Whence Came a Prince (38 page)

Watching her now, Jamie said what he could to comfort her. “You are a wonderful mother, Leana.”

“And you are a wonderful father.” She placed her hand on top of his. The faintest joining. There for an instant, then gone.

When she lifted her gaze, he was struck afresh by the soft light in her eyes and the radiance of her skin. Could he truly bid her farewell?

Come with us to Glentrool.

The words waited on his tongue, ready to be spoken. It would be the wisest and easiest solution, would it not? Leana would be safe from Lachlan, and all her needs would be met.

Aye, but…

With Leana at Glentrool, Rose might grow fearful again. Of sharing Ian. Of sharing him.

“Jamie,” Leana said softly, “we should not be here. Alone.”

“I know.” He stood, brushing a few stray leaves from his shirt to hide his disappointment. “Rose will be glad for your company. The household is in a quandary with Morna inspecting her new surroundings.”

“I shall go to my sister, then.” Leana nodded toward their sleeping son. “Might you take Ian? I cannot rise very gracefully holding so dear an armful.”

Jamie did so, then helped Leana to her feet and followed her toward the front door of the house, forcing himself to look at anything but the sway of her skirts.

Once they reached the hall, she turned, inclining her head toward the stair. “Would you kindly carry him to the nursery?”

Jamie started up the stone steps, his hand cupped round his son’s head to hold him steady. Responsibility like a leather horse collar settled onto Jamie’s shoulders. He not only had this lad to protect but both of his unborn children as well. And their mothers. What man could carry such a burden without stumbling?

“Watch your step,” Rose cautioned from the top of the stair, “for ’tis easy to trip when your arms are full.” She guided him toward the nursery, where Annabel waited to tuck in Ian for his nap. Jamie deposited the boy onto the mattress, then eased out of the room. Rose stood in the hall wringing her hands, as though some new worry troubled her.

He angled her away from the door, keeping his voice down. “What is it, Rose?”

“Two maidservants just arrived from Edingham. Neda is having fits trying to squeeze in another bed on the servants’ floor. And Annabel is miserable, for the blether round the back stairs is that we won’t be leaving for Glentrool after all.” Rose paused as if waiting for him to confirm or deny his plans.

“I see.” He hated to dodge her question, but he had no answers. Not yet.

“And then there’s Morna.” She glanced toward the bedroom door at the end of the hall. “When she told Father how much she liked Leana’s room, he had Morna’s trunks delivered up here instead of the spence. I have heard of husbands and wives having separate rooms but
not on separate floors. She’s already making herself at home,” Rose added with a frown, “arranging her dressing table.”

Indignation shot through him, sharp and hot. “And Leana?”

“Exiled to the nursery.”

“What?”
He bit back an oath. “Your father cannot expect your sister to sleep on that hurlie bed in her condition.”

“I will manage.” Leana appeared near his elbow, having slipped up the stair so quietly he’d not heard her. For a woman who’d just been ousted from her room, she was surprisingly calm. “Aunt Meg’s hurlie bed was no wider nor softer. Yet I slept well each night, dreaming of Ian.”

He studied her features. “You are certain the change in rooms will not be a hardship?”

“Quite certain.” If Leana was upset, she concealed it well. “As Lammas draws near, I am grateful for every hour I spend with Ian.”

Rose took Leana’s arm. “And
I
am grateful for every moment with my sister.”

“In that case, I leave you in each other’s care.” With a slight bow, Jamie headed for the door and the hills beyond, determined to work until his muscles ached and his frustration turned to sweat. No matter which direction he turned, his hopes were thwarted. If he remained at Auchengray, his family’s future would be ruined. If he left for Glentrool, Leana and his child would have no future at all. If he took Leana with them, Rose would be miserable. If he stole back his lambs from Edingham, where would he pasture them? And what of his other lambs Lachlan insisted on claiming?

Och!
Jamie marched up the side of Auchengray Hill, crushing the blooming heather beneath his boot heels as he climbed. Hard labor was his only refuge. He would forgo supper and toil through the gloaming until naught shone above him but the waxing moon.

Jamie worked his way across each pasture—mending the dry stane dykes, hauling water from the well, examining the lambs and ewes for illness or injury. With no other shepherd in sight, he aired his grievances aloud, leaning back to challenge the evening sky.

“Did you not promise you would always be with me?” Silence. No response echoed from the heavens; no voice whispered in his heart.
“Where are you, Lord?” His throat tightened. “Why have you hidden your face from me?”

The last rays of the sun painted the clouds in vibrant colors, yet he could not find the light of truth written across them. Compelling him to stay. Or commanding him to go.

Duncan’s reminder nudged his conscience.
Wait on the Lord and keep his way.

“I
have
waited.” Jamie wiped his sleeve across his brow, drenched with the evidence of his hours in the fields. When he could no longer see to work, Jamie returned to a darkened house and a sleeping wife. Though his body ached from his labors, his anxiety had not eased. Though he’d shouted his questions into the starry night, he’d heard no reply.

Wait on the Lord.
“I am weary of waiting, Duncan.” He pulled off his boots and dropped them to the floor. “Does the Almighty not ken the date? ’Tis only one week ’til Lammas.”

T
he L
ORD
knoweth the days of the upright.” Reverend Gordon stretched his hands over the assembled congregation. “And their inheritance shall be for ever.”

Jamie bowed his head for the benediction, even as his hopes rose. Was
this
the answer he’d been longing to hear? His inheritance did indeed await him at Glentrool. But
upright
? He was hardly that. Not with the schemes he’d concocted over the years. Not with the dilemma facing him now.

The beadle swung open the kirk doors, ushering in a freshening wind that toyed with the ribbons on Rose’s gown. McKies and McBrides moved toward the aisle. The second service had been shorter than the first, but it was still a lengthy Sabbath for Ian, who’d fussed and wriggled through most of it. Leana had reached for the child more than once during services, then quickly withdrew her hands, remembering her place. The sadness in her eyes grieved Jamie deeply.

What can I do, Leana? How shall I help you?

The parish gossips had been busy. All of Newabbey knew of Leana’s condition. When the time came, would they support her? chastise her? shun her? If he could not take Leana with him to Glentrool, then he would at least see she was in good hands, settled beneath a solid roof, and warmed by a friendly hearth. The minister oversaw such matters. Might he put his mind at ease?

As they neared the door, Jamie caught the man’s eye. “Reverend Gordon, may I speak with you on an important matter?”

The minister waved Jamie toward him, the draped sleeve of his black robe enlarging the motion. “Shall we meet in the kirkyard? Or at the manse?”

“The manse.” He would not have their conversation overheard by itching ears. Lachlan and Morna had visited Urr that morning for a proper kirkin, the bride’s first appearance at her parish church after the wedding. Jamie knew he would have no better opportunity to speak with Newabbey’s minister than this one. He sent Rose and the others on their way, promising to catch up with them. Leana’s plaintive expression and murmured thanks fueled his resolve; he would not fail her.

Swinging open the low gate to the manse, Reverend Gordon bade Jamie follow him withindoors. A maidservant brought them tea in the spence, poured two cupfuls, then disappeared with a curtsy. The minister regarded him solemnly across his steaming teacup. “This concerns Leana, I presume? And your child?”

“And my uncle.”

“I see.” As Jamie described Lachlan’s cruel plans for Leana, Reverend Gordon’s bushy eyebrows signaled his displeasure. When Jamie finished, the minister put his teacup down with a decisive clink. “The Buik tells us that if any man does not provide for his own, and in particular for those of his own house, he has denied the faith and is worse than an infidel.”

Infidel.
The harsh term suited Lachlan McBride. “Can anything be done, sir?”

Reverend Gordon shifted in his chair. Lachlan McBride’s tithe was no doubt a generous one; landowners were handled with care, however ill-kindit their ways. “Unfortunately, your uncle is a man who maintains the letter of the law but not the spirit. He breaks none of the Ten Commandments openly, even as he confounds those who live beneath his roof.”

The minister knew him well. Jamie had watched Lachlan choose his words with care—not to avoid wounding someone, but so the wounds would not show—all the while protecting his reputation as a righteous man. “Is there nothing he might be charged with? No sin of which he is guilty?”

“We are all sinners, Jamie.” Reverend Gordon fell silent, pursing his lips. “Alas, the kirk session would be hard pressed to charge him with anything. You see, as laird of his household, Lachlan may discipline his family however he chooses.”

“Discipline?”
Jamie ground out, incensed at the notion. “Leana has done nothing wrong—”

“Enough, lad.” Reverend Gordon held up his hand, stemming the flow of words. “I ken her situation. Your child was legitimately conceived yet will be born to an unmarried woman who has reached her majority. As such, the law does not require your father to provide lodging for her nor for her bairn.”

Jamie thrust out his chin. “The love of God requires it.”

“Indeed it does.”

“Which is why I will send sufficient silver for her care and for the child’s. But ’tis a home she needs. A place of refuge far from Lachlan’s … influence.”

“Indeed.” With a heavy sigh, the reverend stood, ending their meeting. “I will look into the matter and see what might be done for her. As to your uncle, I cannot promise you the justice you seek. That rests in God’s hands alone.” He steered Jamie toward the door. “You can be certain the parish will look after Leana. Some good soul will take her in. Isabella Callender or Janet Sloan, I imagine. What are Leana’s particular skills?”

“Sewing. Gardening. Spinning.”
Loving me. Mothering our children. Honoring God.
Jamie sank beneath the weight of her gifts. He could not tally half so many for himself. “She writes with a fine hand, and her baking rivals that of any French chef. None of the womanly arts are beyond her abilities, Reverend.”

“Then Leana will surely find enough work to keep her hands busy and her roof secure.”

Jamie pressed him. “You are certain of this?” The minister made it sound as though her father’s disownment were a problem easily solved. Could that be true? Might he leave for Glentrool without being hounded by guilt?

Reverend Gordon’s hand rested on the latch. “After the child is born and some time has passed, a man in the parish may notice what a competent woman Leana is and make her an offer of marriage.”

Jamie stared at him. “Is that … likely?”

The minister shrugged. “One can hope for such an outcome. For her sake.”

Jamie’s gaze fell to the door latch. Why did his stomach clench whenever someone mentioned Leana marrying? She deserved to be happy. To be provided for, to be loved.

“We will care for her as best we can, Jamie. I cannot pretend her station will not be reduced, for our collection box depends upon the generosity of our neighbors. Any silver you send will be put to good use.”

“I will send all I can, sir.”

Reverend Gordon eased open the door, the savory aroma from the dining room across the hall clearly beckoning him. “These … ah, changes will be quite difficult for Leana after all she’s been through. Not having a home of her own or a family to support her.”

Jamie studied a slender crack in the wooden door. Leave for Glentrool without guilt? Impossible.

“Will you join us at table?” Reverend Gordon gestured across the hall. “We’ve more than enough food to bid you welcome.”

“I’m afraid my family expects me.” Though the minister asked again, Jamie resisted.

“Away with you, then.” The older man waved him toward the door. “You’ve much on your mind and many decisions to make. Trust in the Almighty. He will not forsake you, lad.”

I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
Jamie knew the words were true. He had read them, spoken them, prayed them, and at last believed them. Now he longed for something more: proof.

J
amie?” Rose’s voice. Floating above him in the dim recesses of their box bed.

“Here,” he answered, slowly opening his eyes. “Here I am.”

Rose leaned over him, her white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “I know where you
are
, dear man. But where have you
been
? Sleeping or dreaming?”

“Both.” He raised himself onto his elbows, squinting at his surroundings. Aye, there were the familiar wooden walls and linen sheets. The heather mattress, freshly stuffed, smelled as fragrant as Auchengray Hill on a summer night. Yet it was the hills of home that had filled his dreams—Mulldonach, Buchan, Eschoncan—steeply sloped, covered with purple heath, and etched with frothy linns tumbling into the heart of the glen.

Loch Trool.
Home.

He dragged his hand across his rough beard. “Why did you stir me, lass?”