Page 12 of The Curse of McMillan Castle
The truth was, I imagined there was a lot about the McMillans I didn’t know. My father could speak for hours if asked about something, but he had never really been one to volunteer information, and I’d never really asked him or Kenna much about McMillan history. Still, the thought of Baodan being with anyone else besides Mitsy was difficult for me to comprehend.
I watched Kenna carefully, and the heaviness that fell over her features saddened me all the way through to my core.
When she spoke again, her voice was low and quiet. “We doona speak of her much, though mayhap we should. Osla was a fine lass, kind and gentle. She dinna deserve what happened to her. It took Baodan too long to forgive himself for all that happened during those dreadful years.”
“What happened?” Rosie’s voice, also quiet, spoke up next to Kenna, her hand slowly giving her grandmother’s hand a gentle squeeze of comfort.
“She died. For a verra long time, we thought the lass had taken her own life. In truth, she was another one of Niall’s victims.”
While this was the first I’d heard of Baodan’s first wife, I had heard stories of Kenna’s second son. Kenna, understandably, rarely spoke of him. I couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be for a mother to reconcile that one’s son was capable of murder. The grief, the anger, the confusion and guilt, and the fact that Kenna had moved on from all of it as bravely as she had was a testament to her strength.
When none of us said anything, Kenna continued. “I remember the day I noticed her portrait was missing. I thought mayhap the sight of her each day had been too difficult for Baodan to bear, so he’d removed it himself. I never asked him about it for that verra reason. I suspect he wondered the same of me. Regardless, I do ken that seeing this now would upset him.” Kenna paused and glanced in Duncan’s direction. “I agree with ye that the lass should be here, but I doona wish for Baodan to see it. Whatever presence ye may have sensed within this painting, I’ve no doubt the disturbance to ye shall end now that ye’ve seen her home. I shall see her portrait tucked away in the cellar for safekeeping. In the meantime, we must think of another reason to explain yer arrival here.”
Kenna stopped and stared at Duncan as if she expected him to come up with some sort of believable excuse. As I watched him, my earlier feelings shifted. Rather than a desire to greet him with snark, I wanted to help him.
How confused he must be—sitting there silently, wanting to leave—while Kenna went on about people he knew nothing about. He’d done a kindness by returning the painting, and now he was being asked to lie to the laird of McMillan Castle.
I turned to look at him as I tried to offer him a lifeline. “You did say you were a stone mason, didn’t you? I’ve noticed that part of the east wall surrounding the castle has crumbled in a pretty large section. Maybe Kenna heard word of your good work from someone in the village and sent a messenger asking you to come here?”
Duncan looked at me hesitantly, then nodded before glancing over at Kenna for approval.
“Aye, mayhap so. I noticed the wall meself as we approached. ’Tis a large job, but I would be more than happy to take it on, though ’twill take me the better part of a moon to do so. Do ye think it possible for me to procure lodging somewhere near the castle for that long?”
Kenna smiled and rose from her seat, seemingly no worse for wear from her fainting spell.
“Aye, o’course. The inn in the village is run by the two kindest people ye shall ever meet. We will pay for yer lodgings and will o’course pay for the work that ye do here. ’Tis a bonny plan. Madeline, do ye mind seeing Duncan to the dining hall and making introductions? I shall tend to this painting and be along for dinner shortly.”
Chapter 8
Duncan
Never before had he found himself in the presence of such strange people. So many of them spoke with the same strange accent. He couldn’t place it. It was plain. Simple. Unrefined. And while they all spoke English, he was unaware of any English-speaking country in or out of Scotland that spoke in such a way.
It wasn’t only the sound of their speech that surprised him. The words that came out of the lassie’s mouths came as a shock. They all spoke so openly. It was clear that among this lot, there was no real rank or order among them. All were free to say what they wished. Duncan found it remarkably refreshing.
Even the children sat at the table with the rest of them, and the one seated directly next to him was especially vocal.
“Go on. Give it a taste. I know it doesn’t look appetizing, but I promise it’s good. Our cook here is excellent.”
Duncan looked down at the young lad and smiled as he tried to make his best guess as to the child’s age. He almost certainly looked younger than he actually was.
“Aye. ’Tis true. I’ve already tasted it. ’Tis only I’ve found myself distracted by the conversation around the table. What is yer name, lad?”
He turned back toward his dinner as the boy answered him.
“I’m Cooper. I’m Grace’s and E-o’s, and Jeffrey’s and Kathleen’s son.”
Duncan couldn’t help the way his eyebrows lifted at the boy’s words. What sort of a place did he find himself in? He’d heard stories of such living arrangements in other countries, but certainly not in Scotland.
“Oh?” The question slipped out before he could catch himself.
Cooper laughed beside him. “It’s a long story. I forget that our little life is strange to most people here.”
Duncan hurried to try and find some way to redirect the conversation. “’Tis none of my business, lad. Have ye…”
The boy interrupted him before he could continue. “Nah. It’s okay. It’ll be less weird to you once I explain it. Jeffrey isn’t my real dad, you see. I never knew my real dad. He was gone before I was born. But Jeffrey and my mom, Grace, were real good friends, and he stepped in as my dad my whole life, so he’s really my dad in every way that matters. But later, when I was a little older, Mom fell in love with E-o, and Dad fell in love with Kathleen, so now I have another bonus Mom and Dad. You see?”
Duncan’s shoulders relaxed as he listened to the boy’s explanation. “Ah. I do see. Ye are a lucky lad then. One canna ever have too much family, aye?”
