love him and give him many children. Tonight, he added an extra prayer for his grandminny, that God would see to it to give him a few more years with her.
With eyes closed and hands folded together, so focused was he in his prayer, he hadn’t heard anyone enter the kirk. Much time passed before he was finished. Making the sign of the cross, he left the bench.
As he made his way down the aisle toward the door, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye; something he knew with a certainty had not been there when he arrived.
There, on the last pew, was a basket.
When he held the candle closer to see what was inside, his eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.
A wee sleeping babe with little tufts of red hair lay bundled in an old worn blanket inside that basket. He blinked once, then twice, in case he wasn’t seeing clearly. But aye, he was. Quickly, he scanned the inside of the kirk for any sign of another person. There was none other than he and the babe.
For the longest time he sat next to the basket in hopes that someone had simply set it down for a short while, mayhap to use the privy, or whatever else would necessitate leaving a babe there unattended.
An hour passed and no one had come to claim the babe. All the while, he tried to convince himself that the babe had not been abandoned. But his heart, it knew it had been.
* * *
By midmorning, the entire keep was in an uproar over the babe someone had abandoned in the kirk.
Some believed ’twas God’s handiwork, that he had placed the babe there for Connor to rescue.
Others believed ’twas an abomination, either the fact a mother had left her child, or the child itself. “A mum would nae leave a perfectly healthy babe.” “The babe must be possessed to make her mum leave her like that.”
Connor had a different way of thinking. More likely than not, the child’s parents had abandoned her in the kirk in hopes that the priest would find her a good home. It had to be someone from within his own clan for the gates were locked and guarded each night.
“Ye cannae be serious,” his mother-in-law Helen scoffed at that idea.
“Aye, I am quite serious.”
“But ye cannae do that, Connor! Ye cannae claim the child as yer own!”
They were standing in his private study, having yet another battle. There had been many betwixt them over the years. For some reason, Helen held the belief that he actually cared what she thought. He didn’t. Never had. Not when he had returned from fostering, not when he had stolen her daughter away in the middle of the night to marry her, and definitely not now. He was trying to be polite, but she didn’t make it easy. Helen was a hard woman. Hard to figure out. Hard to get along with. Hard to like. Still, he felt he owed it to his dead wife to be as kind as he was able to her mum.
“But if you and Margaret get married and have babes of yer own—” she began.
Had he not been cradling the babe in his arms, he would have shouted. “I amnaegoing to marry Margaret.”
She scoffed again. “Bah! I’ve seen how ye look at her with lust in yer eyes. Ye ken ye want to marry her, but ye refuse because ye ken I want ye to.”
I stare at her all right, but because I find it difficult to believe she was Maire’s sister.“I do nae stare at her with lust.” In truth, he tried to avoid her at all costs.
“Ye only say these things because ye dunnae like me,” she said dismissively. “Either way, if ye claim this child as yer own, when ye do marry someday, ’twill be a bastard child who inherits instead of yer own blood.”
The woman had a gift of saying the wrong things at the worst of times. “Helen,” he said as he held the babe to his chest. “Ye may leave now.”
“This will break Margaret’s heart,” she told him, her voice harsh.
I was nae aware she possessed one.“Good day,” he said.
Connor let loose a long breath of relief when she slammed the door behind her.
“That, lass, is a woman ye should never model yerself after. She be cold, with a heart of lead, that one,” he told the bundle in his arms. She was a sweet babe, with bright, dark blue eyes.
