The Dreamer Page 7

  “Dinna talk as though I’m not sitting right here betwixt ye!”

  Catriona gave her a hard look. “Did ye stop and think that if ye handfasted with Ian, a MacCoinnich cousin, ’twould make yer ties to the chieftain even stronger? Ye’re already my cousin. This would make ye doubly tied to the head of the clan and, hopefully, grant the boys some better treatment from all they meet.”

  “Knowing this clan, they’ll probably be treated worse!” Gretna rose and moved away from their smothering circle. “Why are the lot of ye so damned and determined to join me with Ian Cameron?”

  “Because the two of ye would be good for each other!” Mercy retorted. She fidgeted on the couch, clutching her hands in her lap.

  Catriona supported the statement with a jerking dip of her chin. “Aye. The both of ye need each other whether ye know it yet or not.”

  Gretna forced herself to rein in her emotions. Arguing with these two was futile. But she knew something they didn’t. She knew Ian would never agree because he felt the same as she did. More so, in fact. He was determined to resume his mercenary life of travel and warring for coin come summer. She folded her arms across her middle. “I will agree on one condition.”

  “Which is?” Catriona asked, leeriness in her tone.

  “No promises or threats to make Ian agree. If he agrees of his own free will, I will do so as well. I willna have a man forced to join with me. Never again. Leave me a bit of pride, aye?”

  “Agreed,” both women said as one.

  *

  “Gretna agreed.”

  “Ye lie.” Ian emptied his tankard, then leaned sideways to peer around Graham and Magnus. Gretna’s cubs were still in place. They sat pouting beside the hearth. Ian had ordered the wee imps to sit where he could see them, since every time they disappeared, they got into trouble. They’d already been caught fighting in the stables with the smithy’s sons. Shameful—sort of.

  He had to admit the boys had done themselves proud. And when he’d heard the reason for the fight, he didn’t blame them a damn bit. They were good lads. Had it been him, he would’ve pummeled the smithy’s wee bastards, too. He thumped his tankard on the table. “There is no way Gretna agreed to it. She doesna want such a tie any more than I do.”

  “Maybe so,” Graham argued. “But that was before she discovered what a new mess of troubles this current situation has caused the lads.” He tossed a glance back at the boys. “Poor bairns. Their lives have never been easy.” He tapped the table, then pointed at Ian. “Ye could make their lives better, ye ken?”

  “It’s just a simple handfasting,” Magnus chimed in, his oddly whitish-blonde hair reflecting the candles and lanterns already lit for the feast. “Just a year and a day commitment so everyone, adults and bairns alike, move on to spreading rumors about someone else. It would give the lads a welcomed break. Help them feel more settled. Accepted.”

  “And if ye do it tonight in front of all those gathered for the feast, ’twould squelch the rumors good and proper,” Graham added.

  “I dinna consider sleeping in a room with three boys and an old woman as living in sin with a brazen woman.” Ian waved his tankard for a refill. The smiling girl emptied her pitcher by filling all three of their mugs.

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Magnus observed, watching the girl’s swaying curves as she walked away. “And everyone knows that, aye?”

  Merlin gave a sharp chirp of agreement.

  Ian glared at the small but regal falcon perched on Magnus’s shoulder. “Must ye bring that bird everywhere?”

  “Agree to the handfasting, and I’ll put him to bed early in my room.” Magnus grinned as he took another healthy swig. He plunked the tankard back on the table. “Alexander has already said he’ll play it off as if it were planned this way all along. That way, all the rumor-mongers will look the fool.”

  “And how will he explain what Catriona said during great hall about Mam Hattie? About how the woman would stay with us in our quarters to show all was proper?” He was not a dullard. Magnus and Graham were making this up as they went along.

  Magnus gave a noncommittal shrug. “He’ll just say Catriona misspoke.” He leaned forward, stole a look around, then lowered his voice. “After all, she’s already huge, and this bairn’s not due ’til the dead of winter. He’ll play it off to her pregnancy. Everyone knows a woman goes a little daft what with all their troubles during that time.”

  Ian laughed. “Ye better pray she never hears ye say that.”

  Movement beside the hearth caught his eye. Finn had disappeared, Rory was about to slip away, and Evander looked ready to bolt. Ian rose from the table and strode over to them. He pointed at their stools beside the fire. “Sit.”

  Both lads complied without argument.

  “Where is yer brother?” he asked after a glance around the hall failed to provide him any clue as to Finn’s whereabouts.

  “Went to take a piss,” Rory said in a sullen tone. “I need to go, too.”

  “Me, too,” Evander said. “I’ll go with him, and we’ll gather up Finn and return quick as we’re done, aye?”

  Ian glared at the lads. They had been in the hall for quite a while. He could use a step outside himself. He motioned for them to follow. “Come. We’ll fetch Finn together.”

  “Ye dinna trust us?” Rory sniped.

  “Nay.” Ian led the way. “I need a piss, too.”

  They headed down the corridor to a side door that opened out to the bailey between the dovecote and the outside kitchen. Ian cast a side-eyed glance at the boys. “Yer fight today. I heard it was because those boys called yer mother an unsavory name and were picking on yer brother. Is that true?”

  “Aye,” Evander said in a tone that sounded as if he felt it pointless to defend himself to Ian.

  “It’s good ye stand up for yer mother and brother.” Ian pushed the door open, and they all stepped outside. Finn was nowhere to be seen in the area considered acceptable to use as an outdoor garderobe. He gave them both a warning look. “If ye lied to me, I’ll thrash ye. I canna abide with liars. Where is he?”

  “We didna lie,” Evander defended with a scowl. “He’s probably hiding because he heard the door slam and got scared.”

  “Finn!” Rory bellowed with his hands cupped around his mouth. “Come out, ye wee bugger!”

  “Dinna call yer brother a bugger,” Ian ordered, his patience running thin. Damnation, how many other swear words did they know? A faint scuffling in the shadows beside the dovecote caught his attention. “Finn?”

  “Aye,” came a hesitant whisper. The young lad stepped into the torchlight. “I’m sorry I left the hearth, Master Ian. I know I wasna ’posed ta, but I had ta go.”

  “Ye shouldha asked me. I wouldha said yes and not thought ye were trying to disobey me.” Ian stared at the lot of them lined up next to the wall like a trio of prisoners. “Ye’ll find I am not an unreasonable man. Ye can ask anything ye like, and I’ll help ye if I’m able.”

  The boys shifted in place, giving each other pointed looks in their silent communication.

  “While I piss, all of ye decide who has the courage to say what’s on yer minds, ye ken?” Ian gave them his back and relieved himself of all the ale he’d drunk. When he turned back around, Evander stepped forward. He’d figured Evander would be the one. He’d learned the boy was the representative for the trio. “Evander?”

  “Some say ye might be handfasting with Mama tonight at the feast.” He flexed his hands and resettled his feet. “Others say ye would never promise yerself to Mama ’cause ye know her to be a witch and a whore, and ye swore ye never wanted nothin’ to do with bairns or marriage ever again.” He jerked his chin in Ian’s direction. “What say ye?”

  Ian sucked in a deep breath, folded his arms across his chest, and broadened his stance. Valid questions that demanded the truth as best as he could give it to them. “I have known yer mother for almost ten years now.” He nodded toward Rory and Finn. “About a
s long as the two of ye have walked this earth.” He took a step closer to the boys. “She’s not a witch nor a whore, and I’d never think such vile things about her. I know her to be a canny, fearless lass who I’m proud to call friend.”

  “Then what about never marrying again? And about never wanting any bairns around ye?” Rory taunted.

  “I was married once,” Ian said quietly. “For a little while.” He shifted in place, determined to make them understand. “Barely a day after my sweet Janet told me she carried our first bairn, a heartless bastard slit her throat at Glencoe. I held her in my arms and watched the spark of her life drain away.” He swallowed hard. “I would give anything to see my Janet again. Meet our child. I loved them both fierce.” He looked at each of the boys and gave them a sad smile. “It’s not that I didna want any bairns nor wish them around. It’s that my verra own bairn was taken from me.”

  The boys shuffled in place, looking first at each other, then down at their feet.

  “We’re sorry, Master Ian,” Finn whispered, swaying back and forth.

  “Aye,” Rory agreed, voice hitching. He coughed, then cleared his throat. “Sorry for certain.”

  “And the handfasting?” Evander asked. “What of that rumor?”

  A thought occurred to Ian. These poor lads had always been the victims of circumstances. Considering all they’d endured, the trio probably resented never having a choice. It could be part of the reason why they were always into mischief. At least mischief was something they could control. “What do ye think I should I do, Evander?”

  “Eh?” The boy stared at him.

  “Should I go through with a handfasting to yer mother? Would the three of ye support such a thing or make life a living hell for all of us?” Ian felt it a valid question. “It would only be for a year and a day, mind ye,” he hurried to add. No sense making the boys think this would in any way be permanent. “I am a mercenary. I’ve battles to profit from once my time here is over. What say ye?”

  “Ye’re asking us?” Rory said, eying Ian as though he thought the man a confirmed liar.

  “Why are ye asking us?” Finn chimed in. It was the first time Ian had heard the boy speak loud enough to be heard clearly.

  “Ye’re her sons. ’Tis yer right to agree or refuse.” And he truly believed that. Gretna was all they had, and they were all she loved and needed. The choice belonged to the boys. Ian started with the youngest. “Yay or nay, Finn?”

  “Yay,” Finn said without hesitation. The lad even managed a shy smile while he chewed on the corner of his thumb.

  “Rory?” Ian asked. “Yay or nay?”

  “Yay,” Rory said after scowling at Ian for a long moment.

  He turned to Evander. “If ye’re not all of one mind, it willna happen. What say ye, Evander? Are ye willing to make it unanimous?”

  Still looking bewildered, Evander gave a weak shrug. “Aye. I reckon I’m for it.”

  Ian herded the boys toward the door. The realization of what he’d just done hit him in the gut like a punch. Damnation. What the hell was I thinking? He hurried them. “Come along, lads. I need to speak with Graham and Magnus before the festivities begin.”

  “Can we go to the kitchens? Sometimes Cook saves us scraps for our traps,” Rory said.

  Not entirely sure he wanted to know, Ian halted them in the corridor between the kitchens and the hall. “What exactly do ye trap?”

  “Rats!” the boy exclaimed proudly. “We keep’m as pets and race them like horses. Folk even bet on which of’m will win.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “The last lot got away. Chewed a hole in their basket and ran clean off.”

  “There’s nay time for that tonight,” Evander admonished. “We best go wash our hands and faces before Mama and Master Ian plight their troth.”

  God have mercy on my soul. Ian swallowed hard against the panic rising in the back of his throat. “Aye. A fine idea. Follow yer brother, and do as he bids.”

  He waved them away as they entered the hall. He needed more ale. Lots of ale, and definitely some whisky. He returned to his seat across from Graham, Magnus, and that damn bird. “I canna believe what I just did.”

  Both men sat taller and watched the boys until the trio disappeared into the stairwell.

  “What?” Magnus asked. “They dinna look as though they just got a thrashing.”

  Ian propped his head in his hands. “I didna thrash them. I agreed to handfast with their mother.”

  Graham reached across the table and smacked Ian’s shoulder so hard, he nearly knocked him from the bench. “Well done, man. I’m proud of ye.”

  “And I, too,” Magnus said, pounding a fist against the table. “Whisky, lass! Bring us whisky.”

  “Aye,” Ian agreed. “I need whisky. Badly.” He still didn’t know quite how it had happened. The words had just spilled from his mouth. How could he have agreed to such? He lifted his head. “They do know it’s naught for but a year and a day. They know I’m leaving after that,” he defended his actions more for his own benefit than theirs.

  Both men nodded.

  “It’s good to be honest with the lads,” Magnus agreed as the girl brought them three glasses and an unopened bottle.

  “Ye looked as though ye needed a fresh bottle,” she teased with a glance in Ian’s direction before sauntering away.

  Graham filled the glasses, then lifted his into the air. “To Ian. Slàinte mhath!”

  “Slàinte mhath!” Magnus echoed.

  Ian gave a half-hearted wave of his glass, then downed its contents, and poured another. It would take more than good health to get him through this.

  Graham thunked his empty glass on the table, then rose from the bench. “I’m off to tell Alexander.” His smile faded as he gave Ian an up and down look. “Ye might think about gettin’ yerself cleaned up, aye?” His smile returned. “After all, it’s not every day a man gets handfasted.”

  “Thank God for that,” Ian mumbled under his breath. He glanced down at his clothes. The man was right. He pushed himself up from the bench and snatched up the bottle.

  “Ye’re taking the whisky?” Magnus complained.

  “Aye.” Ian topped off Magnus’s glass, then tucked the bottle in the crook of his arm. “I’m thinking, I need it a damned sight more than ye do.”

  Saluting with his glass, Magnus nodded. “God be with ye, man. God be with ye.”

  Chapter Six

  “Ye truly agreed to this of yer own free will?” Gretna found that hard to believe. She knew Ian. He’d been widowed longer than she and had also sworn he had no interest in ever marrying again. “Truly?” she stressed as quietly as she could, considering she felt like roaring at the situation. He had been her only out. If he had refused, she could’ve used that against Mercy and Catriona.

  “Aye,” he said, his unblinking stare locked on Alexander winding a strip of the MacCoinnich colors around their clasped hands.

  “Ye both need to hush and get on with it,” Alexander warned under his breath as he finished securing the cloth. With his hand resting atop theirs, he raised his voice so all gathered might hear. “In front of these witnesses, these two are bound one to the other.”

  “For a year and day,” Gretna reminded in an urgent whisper. He’d forgotten to say for a year and a day so everyone would know the terms without question.

  Alexander smiled, stepped back, and lifted both hands to quieten the packed room. “And now we would hear their vows.”

  Hear their vows? She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, as she faced Ian and clasped his other hand atop their tied ones. If she said half of what she felt right now toward this entire gaggle of meddlers in her life, they’d probably oust her from the clan. She swallowed hard and stared at Ian. Thank the Lord, the man usually went first. Poor Ian. Looked like a trapped animal ready to gnaw off his limb to escape.

  “I…” He paused, smacked his lips, then ran the tip of his tongue across them as though attempting to find enough spit to speak. He
swelled with a deep intake of breath, then blew it out. “I, Ian Frances William, take thee Gretna…” He stopped again, then leaned forward and whispered, “I dinna ken yer full Christian name.”

  “Evaline Merideth.”

  “Ah.” With a nervous smile, he dipped his chin and squeezed her hand. “Best start again, I reckon.” He cleared his throat and resettled his stance. “I, Ian Frances William, take ye, Gretna Evaline Merideth, to be my lawful helpmate and partner.”

  Gretna smiled her encouragement and relaxed a notch. Praise the saints, the man hadn’t used the word wife.

  Returning her smile, he continued, “I share with ye all my worldly possessions and swear to protect ye. I shall remain faithful and true through sickness and health, good times and bad, and fight at yer side during any battle this life may bring.”

  Her heart hitched hard enough to shake her. The look in Ian’s soft gray eyes had changed. His tone had taken on a meaningful depth. The firm, reassuring squeeze of his hand sent an unspoken message. Ian meant every word he said.

  He lifted her hand and brushed the gentlest of kisses to it. “I plight thee my troth,” he finished quietly, then nodded for her to speak her words.

  “Aye.” The word came from her unbidden. Her turn. All in the hall remained silent, their expectant stares piercing through her. She settled herself with a deep breath, then let it ease out. Ian had remained brave. She could do this, too. “I, Gretna Evaline Merideth, do take thee, Ian Frances William, to be my lawful helpmate and partner.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  Aye. She could and would do this, but her words needed to be a mite different from his. “I share with ye all the joys and sorrows of helping me raise my sons, along with what little I possess in this world.” A myriad of past choices, both good and bad, stormed through her mind as she continued, “I swear to protect ye and remain faithful and true through sickness and health, good times and ill, and fight at yer side during any battle we meet.” She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and sent up a silent prayer for strength. This was all beginning to feel too real. It was just for a year and a day. Done to silence the harpies and their rumormongering. To help and protect the boys. She had to keep that in mind. Opening her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head.