Chapter Eleven

Katie scowled at Evan as they mounted their horses to continue with their tenant visits. Didn’t he realize it would take some time for Gavin to feel secure? It was the first time he’d even felt comfortable enough to join them for a meal. He’d been taking his meals in the bedchamber they were sharing. The man had no heart. That was the only explanation. He’d probably been born at this age—had never been a lad himself.

“Ye could have given me a wee bit of time with my brother.”

He turned to her. “Ye coddle the lad. He’ll never be a mon with such soft treatment.”

How dare the man judge her! He knew nothing about her or her brother. She was the only mother Gavin had ever known, and they shared a special bond. Da hadn’t spent time with the boy, saying it pained him too much to gaze upon Gavin because the boy had cost him his beloved wife.

It had been up to her to give Gavin all the love he wasn’t getting from his da. For as many times as she’d admonished her da over that, he had never taken an interest in being a parent. As little interest as he’d taken in being a laird. He’d merely shaken his head, sighed, and poured another brandy.

“I dinnae coddle him. He needs special attention because my da dinnae take an interest in him.”

Evan snorted. “And it shows too.”

She drew herself up. “What does that mean?”

He rode for a few minutes, ignoring her question. Just as she thought she’d need to repeat it because his hearing must have disappeared right along with his heart, he said, “The lad needs to learn to be a mon. Refusing to shake hands with my brother and gazing at his lap like some wee lass at his age is disgraceful. Ye should be ashamed of yerself for allowing it.”

All the motherly instincts in her rose up to strike the person attacking her brother. Had they been riding at a slower pace, she would have jumped from her horse onto his and pummeled him. Instead, she counted to ten—if she did indeed wreak havoc on her laird, she could very well find herself and her clan homeless.

She swallowed several times and ordered her heart to cease pounding and her stomach muscles to unclench. After taking a deep breath, she said in her most reasonable voice, “And what do ye ken of raising a lad? Do ye have several of yer own that ye can hold up as examples?”

“I dinnae need to have examples to hold up to ye except for myself and my brother. My da raised us to be men. If one of us had acted so meek when meeting a new person or cried when someone left us for a few hours, he would have thrashed us and then ordered us to muck out the stables for a spell.”

Katie sniffed and raised her chin. “He sounds like a dreadful man. A brute and a bully.”

Evan shook his head. “Nay. He was a mon, a real mon.”

Oh, how she hated his superior attitude! He had no idea how hard things had been for Gavin with Da ignoring him all the time. Perchance she did mother him a bit, but trying to be both mum and da to the lad had been a challenge.

Evan glanced in her direction. “If ye dinnae change some of the things the lad does, I guarantee he will be bullied by the other lads. In fact, I’m sure he is already.”

Katie shook her head. “Nay. He dinnae like playing with the other lads. He prefers to stay in his room and read his books.”

Evan smacked himself on his forehead. “Lass, dinnae ye see what yer doing to the lad? He prefers to stay in his room because the other lads make fun of him.”

That took all the wind out of her. Not just his words but the niggling thought at the back of her mind that he might be right about her beloved brother. She hated how this gruff man made those fears rush back at her. “Ye dinnae ken what yer talking about.”

He shrugged as they made their way up a lengthy path to another tenant cottage. This one was set back from the main road. Herbs of every type grew in the entire front area of the house. Katie recognized many of them as being medicinal herbs, along with plants used in cooking. The woman who lived here must be a healer.

Calling an unspoken truce while they made their visit, she and Evan stepped up to the front door and knocked. Within moments the door opened to an older woman with a bright smile on her aged face. Long white hair streamed over her shoulders and down her back. But the blue eyes were youthful, sharp. “I saw ye coming from my window. I heard ye are the new laird and are making visits to all the tenants.” She stepped back. “Please come in. I have tea and fresh-made scones for ye.”

The house was small, probably smaller than any other they’d visited. It was clean and uncluttered. Wonderful smells came from the table set in the center of the room. Since she and Evan had not notified the tenants of their schedule, Katie was certain this woman had set her table when Evan had first arrived, just waiting for him to visit.

“I am Mary MacCabe.” She turned and offered a smile to Katie. Crooked teeth, several missing, but a pleasant smile nonetheless. “Not a MacDuff. I fled from my clan many years ago, and the MacDuff took me in because of my healing skills.”

Since it was not their place to question Mistress MacCabe as to why she’d fled her clan, and Katie was especially uneasy with the subject, they both just smiled and nodded. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Mistress MacCabe. I am Mistress Katie Stirling, and this is Laird Evan MacNeil.”

“Aye, I ken yer were making yer visits.” She waved to the table. “I will be honored if ye will take a bit of tea with me.”

“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, as well, Mistress MacCabe.” Evan followed her the few steps to the table, where they both sat. Mistress MacCabe took a pot of boiling water from the fireplace and poured it into a very pretty blue-and-white flowered teapot. The aroma that immediately wafted from the teapot filled the entire space. Lovely. Katie sniffed. Most likely tea combined with lavender and a touch of chamomile.

Once Mistress MacCabe sat, she waved at the plate of luscious-looking scones. “Please, have some of my special scones. I sell them every Saturday at the marketplace.”

Katie had to keep from moaning as the burst of sugar, cinnamon, and another flavor she couldn’t identify filled her mouth. “This is indeed delicious, mistress.”

The woman dipped her head in acknowledgment, as if she expected nothing less. Evan also finished one scone in only a few bites and then reached for another one. “Mistress Stirling is correct; these are truly wonderful.”

“Thank ye. I will send some up to the castle.” She leaned in close to Katie. “Yer cook is a fine one, but her scones do not hold up against mine.” She winked. Katie truly liked Mistress MacCabe.

…

Evan licked his lips and eyed the remaining scones on the plate. He’d already had three and could certainly find room for another one, but he didn’t want to eat the poor woman out of her house.

Mistress MacCabe was a cheerful sort. Lively blue eyes belied the wrinkles on her face. Her home was small but tidy. Various smells from drying herbs hanging from the ceiling gave it a cozy warmth, reminding him of the MacNeil kitchen where Cook always had rows and rows of herbs. She also had fruit or meat pies and other treats for a lad who used to sneak into the kitchen to swipe some treats. Those memories also brought back a longing to return home.

Before he could think twice, his traitorous hand reached out and grabbed another scone. Katie grinned at him, and he grinned back as he took a large bite.

’Twas good to see the lass smile at him. They’d gotten into quite a heated exchange over her brother. As he watched her compare notes with Mistress MacCabe on various herbs used for medicinal purposes, his mind returned to their conversation. ’Twas a sad day when a mon did not take an interest in his own bairns. ’Twas one thing to suffer when yer wife passes, but to ignore the child because of yer grief was no excuse for a mon at all.

At least while he was still at Fife, he could take the lad under his wing. Get him started training with a broadsword. Even though there was no need to prepare for battle, since the Sassenachs had taken over everything in Scotland, ’twas still a handy thing to know. A mon never knew when the need would arise to protect himself.

He glanced at the small wooden clock on the fireplace mantle and pushed his chair back. “I’m afraid we must take our leave. We have other calls to make.”

So deep in conversation were the two women that they looked up in surprise to see him sitting there. Katie and Mrs. MacCabe slowly stood, still chatting away. They linked arms as they strolled to the doorway, heads down. Instant friends, it appeared.

“I will call for ye in a couple of days to make the visit to Freya. The poor thing is quite nervous, this being her first bairn. ’Twill make her feel better to ken that there will be two of us when the time comes, which as I said before, will be soon.”

The two women hugged like old friends, and Evan and Katie mounted their horses to ride away from the house. “What was that all about?” he asked as he directed his horse to the left to visit the next cottage.

“Were ye not listening?”

’Twas probably not the best idea to tell the lass that once they started talking about healing herbs and medical practices, he’d closed his ears to the conversation. Although he could slice a mon with his broadsword, fell an animal with an arrow, and wring a chicken’s neck, when it came to healing and stitching up, his stomach generally rebelled. He had the embarrassing habit of fainting like some swooning lass at the sight of his own blood. “Aye, I did for a while, but women’s talk eventually makes me close up my ears.”

Katie snorted. “Typical man. Make ye nervous, does it?”

“Nay,” he snapped. “Healing is women’s work.” They rode for a few minutes while Katie smirked. “Are ye not going to tell me, then? A punishment for not paying attention?”

Katie shook her head. “Nay. It seems there’s a young lass—Mrs. Freya MacDuff—getting ready for her first bairn, and she’s quite nervous about it.”

“Isn’t it normal to be a wee bit scared?” He made sure to stay far away from pregnant women, but occasionally he would overhear talk among the lasses, whether he wanted to or not.

“Yes. Women do die in childbirth. My mum, in fact, was one. But there are also many, many healthy births, with happy mothers at the end.”

He studied her profile. Her face had gone from happy to sad in a matter of minutes. “Have ye attended a lot of births, then?”

“Aye. Mum let me accompany her many times. ’Twas most unfortunate that she was the one who died, with all the women we helped.” She shook her head. “She was a good woman. I miss her every day.”

Katie seemed to shake herself from the melancholy that had overtaken her. “Mistress MacCabe is the local healer, as you might have determined.”

“Aye. I thought as much.”

“She is getting on in years and asked me if I would take over her role in the community.” She turned to him, her eyes bright, her face flushed. “I would love to do that. I enjoy my work as a healer and gained a great deal of satisfaction from helping those in pain.”

He rode for a few minutes in silence, not too sure that it was a good idea. “’Tis a noble cause, for sure. But will ye have enough time to do that and still run the estate? ’Tis a big job yer taking on. The lands, tenants, the castle, all the staff, and now healing?” He shook his head. “I dinnae ken if that would work.”

“Aye. I did it all back in Stirlingshire.”

“And ye said one of the reasons ye left was it was too much for ye to keep up, and the place had begun to fall apart.”

“’Twas because of my da’s fondness for drink, too, ye ken. He spent all the coin on trips and seeing to his pleasure. That caused me more trouble than how busy I was.”

The opportunity had presented itself, and he would not let it pass. “Tell me again why ye decided to move yer whole clan to Fife? Ye just said again ’twas one of the reasons ye left, which leads me to believe ’twas another reason. More than just the run-down condition of yer da’s estate? What was the other reason?”

Katie looked at him briefly, then glanced away. Everything in her body screamed she was hiding something. “Aye. I misspoke. That was the only reason. Just to have a better place to live.” She looked up quickly. “Also, the fact that the MacDuff lands belong to me.”

“Aye. That fairy tale again.”

“’Tis not a fairy tale. A Bannerman Lady was a MacDuff about one hundred years ago. The MacDuff property should have come to Mistress MacDuff Bannerman on her brother’s passing. But the poor woman’s husband had just died, and she being heavy with child couldn’t travel to Dumfries to claim the land. So her cousin Sean stole it.”

He considered that as they continued on for a few minutes until they reached the next cottage. Evan pulled on his reins about a quarter mile out from the house. “Just a minute.”

“Aye?”

“A lovely story to be sure, but I wonder why ye haven’t told that part of it before now. Ye are hiding something, Mistress Katie Stirling of Stirlingshire. Why do I think there is another reason why ye decided to move everyone from one place to the next? And dinnae tell me ’twas because yer mum was cheated out of this place.”

She stared at the back of the horse’s head.

He moved his horse closer so their legs were almost touching. He bent his head to look into her eyes. “I would have the truth from ye, lass.”