Page 84 of Lord of Dunkeathe
With that, he bounded toward her and engulfed Riona in a hearty embrace. She clung to him tightly, loving him. Grateful to him for all that he’d done for her. For treating her like his own daughter. For thinking she was worthy of a man like Nicholas. For bringing her to Dunkeathe.
“So, all is well between you and Fredella, then?” she asked when they moved apart.
“Better than well,” he replied. “She’s agreed to marry me.”
Riona clasped her hands together and tears came to her eyes. Happy tears, she told herself, refusing to let any selfish concernfor her own sorrows mar this joyful news. “Oh, that’s wonderful. You deserve every happiness.”
“Of course, we have to wait until Eleanor’s safe. Fredella won’t leave her under that lout Percival’s thumb.”
“I think it’s very possible that Sir Nicholas will choose her if she does well supervising the kitchen, and I don’t think she’ll fail.”
“Sir Nicholas?” Uncle Fergus replied, looking at Riona as if she’d suddenly denounced the pope.
“Well, yes. Who else were you thinking—?”
“Not Nicholas, that’s for certain, since he’s going to marry you. No, no, I’ve got another plan entirely.” He sat on the bed and pulled her down beside him. “Fredella and me agree that all Percival cares about is getting his cousin married off to some rich nobleman he can brag about, so once Sir Nicholas makes his announcement and Percival realizes she’s not the man’s choice, I’ll ask him if Eleanor can come visit Glencleith for a bit. A man like that must be more than ready to get back to his tailor, as well as his friends, such as they are.”
Riona regarded her excited uncle warily. Percival might indeed welcome the chance to get back to London, or even York. On the other hand…“He’ll never agree to let her go. If he wants to get Eleanor married, he’s more likely to insist she go with him, so he can show her off to prospective grooms. Or he’ll send her to a convent, just as he threatened.”
Uncle Fergus’s eyes continued to gleam with unbridled satisfaction. “That’s why I’ll tell him a rich, unmarried thane related to Alexander himself is also coming to visit Glencleith.”
Riona frowned. “What rich, unmarried thane are you talking about?”
Uncle Fergus’s grin widened, so that he looked like a mischievous sprite. “Have you not heard of my kinsman, Duncan Mac Dougal?”
“Of course.” Everybody had. He was as famous a warrior as Nicholas of Dunkeathe, or Adair Mac Taran, and just as handsome, or so people said. “But he’s never come to Glencleith before. Why would he now?”
Uncle Fergus chortled. “Well, he might not, but Percival wouldn’t know that, would he? I can invite the man just the same, and if he doesn’t come, it doesn’t matter, as long as Eleanor is safe in Glencleith with Fredella and me. I promise you, my beauty, once we’ve got her with us, Percival will need an army to get her back.”
Knowing that he meant it, and that he’d protect Eleanor with his life, yet certain his plan would prove unnecessary because Eleanor would surely be Nicholas’s bride, Riona embraced him and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Uncle,” she said, her breath catching.
“Come, come, my beauty,” Uncle Fergus said softly as he stroked her hair. “There’s no need for tears. Eleanor’s going to be safe, I’m going to marry Fredella and you’ll have a fine husband yourself. The more time I spend with Sir Nicholas, the better I like him.”
“Me, too,” Riona whispered.
NICHOLAS STUCKhis head into Marianne’s chamber, intent on having a private conversation with her before she left for Lochbarr tomorrow.
His sister sat in a beam of late afternoon sunlight, her hair unbound, rocking the slumbering Cellach’s cradle with her foot. She had a distaff topped with raw wool under her left arm, and on her right side dangled a drop spindle, the yarn stretching out as it twisted. As she worked and watched her baby, she crooned a lullaby.
She looked so calm, so peaceful, so contented and happy—so different from the Marianne who’d once stood in this very chamber begging him to reconsider the plans he’d made for her.
Perhaps, given that he’d refused to listen, he shouldn’t expect to spend the rest of his life as happily married as she.
Marianne glanced up and gave him a welcoming smile, reminding him to silently thank God anew that she’d forgiven him for what he tried to do.
“I thought Seamus was going to keep you busy all day,” she said quietly as he ventured farther into the room.
“It seems I’m less entertaining than some kittens in the stable,” he replied as he approached the cradle. He’d checked where his nephew was and what he was doing the moment he’d returned to Dunkeathe. “Where’s Adair?”
“Making sure all is in readiness for our departure in the morning.”
“You’re welcome to stay until Lammas.”
Marianne shook her head. “Thank you, Nicholas, but Adair prefers to celebrate the harvest at home. He likes to go to his father’s grave on the anniversary of his death.”
Nicholas silently nodded and looked down at the child slumbering in the cradle. Cellach’s lashes fanned across her soft cheeks, and her little mouth puckered up in a bow. She was like a slumbering cherub, and he hoped he would one day be looking down on such a heavenly, sleeping child of his own.
If Riona had his child, he hoped it would look like her, that it would have her eyes, her hair, her fire, her spirit. Her bold bravery. Her charm.
