Page 133 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Just whoshewas, Onnleigh didn’t know and had not the courage to ask. “I be terrible sorry to have bothered ye,” she said.
“If ye can find the chief, ye might ask him if he’s willin’ to pry apart that auld hag’s tight fists and give ye a place, but I would nae hold me breath were I ye.”
The chief? Nay, she’d rather be stripped naked, her body slathered in honey, and thrown on an ant hill than go see him. William MacCallen had terrified her when she was a child. He’d been the biggest man she’d ever seen and the scar that ran across his cheek did nothing to soften his hard looks, his broken nose, and those deep, penetrating eyes.
Thanking the woman, she curtsied and left the kitchen, walking across the little courtyard to the keep. The door creaked ever so slightly when she pulled it open. She’d never set foot inside before, and had no idea where she should look for her daughter.
The entryway was tall and narrow, with three doorways branching off. She decided to continue straight ahead, which led her to a large gathering room. Trestle tables had been pulled away and put against the wall to allow maids to sweep up old rushes and spread new. Two young women were standing near a long sideboard, polishing pewter mugs. The space smelled like logs afire, evergreens, and soap. One of the young women looked up, offered her a smile before returning to her work.
Ahead, and off to her left, was a staircase leading up to the second floor. The gathering room was open to the halls above on three sides. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to take the stairs.
No one paid her any mind as she ascended to the second floor and walked the cramped hallways. She dared not open any closed doors, or even knock, lest she be found out. Instead, she walked along at a slow pace and listened, peeking only into those rooms with open doors.
At the end of the hallway on her left, a heavy wooden door stood slightly ajar. Just steps away, her heartbeat escalated when she heard her daughter whimpering. At the sweet, merciful sound, her breasts swelled painfully as more milk began to leak.
A quick glance up and down the hallway told her she was alone. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pushed the door open. Pulling her shawl away from her face, she was able to see ’twas a nice sized bedchamber, with a tall, four-poster bed set in the center. Two trunks sat under the window on the wall straight ahead. To her left was an empty fireplace.
At the foot of the bed, sitting on a heavy trunk, was the basket containing her daughter. She rushed to her, dropped the bundle at her feet, scooped Nola into her arms, and held her close. “Wheesht, babe, I be here now.”
Nola’s whimpers increased, as did the ache in Onnleigh’s breast. Shutting the door, she looked for a safe spot to feed her. To her right, opposite the bed, was a darkened doorway. Onnleigh took a few tentative steps forward before she noticed a light coming from within.
’Twas a small room, with two narrow windows that faced east, just like the room she’d just left. There she found a cradle, a trunk, and a padded chair. Turning the chair away from the doorway, she quickly sat, untied her tunic, and began to nurse her babe.
Nola sucked greedily, covering her ear with one tiny fist, just as she had done almost since the day she’d been born. The relief at seeing her daughter safe was undeniable. Her breasts felt much the same way as her heart.
As Nola fed, Onnleigh inspected her closely. She was wearing a very fine little gown of soft ivory linen. Little woolens covered her legs, a bonnet her head. The blanket was finely woven in shades of creams and yellows.
I could never have given ye such things,she thought guiltily.Ye deserve things like these, my sweet Nola.
As the babe finished one breast, Onnleigh switched her to the other. The moments passed by, and Onnleigh began to have second thoughts. Pretty gowns, warm blankets and woolens, a cradle. She could never have given her child any of those things. Was she being selfish by wanting to take Nola away, to keep her all to herself?Aye, I am.
Nola finished eating and fell asleep. Onnleigh sat in the quiet, tiny room for a while longer, whispering promises. “I cannae give ye much, Nola. All I can give ye is me love, and I fear that be nae enough. Love will nae keep ye warm in winter or yer stomach full, or clothes on yer back. But I can give ye to someone who will give ye all those things. I pray, babe, that he will also be able to love ye as if ye were his own.”
With her mind made up again, she laid Nola on her lap whilst she retied the laces of her tunic. A cold chill filled her heart, bringing with it gooseflesh. Pulling her shawl around, she lifted her babe and held her close to her heart.
With tears in her eyes, she knew she had to say goodbye now, not look back, not ever question her decision to do what was best for her child.
* * *
“What areye doin’ with me daughter?”
Terror rippled up and down Onnleigh’s spine at the sound of Connor’s voice. She recognized it from the wishing well. Gone was the playfulness he’d shared with his grandminny. Now he sounded quite angry. Her mind raced for a way out.
Slowly, she stood and turned. Och! He had grown into a handsome devil of a man. She had not been able to see him that day at the well, only heard his voice.
His blonde hair fell past his shoulders; his bright green eyes were penetrating. He wore a dark blue tunic with leather laces, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His trews were pulled taut over hard thighs, his leather boots strapped around thick calves. It took only a moment to realize he could snap her like a twig.
Stammering, she answered as honestly as she could. “I, I heard her cry, m’laird, so I picked her up and held her. She be asleep now, see?” Taking a few steps forward on very shaky legs, she held Nola up for his inspection.
“She was alone?” he asked with a quirked brow.
“Aye, m’laird,” she answered softly as the worry and dread continued to grow.
She could see he was sizing her up, looking for any sign of deceit. A long, awkward silence passed between them.
“Who are ye?”
That was a question she did not wish to answer. “I’ll be leavin’ now, m’laird. Would ye like yer babe back?”
