Read Online The Laird of Stonehaven by Connie Mason - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Connie Mason
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Unfortunately, things didna turn out the way he hoped.”
Blair shuddered. She felt as if someone had walked over her grave. “Joan was burned at the stake, accused of witchcraft by her own church. I canna imagine a worse death.”
“Nor can I,” Heath agreed. “Graeme came home a changed mon. Joan meant everything to him.”
Blair went still. “He loved her?”
Heath cleared his throat and looked away, as if realizing he had spoken too freely. “I dinna know, lass. Ye’ll have to ask my cousin about that.” Suddenly his expression turned hard, his gaze probing. “What I’m trying to tell ye is that Graeme needs no more witchcraft in his life. He wed ye to repay a debt to yer father, he is that honorable. But I will do all in my power to protect him against ye.”
Stunned by the vehemence of Heath’s warning, Blair said, “I wouldna harm Graeme even if I could. Excuse me, I must attend to my duties.”
Blair hurried off, only to bump into Alyce.
“Blair, what ails ye, lass? Ye look pale.”
“Naught is wrong, Alyce.”
“Dinna lie, lass. I know ye better than anyone. Did Laird Graeme upset ye?”
“Did you know that Graeme fought in France? He was one of Joan the Maid’s guards. She was accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake, if you recall. ’Tis no wonder Graeme holds witchcraft in such contempt.”
“Worry not, lass. Ye are a Faery Woman, not a witch.”
“They are one and the same to Graeme.”
“But we know better, dinna we?”
Little comfort that was, Blair reflected. “Are you headed to the kitchen? I am going to confer with Maeve about the menu.”
“Go along with ye, then, I am off to the stillroom to mix up a batch of burn salve to add to our dwindling supply.”
After Blair conferred with Maeve, she joined Alyce in the stillroom. She found the older woman grinding herbs with a pestle. The scent of yarrow root and mallow permeated the air, reminding Blair of home and her father. She’d not had time to mourn him, and she ached from her loss. Perhaps later she would go to the chapel and pray for his immortal soul. There did not seem to be a resident priest at Stonehaven, but she needed no one to assist her in her prayers.
Blair and Alyce worked together in companionable silence until the supper hour approached.
Alyce placed her hands behind her back and stretched. “The hour grows late. Ye’d best change yer soiled gown before ye join yer husband in the hall.”
“You’re tired, too, Alyce. Return to the keep. I will follow in a few minutes. I want to put these jars in the cupboard before I leave.”
Alyce nodded and left. Blair finished her work and was preparing to leave when a loud knock sounded on the door. Surprised, Blair hurried to answer the call, guessing that someone was in need of her healing powers.
A lass of about twelve years, with tears streaming down her cheeks, fell to her knees before Blair and grasped her hand. “Please, my lady, I heard ye were a healer. Can ye help my mother?”
Blair raised the child to her feet. “What’s wrong with your mother, lassie? I have to know what ails her before I can help her.”
“She is in childbed, but the bairn willna come. She’s in terrible pain. I dinna know where else to turn.”
Blair closed her eyes. The vision that formed behind her eyes showed a tiny girl child struggling for life inside her mother’s womb.
“Where is your father?”
“Papa went to Inverness. He said he’d return before the bairn arrived, but something must have delayed him. Will ye come, lady?”
“Of course,” Blair said without hesitation. “Where do you live?”
“In the village.”
“Give me a moment to gather what I need.”
Moving swiftly, Blair placed several pouches of dried herbs, various jars and bottles and clean linen cloths into a basket. Briefly she considered telling Graeme where she was going but decided against it. Her first duty was to the suffering woman. Explanations could wait.
The girl,
Blair shuddered. She felt as if someone had walked over her grave. “Joan was burned at the stake, accused of witchcraft by her own church. I canna imagine a worse death.”
“Nor can I,” Heath agreed. “Graeme came home a changed mon. Joan meant everything to him.”
Blair went still. “He loved her?”
Heath cleared his throat and looked away, as if realizing he had spoken too freely. “I dinna know, lass. Ye’ll have to ask my cousin about that.” Suddenly his expression turned hard, his gaze probing. “What I’m trying to tell ye is that Graeme needs no more witchcraft in his life. He wed ye to repay a debt to yer father, he is that honorable. But I will do all in my power to protect him against ye.”
Stunned by the vehemence of Heath’s warning, Blair said, “I wouldna harm Graeme even if I could. Excuse me, I must attend to my duties.”
Blair hurried off, only to bump into Alyce.
“Blair, what ails ye, lass? Ye look pale.”
“Naught is wrong, Alyce.”
“Dinna lie, lass. I know ye better than anyone. Did Laird Graeme upset ye?”
“Did you know that Graeme fought in France? He was one of Joan the Maid’s guards. She was accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake, if you recall. ’Tis no wonder Graeme holds witchcraft in such contempt.”
“Worry not, lass. Ye are a Faery Woman, not a witch.”
“They are one and the same to Graeme.”
“But we know better, dinna we?”
Little comfort that was, Blair reflected. “Are you headed to the kitchen? I am going to confer with Maeve about the menu.”
“Go along with ye, then, I am off to the stillroom to mix up a batch of burn salve to add to our dwindling supply.”
After Blair conferred with Maeve, she joined Alyce in the stillroom. She found the older woman grinding herbs with a pestle. The scent of yarrow root and mallow permeated the air, reminding Blair of home and her father. She’d not had time to mourn him, and she ached from her loss. Perhaps later she would go to the chapel and pray for his immortal soul. There did not seem to be a resident priest at Stonehaven, but she needed no one to assist her in her prayers.
Blair and Alyce worked together in companionable silence until the supper hour approached.
Alyce placed her hands behind her back and stretched. “The hour grows late. Ye’d best change yer soiled gown before ye join yer husband in the hall.”
“You’re tired, too, Alyce. Return to the keep. I will follow in a few minutes. I want to put these jars in the cupboard before I leave.”
Alyce nodded and left. Blair finished her work and was preparing to leave when a loud knock sounded on the door. Surprised, Blair hurried to answer the call, guessing that someone was in need of her healing powers.
A lass of about twelve years, with tears streaming down her cheeks, fell to her knees before Blair and grasped her hand. “Please, my lady, I heard ye were a healer. Can ye help my mother?”
Blair raised the child to her feet. “What’s wrong with your mother, lassie? I have to know what ails her before I can help her.”
“She is in childbed, but the bairn willna come. She’s in terrible pain. I dinna know where else to turn.”
Blair closed her eyes. The vision that formed behind her eyes showed a tiny girl child struggling for life inside her mother’s womb.
“Where is your father?”
“Papa went to Inverness. He said he’d return before the bairn arrived, but something must have delayed him. Will ye come, lady?”
“Of course,” Blair said without hesitation. “Where do you live?”
“In the village.”
“Give me a moment to gather what I need.”
Moving swiftly, Blair placed several pouches of dried herbs, various jars and bottles and clean linen cloths into a basket. Briefly she considered telling Graeme where she was going but decided against it. Her first duty was to the suffering woman. Explanations could wait.
The girl,
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