Marianna gave a polite tip of her head, then glanced around the cave-like room in search of something to tend the coals. When she failed to find an iron or a stick, she made use of a small branch to stir the banked ashes and coax the embers to life. Flat rocks mudded together made up the crude hearth. The lopsided structure stretched upward and funneled the smoke into the thatched roofing. Fresh sprigs of pine covered a mantel that looked ready to fall at any moment. The crisp scent of their resin filled the room. “Evander will bring in more wood soon as he’s done with all his chores,” she assured the woman as she fed the last of the fuel to the fire. “I’m sure it’ll have plenty of time to dry out before we’ll need it.”
“He is a good man, yer Evander. Tall and comely with those broad shoulders of his. And that beard.” Mistress Hanna pressed a hand to her chest as though about to faint away. “I love a man with a good thick beard.” With a sly smile, she caressed the now purring cat with slow, methodical strokes. “’Tis no simple task finding a handsome man with a good kind heart, ye ken?”
“Things are nay always what they seem,” Marianna said, rooting through a stack of broken crockery in search of a pot or pan to use on the fire. She went still and stared down at her hands, scolding herself yet again for the curse of her tongue that appeared to be loose at both ends. She should say nothing about Evander or their situation. “Forgive me. I dinna ken what I am saying. Too weary from the cold, I am sure.”
“Ye know verra well what ye say and why ye say it, lass.” Mistress Hanna clucked like an old hen. “Dinna fash yerself. The good Lord granted me an ear for listening and a heart that doesna judge. Be at ease and speak yer mind. Ye’ll feel the better for it.”
“We have salted meat and vegetables a plenty amongst our bundles. I shall make us a hearty stew. That will stave off the cold.” She had to get the old woman’s mind on something else, especially before Evander came inside.
“If ye are certain ye have plenty to spare.” Still stroking the cat, the crone leaned back in her chair and settled her smiling gaze on the crackling fire.
“Aye, Mistress Hanna. It will be fine, I’m sure.” Marianna popped outside. Evander was nowhere to be seen. She worried after him but could do little about the stubborn fool staying outside too long. The bitter cold stole her breath as she braced against the shelter and sidled over to their supplies. It didn’t take long to find the bundles she had in mind. Surely, there would be enough for both the MacGougans and Mistress Hanna. After all, they couldn’t very well leave the old woman to starve, and she needed more than the oatcakes and dried meat they had brought along for themselves. Evander could snare rabbits or something if they ran short. Back inside, she thumped the door shut, then frowned. There was no table on which to prepare the meal.
The matron nodded toward the wide hearthstone. “Here, lass. I always kneel before the fire when I prepare my food. ’Tis all the better to be thanking the Lord for such bounty, ye ken?”
“Aye, Mistress Hanna.” After fetching water from the small keg in the corner, Marianna knelt with the only usable pot she had found and set to preparing their meal.
“He is a good man, lass. Ye know that in yer heart.”
“He is also the father of another woman’s child,” Marianna snapped as she placed the salted meat in a bowl of water and pushed it closer to the fire to leach out some of the brine. She closed her eyes. “Why do I spill my thoughts so easily? I dinna even know ye. Please forgive me and pay me no mind. I willna say anymore.”
“Of course, ye will. Sometimes it’s easier to speak yer heart to a stranger, ye ken?” Mistress Hanna softly chuckled. “Especially when yer heart is filled with as much pain as yers.” Still petting the cat, she leaned forward and fixed Marianna with a pointed look. With a lowered voice, she continued, “Chances are, once the two of ye move on, ye will never see me again, anyway.” Her eyes, crinkling at the corners, sparkled with kindness. “I am a safe ear for yer troubles, child. One that will never repeat yer words to anyone ye dinna wish to hear them.” She glanced down at the feline now curled in her lap. “Well, maybe Gabriel. But no one else, I grant ye. Go on now. Unburden yerself, ye ken? Ye’ll feel better for it. I promise.”
Marianna kept her gaze locked on the frozen carrots she scraped with her dagger. Perhaps the old one was right. Where was the harm in telling her of all the wrongs she had suffered over the past few weeks? Especially when she couldn’t talk of it to anyone at the keep. None of them had ever accepted or welcomed her in as one of their own. And after Ellen spread her story to one and all, she felt their laughter and scorn at every turn. Marianna blinked hard, refusing to give in to tears. She had always been the outsider. Should be accustomed to it by now.
“Evander and I were betrothed once,” she admitted softly as she tossed chunks of carrot into the pot.
“Once?”
“Aye. Once.” She swallowed hard at the knot in her throat and blinked faster to dry away the unshed tears. “Before he cuckolded me and sired a son with another.”
“I see.”
The crone’sI seesounded different from Lady Catriona’s when Marianna had finally found the courage to go to her with her troubles. Of course, the chief’s wife had taken Evander’s side. She should have known better. At least Mistress Hanna sounded more willing to listen.
“And?” the old woman prompted.
Marianna shrugged the encouragement away, bracing herself for the scorn that always followed. How perhaps she was overreacting and needed to give him the chance to explain things more fully. What more was there to explain? She had seen the child with her own eyes. “He says the babe isna his, but all ye have to do is look at the bairn’s red hair, and ye see it.” She sniffed and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “And Ellen said he was the father. Named him in front of us all.”
“And a beacon of truth, this Ellen is?”
“Nay—she is a conniving whore who uses men to get what she wants, then casts them aside.”
Mistress Hanna shifted with a heavy sigh. “If Ellen is as deceitful as ye say, then why do ye believe her when she says yer Evander fathered her child?”
“The bairn’s red hair!” she reminded as she threw another handful of carrots into the pot and picked up a parsnip. “And he used to bed her. All the time. Everyone beds Ellen. ’Tis how the woman survives.”
“And Evander is the only ruddy-haired lad in the clan?”
She pushed herself to her feet, picked up the bowl of meat, and carried it to the door without answering. The old crone offered the same argument Evander had used. “I must rinse this out and soak it again or ’twill be so salty, we canna eat it.” She yanked open the door, then paused and looked back. “He made me look the fool in front of the whole clan. He’s always nice to her. Talks to her every chance he gets and does all sorts of chores around her cottage.” She twitched with anger, tense as a newly strung bow. “Among the other things he does for her, I’m sure. Everyone knows that child is his and was fathered wellafterhe and I announced our plans to marry.” A wistful hiccup escaped her before she could gasp it back. “And I nearly had the embroidery on my chemise for our wedding night finished. We wouldha been married nigh on a month now if not for his betrayal.” She stomped her foot. “He made a fool of me. Everyone in the keep laughs at me now.”
“Close the door and come back to the fire, child. The meat will be fine.” Mistress Hanna beckoned with a wave and a kindly nod.
“It will be salty.” She hugged the bowl against her middle, determined to escape.
“I like salt,” the old one said with a lopsided grin. She motioned for Marianna to return. “Come.”
Heart so heavy her feet dragged with every step, Marianna returned to the fire. What did it matter if the meat was salty? Nothing mattered anymore. She fished it out of the bowl, tore it into pieces, and added it to the bubbling pot hanging over the fire. “I’ll add a handful of barley to the carrots and parsnips to soak up the salt. ’Twill make it thicker, too.”
