Page 90 of Edge of Yesterday

“As you wish.” She filled his glass—Julianna was sure to near overflowing—and he nodded thanks, then took a drink. The peat bricks popped. Lucy set the jug on the table.

She brushed at her skirts, then started toward the door. “I had better fetch more peat.”

Cailean stood. “I’ll do it.”

She hesitated, then said, “Ye are kind, sir.”

“Nae bother, lass.” Cailean strode from the room. Barbara’s nipple slipped from the baby’s mouth as his eyes closed. She pulled her bodice up over her breast. “Lucy,” she called.

“May I take him?” Julianna asked.

“If ye like.” Barbara cradled the baby in her arms and lifted him slightly.

Julianna slid an arm beneath him and pulled him flush against her body, then lifted him. His head lolled against her breast. She gently tightened her hold, then eased the blanket down from around his face and peered at him. An unexpected ache tightened her heart. Had she ever seen any babe more beautiful? She hadn’t given Walter children. Some nights, she’d lain awake, afraid the fault was hers. But daylight brought clarity and the logic that her husband’s age was the likely culprit. Sir Lawren was young and strong—as her mother had pointed out a dozen times. He could give her children and care for them. Was she a fool to cast aside that sure opportunity?

The door opened and Cailean entered, carrying a pail laden with peat bricks. His eyes locked onto her, then flicked to the baby. A smile ticked his mouth upward as he crossed to the central hearth. He knelt on one knee and placed the peats in a basket against the wall. Julianna’s attention caught on the muscled calf visible between his boot and kilt. He pushed upward and she turned to the cradle beside the bed and lowered Daniel onto the soft heather-stuffed mattress.

“Are ye hungry, my lady? I have some fresh-baked oatcakes and a new round of goat’s cheese.” Barbara swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Barbara, if you rise from that bed I will punish ye,” Julianna said.

The young woman’s head snapped up, then her face lit in response to Julianna’s smile. “You have a good heart, lady. But I was only going to stretch my legs. I have been abed all day.”

“Ah…of course.” Julianna nodded. “I imagine ye are a bit stiff.”

Barbara straightened, pressed a hand to her lower back. “I’m no’ used to no’ rushing about all day.”

“Then Cailean and I will go.” Julianna glanced at him. “You need your rest.”

“Nae, my lady.” The young mother shook her head. “Ye need no’ leave just yet.”

“Aye, well…” Julianna considered, then smiled gently. “Will ye sit at the table with us and have some wine?”

Barbara nodded and Julianna picked up the plaid folded at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders. Julianna took the chair farthest away and sat as the girl made her way the few steps to the table. Once they’d settled, Lucy fetched more cups and Julianna poured wine for everyone.

An hour later, Julianna noticed the tired look in Barbara’s eyes and told her that Lennox awaited them in the village. “I promise to visit again soon.” Julianna stood.

Barbara nodded and allowed Julianna to help her back into the recess bed. Julianna pulled the covers up to her chin and said, “Now sleep. Ye know that babe will awake soon, ready to eat again.”

Barbara’s eyes closed before she and Cailean reached the door.

They walked in silence for several minutes before Cailean tipped back his head and stared up at the clear, rain-washed sky. “You are well loved by your father’s tenants, aren’t ye?” He brought his eyes to her face.

She shrugged. “They seem to like me.”

“It is more than that.” Something in his expression warmed her. “You care about them,” he said. “Deeply.”

“They are good people.” She tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “They work hard and are honest—most are, leastwise,” she added with a laugh. “And how could one not love a beautiful new baby?”

~*~

Cailean was half sorry when the clang of the blacksmith’s anvil, the neighing of horses and other sounds of the village faded as they rode into Reay Forest. Mist curled through the trees and a thick bed of pine needles dampened the clop-clop of the horse’s hooves along the path that led to the monastery.

He wasn’t sure he liked these woods. He couldn’t exactly say why, but to coin an old phrase, the place ‘gave him the willies.’ He loved the great Caledonian pines, but not a single bird sang amongst the trees. The complete silence amplified a rustling in the undergrowth that felt unnatural. He didn’t care for the shadows. either. Too many places for broken men and bandits to lay in wait for ‘well-pursed’ and unsuspecting travelers.

His companions, however, seemed perfectly-at-ease. The medieval, unlike him, belonged here. Julianna rode beside him with Lennox close on her right. The guards followed close behind. He knew each would give their lives to protect her--if needed. Despite his misgivings, all remained calm.

They’d ridden for half an hour before Julianna leaned close, catching his eye. “It is possible Father Andrew willnae be at Reay Abbey.”