Page 19 of Highland Guard

“It is going to get worse, isnae it?”

“Oh, aye. The mon has only two ways to get his greedy hands on this land, doesnae he. He can be rid of you and Benet. Or, he can just take it all away from you, making verra certain that ye and Benet dinnae survive the taking to challenge him later.”

She paled and he put his arm around her slim shoulders, pulling her up close against his side. It was a harsh truth but she had to face it. Harcourt suspected she was aware of what the next step in this dance would be, certainly after Sir Adam’s attempt to kidnap her, but it was time to face the truth with her eyes wide open and her mind clear of doubt or false hopes. She needed to be fully prepared for the battle he knew was coming.

Annys forced herself to stop enjoying how he held her close and started thinking again. The man was skilled at muddling her wits. The moment he was near all she could think of was how badly she wanted to kiss him. She inwardly cursed, recognizing how cleverly she could lie to herself. In truth, when he was near, all she could think of was making love. She was failing miserably in shaking free of that weakness.

“I ken it,” she said, pulling away from him and ignoring how her whole body protested the loss of his warmth. “I do. I just wish it wasnae so. Worse than that, I think too often on how Sir Adam is actually right to claim that Benet isnae the true heir.”

“Oh nay, lass. Benet is indeed the true heir. David claimed that lad as his son and the lad was born within the bounds of your Church-blessed marriage to the mon. That is all the law and the Church require. Lass, trust me to ken this as truth when I tell ye, Benet will nay be the first heir who carried none of his mother’s husband’s blood.”

“That is rather sad.”

“At times. At other times ’tis for the best. I dinnae think many do as David did but others ken weel that the son they claim as heir, the lad they raise and train, isnae truly their get. There are many reasons for that, too. Nay begetting a son of his own is the most common of reasons. The moment David held Benet and claimed, ‘This is my son,’ Benet became the true heir to Glencullaich in the eyes of the law and the Church.”

“That fact doesnae stop the whispers Sir Adam has stirred up with his talk. Whispers and doubts my son may have to suffer from for the rest of his life.”

He sighed as she walked back into the keep. Harcourt knew she was right. And in this matter the truth would not free Benet from that. He inwardly shook his head at his own heedless actions of five years ago.

Then he thought of all David had said to convince him. To his shame it had not been that difficult for the man. Harcourt had wanted Annys from the first moment he had seen her, opening his eyes to find her leaning over him and bathing his feverish brow with a cool damp cloth. There was no disputing what David had said, Sir Adam’s actions now proving that the man’s fears for Glencullaich had been well justified. Yet, Harcourt could not help but think that it had not been his head doing his thinking for him at the time.

As he stepped into the great hall to see Benet sitting next to Annys, the boy’s short legs swinging back and forth as he told her about some snail he had seen in the garden, Harcourt sighed. He could torture himself with guilt, bemoan the way he had allowed lust to lead him, and even suffer the pangs of shame for walking away from her and the child he had bred, but one thing he would never change. Without all that had happened, all that was wrong, there had been one blessed outcome of the past: Benet.

“Och, the snail couldnae have been that large,” he teased as he walked up to the table to sit down facing them and noted with amusement that Benet was holding his hands at least a foot apart. “A snail that big could chomp on a wee lad like you.”

Benet sat up straight and puffed out his thin chest. “I would fight. I would beat him with my stick.” He frowned down at his feet. “I would stomp him with my shoe but then it would get all messy and I like my shoes.”

“Ah, aye, they are verra fine shoes. Of course, it isnae good to kill a poor creature that is just trying to find a meal for itself. But it needs to leave the garden before it eats all that we need for our meals.”

Benet leapt up and scrambled out of the seat. “I will get Tomas and Robbie to help me put it outside the walls.”

And then he was gone and Harcourt shook his head over the speed with which the boy moved. “Who are Tomas and Robbie?”

“Joan’s sons. They are older than Benet. Ten and twelve and they work in the stables most days. But they are verra good with him.”

“’Tis good for a wee lad to have some older ones willing to play with him. We dinnae oftimes see it, but they can teach a wee lad a lot he needs to ken. But, are there no younger children about the keep?”

“There are a few lassies his age but they dinnae play together much. They have all reached that silly age where they each believe the other sex is dim-witted or worse. Benet complained yestereve that all wee Jenny wants to do is kiss him and he hates it because it makes his face all wet.” She grinned when Harcourt laughed but then slowly grew serious again as she looked toward the door Benet had just run out of. “I didnae give it a thought but he just ran off alone.”

“Nay, he isnae and willnae be alone until this problem with Sir Adam is settled. Every place he can leave the keep is being watched and a mon will linger close by at all times.”

“Ah, a loose rein.”

“Too tight a one and he might try to slip free of it.”

“True.” She finished off the small cup of cider she had poured for herself and stood up. “The MacFingals willnae be in too much danger, will they?”

“I willnae lie and say they are in no danger at all, but they are verra, verra skilled at what I have asked them to do. As their father liked to say, MacFingals could steal the coins off a dead mon’s eyes and be gone before the mourners e’en realized they were there.”

“Oh. What a verra strange recommendation for a spy,” she murmured, then laughed and shook her head. “The MacFingals are a wee bit unusual, arenae they.”

“A wee bit.” He stood up and walked over to link his arm with hers. “Come. Walk with me and I will tell ye all about them.”

Annys knew she should say no and go do some work, but it was a fine day and she decided to allow herself just a little weakness. She nodded and he led her out of the keep. They strolled around the grounds, ending up in the garden, now empty of snail and boys. All the while she listened to him tell her tales of the MacFingals torn between shock, laughter, and pure disbelief.

“So many children,” she said and shook her head as he led her to the bower and urged her down to sit on the bench next to him. “Yet, he kept them all.”

“Aye, he did. And for all those many, many lads grumble about the mon, they love him. He kens each and every one’s name, when they were born, and who the mother was. Not one of them doubts that in his too often outrageous way, their father cares for them all.”