20

 

Cailin rose from her knees and lowered herself into the nursery rocker facing Fiona. She took a deep breath. Was her husband losing all control? Had she indeed married a madman? If Avondale was a lunatic, would her baby be born with his father’s weakness? Would she have to lock away the man she loved for his entire life, visiting him only in the dark of night so he wouldn’t shy away from her? Or would she have to take even more drastic measures?

She sat up straight and dropped her face into her hands. Was that Avondale’s secret?

Was there something about her that frightened him? Was that why he avoided her in the daylight? Certainty deep inside signaled yes. Her dear husband was not snubbing her, he was afraid to be around her. She rubbed her eyes.

But only in the light of day did he keep his distance. In the sheltering darkness the man was impossibly perfect. She loved his touch. The words he whispered in her ear. The concern he had for how she spent her day. The pride in his manner as he spoke of their child. And she loved listening to his stories of his estates and events that happened during his childhood, and how much he abhorred court life.

So, she’d been interpreting his actions entirely the wrong way. He was not ashamed of her—heavens, he was ashamed of himself. Tears welled and spilled in warm rivulets down her cheeks. For no fault of his own, her dear husband had periods of blackouts—times when he could remember nothing. He’d had an injury and suffered through some awful experience and so sometimes lost his way.

Oh heavens, he blamed himself and had been too ashamed to face her in daylight. But he showered his love over her when hidden by darkness. Oh, she knew she was right. She caressed her abdomen. How soothing the balm of truth to her heart. Now she need not fear asking him for his explanation. And she would. Then, perhaps he could see she would never, never be ashamed of him.

Fiona touched her arm. “I’m so sorry my story made you weep.”

Perhaps when he faced his shame, Avondale would begin to heal.

“No. It’s best you told me. I must know what happens with Avondale. I must learn to deal with the problem and help him. Thank you for telling me.” She smiled and wiped a handkerchief across her wet cheeks. “I just pray that you are all right.”

“Yes. No harm was done.” The sparkle returned to Fiona’s aqua eyes. “I believe the man has so much integrity that even when he’s not himself, he wouldna harm a lady.” She smiled. “Ye see somehow he groped his way back to reality.”

“Thank you for thinking so highly of my husband.” Cailin squeezed her hand. Then she sat up, took a deep breath, and picked her knitting from her tapestry bag. “But you must practice your English at all times, even when alone with family.” She jabbed a needle into the blue yarn. “Now we must plan.”

“Aye. I mean yes.”

“I wasn’t able to get into the gun cabinets. Papa keeps the keys. Nor could I even reach one of the broad swords Papa has hanging on the walls. I’ll have to get Mikey to help us.”

Fiona’s lake blue eyes clouded. “I’m no’…not so certain we should take weapons. I’ve seen far too much bloodshed.”

“But two unarmed women, alone in the Highlands?”

“We’ll have the closed carriage crested with the duke’s emblem, and Mikey will be with us.”

Fiona picked up a tiny china doll and played with its silk dress.

“It’s dangerous. Perhaps we should take Aunty Moira?” Cailin frowned in concentration, stroking her cheek and rubbing her chin. “We could all wear our best dresses and give the excuse that we are visiting a dressmaker. The soldiers would realize we’re not Highland women.”

“Mayhap ye…you had better stay in the castle and keep yer wee one out of danger.”

“True.” She stroked her stomach. “But the others are in danger. How can I stay?” She sighed. She would have to alert Rafe to keep Avondale close to the castle on strict surveillance while she was gone. “I think we should take Aunty Moira.”

“Didna ye…didn’t you notice, yer Aunt’s still sickly in the mornings, though she’s already showing her condition?”

Cailin’s stomach fluttered. “Yes, Aunty Moira being older and expecting a first child could be difficult for her. Aunty must take special precautions.” Their two children could play as they grew up. What a joy to have small feet pattering about inside the castle. Perhaps soon, Megan would be in the family way as well. “So, then, due to her delicate health, we shall leave Aunty Moira to her chore of tending the wounded men already hidden in the broch.”

Father, guide me in this marriage situation. I think of Avondale constantly. How can I help him over his nightmare? Guide me, please. And please keep him away from the broch. Somehow, I think his problems are connected with The Rising. I’m certain discovering the wounded soldiers sheltered there would do him no good.

She swallowed down her feeling of abject failure. She had no idea how to help Avondale, and yet he depended on her. “Then it will be you, me, and Mikey. Aunty Moira’s new husband, Ian…his brogue is too heavy. And he’s the very picture of a Highlander.”

“I will visit the men Mikey and his wife have been nursing in the broch, and beg one of their sgian-dhus for each of us.”

“Sgian-dhus?”

“Aye…I mean yes. That’s the short, razor-sharp dagger a Highlander wears strapped to his calf just beneath the top of his high hose.” Fiona winked. “And we can strap ours above the top of our hose, much higher on our thighs.”

“Oh.” This lass, barely entering into womanhood, yet talking so knowledgeably of daggers, was always full of surprises.

“Aye...yes. And there are other weapons a woman may wield.” Fiona gave another knowing wink.

Cailin put her hand to her mouth to cover a cough. This lass understood far more than any Lowland gentlewoman would.

“I can see what yer thinking. In a one room cottage a lass does learn the private facts of life early.” Fiona giggled. “No’…not that I am closely acquainted with them, dear sister-in-law.”

Cailin’s fertile imagination painted a clear picture of husband and wife, children, and babies all crowded into one room. And the intimate things that happened between a husband and wife open to the eyes of the surrounding family.

How would Avondale, with his obsessive fear of light, react in a situation of that nature? Before they wed, he’d never shared so much as a room. Fortunately, her husband would never have to face such a situation.

Even as her cheeks burned, she ached to ask Fiona more about her encounter with Avondale. But the lass had seemed so eager not to talk about the near tragedy. Perhaps later Cailin would find an appropriate time.

She must make this daring rescue and, in the meantime, map out a plan to keep Avondale locked up safely. He often tried to slip away from Hennings and Rafe to venture out on his own. Since the episode with Fiona, she could not allow Avondale his freedom, but she had no wish to frustrate him.

The bodyguards must learn to enter into Avondale’s plans and become companions rather than shadow and restrain him.

“The rain crows have been cooing all day. It’s set to rain tomorrow. The redcoats donna…do not like to be abroad in a heavy drench.”

“You’re right. They’ll more likely be lounging inside ale houses and barracks rather than patrolling the roads. We’ll leave directly after breakfast.” She patted Fiona’s shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job of working on your speech. You’ve improved your brogue so much. Soon no one will even suspect you are a Highland lass.”

“Thank you. And it might be best if you do not tell the duke yer plans.”

“Of course not. I don’t wish to upset him. And Brody must continue to rest and regain his strength after that terrible wound. But he’ll soon have to move the men out of the broch.”

“Aye. When Megan found him at the bottom of the back staircase bleeding and almost unconscious the night of the masquerade, I thought surely he would die.” Fiona laid aside the china doll and started to briskly fold a pile of baby blankets. “But the three men he rescued are still safe inside the broch.” She smiled a secret smile. “And I see Grady each day.”

“You and Megan patched Brody up. A few weeks from now he’ll be good as new.”

“By the look of him, gaining his strength may well take a verra…very long time. He lost a lot of blood. Do ye…you ken if we can get him up those great stairs from the store room to his own room?”

“Yes. As soon as he is well enough to stand, Rafe and Mikey will take him upstairs.”

Megan spent her days nursing Brody, while Cailin spent her hours wondering what awful deed Avondale might pull next. A trill of loneliness curled her stomach. She missed the warmth of Avondale’s presence of an evening.

He arrived in their bedchamber later and later each night.

Always she felt acutely aware of his virile presence. He was not a man to be ignored. And, like a blood-sucking leech, a nagging sense of emptiness clung to her each morning as she climbed alone out of her bed.

She waited and waited later each night so he could sit in the shadows of their room and listen while she read the Bible, but he made fewer and fewer comments.

Though he tenderly met with her in the darkness each night, no matter how early she awakened, Avondale was always gone. She longed to see his face smiling at her from his pillow, but it was always empty.

Prayer hadn’t dispersed her concern, but seemed to intensify her sense of helplessness. She couldn’t share this with Fiona. Her sister-in-law already thought Avondale was a monster.

“Our tale that Brody’s out boar hunting won’t hold water if Molly or one of the other servants finds him lying injured in Megan’s bed.” Cailin nodded decidedly. “Yes. Brody’s better left hidden in the storage room until he mends.” She tucked her knitting in the tapestry bag, rose, gathered her skirts in her hand, and took a step towards the nursery door. “Between you, me, Megan, and Mikey, we can continue to sneak food to Brody until he can limp around. Then we can circulate the story that a boar gored him.” With her hand on the doorknob, she called over her shoulder, “In the meantime, we two will embark on our grand adventure on the morrow.”

“Ye…you think the boar hunting story is holding? I heard the servants ask when the hunting party is expected.”

“Yes.”

“If yer sure you won’t change yer mind about this dangerous plan, I’ll see ye…you in the morning, then.”