“Thank you,” Kier replied. Then he stood a moment, staring into the room. It was not a large hall. His father had a spacious hall. But though it was small, there was a warmth about the chamber, with its big hearth. At one end of the room the high board was situated, and behind it a tapestry hung. The trestles and their benches were set along one wall out of the way, for they would be needed only at mealtimes. There was an old oak sideboard that was black with age against another wall.
Kier stepped across the threshold into the hall. A woman sat quietly in a tapestried chair by the fire, sewing on some small garment. There were several large hounds dozing by the fire. Two small white terriers spotted him, however, and came yapping forward to greet him. Smiling, he bent to pat them, then continued on across the chamber to where Cicely sat, the dogs bouncing along beside him. “Madam,” he said, standing before her.
He was here. The man who would take Glengorm. Cicely looked up.
“I am Kier Douglas, Sir William’s son, my lady,” he said. “I have, as you are aware, been sent to keep you and Glengorm safe.”
“You are welcome to Glengorm, Kier Douglas. I am called Cicely,” she responded in a quiet voice. “I am your cousin’s widow.” She motioned him to a chair. “Will you sit, my lord? I am sure there are questionsyou would have answered.” Cicely turned her head. “Artair, some wine for my lord.”
“Your servants are well trained,” he noted.
“Aye, they are most dutiful,” Cicely said.
“For the moment I have no questions, but when I do I hope you will be able to answer them for me.” He took the small goblet of wine he was offered, smiled at her, and then sipped at the beverage, for he was thirsty.
“How long have you been riding today?” she asked politely.
“We began when the full moon was at its zenith,” he replied. “Perhaps we have ridden for ten or twelve hours.”
“Have you eaten?” She seemed concerned.
“At dawn, but not since,” he told her.
“I knew you would come today,” Cicely said. “I told Mab to make a plentiful meal, for you would be hungry.”
“Mab?”
“Glengorm’s cook. Ian used to say she has been here as long as Glengorm has been here. She is old, but quite lively,” Cicely told him. “She’ll want to meet you, my lord. And she is the one who will be able to answer all your questions. I have been here but two years. Mab is Glengorm’s heart, and knows everything that is happening here, but you will see.” She gave him a small smile.
He returned the smile. “Aye, I shall want to meet her,” he agreed.
“I have had a chamber prepared for you. It was my husband’s room,” Cicely told him. “It has its own hearth, and there is a small chamber adjacent to it for your servant, if you have one or want one.”
“Thank you, madam,” he responded. “I have a body servant who has been with me since I was five years old. I am now thirty-two.”
“You are older than my husband was,” Cicely said to him. “Ian was twenty-nine on his last natal day. Oh!” She had pricked her finger and, putting it to her mouth, sucked the soreness from it. “I should not attempt to sew when I am speaking,” she said wryly.
“You are sewing for your expected infant?” he asked, knowing from the size of the garments that it was exactly what she was doing. But he was trying to keep the conversation, stilted as it was, going with her. If she was to be his wife eventually, he needed to know her better. And then he wondered if she knew of the plans his father had made for her.
“Aye,” she answered, holding up a tiny gown for his inspection. “In the beginning it matters not if it is a lad or lass—the clothing is still the same.” Cicely folded the little garment back into her lap and said candidly, “I am trying not to weep, for I fear to harm my child, but it is difficult, my lord.” Her voice trembled.
Kier Douglas was not an easy man, but his heart softened as he looked into Cicely’s blue-green eyes. “Perhaps you should weep, madam. Penning up your sorrow may harm the child more than giving in to it. Why not ask your Mab? Her age will have certainly given her the wisdom to know such things.”
Cicely pressed her lips together and nodded silently. “Mayhap you are right, my lord. I feel such responsibility for this child in my belly. He is the heir to Glengorm. I must bring him forth safely. I must see that he grows to manhood so that he may wed and sire another generation.” Her lovely face was one of complete concern.
“I see you know your duty, madam, but I am here now to take the burden of Glengorm from your shoulders,” Kier Douglas said. “You need fear no longer.”
“Thank you,” Cicely said softly. A tear slipped down her face, and she suddenly felt fragile. But she wasn’t some weakling! She had always been strong. Ian had loved her fierce spirit. What was the matter with her?
Kier Douglas didn’t know why he did it, but he reached out to touch her clasped hands reassuringly. When he did she looked up at him with startled eyes and burst into tears. He was astounded. He didn’t know what to do. “Madam,” he said helplessly. Should he take her in his arms and comfort her? But before he could make the decision what to do another woman hurried into the hall.
She gathered Cicely into her embrace, stroking her hair and crooning to her. “There, there, my dearie, my child. Weep now, for it is past time.” And as the young woman cried in the comfort of her arms the older woman looked at at Kier Douglas and said, “I am Orva, Lady Cicely’s tiring woman, though once I was her nurse.”
“I am Sir William’s son Kier Douglas, sent to watch over Glengorm,” the man said. He arose from his chair. “I will leave you now to comfort your mistress.”
“Why did you make her cry?” Orva asked him suspiciously.
Kier almost smiled, thinking Quin was as protective of him as this woman was of her charge. “I didn’t. I was just kind, and it was time she gave vent to her grief,” he said. Then he turned and walked from the hall to find Quin.
