“And they still will,” said Callum as he moved next to Bethoc and crouched down beside her. “We have a lot of mouths to feed. My cook, Brenda, is verra pleased to see this, and has a lot of ideas about what she would like to see planted.”
After hasty excuses, the boys ran off to the kitchen to speak to Brenda and Bethoc turned to Callum. “Are ye certain?”
“Oh, aye.” He sat down beside her. “I suspicion by spring she will have more than enough for the boys to plant. ’Tis verra precise,” he murmured, looking at the neatly raised garden beds with neat paths running between them. “They like doing this sort of thing, dinnae they.”
“Aye, more than they have e’er liked working in the fields. ’Tis why I asked if we could do it. I could sense they missed the work. They like working in the dirt, making something, weel, pretty. They saw this at a monastery they snuck into and liked it. The monk that found them creeping about told them a lot, once he realized their interest. He e’en came to the house a few times to see what they were doing.”
“Boys that like to make gardens,” he murmured, and shook his head. “They want to be farmers?”
“I dinnae ken but I dinnae think so. As I said, they dinnae really like working in the big fields. Yet . . .” She frowned. “Liam smells like the earth a bit.”
“Only a bit? What of the other lads?”
“Too young. I dinnae feel or smell anything about a person until they are an adult. Weel, unless there is something verra wrong with them.” Then she noticed his legs. “Ye took Colin’s boot off.”
“Aye. Leg is fine, just a wee bit weak.” He stretched his legs out. “Looks better though.”
Bethoc took a minute to quickly check the area where his bone had been broken, then sat back down. “I believe it is healed but I suspicion ’tis a wee bit weak. Ye should still be cautious with it, I think.”
“I am and will be. I just remind myself how I hated sitting round or trying to hobble about on one leg. Nay a thing I want to do again.”
“Callum!” Simon hurried over. “That fool Graham is back wanting his grandson.”
Callum cursed and got to his feet. He took Bethoc’s hand and tugged her up after him. Not only did he not want Graham at Whytemont, the man had just ruined his plans to get Bethoc alone for a while. He marched off with Simon, belatedly realizing he was towing Bethoc with him. Just as he was about to apologize for that he recalled her strange ability and decided she might well prove a help.
Bethoc stared at the large man being held at sword point by two of Callum’s guards. He was at least fifty, probably older, but his body held as much muscle as fat. His face was square with small eyes, or ones made so by the anger he made no effort to hide, and his mouth had a cruel twist to it. The look the man gave Callum chilled her for it told her he would like nothing more than running Cathan through with a sword. She stepped closer to Callum, a little afraid for him.
“Ye have nay right to keep my grandson from me,” said the man, his voice coldly calm, which made Bethoc even more afraid.
“His mother is here with him,” said Callum. “She is the one who has chosen to stay away from ye.”
“Stupid cow,” he snapped. “She kills my son . . .”
“Now, Graham, that is nay what I heard. Heard your son didnae want ye coming round to his cottage and ye beat him. T’was those kicks to the head ye gave him after he was down that killed him. Ye are lucky ye havenae been hanged. Ye would be if I had more than a little boy and a woman to speak out against ye.”
“She made him say those things! She also lies. I didnae kick him in the head, either.”
“Ah, my mistake. Ye stomped on his head all the while yelling how he wouldnae look like his mother anymore. When she tried to stop ye, ye knocked her into a wall. She and the boy ran to me. So, nay, ye will nay see the boy or his mother. If for no other reason than that she still grieves for your son. A true shame that. Ye actually had something good and ye killed it.”
The man lunged at Callum only to be halted by the swords of his guards. “Ye may be the laird here but ye still have nay right to keep that boy from me.”
“I do. His mother has sought shelter here and the boy is with her.”
Graham stepped closer and Bethoc could not stop herself from softly gagging. Callum glanced her way but she had her hand over her mouth and nose. Her face revealed nothing that was telling concerning her emotions. This was not a situation that would leave her looking so placid.
Noticing that his guards were arguing with the man, Callum leaned closer to Bethoc and whispered, “A smell?”
“Like a rotting corpse but it could be that he is ill,” she whispered back.
“Bad smell, bad mon.”
“Aye, and I do, desperately, want to run away from him.”
She huddled closer to him when he put his arm around her. Callum stood, frowning in thought, his gaze suddenly fixing on the stables. Bethoc looked that way to see what had caught his attention and could see what appeared to be a woman peering out. Callum moved his arm and, after a quick glance at Graham, made a shooing motion at the woman.
Bethoc looked back at Graham while Callum had a silent argument with the woman and Simon started to head over to her. At that moment the man abruptly overpowered the guard. She opened her mouth to say something only to see the man snatch up a sword from one of the guards and lunge for Callum.
“Nay!” Bethoc cried as she moved to shove Callum out of the way even as he started to turn.
