The Intended Page 14

  “Does it matter, Master Graves?” she responded. “I only mention it to make you understand why I came to you.”

  The two faced each other for a long time. The physician finally broke the silence. “This letter carries news of the Highlander. It must. What makes you think that I won’t take this directly to the duke and reveal your disloyalty.”

  “I know that you won’t do that,” she answered. “But I promise you, I am committing no disloyalty to His Grace.”

  “You are, my dear,” he argued softly. “The Highlander is the duke’s prisoner.”

  “Not the duke’s,” she pressed. “The man is Lord Edward’s prisoner. Edward’s alone!” Jaime turned and walked to the window of the music room. She didn’t want to say it openly, but she had also learned that as much as Master Graves respected the duke of Norfolk, he also despised the younger son and his barbaric way with prisoners.

  “I’ve seen Norwich Castle, Master Graves. And I am certain that you have seen it, too.”

  As she gazed across the room at him, Jaime could see in his face that she had struck a chord in him. But the physician was not completely satisfied.

  “What does this letter contain, mistress?” He waved the letter in the air. “How do I know that what you say in here will not bring the Scots ways back into England? How do I know that, in helping you, I will not be responsible for lives being lost?”

  “The Highlander is no King James, Master Graves. As important as he is to his own clan, the Scots would never wage a war for him!”

  “But you admit, then, that he is important enough to bring back a goodly prize.”

  “You know I was the one to tell Lord Edward that.”

  “Aye, a curious matter, in itself!” Graves stared at her for a moment. “But you are willing to risk our lives for his sake...with no more concern than the snap of your fingers.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe for an instant that you think so poorly of me. I don’t believe that you think I could ever endanger the life of as good and valuable a man as yourself.”

  The Welshman sat heavily on a chair by the worktable and laid the letter on the wooden surface. Beside him, a lute sat on a stand, and the physician idly ran his fingers over the strings a number of times before looking back at the young woman by the window.

  “What you say is true, Mistress Jaime. And I’m not alone when I tell you how highly I do think of you. You are far different from most of the rest of them here. In the short time you’ve been with us, the common folk have come to trust you. They’ve seen the compassion in your manner, in the things you’ve done for their children. There is a goodness in you, my dear, that has won many a heart. But...” Here he faltered a moment, but soon continued. “But you have to understand my place. Before I do what you ask of me...I need to make sure that it won’t hurt the folk I care most about. I want no part in any more bloodshed. I want no more killings!”

  “You must take my word on this, Master Graves.” She paused to dash away a tear. “In this letter, I am sending word through my folks to his kin that he is here and healing under our care. That’s all I have said. Most likely, they are out of their minds with worry by now, not knowing whatever became of him on his journey.”

  “They’ll hear from Lord Edward when he is ready to make his demands.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve heard that Lord Edward takes his time. He waits long enough for the kin to think all is lost, and then—when he feels inclined and can find no other use for the man—Edward makes his demand.”

  Graves said nothing in response, instead continuing to stare at the letter in his hand.Jaime’s voice wavered. “Too many times in the past, a prisoner’s carcass has been all that the kinfolk get back in return. I know I cannot pick him up and carry him out of here, back to his people, Master Graves. I don’t plan to. All I want to do right now is simply let them know that he is alive. It is their right to know.”

  “You know his kin, mistress, don’t you?”

  There was no point in denying the truth. She had been surprised that Edward himself had not pressed her on this question before he’d left. “Aye,” she answered. “I do.”

  “Is that why you told Lord Edward about him at Norwich?”

  She nodded again, blurting out her answer. “I simply couldn’t leave him there. I couldn’t let him die at the hands of those butchers.”

  “But he did die, mistress! Later, in the stables. I saw it,” Graves whispered, standing and moving toward her. “And you somehow brought him back.”

  Jaime ran her hands up and down her arms to halt the chill that was suddenly invading her bones. “I didn’t bring him back, Master Graves. I just called to him, and I prayed. It was God’s will for him to live. It was God’s will!”

  “Perhaps, my dear, it is as you say. But, truthfully, what is the Highlander to you?”

  Jaime looked up and stared back into his piercing eyes. “What makes you think he is anything to me?”

  “I’ve laid to rest many dying souls. I have plied my skills, and prayed my heart out over many suffering men and women. In the stable cell, the Highlander heard you, Mistress! His soul came back to you! What is he to you?”

  She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle, conscious of the fear that, in revealing the truth, she could lose the magical feeling that she had so recently regained.

  “Once, long ago,” she whispered, “I thought of him as my intended!”

  Chapter 19

  A half- dozen children tumbled out as Jaime made her way into the cottage. The mother’s scolding voice, followed as it was by shrieks of childish laughter, brought a smile to her lips. As the little group swarmed about her, Jaime gave little Kate’s braids a playful tug to keep the young girl’s face out of the basket she was carrying. She had to admit, though, the smell of fresh-baked bread was a temptation even for her. With a friendly pat on the back, Jaime watched the girl run out the door and after her siblings.

  “So, how are you feeling, Nell?” she asked, laying her basket on the rough wooden settle by the crackling little fire.

  “Very well, mistress. I thankee.”

  The falconer’s wife, Jaime thought, did indeed look well for having just had a child the day before. Nell was standing proudly over the babe’s cradle, and Jaime crossed the stone floor of the little cottage to peek at the infant.

  “Oh, my! Nell, he’s a strapping lad, to be sure!”

  “Aye, mistress. Like his father.” Nell beamed, her green eyes sparkling happily at the compliment.

  Glancing up at her, Jaime smiled. Nell’s red braids, coiled neatly on her handsome head, were only slightly darker than the red hair of her daughter Kate. “And he has your red hair, it seems.”

  Nell nodded as she leaned down and ran a hand through the unruly wisps of soft hair. “Aye, he’ll be an easy one to spot.”

  “A fine, handsome boy!”

  “More likely a little devil, I’m thinking! Like his brothers and sisters.”

  They both smiled. Jaime ran her fingers along the smooth wood of the cradle, containing her urge to reach in and touch the child. “The children must be very excited to have this wee one to look after.”

  “He is still too little and too loud for them to find any joy in.” Nell patted away at a bead of sweat on her brow. “But they are surely happy to have me back on my feet.”

  The new mother bent down and caught up the fussing child in her arms. As the woman settled heavily onto the bench Jaime could see—on closer inspection—the marked weariness of childbirth in her face.

  “You are trying to do too much, too soon,” Jaime whispered, her eyes fixed on the babe and his tightly closed fists—his beautiful, ruddy little face.

  Perceiving the young woman’s gaze, Nell leaned forward and held the baby out to her. “Would ye like to hold him?”

  Jaime beamed as she nervously reached out to take the child. “May I?”

  “He is my tenth, mistress. He is fortunate I don’t give him to
you for keeps.”

  Jaime’s eyes shot up in surprise. Tired as she was, Nell’s eyes were twinkling. The two women laughed.

  Jaime settled down beside Nell on the bench, her arms gathering the infant tightly into her chest. Suddenly, she became aware of a burning knot in her throat. Of a tear trying to work its way down her cheek. Of the yearning deep within her to hold and care for a bairn of her own. She placed a gentle kiss on the babe’s soft tendrils of hair and thought of Malcolm. Of how wonderful it would be to bear his child. Their child.

  “After little Kate, Evan and I thought we were done with such things.”

  Nell’s voice jerked Jaime out of her dreams. And she silently chided herself for having such idle and fanciful thoughts.

  “Aye,” she continued. “Two children ago, I thought myself too old to bear another.” The mother’s eyes grazed lovingly on the infant’s features. “But then, Evan...well, he just has a way of...talking me into this.”

  Jaime smiled as the other woman’s eyes flickered toward her face, before drifting down again to the baby’s pink cheeks. It was amazing how different she felt now about such talk. Indeed, she was conscious of something changing within her. There was a sense of vague understanding that she had never had before. Certainly, she knew all about children and how they were conceived, how they were born, but she was beginning to see that there were mysteries hidden beneath the words. Mysteries perhaps only a mother could understand.

  Even those days when she had thought of herself in love with Malcolm, she had lacked this knowledge of adult life, of adult passion. The desperate physical need that was so much a part of this thing called love. And motherhood seemed to offer something else, as well.

  “I hear Master Graves’s come back,” Nell said softly.

  “Aye,” Jaime answered. “He told me that he will be stopping in to check on you and the wee one about midday.”

  “Ahhh. He is a good man, for one with so much learning. But he fusses over us, I don’t know what for. I’ve done this now so many times that there is naught he can tell me about it, and the babe I’ve checked myself. I know Master Graves is a healer, but what do men know about birthing or babies, anyway?”

  “Hearing your husband, Evan, one might think they knew a great deal.”

  Nell slapped her hand on her thigh. “Has he been talking, my Evan?”

  “On the way here, I passed by the mews.” Jaime lifted the babe and settled him on her shoulder. “Seeing the crowd of folk gathered about, I thought for sure the gypsies must have slipped in during the night.”

  “But it wasn’t, was it?” Nell blushed. “It was my tomfool husband, carrying on about his new son.”

  “Aye. But that wasn’t all. Evan is quite the storyteller, it struck me, listening to him.”

  “I’m thinking I don’t like the sounds of this.”

  “To be sure, Nell. When he broke into the account of the birthing itself...”

  “He wouldn’t!” she gasped.

  “And such an artist. Drawing in the dirt to explain to the young ones...”

  “I’ll be killing him for sure, I’m thinking.”

  Jaime laughed. “Nay, Nell. It wasn’t your labor that was the topic, but his own pains and the waiting. Everyone on the manor had to know how he’d suffered, missing a good night’s sleep!”

  “The poor devil!” Nell scowled, her eyes flashing at the door.

  “I’m making more of it than it was,” Jaime said with a smile. “Evan was just so

  sweet—so excited about the babe. He’s very, very proud.”

  “You’ve a bit of the devil in you, yourself, Jaime Macpherson,” Nell said, breaking out into a wide grin. “But you’re right about Evan. He has always been that way about the children. With each and every one of them. He is a man that truly loves having babies about.”

  “That’s wonderful. Then you have plans for more.”

  “He might,” Nell snorted. “But not while I still have my wits about me. If he said anything about it, ‘tis pure wishing on his part, so far as I’m concerned. I’m not getting any younger, I’m thinking. In fact, now that you mention it, Evan’s probably behind Master Graves coming by. That tomfool man of mine probably wants to make sure I could bear more children, blast him!”

  “Look at you, Nell. You are still young enough for another half dozen, at least.”

  “Aye, a half dozen, at least, she says.” Nell let out a long breath. “Oh, I love them, mistress. But after ten of them, a woman has to be wondering about her sanity, I’m thinking.”

  “I’m certain you know best, Nell,” Jaime replied.

  Nell shifted uncomfortably, and Jaime looked at her over the baby’s head. She clearly had something more to say, but was struggling for a way to say it.

  “I am here, Nell,” Jaime whispered, her fingers gently stroking the baby’s soft hair.

  “‘Tis the birthing, mistress!”

  Suddenly, she felt ashamed at not seeing it herself. It was not her sanity that concerned Nell, but the ability to bring so many children into the world, and still live to see them grow. Jaime waited until the woman looked up into her face. When she did, she could see worry etched in Nell’s large, green eyes.

  “‘Tis not an easy thing to be saying, mistress. But...well, I am afraid at the thought of having any more.”

  “But, Nell,” Jaime replied, trying to ease her worries, “this delivery went so well.”

  “Aye. It went well enough. But there is a fear of dying that grows stronger with every babe I bear. Oh, the Lord has looked after me pretty well for ten times, I know. I’ve given Evan a healthy bunch of little tikes. But...but you hear stories more and more, I’m thinking. Women dying bringing their babes into the world. Not six months ago, little Annie, the wife of one of the stable hands died giving birth to her fifth. And then last month ‘twas Ellen, the gardener’s wife.” Nell’s eyes fixed with concern on her child’s little face. “This tiny creature needs me. My children, they are all so young. They—all of them—need me. And as much as he is a grown man and all, Evan needs me, as well. I have too much here to want to let go of it.”

  Jaime looked gently into the flushed face of the mother. “Don’t you think Evan would understand this?”

  Nell shook her head. “I’m thinking I could never tell him...not the way I just told you. He is a proud man, Mistress Jaime. Proud of himself. Proud of the brood we’ve produced. I’m thinking, as fond as he is of me...and I know he is, surely...I’m thinking he’d find it hard to see it my way.”

  Jaime held the baby close as she considered the problem.

  “But there is something, mistress.”

  “Aye, Nell?”

  “Well, I don’t truly feel comfortable asking, Mistress Jaime. It mightn’t be right, you dirtying your hands in it.”

  “What is it, Nell?” she asked encouragingly. “You know I’ll help, if I can.”

  “I’m thinking, mistress, suppose Master Graves were to hint to my man that with ten healthy children, ‘tis time for quitting.”

  “The healer! Would he do that?”

  “He knows you, mistress. If you were to ask him...”

  “I?” Jaime asked, surprised at the request.

  “Aye, mistress.” Nell nodded shyly.

  Jaime gave her friend a little smile. “I don’t know that he’d do it, Nell. What’s between you and Evan is between you and Evan.”

  “That’s what the village priest told me a few years back. But I’m thinking we both are needing some new advice. Evan will listen to Master Graves.”

  “But for me to ask?”

  “Aye, mistress. You are the only woman the healer will hear.”

  “If you think...”

  The falconer’s wife looked at her, hope and trust in her eyes. Jaime knew she could not refuse.

  “I could go to him and say something. He’s a trustworthy man—that I know.”

  Nell nodded—relief written on her features—and rubbed her callused han
ds against the rough wool of her skirts. “What you say is true, mistress.”

  Jaime stared as Nell lowered her head once again. “Is there something else, Nell?”

  She nodded. “Aye, there is one fear—he’s a man, and men folk are bound together thick as flies. And being that they’re both of Welsh blood makes it only worse, I’m thinking. If he don’t agree, would he go to Evan and take his side?”

  “It doesn’t have to be a matter of sides, Nell. You are doing this not for yourself. This is for both of you. For all of you.”

  “You are right, mistress. And with you talking, I am sure he’ll see it that way.”

  Jaime let out a nervous laugh. “You have great faith in me, Nell!”

  “I do, Mistress Jaime.” Nell’s face cleared, and her hands reached out, touching her skirt. “You are a good friend to me, mistress. A good friend, indeed.”

  Both women fell silent, each touched deeply by the rush of emotion that suddenly permeated the room.

  Nell broke the silence, clasping her hand over Jaime's. “I know I’m being bold, claiming you for a friend, Mistress Jaime. But I’m thinking the Lord is blessing us in a special way with you becoming Lord Edward’s wife. We’re all getting more than we deserve when it comes to you, mistress. For such a kind and gentle soul as you to accept His Grace’s son.”

  “Don’t!” Jaime blurted out. There was no point in going around and revealing her true feelings, even to Nell, but hearing the woman speak so openly of it sent a shiver down her spine. The best course, as Jaime saw it, was to deter such talk as being premature. “None of that has been settled, Nell. There is still so much that needs to be worked out between Edward and me...and between our families, for that matter.”

  With a slow nod of her head that betrayed her curiosity at the young woman’s words, Nell acquiesced to Jaime’s wishes. The infant quickly came to Jaime’s rescue, squirming in her arms and moving his mouth in a persistent attempt against her breast. Jaime smiled down at him.

  “Ahh, I’m afraid I cannot help you with that,” she whispered, reluctantly handing the child back to the waiting mother.