Page 142 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Chapter 5
Having been isolatedfrom the world for as long as she had, Onnleigh was fearful of leaving her tiny room. While Connor might be kind enough to overlook who sired her, she was confident the rest of the clan would not. She spent the remainder of the day and night above stairs, tending to Nola and being thankful for a roof over her head, food in her belly, and all the lovely things Connor had made certain they had.
While she sat next to her brazier, the sound of all the joyful people supping together below stairs floated into her room. Feelings she believed had been buried long ago began to rise in the pit of her stomach. Longing, envy, and loneliness deep inside her. Memories of her childhood, of always being left alone to watch as the other children played together, began to burst into her mind. She had desperately wanted to play with the others but didn’t know how to ask. Whether out of shyness or fear, she couldn’t say.
That was not the kind of childhood she wanted for her daughter. Nay, Nola deserved to be surrounded by people who loved her. She deserved to grow up happy, with many friends, to have hundreds of happy childhood memories to carry her into her auld age. Onnleigh wanted everything for her babe that she had never had.
Sitting next to the brazier, she looked into the cradle at her sleeping babe, her heart heavy and filled with regrets. No matter how strong her desire to shout to the world that she, OnnleighingenGrueber, of Clan MacCallen, had created such a sweet, beautiful babe, she knew she could not. ’Twould mean the end of any chance of the decent life her daughter had miraculously been blessed with.
The sound of Connor’s deep voice broke through her silent reverie. “Onnleigh?” he all but whispered her name as he stepped out of the shadows. “Why did ye nae come below stairs to sup?”
She looked up at him with a curious expression. He truly did not understand her reluctance. “’Tis awfully loud below stairs.” ’Twasn’t necessarily a complete lie, for she was used to silence. Being around loud, boisterous, happy people was foreign to her.
A warm smile lit his face as he stared down at Nola. “She is a beautiful babe, is she nae?”
A knot of regret formed in her throat. She wondered if her father had once looked upon her with the same kind of adoration. ’Twas doubtful.
“Ye needn’t stay above stairs all the time,” Connor said, taking his attention away from Nola.
Och, ye daft, sweet man, but I do!
“Many of the women folk come to sew in the gatherin’ room this time of year. Mayhap ye should join them.” His tone was quite sincere, his eyes alight with hope.
Though his suggestion was born of kindness, she felt it awfully naive. “I do nae think ye understand the way of it, m’laird,” she told him. “Yer people do nae like me.”
“They’re yer people too,” he said, his voice low and warm.
She did not want to insult his intelligence—or lack thereof—on the matter, but there was no other way around it. “They’re nae me people. They’ve ne’er been me people.”
Thankfully, he did not argue, did not call her daft or silly for having such feelings. “They’ll never be yer people unless ye give them a chance to know ye. Nae all of them are like Helen.”
She could only agree with him inasmuch as he and Bridgett had been quite kind. Mayhap, just mayhap there were more MacCallen’s like them and far fewer like Helen.
“Give them a chance, Onnleigh. Give yerself a chance to show them ye be the kind and sweet lass I ken ye to be.”
* * *
Reluctantly, Onnleigh decided to at least make an attempt at reintroducing herself to her clanspeople as Connor had suggested the night before. The following morning dawned gloomily, with dark gray skies and rain that pounded against the earth and keep. An omen, mayhap of things to come.
She scrubbed her face, washed her teeth, and ran her wooden comb through her hair. Her best dress was the blue wool, for it had the least amount of patches and stains. Since she had used the only chemise to her name to make gowns for Nola, she was forced to use her tunic as replacement. The brown didn’t necessarily go with the blue, but at least it covered her arms.
With Nola wrapped in the sling and her shawl draped around her shoulders, she took several deep breaths before descending the stairs into the already crowded gathering room. She scanned the large space, looking for Connor, who had left his bedchamber before dawn. He was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Bridgett.
Pushing aside the dread, she held her head high, her babe close, and went to the long table against the wall. Eggs, ham, breads, cheeses, jams, fruits and food she couldn’t remember seeing before were spread out, free for the taking. Her mouth watered as her stomach growled. A sudden hush fell over the room as she picked up a trencher.
’Tis nae stealin’ if ’tis fer all,she told herself. Her fingers trembled as she placed a slice of ham on the trencher. She could feel all eyes in the room boring through her skull. Not wanting to appear gluttonous or greedy, she took small portions of eggs, one slice of bread, a tiny hunk of cheese and a few sliced apples. Knots formed in the pit of her stomach when she turned away from the table and saw a room full of people staring at her.
Mayhap ’tis nae fer all,that small, doubtful voice warned. She was about to set the trencher down on the nearest table and flee to her room when Bridgett appeared beside her. “Good morn, to ye,” she said happily as she took her by the elbow. “Come, let us go above stairs to eat. The room has a chill and we would nae want the babe to catch a cough.”
Naive as she may be, she knew exactly what Bridgett was doing; saving her from the glowers and harsh whispers of people who did not want her here.
Trembling, she allowed Bridgett to guide her up to her room.
“The rain has cast a chill everywhere,” Bridgett said as they sat at the small table. “I be certain ’twill nae last long, ye ken.”
Onnleigh felt numb, her appetite gone, the knots in her stomach tightening. “Why do they hate me so?” she asked, her voice so low ’twas barely discernible to Bridgett.
“Och, they dunnae hate ye,” Bridgett replied, as if nothing were further from the truth.
