“So, ye will have yerself beaten to a pulp and then leave wi’out ever asking Struan if ye can stay?”
“Ask Struan? Me? I should, what, get on my knees and beg for a place in his hall?” Robert could barely speak the words. His blood pounded through him and he clenched his teeth against the sound of it. “Ye ken the truth of it, Brodie. Ye ken that he should be asking me to stay. And now that Sandy is dead, ’tis an even better time, a better chance for him to speakthe truth of it before all.”
“I ask again, have ye had these words with him? Have ye spoken since Sandy’s death?”
“Nay. I’ve no’. Struan is either too busy to speak to me or someone is always around him.” At Brodie’s skeptical glance, he continued, “Or he is at Sandy’s grave.”
“Mayhap that is the perfect place to have this out at last.”
He could not, would not, go to that grave. After hearing Robena’s words, he feared that his rage would get the best of him and that he would desecrate the burial place. “’Tis over, Brodie. I have a place in Dunbarton; one that I have made for myself. I just have to let go of the anger I feel about no’ being able to stay and make a life here.”
“Can ye do that, Rob? Can ye leave it all and move on with yer life? Do ye even ken what ye want for yerself?”
“I want what ye have—a wife, a home, a bairn on the way. Not much more than that. And until Struan’s summons, I was contented to find that with the clan MacKillop. ’Twill be enough once I return and get back to my life and duties.”
That was it, he told himself. A year ago, he was preparing to make that kind of life in Dunbarton. Ada had warned him not to raise his hopes and expect more from Struan. It would have been so much easier if he had listened to her advice. Now he stood with his dreams crushed and ready to leave the very people he wanted to be with and the place that he wanted to be.
Brodie clapped him on the back and laughed. “Well, if ye dinna have Moira reset that nose of yers, none of the MacKillop lasses will have ye.” The discussion was at an end.
Robert wiped the blood that still dripped from his twice-broken nose. He would see Moira and then begin preparations for leaving. Firtha and Ramsey married in two days and he would depart the next day. Since the summer’s end approached, it would be the perfect time to go. If there were such a time.
The ceilidh tocelebrate Firtha and Ramsey’s vows was the first since Sandy’s death and Craig’s birth so Anice choseto sit and watch the dancing. With the bairn on her lap, she chatted with some of the other mothers and laughed over some of the antics of the dancers as they passed in a circle. Tapping her feet, she bounced Craig and talked to him as the music grew louder and louder. Then, with a yell, it was over and the men and women walked away chatting and laughing.
Since Ramsey was already father to three children and Firtha a widow herself, there was none of the embarrassment at the comments and suggestions offered to the newly married couple. Although she would go to live in his cottage, Firtha would continue to serve as Anice’s maid and companion. That arrangement would change soon because Anice had no intention of keeping Firtha at the keep when she would be needed to care for Ramsey’s children and for him as well. A wife’s place...
It was good to see her cousin Wynda, who had traveled to be there for the festivities. Her parents had not come to Dunnedin. Indeed, she had not seen them since her own wedding and had no expectation of seeing them soon. She had lived so long with the MacKendimens that the MacNabs were part of her distant past. She belonged to Dunnedin now.
As if Anice had called her name, Wynda approached and sat next to her. Accepting her offer to hold Craig, Anice passed the babe to her and stood. A drink and some food would be welcome about now. She had missed the main meal nursing Craig and the noises her belly made told her it was time now to feed herself. Spotting Struan in his chair on the dais, she climbed the few steps to see if he needed anything. Some of the men and elders sat sprawled around him, but he had such an expression of loss and sadness on his face and in his eyes that he looked alone even within the group.
She’d never spoken to him of Sandy’s death and he’d so far not brought the subject up with her, but she wondered if his son’s death was the cause of his change in appearance and health. There was but one way to describe him now—Struan had grown old since Sandy died.
“Struan? Have you the need for anything? Drink? Food?” she asked as she approached. “I am about to serve myself something from the tables and would bring you something.”
He blinked a few times and then looked at her. It was then she noticed the parchments in front of him on the table. They bore her father’s seal. She walked closer, trying to get a better view of them, but he took notice of her curiosity and folded them together and tucked them inside his sporran.
“Nay, lass. I have what I need here,” he said, lifting his mug for her to see.
An outbreak of laughter in the back of the hall caught her attention. She saw Robert arm-wrestling at one of the tables. Rachelle and Robena and a small group of men stood nearby cheering him on in his efforts to best Lachlan, a huge bull of a man who served as captain of the guards and who seldom lost such contests. She would like nothing better than to run down and join them in their amusement but several things stopped her.
Struan had been very clear in his feelings about her keeping to her place where Robert and the others were concerned. Also, this was Robert’s last night in Dunnedin and she did not want to interrupt him and his friends. Well, that was not exactly true—she wanted to speak to him, to spend some time with him discussing his plans.
There was a part of her, deep inside and well-controlled, that wanted to ask him to stay, to work with her for the clan, to continue the only comfortable relationship she ever had or could imagine having with a man. She did not understand the animosity between Struan and him, but Struan made it clear that it was not something he would discuss.
And forcing the issue was not appropriate since the laird made all the decisions. Lady Anice knew her place and kept to it. So now she watched Robert’s activities from the distance and knew that he would likely leave without exchanging so much as a word of farewell with her.
Her attempts to thank him had met with varied success. Robena was now a familiar face in the hall and her behavior was never a problem. He was leaving with a full array of clothing that fit him and was in good repair. The unexplained black eyes and broken nose she could do nothing about. Even when she asked others how he got them, she never did get a clear explanation.
“He would not stay?” she asked as Robert stood and raised his arms, the obvious winner of his challenge.
“He canna stay.”
“He cannot? I do not understand, Struan. Surely you could find a place for him here. His skills are apparent in dealing with the warriors and overseeing the guards.”
“He wants more than he can ever have here, Anice. If I asked him to stay on, ’twould bring problems for the clan.” When she would have answered him, he motioned her off with a wave of his hand. “Ye dinna ken all that I ken about this, Anice. Remember yer place and leave the clan’s affairs to those who can make those decisions.”
She felt the heat rush up into her cheeks and looked away from him. Stepping back, she turned to go. The embarrassment of being dismissed by Struan in this manner, and when the others at the table clearly heard his words, drove her away.
“Anice,” he called as she made her way down the steps.
