“You have avenged Fergus’s death, my dear lord, but who is to avenge yours if I do not?” she asked him candidly.
“I need to go to God reassured that you and our child will be safe, Cicely,” he said seriously. Then he fell back upon the pillows. “I amweary now. Leave me. Ambrose will remain and hear my confession. Give me a kiss now.”
Rising, she bent and touched his lips with hers. Did they feel colder? “I promise you I will not feud with the Grahames,” she told him. “But they should pay for what they have done, and your revenge for Fergus wasn’t enough, my lord.” Then she left Ian and his uncle together.
When she had gone Ambrose Douglas said, “I will send to Sir William today, nephew. And I will watch over her, I promise.”
“Tell Frang I want no feud,” Ian Douglas said. “She has sworn, but when I am gone she may think better of her promise to me, Uncle.”
“Sir William will send someone to keep her in check,” the priest replied. “Now, Ian, that I have heard your wishes, let me hear your confession, nephew.”
The laird gave his priestly uncle a weak grin. “I’ve been sick for weeks now, Ambrose. What sins could I possibly have?”
The priest chuckled. “I’ll stay with you, Ian,” he said quietly.
The laird nodded. “Thank you,” was all he said, and then he closed his eyes.
Ian Douglas died quietly in the night as his wife and uncle dozed by his bedside, unaware until after the fact. As a male in the direct line of descent, the priest immediately took charge of the situation. Stony faced, Cicely could not cry, fearing that to grieve would harm her unborn child. A messenger was dispatched to Sir William Douglas, who came with all haste to comfort the widow, and to learn how his kinsman had died.
“The Grahames are to blame,” Cicely told him bitterly. Her face was pale, her hair unbound, and she could not stop pacing.
Sir William looked to Ambrose Douglas, who quickly explained.
“Bothbrothers gone? Ahh,” Sir William said, “this is not good. The lady and her bairn will need to be protected.”
“We need no stranger,” Cicely spoke up boldly. “Our Glengorm folk are true, Frang, our captain, capable. And we have Ambrose.”
“My dear,” Sir William responded in as kindly tones as he could muster, “your bairn, be it a lad or a lassie, cannot rule Glengorm from its cradle. I know your folk have good hearts. I know Frang is loyal and able. But this is a border house. I need a strong man to maintain order here. You are the lady of Glengorm, and will remain so, but the welfare of Glengorm will be in a man’s hand. But I promise I will send you a good man.”
She could feel her resistance to his suggestion rising, but Cicely swallowed back the words she wanted to speak. In her heart she knew he was right. A woman in charge, especially a woman with a large belly, would be considered fair game to any less than honorable border lord. And the border did have its share of dishonorable men. Sir William’s protection would keep Glengorm safe. She sighed audibly, and curtsied to him. “I am grateful, my lord, for your care,” she said. “Now, if you will excuse me.”
“Go and rest, my dear,” he replied. “These last weeks have been difficult, I know.” He gave her a courtly bow, thinking how sad her plight was.
Cicely left the hall.
“She goes to the chamber beneath the church where his coffin now rests. The ground was too hard and we could not dig his grave,” the priest explained. “She goes several times daily and speaks with him.”
“Has she lost her reason?” Sir William asked nervously.
“Nay, she is simply still in shock over his death,” the priest replied. “She was raised gently, and is not accustomed to so harsh a life as can occur here in the borders. But she is a strong lass, cousin. She will survive. Tell me now whom you will send us.”
“I have a son, one born on the other side of the blanket, but one I have recognized and to whom I have given my name. I’d like to send Kier to look after Glengorm. Your father favored you, Ambrose. You have his name. He educated you, so I now consider you the male who speaks officially for this branch of the Douglases. If Lady Cicely births a daughter I will, with your approval, give Glengorm to Kier.”
“What of the bairn?” the priest asked. “If she is not the heiress of Glengorm then what is to become of her? Will you see her properly dowered, cousin?”
“I will,” Sir William replied. “You know I cannot let Glengorm out of our hands. But I will provide for Ian’s child. If the bairn is a lad then he will inherit the land, and Kier will remain to see he is raised as a Douglas should be raised.”
“And the widow?” the priest inquired.
“I will speak to the king on her behalf. I think with Queen Joan’s help I can get at least part of the lady’s dower portion returned to her. The fact that she has been widowed so tragically while carrying her husband’s heir will certainly work in her favor. The king was really angrier with Ian Douglas than he was with Lady Cicely. I am also considering that perhaps Ian’s widow might make a good wife for my son. But that is not something I will discuss with her at this point,” Sir William said.
“Nay,” Ambrose Douglas replied dryly, “ ’twould be best to wait, I suspect. She should be given time to mourn, and to birth her child. Tell me about your son, cousin.”
Sir William paused as if considering his words. “Kier’s mother was Lady Sybil Stewart. She was widowed, and we fell in love. Albany forbade us to marry. He feared an alliance between the Stewarts and the Douglases. She died giving birth to Kier. I married shortly afterwards, and my wife raised him with our children. He is a fine warrior, but stubborn. He’s never married, although there was a lass once, but it came to naught. Her father wanted a better match for his daughter than the bastard of Sir William Douglas. My son had not until that moment faced the stigma of his birth.
“My wife loves him as she does the bairns she’s given me. We never hid the circumstances of his birth from him. He understood his place in the inheritance and line of descent. But Callum Ogilvie sold his lass to wife a fat, elderly Edinburgh merchant. When her husband died the sons born in his first marriage sent her back to her fatherwith nothing but a big belly one of them had given her. She couldn’t name the father because it seemed she had had both of her husband’s sons to satisfy her when he could not. Her father has died now, and she lives in her brother’s house, to his wife’s distress. No one knows what happened to the lass’s bairn or even when she birthed it.
“Kier thought he loved the girl once, but then he saw her for what she really was. I don’t think his heart was broken, and I always thought it was his lust driving him. But he has been cold and guarded where women are concerned ever since. My son does not enjoy being made a fool. He is a proud man. But he is honest, and he is fair. Glengorm will be in excellent hands, Ambrose. You may trust Kier Douglas.”
