Page 4 of Love’s Charity

Chapter Two

Curse her inabilityto hold her tongue and damn her fickle feelings. Evander had blatantly chosen another over her. Hadn’t he made it clear that she didn’t matter a whit? Marianna shoved the door shut and held it, fearing the wind and drifting snow might force it back open.

“It will stay closed until yer man comes inside, m’dear.”

“He isnamyman,” she said, then snapped her mouth shut. What in Heaven’s name was wrong with her? Did she never learn? “Forgive me.” Turning, she shook out her skirts and loosened her scarf. She adopted the calm, pleasant demeanor that her mother, God rest her soul, had tried to teach her for years. “The clan chose Evander and me to bring supplies to those less fortunate in the clan. We merely travel together.”

“I see.” Mistress Hanna gave her the sort of smile that clearly called her a liar. “Come meet Gabriel, lass.” She waved Marianna forward as she lit the stub of a candle, then slowly lowered herself into a wobbly chair. With a grunting huff, she resettled the thin, threadbare pillow behind her back. Bending toward the hearth, she clicked her fingers at a shadow behind a tall crock with a chipped rim. “Gabriel! Be polite now. Come, give Mistress Marianna a proper greeting.”

A single bright green eye peeped around the edge of the crock. Marianna thought she made out the outline of an ear and some whiskers, but she couldn’t be certain. The wee beastie blended into the shadows.

“’Tis my pleasure to meet ye, Gabriel.” She made a polite curtsy and forced herself to appear interested even though so much more needed her immediate attention other than greeting the cat. ’Twas a wonder poor Mistress Hanna had survived as long as she had. The place was the crudest of shelters and bare as could be. She aimed another slight curtsy at the smiling old woman. “Rest yerselves while I stoke the fire and set things aright, so ye’ll both be more comfortable, aye? Ye’ve nothing to fear from me, Sir Gabriel. I promise ye.”

The cat leapt into its mistress’s lap but didn’t settle down. Instead, it perched tall on her knees as though standing guard.

“Now, see here, Gabriel. None of that rudeness, mind ye.” Mistress Hanna stroked the sleek cat. It ignored her. Just kept its green-eyed glare locked on Marianna. “Remember our task,” the matron whispered. The animal flicked an ear and twitched the tip of its tail.

“Yer task?” Marianna slid the fur from around her shoulders, shook it out, and fixed it over the shuttered window with cracks wide as the span of her hand. She tucked the pelt in and around the loose boards to block the bitterly cold wind. When Mistress Hanna didn’t comment, she shrugged away the woman’s words as a harmless bit of oddness.

“Yer task is to rest and get warm,” she advised with a gentle scolding as she turned back to them. “Shall I fetch ye another fur? Are yer feet soaked from the snow? I’ve extra stockings ye can have.”

“Nay, lass. This fur is verra fine and so are my stockings. Even without a fire, I’m warmer than I was in those bushes. I’m ever so thankful for yerself and yer… I’m thankful the two of ye found me.” She looked as smug as her cat.

Marianna gave a polite tip of her head, then glanced around the cave-like room in search of something to tend the coals. When she failed to find an iron or a stick, she made use of a small branch to stir the banked ashes and coax the embers to life. Flat rocks mudded together made up the crude hearth. The lopsided structure stretched upward and funneled the smoke into the thatched roofing. Fresh sprigs of pine covered a mantel that looked ready to fall at any moment. The crisp scent of their resin filled the room. “Evander will bring in more wood soon as he’s done with all his chores,” she assured the woman as she fed the last of the fuel to the fire. “I’m sure it’ll have plenty of time to dry out before we’ll need it.”

“He is a good man, yer Evander. Tall and comely with those broad shoulders of his. And that beard.” Mistress Hanna pressed a hand to her chest as though about to faint away. “I love a man with a good thick beard.” With a sly smile, she caressed the now purring cat with slow, methodical strokes. “’Tis no simple task finding a handsome man with a good kind heart, ye ken?”

“Things are nay always what they seem,” Marianna said, rooting through a stack of broken crockery in search of a pot or pan to use on the fire. She went still and stared down at her hands, scolding herself yet again for the curse of her tongue that appeared to be loose at both ends. She should say nothing about Evander or their situation. “Forgive me. I dinna ken what I am saying. Too weary from the cold, I am sure.”

“Ye know verra well what ye say and why ye say it, lass.” Mistress Hanna clucked like an old hen. “Dinna fash yerself. The good Lord granted me an ear for listening and a heart that doesna judge. Be at ease and speak yer mind. Ye’ll feel the better for it.”

“We have salted meat and vegetables a plenty amongst our bundles. I shall make us a hearty stew. That will stave off the cold.” She had to get the old woman’s mind on something else, especially before Evander came inside.

“If ye are certain ye have plenty to spare.” Still stroking the cat, the crone leaned back in her chair and settled her smiling gaze on the crackling fire.

“Aye, Mistress Hanna. It will be fine, I’m sure.” Marianna popped outside. Evander was nowhere to be seen. She worried after him but could do little about the stubborn fool staying outside too long. The bitter cold stole her breath as she braced against the shelter and sidled over to their supplies. It didn’t take long to find the bundles she had in mind. Surely, there would be enough for both the MacGougans and Mistress Hanna. After all, they couldn’t very well leave the old woman to starve, and she needed more than the oatcakes and dried meat they had brought along for themselves. Evander could snare rabbits or something if they ran short. Back inside, she thumped the door shut, then frowned. There was no table on which to prepare the meal.

The matron nodded toward the wide hearthstone. “Here, lass. I always kneel before the fire when I prepare my food. ’Tis all the better to be thanking the Lord for such bounty, ye ken?”

“Aye, Mistress Hanna.” After fetching water from the small keg in the corner, Marianna knelt with the only usable pot she had found and set to preparing their meal.

“He is a good man, lass. Ye know that in yer heart.”

“He is also the father of another woman’s child,” Marianna snapped as she placed the salted meat in a bowl of water and pushed it closer to the fire to leach out some of the brine. She closed her eyes. “Why do I spill my thoughts so easily? I dinna even know ye. Please forgive me and pay me no mind. I willna say anymore.”

“Of course, ye will. Sometimes it’s easier to speak yer heart to a stranger, ye ken?” Mistress Hanna softly chuckled. “Especially when yer heart is filled with as much pain as yers.” Still petting the cat, she leaned forward and fixed Marianna with a pointed look. With a lowered voice, she continued, “Chances are, once the two of ye move on, ye will never see me again, anyway.” Her eyes, crinkling at the corners, sparkled with kindness. “I am a safe ear for yer troubles, child. One that will never repeat yer words to anyone ye dinna wish to hear them.” She glanced down at the feline now curled in her lap. “Well, maybe Gabriel. But no one else, I grant ye. Go on now. Unburden yerself, ye ken? Ye’ll feel better for it. I promise.”

Marianna kept her gaze locked on the frozen carrots she scraped with her dagger. Perhaps the old one was right. Where was the harm in telling her of all the wrongs she had suffered over the past few weeks? Especially when she couldn’t talk of it to anyone at the keep. None of them had ever accepted or welcomed her in as one of their own. And after Ellen spread her story to one and all, she felt their laughter and scorn at every turn. Marianna blinked hard, refusing to give in to tears. She had always been the outsider. Should be accustomed to it by now.

“Evander and I were betrothed once,” she admitted softly as she tossed chunks of carrot into the pot.

“Once?”

“Aye. Once.” She swallowed hard at the knot in her throat and blinked faster to dry away the unshed tears. “Before he cuckolded me and sired a son with another.”

“I see.”

The crone’sI seesounded different from Lady Catriona’s when Marianna had finally found the courage to go to her with her troubles. Of course, the chief’s wife had taken Evander’s side. She should have known better. At least Mistress Hanna sounded more willing to listen.

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