The Dreamer Read online

  Magnus snapped his fingers to get the attention of the three wide-eyed lads everyone had forgotten. “Come, lads. Let us go down to the hall and break our fast, then we’ll think up some mischief to brighten this dreary day, aye?” He winked. “If the rain lets up, I’ll show ye how I taught Merlin to dive at the guards when they’re walking on the wall.”

  “I think I need to stay here with Mama,” Evander said as he hurried over and took hold of her hand. “What is it that’s troubling ye, Mama? What happened?”

  Her brave son. In another year, the scrappy lad would be as tall as she. Maybe even taller. Gretna patted his hand. “Nothing for ye to worry after, aye?”

  “I’m not a wee bairn anymore,” the boy argued. God bless Evander. When he hardened that jaw and lifted his chin, he looked just like his father.

  “I know ye’re not a babe anymore. Ye’re a fine young man.” She pulled him into a hug. While she held him tight, she whispered, “Please go with the men now. For yer brothers’ sake. I promise I will tell ye more later. Please?”

  As he stepped away, he gave a reluctant nod, then turned to his brothers. “Come on.”

  “What about Mama?” Rory asked while Finn edged a step closer to Gretna.

  “Master Ian will keep her safe,” Evander said with a threatening glare toward him. He waved his brothers forward. “Come on now, the both of ye. Wait any longer, and the best bannocks will all be gone because I’ll eat every one of them.”

  Without further argument, all three boys and both men hurried out the door.

  “Now, which maid asked to come in?” Ian repeated.

  “I didna know her voice, so I bid her place the packet on the floor. I told her I’d get it after I dressed.” Gretna wrung her hands together. “She seemed agreeable enough and left.”

  “But she didna leave the message.” Ian glared at the door as though willing it to tell all its secrets.

  “It appears not.” She shook away her worries, refusing to give them power. “Catriona will know who she is, and then we can speak to the girl, aye?”

  “Come. They await us in their solar.”

  After locking the door to their suite, they hurried to Alexander and Catriona’s private wing.

  Young William met them at the door, his twin sister, Willa, close behind. “Ye didna bring the lads?” he asked, pushing around them to look into the hall.

  “That is nay the proper way to greet visitors!” Willa scolded. She rolled her eyes and pulled him behind her. Taking the lead, she stood tall and politely ushered them inside. “Please forgive my rude brother. Good morning to ye and do come in. Mama and Da are at their private breakfast.”

  “Thank ye, Willa.” Gretna did her best to refrain from smiling and hurting poor William’s pride further.

  “The boys have gone downstairs to break their fast, if ye wish to find them,” Ian whispered to the scowling boy. He snagged hold of William’s arm just as the child started to dart out the door. “Best ask yer da first.”

  William gave a quick nod, then charged around his sister. “Da, can I go downstairs to break my fast?” He turned and glared at his sister. “Without Willa?”

  “William!” Catriona called. “Ye will take yer sister along with ye, or ye willna go.” She turned to Willa. “If ye dinna treat the lads with kindness, young lady, ye will find yerself with no one to play with other than the wee ones. Is that what ye wish? Now, stop bein’ such a cross hen.”

  “I’ll do better,” Willa promised in an unconvincing tone. She turned to her twin. “Sorry, brother.”

  Jaw set, William held out his hand and waited without accepting or refusing his sister’s less-than-sincere apology. Smugly victorious, Willa took her brother’s hand, and the two scurried off to find their friends.

  “God help me if this be another set of twins,” Catriona said with a glance down at her rounded middle. Her glare lifted to Alexander. “I might be forced to kill ye.”

  “Now, love.” Unfazed at the death threat, Alexander smiled, kissed her hand, then motioned toward a pair of chairs at the table. “Please, join us. Cook always sends up plenty.”

  “Forgive us for interrupting ye,” Gretna said as Ian helped her into a chair, then seated himself. A wave of guilt washed across her. She hated to cast a pall over their pleasant morning. “It’s about the new servant.”

  “What new servant?” Catriona asked as she drizzled butter mixed with honey over a steaming bannock.

  “The new maid ye kept on after the festival,” Ian supplied, pushing back the tankard of ale Alexander had poured for him.

  Catriona frowned, studying them both for a long, tense moment. “Neither I nor Mrs. Fitzgerald have added anyone to the staff.”

  “What is this about, Ian?” Alexander sat back in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

  “Last night, someone scratched on our door and left an ill wish behind. A packet of herbs made specially to repel witches,” Ian said, his tone rumbling with barely controlled rage. “This morning, while I fetched Magnus and Sutherland to watch after the boys, a young woman claimed to have another packet to deliver. Gretna refused to let her in. Told her to leave it beside the door.”

  “What was it?” Catriona asked, setting her knife down and clasping her hands atop the table.

  “I dinna ken,” Gretna said. She hugged herself, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Nothing was left outside the door even though the girl told me she’d do it.” She understood now why Finn rocked when he was upset. She was tempted to do so herself. Massaging her temples, she wished the aching from lack of sleep would go away so she might think straight. “I’d hoped ye had kept one of the new girls who had worked so well during the feast. But now, I fear evil is afoot.”

  “And it appears that evil is within our own keep,” Ian added. He took hold of Gretna’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I canna prove it, but I dinna believe Colin Neal left Ruadh so easily.”

  “As much gold as ye gave him, why would he not?” Alexander asked.

  “Because he’s always been a greedy bastard,” Catriona supplied as she reached over and took Gretna’s other hand. “I wouldna put it past him to see if he might squeeze more profit from the situation.” Her look hardened even more. “And dinna forget, he’s a Neal. A more headstrong lot, ye’ll never meet.”

  Graham stormed into the solar without knocking. He came up short at the sight of Gretna and Ian at the breakfast table. “Forgive me for interrupting, but reivers struck again last night. East end of the glen. Set three of the herders’ crofts afire and made off with at least a dozen mares.”

  “Within our glen?” Alexander rose so fast his chair toppled over.

  “Aye.” Graham rested his hands atop the hafts of his dirk and claymore sheathed at his waist. “It appears the more of them we kill, the more brazen they become.”

  Gretna suddenly felt very guilty for raising such a fuss over someone’s cruel idea of mischief. Her problem seemed very small compared to such a strike against the clan. “The herders. Are they all right? Do any need healing?”

  “We brought in three wounded, but none so severe as to need yer care. The lads are fine—just enraged.” Graham turned back to Alexander. “I say we go on a devil hunt, aye?”

  “Aye,” Alexander answered without hesitation. “Clan MacCoinnich doesna take such an affront lightly.”

  As the three men drew closer with their planning, Gretna helped Catriona rise from the table and move to the other side of the solar.

  “And what shall we do about yer messenger?” Catriona asked as they settled on the couch beside the fire.

  Gretna smiled. She’d been known to plan a battle or two herself. “I say we act as though nothing has happened. Make them think their ploys have either failed or gone ignored.”

  Chapter Eleven

  One side of the main hall had been turned into a ward for the wounded. Ian had never seen such carnage from what should have been a simple reining in of a band of horse thieves. This lo
oked more like a clan war. As a matter of fact, that’s what it had become, a full-blown feud. Word had reached them that a group of the Neals, who had never truly pledged fealty to the MacCoinnichs when Alexander and Catriona married, had joined with the bloody Campbells in an effort to lay claim to Tor Ruadh.

  Ian had a fair idea which Neal had stirred all this trouble. None of this unrest had been apparent before Colin returned from the dead.

  A blast of cold, wet air swept into the room as a young man, soaked to the skin and covered with mud, pushed into the keep. He clutched a leather satchel to his middle, a long strap securing it across his body.

  Ian had never seen this messenger before, but he supposed old Fergail Parsons had gotten too far on in years to handle such a daunting task. He strode forward to help the lad, waving down a maid in the process. “Whisky for the messenger. Poor man’s chilled to the bone.”

  The girl scurried off to fetch it.

  “Thank ye kindly, sir.” The bedraggled man plopped the dripping satchel on the hearth and backed up to the fire. He nodded toward the bulging leather bag. “Quite a bit this time. Glad the heavy snows havena hit yet. Mostly just sleet and a few snowy patches here and there right now.” He accepted the whisky from the maid and downed it.

  “Bring the lad the bottle, aye?” Ian moved a wooden bench closer to the fire so the man could sit while warming himself. “Anything for Ian Cameron?”

  “I believe so.” The messenger unbuckled the bag’s flap and pawed through the contents, which looked amazingly dry. “Ah…here ’tis.” He handed over a thick envelope bearing a familiar seal. “Straight from Edinburgh looks like.”

  “Keep the witch away from me!” The loud demand silenced all conversation in the bustling room.

  Ian shoved the packet inside his waistcoat and charged to defend Gretna. She and Elena Bickerstaff, the elderly healer nearly too old and ill-tempered to tend to the wounded, stood beside a man whose leg had required amputation the day before.

  “Now, now. None o’ that,” Elena shoved around Gretna and leaned over the man. “Ye’re safe now, lad. Drink this so ye might rest and heal.” Without a word, she snatched away the cup Gretna had been offering him. “I’ll tend this one,” she said in a gruff tone. “Go see to the ones who’ll take yer help, ye ken?”

  Without a word, Gretna nodded and backed away. The look on her face broke Ian’s heart. How dare they treat his dear one that way. She labored for hours at their sides, ignoring her own weariness until it toppled her over. He took hold of her elbow and led her to the other side of the room. “A packet came from Edinburgh,” he announced as he pulled the missive from his waistcoat. He hoped the news would get her mind off the ignorance taking over the clan like a plague. Alexander had tamped it down as much as possible, but a constant undercurrent of the vicious rumors still simmered strong.

  Gretna didn’t even attempt a smile, just stood with shoulders sagging as though bearing the weight of the world. She looked up from wiping her hands on her apron. “Aye?”

  Ian prayed the good news would bolster her spirits. He had recognized Alasdair’s seal. Surely, his brother had sent word that the divorce was final, and a wedding could now be planned. They all needed something to celebrate.

  “Everyone!” Alexander called out, hammering on the head table with an empty tankard. “There is news of King James.” A hush fell. Alexander looked around the room, then nodded at the messenger, now standing at his side. “Tell them what ye just told me.”

  “James VII, deposed King of Scotland, in exile in France, has died. Back in September. His son, James Francis Edward Stuart has declared himself James VIII.” The man cast a nervous look at all the faces turned his way. Such an open announcement could be dangerous, even seen as Jacobite sympathies.

  Murmurs filled the room like the rumbling of thunder.

  “I need to get back to changing bandages,” Gretna gently reminded with a nod toward the message.

  Ian broke the seal, unfolded the parchment, and smiled as soon as he read the first few words. “Ye’re mine for true now, lass. We best be telling Father William we’re ready to say our vows.”

  Her smile he’d been seeking finally appeared for a moment. Gretna hugged him and even rested her head on his chest. “Fetch him now, so we might do it today,” she said, squeezing him tight.

  “Ye dinna wish a fine wedding in the chapel?” he cradled her close, reluctant to release her. This was the first time in weeks he’d felt the slightest easing of the tension plaguing her.

  Gretna shifted against him. “Nay, I dinna need a chapel wedding, and Catriona’s abed until the wee one comes.” She lifted her head and treated him to another grin. “She’d miss seeing us say our vows.” Her smile flickered away, and the shadows returned to her eyes. “And it seems selfish to celebrate with so much unrest right now.” She squeezed his hands. “All we need are the boys, some witnesses, and the priest.”

  “What are we witnessing?” Alexander asked as he joined them. “Something good, I hope. This place is in dire need of good news for a change.”

  Ian handed over the document, feeling the same as Alexander and grateful to be able to provide some much-needed relief. “Good news, indeed. Place those in the clan records, my chieftain. Gretna Neal is no longer Colin Neal’s wife, and we seek to change her name to Cameron this verra day.”

  Alexander brightened and clapped him on the back. “Fine news, for certain!” He scooped up Gretna’s hand and kissed it. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate ye and also ask a favor?”

  Gretna gave him a leery look. “A favor?”

  “Would ye consider speaking yer vows in front of Catriona. Trapped in the bed, she’s fretting so much, I fear for her and the unborn babe. It would truly brighten her day to have the honor of being one of yer witnesses.” Alexander glanced at Ian. “Would the two of ye consider such?”

  “All these happy faces,” Graham said as he interrupted the conversation. “Would ye share the good news? I tire of dealing with feuding clans, vicious rumors, and wintry storms.” Magnus and Sutherland followed close behind.

  “Shall I make this easier and announce it to one and all?” Ian asked.

  His heart lifted at the spark of happiness returning to Gretna. Even during Hogmanay, her liveliness had dulled, and endless weariness had visibly subdued her. The troubling times had worn ill on all in the keep, muting the normally joyous celebration of welcoming in the new year. Vows affirming their hope for the future might help strike down the worrisome evil hanging so heavy over the keep. “I’ll stand on the table and tell everyone, aye?”

  “Aye,” Gretna said. “Share our wondrous news with all.” She glanced around. “The boys should be here, though. I dinna wish them to hear it from anyone but ourselves.”

  “Last I saw them, they were in the kitchens begging scraps from Cook,” Sutherland said.

  “If they’re hungry, they shouldna have to beg for scraps. Does this need to be addressed?” Alexander demanded. “I’ll not have the lads mistreated by anyone fool enough to listen to those damned rumors of witchery.”

  Ian agreed and was just as frustrated as Alexander over the seemingly impossible to squelch gossip. If they could but find the source of the accusations, then they could end them.

  “Well?” Alexander prodded when no one answered.

  “The scraps are for their rats,” Magnus explained, looking as though he was struggling not to laugh and quite possibly seeking the quickest escape from the room. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Those three have lined their pockets quite nicely with the coins they’ve earned by racing the vermin they trap and accepting bets.”

  “I shall talk with them,” Ian hurried to say before anyone else commented. He’d meant to speak to the lads before now about their emptying the pockets of those who had a bit too much ale in the evenings, but he’d been a mite busy with everything else.

  “I thought ye already had,” Gretna scolded under her breath.

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p; Sutherland laughed and nudged Ian. “Ye already sound married to me, but I suppose Father William needs to make it official in the eyes of God, aye?”

  “Fetch them,” Magnus instructed his falcon. Merlin took off, soaring through the kitchen archway. “They’ll be here in no time. Merlin gets a share of the rats, so he’s quite fond of the lads.”

  All of the older children of the keep came running, led by the regal bird. The six had become fast friends, and one was rarely seen without the others close behind.

  “Father William!” Gretna called out. The small, wiry priest rose from beside the patient he’d been reading to from his prayer book.

  “Aye?” he responded as he reached them.

  Gretna leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

  The priest gave a solemn nod after patting the pocket of his simple brown robe, then took hold of the wooden cross hanging around his neck and kissed it. “Leave it to me, lass.”

  “And ye said what to him?” Ian asked. He and Father William had never quite gotten along ever since he informed the man that a truly loving God would never allow so much pain in the world.

  “Ye shall see,” Gretna promised as she looped her arm through his and turned toward the chieftain’s table. “Make yer announcement, husband, and then we shall go upstairs to Catriona to make it official.”

  Heart full and happy that at least this battle had been won, Ian silenced the room with a hard thump on the chief’s table. He kept an arm around Gretna as he held up the parchment for all to see. “Gretna Neal is officially divorced from Colin Neal, and within the hour, Father William will hear our vows to permanently seal the troth we plighted during our handfasting.”

  He paused and gave her a look he hoped she’d understand, a look that held all he felt for her. “I know it’s not been a year and a day, but I dinna feel the need to wait. I love this woman. I wish her to be Gretna Cameron, my cherished wife.” Most in the room cheered, but Ian couldn’t help but notice that several remained quiet, fixing first Gretna and then the priest with wary looks.