Page 29 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
“They’d love it!” Elaine told her. “What about ye, Maggie? Dae ye love it as much as I dae?”
Magnolia took a dainty bite of her own bread and was startled by the explosion of flavor in her mouth. The strawberries were somehow both sharper and sweeter than any she had tried before, and the jam was sugared just enough to emphasize without overwhelming the fruit.
“It’s delightful, Mrs. Reid,” she gasped.
“Why thank ye, Miss Leighmoore. Please, call me Greta. Everyone else does.” Greta told her with a smile. “Why don’t we let the bairns go play in the garden an’ we can have a talk? I havenae got wine, but there’s always ale. Ye must be fair starved for adult company up at thon castle.”
Why, she’s younger than I am. She must have still been half a girl when her husband died and left her with Bernie.
Magnolia felt a surge of sympathy for this woman. How lonely she must be! Yes, she might be able to get information from Greta, but it was more sympathy than cunning that drove her when she agreed.
“I’d love to have some ale with you, Greta,” she said politely, though she’d much prefer wine. “And please, know me as Magnolia.” Greta beamed.
The children were sent outside to play once they were finished eating, and Magnolia sipped at the ale. She wasn’t so fond of the taste, usually, but Greta’s homemade concoction wasn’t bad at all. The two women talked about this and that, finding each other’s company surprisingly welcome.
Magnolia realized after half an hour that, if she did not want to waste the day, she would need to push a little. “So, Greta. You lost your husband in the war…?”
“Aye,” Greta said gravely. “I was barely a bairn meself, just one-and-twenty. He went off to serve alongside Laird MacFoihl, an’ the next thing I kent, Commander Candlish is at me door wi’ his hat in his hands. Bernie only met his Faither once, poor lad.”
Magnolia recognized the name; Commander Candlish had recently visited the castle, much to Elaine’s excitement, but Magnolia hadn’t met him herself.
She tried to picture the scene, a woman of one-and-twenty with a tiny baby in her arms, opening the door to be told her husband would never return. Magnolia felt her eyes burning just at the concept, imagining how Lizzy would fare with little John if the same were to happen to her.
But then, Lizzy was protected. Greta was poor, more bereft than anyone Magnolia personally knew. She seemed so happy, though, despite her misfortunes. That was both bizarre and beautiful.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Magnolia said, reaching out to gently touch the back of the other woman’s hand. “War is terrible.”
“Aye, but after the English retreated, Me Laird and Commander Candlish did everything they could to help us. Me Laird, especially, is a boon to this village. I ken he still feels guilt about how he couldnae help us more, but he did all he could.” Greta said with a soft smile. “Why, I think half the widows and orphaned daughters in the village fair fell in love wi’ him after it a’ was said and done.”
She was joking, of course, but her word choice made Magnolia flush a bright fiery red. “In love? With Nath—Laird MacFoihl? I’d have thought him too reserved for the tastes of women.”
Greta shrugged. “Och, he’s reserved, that’s true, but all he’s hidin’ is a heart softer than a feather. Him an’ Commander Candlish both, they spent a’ their time visiting us, bringin’ food to us and our bairns. Me Laird emptied his own pockets to make sure I could keep me husband’s farm. A’ that, and after losing his own wife so young!”
Magnolia stared at her, shocked by the gentle tone of voice the young woman used while talking about Nathair. Had he really done all of that? Used his own money to fund the village? Spend his grieving time for the good of the clan?
She thought of him and his gruff manner…but then she thought of his kind eyes, his gentle tone when he spoke with Elaine, the softness of his lips against Magnolia’s…
Enough of that. Enough.
Greta was watching out of the window, looking at how the children played together. She had a pleased smile on her face.
“He doesnae put on airs and graces either, does Me Laird,” Greta said. “His wee bairn has been friends wi’ me lad since she was auld enough to play. I dinnae think she even kens the difference in their social status, except that she’s gonnae rule the castle one day.”
“Is that right?” Magnolia asked, turning to watch them too. Elaine was chasing Bernie in circles, both of them laughing wildly.
“Aye. Me Lady Catrina, God rest her soul, she was one o’ us. A wee bit higher, but still just the daughter o’ an old soldier. Me Laird was told again and again that he wasnae to wed her, but he did regardless out o’ love. He’s got a big heart, that man,” Greta said fondly. “He loves his clan, all o’ us, like his own family.”
Magnolia’s eyes itched, and she worried she might cry. In her mind’s eye, all she could see was a younger Nathair. Lost and alone after the death of his parents, finding love and clinging to it, treating his people the best he could with no experience.
Despite knowing better, she felt a sudden rush of affection towards him, which alarmed her more than almost anything.
Yes, there was a war–a war againstmypeople! He may very well be planning another!
That steeled her a little, and she said, “Does his Lairdship often send his soldiers to war?”
Greta shook her head solemnly. “Laird MacFoihl has never sent a soldier to dae battle if he or his commander wasnae right there in the thick o’ it with them. He detests war. He just wants us to be safe.”
The farmer’s wife’s eyes widened in alarm. “Why dae ye ask, Magnolia? Dae ye ken something? Are…are the soldiers comin’ back again?”
