Page 72 of The Winter Laird

“Have you seen her since you’ve been back?” Bri asked.

Erin wiped a tear from her cheek. “She died two months after I married.” She gave a watery smile. “Nioclas came to tell me himself. He’s a good man, Brianagh. You’re very lucky to have him as your own.”

“He is a good man,” Bri replied softly. “That’s the trouble.”

“If you care to discuss your troubles, I’m right here. And, despite what the heathen brothers think, I can keep a secret better than either of them.” They shared a giggle, then sobered. Erin continued. “Really, Bri. You’ve been so out of sorts lately, but then I see Nick give you the same kind of looks Donovan gives me, and I don’t understand. Is it because you miss your family? Are you so far from them?”

“Oh, Erin, you have no idea.” Erin rested her head on Bri’s shoulder, and Bri sighed, resting her head on top of her friend’s. “I wonder if I’ll ever see them again. And they don’t know what happened to me.”

“Did O’Malley take you from them?” Erin asked, concern etching her words.

“No, I went with him on my own.” Bri’s eyes misted. “But I didn’t think I was leaving forever.”

“Nick is a very wealthy man, Bri. In times of peace, such as this, he can afford to travel. He’s not tight on his purse strings. He keeps his castle simple so as to not draw attention to the clan. Just like he keeps the prosperity of our village to himself—he doesn’t want any problems to arise from greedy lairds, or worse, the English crown.”

“You don’t need to defend him to me, Erin. I think he’s one of the very best men I’ve ever met,” Bri replied sadly.

“Then what grieves you, Brianagh? You have a wealthy husband who loves you—”

“He doesn’t, Erin.”

Erin pulled away and looked at Bri. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Brianagh. He certainly feels something.”

Bri shook her head. “Believe me when I tell you he doesn’t love me.”

Contemplating her, Erin asked, “Do youwanthim to love you?”

Therein was the crux of her problem. As Brianagh had sat on the battlements and let her thoughts wander, that question had come up repeatedly. Did she want the love of any man? What if Matthew was in love with her—could she ever learn to love him back now that her heart belonged to another?

Perhaps that was the cruelest joke of all. While pretending to be in love, she’d actually fallen, and by convincing everyone they were a love match, she secured her ticket home to her family.

Bri started to cry softly. She drew her knees up and buried her face in her arms, then felt Erin’s arms around her.

“When my mother died,” Erin said quietly as Bri wept, “I felt as though I’d made a mistake in marrying Donovan, because it took me from her. She’d been sick, but no one believed it to be serious. My father died when I was little, and it was just Mama and me most of my life. She cried at my wedding but refused Donovan’s offer to come to the Maguire clan. Claimed she was a MacWilliam through and through.” She sniffed. “But I see now that she didn’t want me to see her suffering. It was selfless and selfish and a million other things I haven’t yet found the words for, and may not ever find. But I am comforted in the fact that when I had her, she loved me very much and wanted only the best for me in my life. When she realized I had a love match in Donovan, she pushed Nioclas to secure his hand. She was the best of mothers.”

Bri wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. “I’m so sorry, Erin. She sounds like she was a wonderful woman.”

“She was. And she always told me to follow my heart first. Perhaps,” Erin said after a moment, “if you love him enough, he’ll love you in return. Nioclas has had a very difficult life. He needs time and encouragement from a woman who loves him. If your love could be enough until then, I don’t think you’ll regret it. Eventually, he’ll return it threefold, and word of your happiness might reach your family. They would know that you are safe and well-loved. The MacWilliam clan respects you very much—they want you to be one of them. Go to their festivals, hold their babies, dance when minstrels visit the castle. They want that from you, Brianagh, because you are the woman Nioclas chose to wed. And maybe you can find a measure of peace believing that your family will hear of the MacWilliams, who are living a happy, loving life on the edge of the sea in the most beautiful land in the world.”

Bri sniffed and put her head on Erin’s shoulder, and they sat together, staring at the sea in silence, each lost in her own thoughts.

* * *

When Brianaghand Erin returned to the castle, they were greeted by a very flustered lass running from the kitchens to flag them down.

“What’s wrong, Deirdre?” Bri asked, hurrying over.

“There’s a line of men waiting to speak with Keela, and she’s trying to fix the evening meal!” Deirdre exclaimed. “They won’t leave, though. They’ve demanded to see her, claiming the need to spout poetry or some such nonsense.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s out of hand now. They’re crowding the kitchens, and we’re about to take a knife to them so we can get dinner done!”

Bri and Erin exchanged a look, and then Bri nodded firmly. “Right. I’ll handle this. Deirdre, lead the way.”

It was worse than Deirdre claimed. The line of men was actually a large cluster, all blocking the way in and out of the kitchen, clamoring to be heard over one other. Bri stifled a laugh. Poor Keela.

“Excuse me,” Bri said, tapping the nearest man, who looked to be somewhere in his sixties.

“Oh, Lady MacWilliam! Of course, aye, aye,” he said, elbowing men out of the way. “The lady of the castle wants to get through, move out of the way. Lady of the castle.”

Bri felt a little like he was calling, “Watch out, hot coffee!” No one listened.

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