“I cared no more than the laird cared aboot me and my past. But that must have been extremely hard for Lady Glynnis.”
“It was at first. But like I said, she was kind and patient with everyone. It wasna long before people saw the good in her was genuine. She and the auld laird were a wonderful couple. Always respectful of one another, and it made them powerful leaders. It made the laird’s father a better leader. Lady Glynnis was shy at first, but she loved to laugh. Ma Bethea took it harder than anyone but the laird when she passed. They were the best of friends, and Lady Glynnis never made Bethea feel like a servant.”
“A housekeeper is a family member,” Abigail whispered as she thought about Agatha at Stornoway. The woman practically raised Abigail and her siblings; she was the warmest and most maternal woman Abigail knew before Maude. She considered the years that she was ungrateful for Agatha’s care. Abigail had worked hard over the last few years to make it up to Agatha. It had been the older woman who Abigail turned to when Adeline died. She looked up at Angus and smiled. “A housekeeper is often a second mother and grandmother to the laird’s family. I didn’t appreciate the woman I grew up with when I was younger, but I do now. Is the laird more like his mother or his father?”
“He’s the best of both. He can be reserved and quiet like his mother was, but he’s brave and commanding like his father was.” Angus watched Abigail and knew the young woman took what he said to heart. He remembered when Lady Glynnis arrived, under much the same circumstances as Abigail had. Laird Gregor rode out a fortnight after Lady Glynnis arrived and was away for nearly a month fighting the MacQueens. Gregor hadn’t been very discriminate in his choices of bedmates when he was a young man, and Lady Glynnis faced a chilly welcome. The differences between father and son relieved Angus. He knew Abigail wouldn’t face the same challenge as Glynnis.
“I think that describes my husband perfectly, Angus. I wondered aboot how quiet he was when we met, but I realized he’s very observant and never speaks without thinking.”
“That is vera true, ma lady. I dinna ken what he told ye aboot all of us, but he couldnae stop smiling whenever he spoke of ye. If ye dinna mind me saying, he’s vera smitten with ye.”
“I don’t mind at all, since I’m completely besotted.” Abigail looked back at the ledgers, and the pair spent the rest of the afternoon going over the income and expenses the clan faced each month. But Abigail considered what she learned. It had seemed like so little, but when she considered all she heard about Ronan, it made sense. By the time the servants presented the evening meal, Abigail already felt like she was at home. There were suspicious looks from some, but overall, the clan was welcoming. She couldn’t blame those who were skeptical, since their laird rode out to fight men she was distantly related to. But the only clan on Skye she felt a kinship with was the MacKinnons. She woke the next morning ready to face her first full day as Lady MacKinnon, chatelaine of Dun Ringill.
Thirty-Five
Abigail straightened as her hand stopped kneading the bread on the kitchen table before her. Everyone in the kitchens froze. Bells pealed outside, but it wasn’t the slow and steady rhythm announcing the laird’s return. It was the urgent clanking of a warning. Abigail abandoned the dough, wiping her hands on her skirts as she dashed out of the kitchens and into the bailey. She pulled her arisaid over her head as she lifted her skirts to run to the steps leading up to the battlements. They were slick, forcing her to slow as she climbed.
“Who’s coming?” Abigail called out as she reached the top. Her eyes scanned their surroundings until she squinted and spotted birlinns approaching. She turned to look back toward the mountains in the distance, the same direction Ronan traveled. “MacLeods? Not my brother?”
“Aye. Nae yer brother, ma lady.”
“How can ye tell from here? They’re barely specks.”
A guardsman pointed to the anglers on the docks, hurrying to unload their catches. Then he pointed to the ones rowing furiously toward the shore. “Willy, Linus’s grandson, came running to tell us.”
Abigail watched as villagers scurried into the bailey, mothers dragging and carrying children. Men armed with axes and pitchforks followed. “Is this the only village nearby? Are there others that need warning?”
“Aye. There are three villages up the coast.”
“Can a rider make it in the snow?”
“Mayhap, but I dinna think the people can make it here on foot.”
“How long do you think we have until they make landfall?”
“With the midmorning tide, an hour, mayhap.”
“Send the best rider to the furthest village first. Have him tell the people to head toward here. Send the best sailors up the coast to ferry people here. Have extra men posted at the postern gate to help those who take that path up. Do the storage buildings have false floors?”
“The granary is the only one. But there are storage rooms in the keep that have false floors.”
“Thank you.” Abigail turned away, then paused. “What’s your name?”
“Timothy, ma lady.”
“Thank you, Timothy.” Abigail hurried down the steps as guards herded women and children into the keep. She ran back inside to discover Bethea issuing orders for the maids to find blankets and for Maisie to bring all the cheese, meats, and bread she had prepared. “Bethea, one of the guards, Timothy, told me about the false floors in the storerooms. Can all these people fit?”
“Only the ones here now.”
“Then we need blankets, water, and buckets taken to the granary.”
“Buckets?”
“Aye. What do weans do when they’re scared?”
“Need to use the pot.”
“Exactly. The women need somewhere for the weans to go, so none are tempted to leave their hiding place to keep the small space clean.”
