As the time came for his parents to leave for MacCallum lands, Aidan knew that this time of having who and what he wanted was coming to an end. He just worried over Catriona’s reaction when he asked her to remain with him after his required marriage.
For he had discovered that getting who he wanted this time made him want her even more. And he did not wish to part from the woman who gave him all that she was, asking nothing in return.
Chapter Fifteen
The snows had melted from the high mountain passes and, in two days, she and Connor and the others would journey to the lands of her family for her brother’s wedding to Rurik’s daughter. She still marvelled that Athdar had survived Isobel’s pursuit of him when her father had been opposed to the match. But, Athdar saving the man’s life could have been the turning point in taking him seriously.
As Jocelyn walked through the village, visiting the sick and checking with the merchants and the healer about supplies, she looked for any sign of Catriona MacKenzie there. Connor had done as she’d asked and sent Aidan off on a task that would keep him from the village this day for she wished to have words with the woman who’d clearly captured her son’s heart...whether he knew it or not.
The signs were there for all to see—he spoke of her often, whether at table or while carrying out his duties. He praised her abilities and her attempts to learn to read and write. He spoke of her garden. He spoke of her quiet sense of humour. That he spoke of her at all—a woman he’d pursued, set up as his leman and now spent every possible moment with—told Jocelyn how serious this was.
He was a healthy young man and, like any of that age, had a string of women in his bed and he in theirs. ’Twould always be so when their blood ran hot and they had only to beckon with a soft gesture or word. But Aidan had never once spoken the names of any of the ones before Catriona to his parents. Never once paid his own coins to buy her a house. And he’d never cared whether his exploits spread through the village or keep.
But he did now. Other than him speaking so highly of this woman, no stories passed through kith and kin about them. He did not boast to his friends, he did not include his friends in drunken reveries that resembled orgies of olden days and he allowed only Rurik’s son Dougal to visit the house he’d bought her with him.
Jocelyn headed towards the cottage of Gair’s sister now. Ciara was busy with her father at the keep, so Catriona could not be there this morn. From what Peggy had learned, the woman kept to herself most of the time, spending time with Ciara when she was available and helping her friend Muireall with her chores. Now reaching the path to Muireall’s cottage, she let Peggy knock on the door.
‘Good day, my lady,’ Muireall called out as she came outside, a wee babe on her hip. Jocelyn recognised the family resemblance between this woman and her brother, their steward.
‘Good day, Muireall,’ she said. ‘How does the wee one fare?’ The babe gifted her with a gummy smile and drool spilt down the boy’s chin. His mother wiped it without pause.
‘Teething early, my lady. The youngest of mine so far.’
‘Is Catriona MacKenzie about?’ Jocelyn asked.
‘Oh, nay, not now. She stopped by earlier, but has been gone for an hour or more.’ Muireall’s frown declared her friend worried. ‘Lady, she is a kind and gentle woman,’ she began to explain. ‘She—’
‘Muireall, have no worries over my enquiry.’ Jocelyn was struck by two things—Catriona’s friend’s loyalty and her fear. ‘Aidan spoke of her garden and I bring her some cuttings from mine.’
Muireall’s face lightened, but concern still filled her gaze. ‘Do you know where...?’ She shook her head. ‘I am certain you do, my lady.’
‘Aye, I know the house. Good day to you,’ Jocelyn said, walking on towards the edge of the village.
There was no doubt in her mind that everyone who saw her this day knew her path and knew whom she sought. News travelled quickly and Jocelyn also knew that her son would hear of her visit when he returned. But, it was time to assess for herself how far this relationship had gone and how dangerous it was.
She knew the house and its location for she’d visited it when some kin stayed there some years ago. Connor kept it empty for use when guests came to call and when discretion was necessary, for its location and position close to the forest gave it a measure of privacy that many village houses, cottages and crofts did not have.
Perfect for a man and his leman.
Peggy walked to the door and would have knocked if a loud and very bold epithet had not echoed from the walled yard next to the house. Guessing from the feminine tone that Catriona worked there, Jocelyn approached the wall and followed it around until she reached the gate which, convenient for privacy, was positioned facing the forest and not the lane. She found Catriona sitting in the middle of the garden in the dirt.
‘Good day, Mistress MacKenzie,’ she called out in greeting.
‘My lady.’ Catriona pushed to her feet, shaking the dirt from her gown as she quickly came to the gate. ‘Good day to you,’ she said, curtsying before her. ‘How may I serve you, my lady?’ she asked, as she rose and pushed open the gate.
‘Aidan spoke of your garden and your love of betony, so I brought you some cuttings from the garden at the keep.’ She held out her hand to Peggy and the girl handed her the basket she’d brought. ‘There are also some herbs and a few for flowers,’ she added. ‘Every garden needs some colour, I think.’
‘Your generosity is appreciated, Lady MacLerie.’ Catriona motioned to the door. ‘May I offer you some cool water inside? I fear I have little else other than some ale. Oh, or some whisky that Aid— Your son brought here for his use.’
Jocelyn followed the woman inside, sending Peggy back to the keep. She wanted a private discussion with Catriona and wanted no other ears nearby.
She did not know what she thought she would find inside, but the house was clean and neat with few decorations or personal belongings. A few cushioned chairs sat near the hearth, with some plaid blankets tossed over the backs, making an inviting scene. The cooking area was clean and the table clear. On a shelf near the cooking area sat a certain book, wrapped in oilcloth, most likely to keep it protected and to keep it covered.
‘I was surprised when he took this book for you.’
Jocelyn laughed then as she remembered not knowing how to ask her son if he realised the book he’d chosen was not a storybook. But how did a woman explain to her son, grown or not, that his father had brought it back to his mother as a special gift for the two of them to share? And shared it they had, many, many times. ‘I notice it has not been returned to me yet,’ she said.
From Catriona’s blush, it was clear her son and his leman had shared it as well.
