Page 20 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
She felt the woman’s belly to establish the wean’s position and reassured the mother-to-be that all was well.
“Are ye a midwife?”
Davina shook her head. “Mayhap ye can stay in the village until yer wean comes. The midwife there will tend tae ye.””
When the lass had gone, Davina was set to wondering about what might be required to between a man and a woman for them to make a wean together. This was not something that was ever spoken of in the nunnery. All she knew was that a virgin had very special meaning. She resolved to question Aileen about this whenever she had a chance.
She had only just finished washing her hands and was drying them on a scrap of linen, when she heard a tiny squark. She looked up, thinking it was the chirruping of a bird. Then she heard it again and traced the sound to a nearby sprouting of long grass. A tiny tabby kitten was calling for help.
After collecting the tiny soul, and stroking its damp little head to try and soothe its cries she admitted defeat. First off, the kitten needed nourishment. Placing it in the pocket of her apron whereit seemed content enough for the moment, she threw on her cloak took her courage in both hands and headed for the kitchen, dreading the response she’d receive from Ailis.
Ailis looked up in surprise as she entered. “Ye’re early, lass. Yer dinner isnae ready yet. Come back in a while.”
“It’s nae me meal I’ve come fer, Mistress Ailis.”
Just then the kitten, most likely picking up the delicious smells of food, let out a very loud meow. Davina reached into her pocked and took out the mite, cradling it in her hands.
Ailis’s sour expression crumbled. “Oh, the poor wee kitty,” she exclaimed, reaching at once for a jug of milk that stood on the table. She poured a drop into a saucer and placed it on the floor. When Davina lowered the kitten, it drank eagerly and when it looked up its little face was dripping with milk.
“D’ye like cats?” Ailis asked. “We’ve nay had a cat here fer a long while. Only yesterday I swear I saw a mouse darting out of the pantry. Mayhap yon puss will grow tae dispatch the pests.”
Davina laughed. “That may be a while yet, Ailis. This one’s only just left its mother.”
“I heard there was a boat came in a few days ago with a cat that had kittens. Somehow this wee one must have ventured ashore and been left behind.” She took the kitten and briefly inspected what was under its tail. “’Tis a wee girl.”
Davina picked up the little scrap of fur and held it close. “And a bold one at that.” She heard a faint purr and smiled up at Ailis. “I shall look after her.”
Before she left the kitchen Ailis filled a jar with some milk and handed it to her. “She’ll be all right with milk fer now, but in a few days, she’ll be hungry fer some meat.” The sour-face had been replaced with a beaming smile. “I’ll make sure tae keep some scraps fer her.”
As Davina wandered back to the infirmary, she couldn’t help feeling a kindred spirit with the small bundle she cuddled. “Why, little one, ye’re like me, somehow ye’ve found yer place.”
CHAPTER NINE
Thrusting long fingers through his dark hair, Everard huffed with indignation. He was seated in one of the chairs at the long table in the solar of the mansion-house his friend the privateer captain, Séamus O’Rourke, shared with his wife, Finn, on the Isle of Canna. The room was cold. There was no fire burning in the large, stone, fireplace.
“I’m nae asking ye tae give upallyer French bounty. Only that ye dinnae attack the cogs bound fer England wi’ the Laird MacDougall’s cargo on board.”
Séamus, drew his mouth into a tight-lipped smile and shook his head.
“As we dinnae ken which of the ships carries the MacDougall’s cargo me laird, ye’re asking us tae give up all the French trade. We’ll nae survive without it and I’ll nay agree tae it.”
Everard groaned. His recent negotiations on the Isle of Mull with Laird Alexander MacDougall had led to him agreeing to intervene to prevent the privateers’ plunder. Now, it seemed, Séamus had no intention of allowing that to take occur.
“How can we mere privateers uncover the ships carrying goods fer MacDougall?” Séamus spat after mentioning the man’s name. “I take especial pleasure in removing the cargo once I learn it is his purse I’m shortening.”
Finn, seated beside Séamus, spoke up. “Everard, our French booty is the mainstay of our trade. Invariably the goods marked as MacDougall’s are the richest of them all. Extravagant perfumes, the finest wines, furs, pretty necklaces and ear bobs made of diamonds and sapphires. They, and all the rest of his trade – silks, spices, cheese, profit us well.”
Seated next to Everard, his advisor, Hugo MacRae was leaning back, arms folded. He nodded. “This is a riddle that mayhap cannae be solved, me laird. If the privateers give up their French booty, the rest is slim pickings. More ships travel the eastern route, leaving little for the privateers of Canna. If ye forbid the plunder of the French, the people of Canna may well starve.”
Everard grunted. He was caught between two immovable rocks. On one hand, was his promise to MacDougall. On the other hand, was his loyalty to Séamus, Finn and the rest of them on the Isle of Canna whose livelihood depended on being able to continue to ply the privateering trade.
Not least of these was Aileen’s father, Barclay MacAlpin. Who, for all his great age and his gout, had made an appearance in Finn’s and Seamus’s solar, and was seated at the end of the great table listening to every word.
Everard cursed himself for his haste in making his agreement with MacDougall to intervene with Canna’s privateers to disregard MacDougall’s cargo. The crafty, evil, man would have been well aware that it was impossible for the them to discern which French ships carried his goods.
Everard had not considered the proposition with sufficient care, even though Hugo had petitioned for more time before the agreement was reached.
It was Everard’s wish to be gone from his enemy’s presence as quickly as possible that had led him to the hasty decision he now bitterly regretted.
