The Draig's Wife Page 5

  Emma nodded and then wondered aloud. “What do you do all day?”

  Cortland sat straighter in the chair. “I told you when we rode in, my day is spent advising Declan and training the warriors.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “I dinna believe the men would welcome you on the fields. However, having seen your skill, it would please me greatly if we could learn from each other.”

  The rejection, while gentle, was still a rejection. Emma frowned as she remembered where she was. It’s the Middle Ages, and feminism is still a long ways away. “I would love to learn from you. The sword isn’t my best weapon.” Letting loose her pride, she explained her training background and then listened to his approach. If nothing else, we share a common passion.

  “It may take a few days to arrange, but we will start together soon. I vow it to you.” Cortland rose from his chair. “Your eyes are closing. Go to your bed, Emma, and I will seek mine. I had no sleep last night with Esmeralda attempting to flee every time she thought I was asleep.”

  “I’m sorry you can’t talk about your loss with anyone,” Emma said as she rose to stand in front of him. “It’s hard enough to lose someone. I can’t imagine keeping the pain inside.”

  With his palm on her cheek, he said, “Then when I feel the need, I shall speak with you. Do you promise nay to flee in the night?”

  Emma laughed despite the exhaustion. “Where would I go?”

  Cortland chuckled and walked to the door. “Sleep, Emma. My chamber is next to yours on the right. Fetch me if you have any need.”

  Following him the short distance to the door, she held his arm before he could open the latch. “Before you go, can I ask you a question?” She had asked Meggie the same question but received no concrete answer. “Why were you so angry at what Declan was doing this afternoon?” It isn’t a morality test; that’s already been failed by the laird. The sheer anger on Cortland’s face spoke of so much more.

  “First, let me say, Declan is a fine laird and a good man, despite what you heard earlier. He married to make peace with the Campbell clan to end a feud that lasted for generations, supposedly over two broken betrothal contracts. Then he was bound to a woman who dinna wish for the match and made his life rather unpleasant. However, she died in childbed, and I will say no more against her.”

  “The clan has a long tradition of marrying for love. Yet Declan wed for the sake of his people. Once again such seems to be the fate cast at his feet. I had hoped for better for him. Did Meggie tell you the whole tale of the edict?”

  “No. She was rather embarrassed over the whole door thing and kept changing the topic,” Emma answered with a flush on her cheeks.

  “Then I will give you the short version. Several generations ago, the Draig Laird served the Bruce and helped him to defeat the English. As a reward for his service, he was offered in marriage a fine English lady with the hope being it would help make alliances. However, the Draig laird had wed quickly before going into battle, and he would nay set his wife aside, even for the Bruce. ‘Twas said to be a powerful thing he shared with his wife. The Bruce admired that, and to honor the Lady Draig, the Bruce decreed that the Draig laird for generations to come must be wed at age twenty-eight or forfeit their lands and title. Most believe this was meant as some type of jest. However, it stands written in the laws of the land.”

  Making sure Emma was still listening and seemingly pleased to have her eyes fixated on him, Cortland continued. “None have ever tried to enforce this law. There has never been a need, until now. Declan’s parents married at a fine age, keeping with our customs. For many, many years they had no children. Somehow, the lady’s brother, Glenn, convinced the laird to name him as heir. Late in life, they were blessed with four children, two boys and two lasses. As you ken, the lasses married and moved away. The elder son died too young, and Declan became laird.”

  “When does Declan turn twenty-eight?” Emma asked.

  “Within two moons. Declan does nay take the matter as a serious threat in my mind. He should. His Uncle Glenn is ruthless and filled with greed. Declan is the only one standing in his way to our wealth.”

  Emma asked, “Wouldn’t Mary be the heir?”

  Smiling at Emma, Cortland answered, “Once, none would have questioned the lairdship being passed through the daughter. Times have changed. Besides, she is verra young, and I’m afraid if something happened to Declan, she would legally be given into the uncle’s care. The man was verra careful about how he was written into the books as a potential heir. To be blunt, the laird needs to marry and get busy making sons.”

  “That’s a great story, but why were you so mad?” She still wasn’t any closer to an answer.

  “Declan refuses to make an effort to court the lasses who could be his wife. Instead, he beds their mothers, sisters, or any other to make certain none will give him a suitable wife. He would tell you he does this for information and insight, though I think he does it to avoid another loveless marriage. I wonder if the man has nay bedded half of Scotland to avoid an arranged marriage.”

  Unable to hide the shock in her voice, Emma squeaked, “Are you serious?”

  “I may exaggerate a wee bit, but nay by much.” Studying her face, Cortland asked, “Did I speak too much? Have I offended you?”

  Emma shook her head. “I appreciate the honesty. We never kept secrets in my house.”

  “Then we shall be honest with each other.” Cortland smiled softly. “Go to your bed. On the morrow, I will show you your new home, and we can talk more.”

  “Thank you again for everything, Cortland. Should I call you by your name when we are with other people?” Emma asked as the lie again filled the chamber.

  “Call me Da if you would, whether in the hall or when ‘tis just us. And I should be the one thanking you. I am verra pleased to have such a companion and child to claim.” With a parting squeeze to her hand, Cortland left.

  Bolting the door once Cortland was gone, Emma placed the robe on the foot of the bed and climbed into the soft bedding. The rational part of her knew she should be consumed with fear and dread given where her day had landed her. Instead, she smiled as she nestled into a pillow that smelled of lavender. For the first time in ten days, there was someone who cared for her and someone she cared for in return. She would save the panic attack for another time.

  Closing her eyes, the conversation with Cortland danced in her sleepy mind. It felt like she had a home.

  Chapter 3

  Finally leaving her chamber, Emma found it difficult to shorten her stride within the confines of the long dress Meggie made her wear. The woman had laughed at the request for leather pants, and it seemed to Emma that she had spent all morning, even if it had only been an hour, attempting to make what she called a gown come close to fitting properly. The efforts weren’t even close to successful. Time travel hasn’t made finding clothing any easier. A size four tall is still in short supply. The hem is way above my ankles, and this thing bags all around me. I feel overdressed and look like I’m wearing someone else’s clothing . . . which I am.

  She could have done without Meggie teasing her about the overly loose bust. My lack of boobs isn’t funny. Her only victory was Meggie tolerating her simple braid. The woman had wanted something a bit more complicated. Complicated isn’t my style.

  On the short walk to the stairs, four women approached to welcome Esmeralda home. Short, polite responses were working so far, but she worried that might not last. She felt her heart race as she carefully walked down the stone stairs into what Meggie called the great hall, the focal point of the keep.

  The sights and scents of the hall were a harsh reminder of where and when she was stuck. The stone room was massive, full of rows of tables and benches, one wall occupied by a fireplace large enough for her to stand in, and corridors leading who knew where. I�
��m going to need a GPS to find my way around. Emma had no idea what Meggie was saying to her at the moment but was grateful she stayed by her side.

  Moving to the nearest unoccupied table, Meggie patted the bench. “Sit here, Emma.” The woman placed a clean plate in front of her. “Most have already broken their fast, but there is still plenty to choose from. While you eat, I will find your da.”

  Surprisingly, her stomach growled at the aroma of eggs, roasted meats, and freshly baked bread. The clay pitcher on the table held milk, which was not what she had expected. Grandma’s movies must have been wrong and wine isn’t the only beverage available. This is much better than the protein shakes I’ve been surviving on. Breakfast for one isn’t a pleasure to make or eat.

  Savoring the mouthful of fresh bread, Emma stilled when she felt someone sit next to her. She looked over, then down, and saw a young girl with messy raven hair next to her on the bench. The child’s small hands held a slightly dirty rag doll in a death grip. If Emma was uncomfortable, the child was more so.

  Breaking the silence, Emma asked, “Do you need help getting your breakfast?” The only answer was a slight nod of the girl’s head. It bothered her that the child didn’t even glance up to see who was offering to help her. Emma prodded. “It would help if you told me what you want to eat.”

  “Bread with honey,” a small voice answered though barely audible.

  “Sounds more like a treat than a meal. How about I serve you something real first, and then you may have the bread with honey?” Not waiting for a reply, she served the child eggs, what seemed to be potatoes, and a strip of meat. Placing the plate in front of the little girl, Emma declared, “Now that is a meal.”

  Emerald green eyes looked up at her with horror. “I can nay eat all of that.”

  The worry in the child’s voice tugged at her. “I never said you had to. Eat until you are almost full, and then I’ll see about the bread and honey.”

  The small dark head nodded. Once again Emma could only see the top of her head; eye contact had lasted only a few seconds. Emma ate a few bites and watched the girl do the same. “I’m Emma.” Silence was the only reply. “Do you have a name?”

  “Mary,” the child whispered.

  Conversations from the previous day filled her mind; the child was Declan’s daughter, the one Cortland had suggested she help with. Emma wondered what the odds were the child would randomly sit next to her in a hall that contained over a dozen long tables with men and women she knew. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on Meggie, who stood watching against the far wall with a knowing grin on her face. Cortland had said she could find her tasks when ready; apparently, Meggie had other ideas. The woman’s broad smile beamed from across the room, along with a slightly guilty shoulder shrug.

  I’ll finish feeding Mary breakfast . . . for Meggie. After all, she has only been kind and sweet to me. Casting her gaze back to the child, she saw the slumped shoulders and eyes that never reached the table much less anywhere higher. In her time at the dojo, Emma had met quite a few children who needed extra encouragement and patience. Mary made them all look like extroverts.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mary.” Emma said, hoping to engage the child.

  Soft words were spoken but never reached her ears.

  “I’m sorry. Were you talking to your feet?” Emma asked with little humor. She knew from classes, if you wanted someone’s attention, you had to ask for it.

  Keeping her features neutral, Emma waited for Mary to look up. As the child raised her head, Emma noticed the knitted brows. “Why would I talk to my feet?”

  “Well, you were looking down, so I thought you were talking to them. If you are going to speak to me, my eyes are up here. Please look at me when you speak to me.” Pointing to her eyes, Emma smiled when the child did as bidden. The small grin Mary returned lit her face. Mary was beautiful to say the least.

  “You are Cortland’s daughter,” Mary stated more than questioned.

  “I am, and you are the laird’s daughter,” Emma confirmed to keep the small talk going.

  When the small head nodded, Emma asked, “Who do you bring with you?” Her gaze slid to the ragdoll still held tightly.

  “She doesn’t have a name,” Mary said.

  “What? No name?” Emma questioned with mock humor.

  The child sat quietly, staring at her doll. With her eyes back to Emma’s, she said, “I dinna wish to speak of it.”

  “Fine, then we won’t talk about it,” Emma answered, more than a bit confused over the doll’s name having such significance. She decided she would ask Meggie later for the story.

  “May I have the bread now,” Mary asked as she pushed the plate forward on the table.

  Making an obvious show of inspecting how much the child had eaten, Emma took the opportunity to compliment the behavior. “You ate a fine meal. A good breakfast is the best way to start a day, or so my grandmother always said.”

  At the scent of the honey being drizzled onto the warm bread, Emma suspected Mary might have a brilliant idea. She grabbed the small pot from the child’s hands. “I think you have enough honey for five people. Save some for me.” It touched Emma that the girl took the pot back to make the same treat for her.

  Pausing long enough to enjoy the treat, Emma asked, “What are you going to do today?” The answering frown tore at her heart. “Should I not have asked about that either?”

  “I dinna ken. I was hoping one of the lasses could take me to the village. Someone has to take me, or I have to stay here.” Disappointment echoed in Mary’s voice. It was clear to Emma that no one had been assigned or was available to meet the request.

  “What will you do, Emma?” Mary asked after licking the remaining honey from her fingers.

  “That’s a great question. I need to find Cortland, I mean, my da, to find out,” Emma replied. Scanning the hall, there was no sign of the man.

  “He was in the courtyard with my father. I dinna ken where he is now. Though he spends much of his day on the training fields. I’m nay supposed to go there unless someone takes me,” Mary stated.

  “How old are you?” Emma asked.

  “Six.” Emma nodded.

  “You should have someone with you if you are walking as far as the village. I can imagine the training field could be dangerous with all of the swords and men fighting.”

  “Meggie said the fields are no place for a lady.”

  Emma laughed at the comment and refrained from telling Mary her opinion on the subject. When Mary looked back down at her feet, Emma regretted making the child self-conscious. “I’m not laughing at you, only what Meggie said. I have spent quite a bit of time on training fields and look forward to seeing the ones here.”

  “I can lead you there.” Mary’s gaze brightened. “Mayhap first you could take me to the village.”

  Hearing enthusiasm for the first time from the little girl, Emma said, “We need to check with Meggie first. And before we go anywhere, I need to speak with my da.”

  “I will ask,” Mary said as she stood and ran to Meggie, who watched the whole scene. Mary pointed and pleaded as Meggie appeared to be contemplating an answer. So engrossed in the theatrics, Emma missed Cortland sitting by her side.

  “I see you have met wee Mary,” Cortland said.

  “I don’t think it was accidental. Meggie set me up.” Emma explained their encounter. “I think the child has plans for me this morning.”

  “It may be for the best. Declan and I have much to discuss. Go see the village. Keep your answers short, like we discussed. My name carries weight, and you should be well received by all, especially by Aalish. She is the one Mary wishes to visit, the woman who has raised her from the day she was born.”

  “Okay. Where can I find you later?”

  “Mary can lead y
ou to the fields. She kens the way,” Cortland answered.

  “When can we train?” Emma asked. Her body was used to daily workouts.

  “Our time may be in the early morn at dawn’s first light, if ‘tis agreeable to you,” Cortland answered with a wink.

  “Great. Could you please ask Meggie if I could have some pants, or trews? She refuses to give me back my uniform.”

  With a laugh, Cortland said, “I will see yours returned and more suitable clothing provided in case we have company at dawn’s first light.”

  Mary ran back to the table, practically bursting with excitement. “Meggie said aye. Did your da agree?” Mary asked as she stared up at Cortland.

  “Good morrow, Mary. I have given Emma leave to take you. Be kind and introduce her. She has been long absent from our home. Will you make her welcome?” Cortland asked as he smiled at the girl.

  “Oh, aye, Cortland,” Mary said as she jumped in place. “Aalish and Emma can visit. I will introduce them proper.”

  “Of course you will. I have full faith in you. However, before Emma may leave, your da is going to welcome her home before those still gathered in the hall. Can you wait a few moments longer?”

  Mary nodded, and Cortland ruffled her already messed hair. Emma watched the seemingly shy girl beam at Cortland. Turning in her seat, Emma suggested, “While we wait, how about I fix your hair? You almost have a braid, but not quite.”

  Mary obediently moved to stand in front of Emma. “The lasses had no time this morn to do my hair, so I did it myself.”

  Emma frowned at the lack of time the lasses took with Mary. How long could it possibly take to brush and braid hair? In a flash, Mary’s braid was neat and tidy, bound with a piece of simple rawhide. Emma’s pleasure with her handiwork faded with Cortland’s expectant raise of an eyebrow. She shook her head. One day was fine. Every day would be something else entirely.