Rhoswyn nodded, but she was still looking at Mattie rather appraisingly. “We’re in Scotland, ye know,” she said. “Ye’ll meet Scots here and they’re not particularly fond of fine English ladies.”
“Tha mi an dòchas gun urrainn dhomh toirt orra a chreidsinn air dhòigh eile,” Mattie said in perfect Gaelic.
I hope I can convince them otherwise.
That brought a distinct expression of surprise from Rhoswyn, and one of pleasure from Lady Warenton. It was their native language and Mattie had spoken it fluently.
“Ye speak our language?” Rhoswyn said in Gaelic.
Mattie nodded. “I do,” she replied in kind. “I have learned several languages, but Gaelic will be the most helpful in my new role. I hope that I may be of some service to my husband in his duties.”
“Ye will,” Lady Warenton replied before Rhoswyn could, still speaking her native tongue. “I’m very happy that ye know our tongue. Ye’ll do well, lass.”
Mattie already liked Lady Warenton. She was kind, whereas Rhoswyn just didn’t seem to warm up enough. It wasn’t exactly disapproval, but it wasn’t exactly acceptance, either. It was puzzling. Mattie was about to reply to Lady Warenton when Rhoswyn suddenly spoke up.
“God’s Bones,” she said, switching back to the common tongue. “What is my son wearing?”
The women looked over to see Gar in conversation with his grandfather and father. He was wearing his mail and protection for the most part, and it covered most of his clothing, so no one was sure what Rhoswyn meant when the woman clarified.
“His breeches,” she said. “What arethose?”
“I made them,” Mattie said. “My dog has taken a disliking to Gar and tore the breeches he was wearing, so I quickly made those simply so he’d have something to wear. Now he refuses to take them off. Nothing I can say will convince him.”
While Lady Warenton grinned, Rhoswyn broke away from the women and marched up to her son.
“Those breeches,” she said. “Ye need tae remove them. Ye have better breeches tae wear.”
His conversation with his grandfather interrupted, Gar looked at his mother. “Why?” he said suspiciously. “Did Matilda tell you to order me to remove them?”
Rhoswyn shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “But they’re shameful. Terrible. Unbefitting a de Wolfe son. Remove them or I’ll remove them myself.”
Gar wasn’t sure why his mother was being so aggressive about a pair of breeches. “I will not, nor will you,” he said steadily. “My wife made them for me. She did it out of the kindness of her heart and I’ll not remove them, not even for you. I am sorry you feel that they are shameful, but they are the most important thing I own.”
Rhoswyn wasn’t used to be refused by her children. She stared at him a moment as if she could hardly believe he’d denied her, but he had and he was clear why. Unable to do more than she’d already done, she marched off, leaving Gar bewildered. After a moment, he turned to his father.
“Why did she do that?” he asked.
Troy was watching his wife disappear down the stairs. “I am not certain,” he said. “Theyarefilthy, Gar.”
“I’m not removing them.”
Troy waved him off, as if he already knew that and it hadn’t been a command. It was simply an observation. As Troy headedoff after his wife to determine the source of her brusque manner, William simply smiled at his grandson.
“This is a difficult day for a mother, I suspect,” he said. “Your grandmother felt the same way when your father and uncles were married. It is difficult to become the second-most-important woman in your son’s life rather than the first.”
Gar frowned. “But she was as much in support of this marriage as anyone.”
William chuckled softly. “Until she actually met your wife,” he said quietly. “That is when it became real.”
Gar looked over at Mattie, who was in conversation with his grandmother and Aunt Avrielle. Caria, his youngest aunt, the adopted daughter of William and Jordan, had sauntered over and was being quite friendly to Mattie. Caria was barely a young woman herself and quite enamored with other young women, especially pretty ones like Mattie. She loved to study their clothing and hair, things she could emulate.
“I hope Mama was not rude to her,” he said, sounding worried. “Mayhap I should go to her.”
William shook his head. “Leave her with the women,” he said. “That is where she needs to be right now. But you—your uncles and I must speak with you.”
Gar looked at him. “Why?”
“We’ve heard some… things.”
