The Eagle Page 13

  To the right of the main room was a corridor that led to three bedchambers.

  He turned to Ewan. “Who lived here?”

  His brother shrugged. “After our grandfather died, I do not think anyone has for at least twenty years.”

  He believed it from the looks of it. Rats scurried from the hearth when they entered what looked to be a good-sized kitchen. Of all the rooms, this one would have to be dealt with first.

  Pushing on the thick support wooden posts, he was glad to note they remained strong.

  “There is much to do,” a feminine voice said, and they turned to see that a pair of women accompanied Dougal’s wife, Bree.

  One of the women straightened her cap and gave Stuart a straight look. “I am Maisie, this is my sister, Grace. We will have this kitchen set up in no time at all.”

  Grace’s face brightened with a smile that showcased missing teeth. “We worked for yer grandfather, bless his soul.”

  Not about to stand between three women and whatever they had planned, Stuart and Ewan motioned to the kitchen. “See about whatever is needed.”

  The women bustled past them.

  “Strange,” Stuart said when they’d returned to the largest room at the front of the house. “The women do not seem affected by the constable.”

  “It could be they do not live in the village or have no reason to fear him.”

  “The men did seem to fear him,” Stuart said.

  His brother nodded.

  They went outside to find men clearing brush from around the house, and one sat on a fallen tree forming makeshift brooms.

  Ewan looked around and smiled. “I do believe ye will have a good place to live. I almost envy ye.”

  Two men came through the trees with buckets of water and headed into the house. Ewan went to a wagon and returned with hammers. He motioned to the man making brooms. “See about cleaning out the hearths.”

  Stuart decided his first task would be to build a ladder so he could make repairs to the roof.

  And so, the work that would take them many weeks to complete had begun.

  One morning Stuart woke ready to face the long list of tasks to be completed that day and realized with so many things requiring his attention every day he’d lost track of exactly what day it was.

  Walking out of the bedchamber—he’d only moved into the day before—he went to the kitchen. There he found the sisters, Maisie and Grace, busily cooking a simple fare of eggs and porridge.

  “The hens laid plenty of eggs,” Maisie said with excitement. “They have finally settled. We only took half of the eggs and put the others in a separate pen. Soon we’ll have plenty of chickens.”

  Stuart settled into a small table that had been set up just outside the kitchen. The clearing of land to build corrals for the livestock had taken priority over the building of furniture, so the house still remained mostly bare.

  First and last meal were the only time he sat and rested, the remainder of the time he had too many tasks to take breaks. This day however, he didn’t feel a need to hurry.

  “Why are ye not scared of the constable? Some of the villagers seem to fear him?” Stuart asked the women.

  The women exchanged looks, seeming to gauge what to say. Finally, Grace met his gaze as she slid him a bowl of porridge with a fried egg on top. “Torridon is a cruel sort, who takes glee in making people’s lives miserable. Since we’ve always lived away from the village, he hasn’t bothered us much.”

  “Why do the people obey his every command then?” Stuart said taking a spoonful of food, blowing on it, and then eating it. It was quite delicious.

  Maisie was first to reply. “Because the man has been smart about how he controls everyone. If he can’t get them through loans that require higher payments in return, he gets information about ’em they don’t want gettin’ out. And he also has himself a group of evil doers that follow his orders and threaten people who don’t obey him.”

  “Those were the ones who came here the first day ye arrived,” Grace added.

  Stuart nodded. “Aye, they seemed to obey his every command.”

  It would be easy enough to rectify the situation. He had to get rid of the constable. Since Ewan was to depart the next day, he’d ask his brother to ride with him into the village to get a better idea of what the situation was.

  The seaside village consisted of a scattering of cottages on hilly land. Most of the thatched roof homes faced the sea, a true testament to the people’s regard for where their livelihood came from. There were a few shops that had been lined up on a road that curved around an inlet. The rest were small homes. Several people milled about, some on foot, others urging slow mules to pull their wagons. In the water was a smattering of boats from which Stuart guessed men fished.

  Altogether, he had to admit, it was a beautiful place. The salty air reminded him of home, and he wondered if he should have moved into the house closer to the village. Perhaps he would in the future. For now, he would have to ride the hour or so it took to see about the villagers.

  When he rode past a small home, two barefoot children ran out and stared at him. Lifting tiny hands to block the sun from their eyes, their rounded eyes took in his horse.

  “Are ye a warrior?” the lad asked his eyes moving from his face to the horse.

  “I am Stuart Ross, I live near here,” he replied and smiled down at the child.

  “I think ye is a warrior,” a young girl standing next to the boy insisted.

  Stuart reached into his purse and pulled out a pair of coins tossing them to the delighted children, who picked them up and raced into the house.

  He continued until reaching the main road and dismounted. In truth, his horse was quite large and intimidating. The animal was at home on the battlefield, fearless and trained to trample the enemy. Not exactly the type of horse to make people feel at ease.

  Ewan met his gaze. “I like the place. I think it suits ye.”

  Turning to the horse, he patted the animal’s head twice. It was a command to keep its head bent and give an illusion of meekness. The horse snorted to communicate its annoyance but did as commanded.

  Pulling the horse behind, Stuart walked to the first shop. It was a bakery. The man behind the counter started at seeing him and rushed to the door. “Mister Stuart. I wondered how long it would be before ye came to the village.” The man gave a slight bow. “I am Albert Smith.”

  Stuart took advantage of the fact that the man seemed pleased to see him. “How are things here at the moment? I heard there was a problem with yer livestock.”

  “Aye, it was quite horrible. We lost almost all the cows, except for the few that belong to the constable. Managed to save most of the sheep, which is good.”

  “Do the sheep belong to the constable as well?” Stuart eyed the man, noticing he’d become nervous.

  “I am not sure.” The baker seemed to realize he should probably not be having this conversation. “Can I gift ye some bread?”

  Stuart accepted several loaves but insisted on paying. The baker was a likable man and Stuart informed him that there was work available if he knew of men needing it.

  Continuing, the next shop he stopped at was a cobbler. The man sat outside his shop, leather atop a form as he worked without looking up. Despite the man pretending not to notice him, Stuart had seen him looking over when he’d been speaking to the baker.

  This man was slight, with thinning hair and he moved quickly giving the impression of someone who was always nervous.

  “I am Stuart Ross…”

  “I am well aware Mister Stuart,” the man interrupted. “Welcome.” Still, he did not look up, his hands smoothing down the leather.

  “Why are the villagers so scared of the constable?” Stuart asked knowing it would startle the man.

  His question had the desired effect. The man’s eyes rounded, and he looked in the direction of a large house in the distance. “We are not scared of him.”

  “That is not the im
pression I get. Tell me. What do ye think of him?”

  This time the man’s hands dropped down to the tabletop. “He is a strong man, who ensures the village has order.”

  “Order,” Stuart said then looked to the house. He remembered it. When he was a child, he’d visited his great uncle and great aunt, who’d lived there. The house belonged to his family. Had his father gifted it to the constable? Somehow, he doubted it.

  Then again if it was empty, it was better to put it to use.

  Stuart considered that it could possibly be a better location for him and Cait. He’d have to ask her where she preferred to live.

  “Order should be maintained by a constable. However, it is not his position to take from those he is sworn to protect.” Stuart met the man’s gaze. “A good and fair man does not rule by fear.”

  The cobbler nodded. “I am Roger McTernan,” the man said standing and giving a slight bow. “Welcome, Laird.”

  Laird. The word hung in the air. Stuart nodded in return and continued on.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cait looked up from her embroidery when her mother walked into the parlor. Each time she saw her mother, Clara, now, she was struck at the difference. Not only had her health improved dramatically, but in clothes of better quality, she looked every bit a lady.

  “I was searching for ye,” her mother said settling into a chair, her face automatically looking out to the view. “Ye have kept to yerself for a few days now. Lady Mariel is worried.”

  For a moment, she considered her words. “I do not belong here, Mother. Stuart is not going to return. What will happen to us then?”

  “Ye worry overmuch,” her mother protested. “In the last message, Stuart informed ye of how much there was still to do. It is obvious he has been delayed.”

  Cait shook her head. “Already the entire season has passed. Winter has set in and with it comes the rainy season making travel difficult.”

  To ignore the silence, she began embroidering again. It was a simple design that Lady Mariel had taught her. Dainty flowers and leaves, in a chain pattern. As well as embroidery, a tutor had been hired to teach her to read and write. She’d taken to both quickly, soaking in as much as she could on the chance she’d be forced to leave and start anew.

  Knowing how to read and write would make it possible for her to hire on as a governess or assist in running a household. She’d shadowed both Lady Mariel and Lady Isobel, watching and learning every single aspect of running a keep. Although she wasn’t sure how large the home Stuart owned was, she would be prepared to ensure everything would be taken care of.

  Already weeks had passed since the last time a missive had come from him. His brothers, Duncan and Gideon, had both visited and returned with news of the progress being made on the lands and home.

  Each time they’d brought a letter for her. In each letter, Stuart wrote of what he did, promised to return soon so they could marry, and then explained all the work yet to be done.

  “If the house is ready, there is only one reason for him not to return for me Mother.” Cait finally put into words the fear that had filled her in the last days. “He’s changed his mind and hopes I realize it and grant him his freedom.”

  “Nonsense,” her mother said. “He was visibly smitten with ye.”

  “He has been gone longer than the time we’ve spent together. I sincerely doubt he misses me. How can he?”

  Her mother took her in. “Is it ye that has had a change of heart?”

  Cait met her mother’s eyes. “Honestly? Yes. I am beginning to question my feelings. I have not seen him, have only had letters…” Her breath caught, a dark sensation gripped her chest. “Father promised to return. He lied to us. Never returned.” She had to take a deep breath and wiped an errant tear. “Do you not see Mother?”

  “Ye have his family’s support. He proposed to ye and announced it to the entire family including his brother, the laird.” Her mother’s eyes shined with unshed tears. “He is not yer father. Stuart Ross will not step back from his responsibility to ye.”

  “And yet he has Mother. He can take years and not return for me. No one can chastise him for it, as the only duty he has is to provide for me and that he has done.”

  Her mother balked, “Then ye should take matters in hand and travel to see him. Clear things up in yer mind. Sitting here worrying will only make ye more and more bitter.”

  “I am not bitter,” Cait argued.

  “Ye certainly are not sweet,” her mother replied with a soft smile.

  Just then Cora walked in. “The midday meal is ready.”

  Walking into the dining room with her mother made Cait think back to when she and Stuart had entered to announce their engagement and how awkward it had been.

  Now it was an everyday occurrence. The simple midday meal of cheese, bread, and fruit was often a time when they would talk of plans for the following day.

  Most times, the men did not attend and instead ate in the great hall while listening to clan grievances.

  This time, however, Gideon and Caelan were there.

  “Since Ewan has returned and is here to sit with Darach, I have excused myself to enjoy time with ye,” Caelan told Lady Mariel.

  Despite the fact his own mother lived not too far away, Caelan and Lady Mariel had a close relationship and he carved out time to spend with her.

  “How are ye feeling?” Lady Mariel asked him, touching his cheek. “Ye are cool to the touch.”

  Caelan had recently been abed for over a week. The healer was not sure what illness it was, but he’d been feverish and without appetite. The handsome man looked well recovered now.

  “Would ye like to go visit Beatrice with me tomorrow?” Isobel asked Cait. “We can stop at the village on the way there.”

  “Aye, I would enjoy it. Thank ye.”

  “Ye have to stop thanking me for everything,” Isobel said with a light chuckle.

  Cait let out a breath. It was time she told them her thoughts. “Ye are all so kind to me, and I will be forever grateful. I must admit to feeling as if I may never truly come to be a member of the family.”

  “I agree, my son has been gone overlong. But I know Stuart and he will do as he promised,” Lady Mariel said and then looked to Caelan. “Do ye not agree that yer brother will return soon?”

  “Knowing Stuart, he wants everything to be perfect before ye arrive to live there. If someone does not go and fetch him with a warning ye are changing yer mind, he will continue doing this and that, never fully satisfied.”

  “Cait is not changing her mind. She is worried however that he may have,” her mother interjected in a soft voice.

  “He has not,” Lady Mariel assured them.

  “Someone needs to go fetch him,” Gideon said lowering his cup. “I can go.”

  “I will go,” Caelan said. “Ye just returned from yer last trip.”

  Lady Mariel placed both hands on the table and looked to everyone there. “I do not care who goes, but someone must go and fetch Stuart. He has been gone too long.”

  Cait’s eyes widened at the stir she’d caused. “I do not mean to cause discord.”

  “Ye are not,” Isobel said patting her hand. “Despite their sense of honor and such, Ross men seem inclined to make ridiculous mistakes.”

  “Let us go speak to Darach, he will have to say who goes,” Caelan said standing. Then as the brothers walked out, Gideon winked at her.

  “When it’s his turn, he may not be so jovial about it,” Lady Mariel murmured shaking her head as she followed her youngest’s progress.

  “Now,” Isobel said. “We should prepare for a wedding.”

  “Visit yer sister as planned. The day after tomorrow, we will go to the village and procure whatever is needed to decorate.” Lady Mariel gave Cait an accessing look. “We may have to summon the seamstress. Ye have lost weight since yer wedding dress was made.”

  Annis, Isobel’s companion, and Cora entered and joined in the conversation, along
with Cait’s mother. Everything that would be required for the wedding festivities was discussed, from food and drink to décor. It seemed with the two recent weddings, the women of Keep Ross had matters well in hand.

  As the conversations whirled around Cait, she did her best to grasp the reality of the situation. Was she willing to marry a man who had to be fetched?

  She held up a hand and everyone stopped speaking to look at her.

  “If Stuart shows any inkling that he does not wish to be married, I will not force him into it. Perhaps we should wait until his arrival to make any preparations. I do not wish for ye to go to any more trouble for a wedding that may not take place.”

  “A rider came and Darach says he has a message for ye,” Cora said entering Cait’s bedchamber.

  Despite Stuart’s last written missive claiming his assurance of wishing to marry her, Cait could not help the sense of dread. Why had Darach not sent the letter with Cora?

  “What do ye suppose it is? Usually, it is a written missive that he could have asked ye to give me.”

  Cora shrugged. “It is strange.”

  Taking her friend’s hand, Cait made her way down the corridor and down the stairs to find the laird. He was in the great room, along with Caelan and Ewan, who didn’t pay her much mind as she neared.

  “Ah, there ye are,” Darach said motioning for her to come closer. “The guard has a message for ye and Mother.”

  The sense of dread grew stronger. All Cait could think about was her mother and brother and what would happen if she had to leave.

  A gruff guard stood with Lady Mariel next to the high board and Cait walked to them, still grasping Cora’s hand. Neither the guard nor Lady Mariel seemed discomfited by Cora’s presence.