Saving Grace

Chapter 13

Johanna didn't see her husband until dinner. The men were already seated at the two tables when she walked down the steps into the great hall. No one stood up. Gabriel wasn't there yet. Both Father MacKechnie and Keith were also absent. The servants were busy putting oblong platters of meat on the table. The aroma of the mutton filled the air. A wave of nausea caught Johanna by surprise. She thought the soldiers' behavior was the reason she was suddenly feeling ill. They were grabbing handfuls of food before the trenchers were even placed in front of them. They weren't waiting for their laird to join them or for the priest to give the blessing before dinner.

Enough was enough. Mama would have heart failure if she witnessed such shameful behavior at her dinner table. Johanna wasn't about to be shamed in front of her dear mother. She'd die first. Or kill a couple of the Maclaurins, she thought to herself. They were the worse offenders, though the MacBain soldiers were certainly trying to keep up.

Megan noticed her mistress standing by the entrance. She called out to her, realized Johanna couldn't hear her over the noise the men were making, and walked across the hall to speak to her.

"Aren't you going to have your supper?" she asked.

"Yes, of course."

"M'lady, you don't look well. Are you feeling all right? You're as pale as flour, you are."

"I'm fine," Johanna lied. She took a deep breath in an attempt to get her queasy stomach under control. "Please fetch me a large bowl. Bring one that's cracked."

"Whatever for, m'lady?"

"I might have to break it."

Megan thought she'd misunderstood her mistress. She asked her to repeat her explanation. Johanna shook her head. "You'll understand soon enough," she promised.

Megan ran to the buttery, grabbed a heavy porcelain bowl from the shelf, and hurried back to her mistress.

"This one's chipped," she announced. "Will it do?"

Johanna nodded. "Stand back, Megan. Sparks are about to fly."

"They are?"

Johanna called out to the soldiers first. She knew they wouldn't hear her over all the racket, but she thought she should at least attempt ladylike conduct at first. She tried clapping her hands together next. Finally she whistled. Not one of the soldiers looked up.

She gave up trying to be diplomatic. She lifted the bowl and hurled it across the room. Megan let out a loud gasp. The bowl crashed into the stone hearth and splintered to the floor.

The effect was just as she'd hoped. Every man in the hall turned to look at her. They were silent, looking incredulous, and she couldn't have been more pleased.

"Now that I have your attention, I have several instructions to give you."

Several mouths dropped open. Calum started to stand up. She told him to stay where he was.

"You meant to throw the bowl?" Lindsay asked her that question.

"Yes," she answered. "Please listen to me," she explained. "This is my house and I would therefore appreciate it if you would follow my rules. First, and most important, none of you will eat until your laird has been seated and served. Do I make myself clear?"

Most of the soldiers nodded. A few of the Maclaurins looked irritated. She ignored their frowns. Calum, she noticed, was smiling. She ignored him, too.

"But what if our laird doesn't come in for supper?" Niall asked.

"Then you'll wait until your mistress has been seated and served before you eat," she answered.

There was a considerable amount of grumbling over her dictate. Johanna held onto her patience.

The men turned back to their trenchers.

"I'm not finished giving you my instructions," Johanna called out.

Her voice was drowned out by the clatter again. "Megan, fetch me another bowl."

"But m'lady…"

"Please."

"As you wish."

Less than a minute passed before Megan handed her mistress a second bowl. Johanna immediately hurled it at the hearth. The loud crash turned everyone's attention again. Several of the Maclaurin soldiers were giving her surly looks now. She decided a threat or two would be appropriate retaliation.

"I won't throw the next bowl at the hearth," she announced. "I'll throw it at one of your heads if you don't pay attention to me."

"We're wanting to eat, m'lady," another soldier shouted.

"I'm wanting your attention first," she replied. "Listen carefully. When a lady enters the room, the men stand."

"You interrupted our supper to tell us that?" Lindsay shouted. He added a nervous laugh and nudged his neighbor's side with his elbow.

She put her hands on her hips and repeated her dictate. Then she waited. She was pleased to see every soldier finally stand up.

She smiled, satisfied. "You may sit down."

"You just told us to stand up," another Maclaurin muttered.

Lord, they were dense. She tried to hide her exasperation. "You stand when a lady enters, and you sit when she gives you permission."

"What do we do when she comes in and then goes right back out again?"

"You stand, then sit."

"Seems a nuisance to me," another Maclaurin remarked.

"I'm going to teach you manners even if it kills you," she announced.

Calum started laughing, but her glare stopped him.

"Why?" Niall asked. "What do we need manners for?"

"To please me," she snapped. "There won't be any more belching at my tables," she said.

"We can't belch?" Calum asked, looking astonished.

"No, you can't!" she said in a near shout. "You can't make any other rude noises either."

"But it's a compliment, m'lady," Niall explained. "If the food and drink are good, a belch is due praise."

"If you enjoy your food, you'll simply tell your host it was a fine meal," she instructed. "And while we're on the topic of food, I'll tell you I find it gravely offensive when I see one of you ripping food from your neighbor's trencher. That's going to stop right now."

"But m'lady-" Lindsay began.

She cut him off. "You aren't going to slam your goblets together when you give a toast," she announced. "The ale spills everywhere."

"We do it on purpose," Calum explained.

Her eyes widened over that admission. Niall hurried to tell her why. "When we toast, we make certain some of our ale spills into the other goblets. That way, if there's poison in one, everyone will die. Don't you see, m'lady? We do it to ensure no one will try trickery."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Were the Maclaurins and the MacBains that suspicious of each other?

The Maclaurins dared to turn their backs on her again. Johanna was infuriated by their rudeness. They were being deliberately loud now in their bid to drown out her voice.

"Megan?"

"I'm fetching it, m'lady."

Johanna lifted the pitcher in the air, turned toward the Maclaurin table, and was just about to throw the thing when it was snatched out of her hand. She turned around and found Gabriel standing right behind her. Keith and Father MacKechnie flanked his sides.

She didn't have any idea how long they'd been standing there, but the stunned look on Father MacKechnie's face indicated it had been long enough.

She could feel herself blushing. No wife wished to be caught screaming like a shrew or throwing things to get attention. Johanna wasn't about to let her embarrassment deter her, however. She'd started this and by God she was going to finish it.

"What in God's name are you doing, wife?"

His deep tone of voice, added to his frown, made her wince. She took a deep breath, then said, "Do stay out of this. I'm in the middle of giving my instructions to the men."

"No one seems to be paying you any attention, m'lady," Keith pointed out.

"Did you just tell me you want me to stay out…" Gabriel was too flabbergasted to continue.

She caught the gist of what he wanted to say. "Yes, I do want you to stay out of this," she agreed before turning her attention to Keith. "They will pay attention or suffer my displeasure," she promised.

"What happens when you're displeased?" the Maclaurin soldier asked.

She couldn't think of a suitable answer. Then she remembered what Gabriel had said he'd do when he was displeased.

"I'll probably kill someone," she boasted.

She was certain she'd impressed the Maclaurin soldier with that announcement. She added a nod so he wouldn't know she was bluffing and waited for his reaction.

It wasn't what she expected. "You're wearing the wrong plaid, m'lady. Today's Saturday."

She suddenly wanted to strangle Keith. A loud belch sounded behind her. She reacted as though she'd just been stabbed in the back. She let out a loud gasp, snatched the pitcher out of her husband's hand, and turned to the men.

Gabriel caught her before she could do any damage. He tossed the pitcher to Keith, then turned her around to face him.

"I asked you not to interfere," she whispered.

"Johanna…"

"Is this my home or isn't it?"

"It is."

"Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" he asked, wary now. She was up to something all right. The glint in her eyes told him so.

"You just agreed to help me," she explained.

"No, I didn't."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because this is my home, isn't it?"

"Are we back to that?"

"Gabriel, I would like a free hand in the running of my household. Please?" she whispered.

He let out a sigh. Damn but it was impossible for him to deny her anything. He wasn't even certain what he was agreeing to, but he still nodded.

"How many more bowls and pitchers will you throw?"

"As many as it takes," she replied.

She turned around and hurried over to stand at the head of the Maclaurin table.

"Keith, if you'll take one end, and Father, if you would be so good as to lift the other end, I'll run ahead and hold the doors open. Gentlemen," she added, her gaze directed on the soldiers seated at the table now, "please help by carrying your stools. This shouldn't take us any time at all."

"What are you thinking to do?" Keith asked.

"Moving the table outside, of course."

"Why?"

"I want to make the Maclaurins happy," she explained. "They're part of my clan now and I believe they should be content."

"But we don't want to move outside," Lindsay blurted out. "Why would you think we would? I only just got the honor of eating with my laird. I want to stay here."

"No, you don't," Johanna countered. She smiled just to confuse the warrior.

"I don't?"

"You'll all be much more content outside because you won't have to follow any of the rules of my household then. 'Tis the truth you all eat like animals. You might as well eat with them. Dumfries will be happy for the company."

All of the Maclaurins looked at Keith. He looked at his laird, received his nod, and then cleared his throat. It was up to him to set his mistress straight.

"I don't believe you understand the situation here, m'lady. This keep has belonged to the Maclaurin clan for as long as anyone can remember."

"It belongs to me now."

"But, m'lady…" Keith began.

"What does she mean when she says our land belongs to her?" Niall asked.

Johanna folded her hands together. Gabriel walked over to stand next to her.

"I'll be happy to explain, but only once, so please try to follow along," she said. "Your king bartered this land away. Is everyone here in agreement with that fact?"

She waited until the soldiers nodded. "King John gave the holding to me. Does everyone agree with that fact?"

"Yes, of course," Keith agreed. "But you see…"

She wouldn't let him finish. "Pray forgive me for interrupting you, but I'm anxious to finish this explanation."

She turned her attention back to the soldiers. "Now then-and do pay attention, please, for I hate repeating myself-when I married your laird, the land became his. Do you see how simple it is?"

Her gaze settled on Lindsay. He nodded to make her happy. She smiled. The room suddenly started to spin. She blinked, trying to bring everyone back into focus. She grabbed hold of the edge of the table to balance herself. A wave, of nausea washed over her, then just as rapidly disappeared. It was the meat, she thought to herself. The awful smell was making her sick.

"You were saying, lass?" Father MacKechnie prodded, beaming with satisfaction over the gumption his mistress was showing in front of the men.

"What's got her so riled, I wonder?"

Johanna didn't know who asked that question. It came from the MacBain table. She turned her gaze to those men and answered.

"Megan said something the other day that took me by surprise," she said. "I've mulled it over in my mind, and I still don't understand why she would make such a comment."

"What did I say?" Megan asked. She hurried over to stand on the opposite side of the Maclaurin table so she could face her mistress.

"You told me Cook would be happy to do anything I asked because she was a MacBain and knew better than to complain. I wondered what you meant, of course, but now I think I understand. You actually believe Hilda should be thankful she's allowed to live here. Isn't that right?"

Megan nodded. " 'Tis the truth she should be thankful."

The Maclaurin soldiers all nodded in unison.

Johanna shook her head at them. "I believe you've all got it backward," she said. "The Maclaurins don't have any claim to this keep or this land, and that, gentlemen, is also fact. My husband happens to be a MacBain. Have you forgotten that?"

"His father was laird over the Maclaurins," Keith interjected.

"He's still a MacBain," she pointed out again. "He's been very accommodating. He's more patient than I am," she added with a nod. "Regardless, I believe the MacBains have graciously allowed all of you Maclaurins to stay on. I really hate to bring this prickly topic up now, but I've received important news, you see, and I really must get my household in order. It would sadden me to see you leave, but if the rules are too difficult for you to follow, and if you can't get along with the MacBains, then I don't believe there's much choice."

"But the MacBains are the outsiders," Lindsay stammered out.

"Aye, they are," Keith agreed.

"They were," Johanna said. "They aren't now. Do you see?"

No one did see. Johanna wondered if they were just being incredibly stubborn or just plain ignorant. She decided to try to make them understand one last time.

Gabriel wouldn't let her. He pulled her back and took a step forward.

"I'm laird here," he reminded the soldiers. "I decide who stays and who goes."

Keith immediately nodded agreement. "Are we allowed to speak freely?"

"You are," Gabriel replied.

"Every one of us has pledged our loyalty to you," he began. "But we aren't particularly loyal to your followers. We're weary of war and want to rebuild before we go into battle again. Yet one of the MacBains has instigated war with the MacInnes clan and now refuses to come forward and admit his transgression. Such behavior is cowardly."

Calum jumped to his feet. "You dare call us cowards?"

Dear God, what had she started? Johanna was feeling sick again. She was certainly sorry she'd said anything. Two of the Maclaurins stood up. A fight was brewing all right, and it was all her doing. Gabriel didn't seem inclined to put a stop to it either. He looked completely unaffected by the threatening atmosphere, almost bored in fact.

A confrontation was finally taking place, and Gabriel was damned happy about it. He would let each warrior vent his anger, then explain what was going to happen. Those who didn't wish to go along with his decisions could leave.

Unfortunately Johanna looked upset over what was happening. Her face was stark white now, and she was gripping her hands together. Gabriel decided to take the argument outside. He was just about to give that command when his wife stepped forward.

"Calum, Keith didn't call you a coward," she cried out. She turned her gaze to the Maclaurin soldier then. "You don't understand, sir, for you had already left on your errand to speak to Clare MacKay's father," she rushed out. "You see, my husband asked each one of his followers if he had… involved himself with Clare, and each man denied any knowledge of the woman."

"But did each man tell the truth?" Keith challenged.

"I'll ask you a question in answer," she countered. "If Laird MacInnes blamed a Maclaurin and every one of you gave your laird your denial, would you expect him to believe you?"

Keith was clever enough to know where she was going with the question. He reluctantly nodded.

"My husband and I both have complete faith in his followers. If the men say they didn't touch Clare MacKay, then they didn't. I don't understand you, sir. How can you take the word of a mean-hearted MacInnes over one of your own?"

No one had a quick answer to that question. Johanna shook her head again. She was feeling terribly ill now. Her face felt as though it was on fire, yet her arms were covered with goosebumps. She wanted to lean against her husband, but held back, for she didn't want him to know she wasn't feeling well. She didn't want to upset him. She also didn't want to spend the next year in bed; and knowing Gabriel's obsession with rest, she was certain that's what would happen.

Johanna decided to go up to her chamber and wash her face. Surely cold water would help revive her.

"I would appreciate it if everyone of you would consider what I've just explained," she requested. "I can't have bickering in my home. If you'll excuse me now. I'll go up to my chamber."

She turned to leave. Then she stopped and turned around again. "When a lady leaves the room, the men stand."

"Here we go again," a Maclaurin whispered loud enough for her to hear.

"Well?" she demanded.

The men stood. She smiled, satisfied. Then she turned to leave. The room suddenly started spinning. She didn't have anything to hold onto until everything settled back where it was supposed to be.

"You did call me a coward, Keith," Calum muttered.

"If you want to believe I did, then do so, Calum," Keith replied.

"What was the important news m'lady said she just received?"

"Gabriel?" Johanna's voice was weak, but he still heard her.

He turned around. "Yes?"

"Catch me."