The Secret

Chapter 12

She slept throughout the night. When she awoke, Iain had already left the chamber. Judith remembered that she needed to hurry to begin her day. She spotted her satchels neatly stacked in the corner and assumed Iain had carried them up from Frances Catherine's cottage.

After putting her things away in the smaller chest and straightening the chamber, she went downstairs.

Gelfrid was sitting with Duncan at the table, eating the morning meal. Both elders started to stand when she entered the room, but she waved them back into their chairs.

"Aren't you going to join us, lass?" Gelfrid asked.

"I'll just take this apple with me, thank you. I have an important errand to complete."

"You look just fine wearing our plaid," Duncan muttered. He frowned while he gave his compliment, acting as though it was a painful chore to praise her.

She didn't laugh. She did smile, though. Duncan, she decided, was very like Gelfrid. He was all bluster on the outside, but full of tender feelings inside.

"Her face still looks frightful," Gelfrid remarked. "She could have had her eye torn clean out, Duncan," he added with a nod.

"Aye, she could have," Duncan agreed.

Judith hid her exasperation. "Gelfrid, was there anything you wished me to do before I leave?"

He shook his head.

"Have you seen Graham this morning?" she asked. "He might want something done, and I would like to get my duties organized in my mind before I start my day."

"Graham went hunting with Patrick and a few of the others," Gelfrid explained. "He should be back in time for the nooning meal. They left right at dawn."

"Did Iain go with them?"

Duncan answered her question. "He and his men went in the opposite direction to have a word or two with the Macphersons. They border us on the west."

She caught the hesitation in his voice. "I'm not believing this 'have a word or two,' Duncan. Are we feuding with the Macphersons, too?"

The elder nodded. "No need to get yourself worried. It's only a halfhearted feud. The Macpherson laird is so inept, it isn't worth the trouble fighting with them. There won't be any bloodshed."

"You're certain of this, Duncan?"

"I am," he answered. "There won't be a battle."

"Aye, it's more nuisance than amusement for Iain," Gelfrid explained.

"Your husband won't be home until nightfall," Duncan added.

"Thank you for telling me," Judith replied. She made a curtsy, then turned and hurried out of the hall.

Judith was halfway down the hill before she realized she didn't know where Helen lived. She wasn't about to ask Frances Catherine for directions. Her friend would demand an immediate explanation as to why she would want to speak to the midwife. Judith was determined to talk to Helen first before broaching the topic with her friend.

She turned toward Isabelle's cottage. Remembering Agnes's boast during the horrid inquisition that both she and Helen lived close enough to have heard screams during the birthing, Judith was certain Isabella would be able to point the way for her.

Spotting Father Laggan coming up the slope, she waved to the priest and hurried to meet him.

"Did you put Merlin in the ground?" she asked.

He smiled. "I did." he answered. "Now I'm back to give Isabelle's son a proper blessing."

"Are you always in such a rush, Father?"

"'Tis the truth I usually am," he answered. He took Judith's hand in both of his and said, "You've got a happy wedded look about you. Iain's treating you well, isn't he?"

"Yes, Father," she replied. "Will you share our supper with us tonight?"

"I would be pleased to," he returned. "And have you the time to stop in to say hello to Isabelle with me now?"

"Of course," she answered. "But first I would like to have a talk with one of the midwives," she explained. "Do you happen to know where Helen lives?"

The priest nodded. He was kind enough to escort Judith there. He knocked on the door for her. Helen was given quite a startle to find both the priest and the laird's wife waiting on her stoop. Her hand flew to her bosom.

Judith saw how worried she looked and immediately tried to put her at ease.

"Good day, Helen," she began. "Father Laggan was kind enough to show me the way to your home. He was on his way to bless Isabelle's son," she added. "And I wanted to talk to you about a personal matter… if you have the time. I could come back later if you wish."

Helen backed away from the entrance and graciously invited her guests inside.

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air. Father Laggan beckoned Judith inside first and then followed her.

The little cottage was spotless. The wooden floors had been scrubbed so clean; the slats seemed to have a shine to them.

Judith sat at the table, but the priest went over to the hearth and leaned over the iron kettle hanging on the rod above the fire;

"What have we here?" he asked.

"Mutton stew," Helen replied, her voice a whisper. She held her apron in both hands in a grip that made her knuckles white.

"Is it about ready to taste, Helen?" Father Laggan asked.

His hint wasn't subtle. Feeding the priest put Helen at ease. She ushered him over to the table and then gave him a huge helping of the mutton. Judith was surprised by the priest's appetite. He was as thin as a rail, yet ate enough for two fully grown men.

Helen lost most of her worried expression while she served the priest. It was obvious to Judith she was enjoying the compliments the priest was giving her. Judith added a few of her own after she'd eaten two thick slices of black bread covered in rich jam.

Helen wouldn't sit down, however. Father Laggan finished his meal, thanked the midwife for her hospitality, and then left to go to Isabelle's cottage. Judith stayed behind. She waited until the door closed behind the priest, and then asked Helen to sit with her at the table.

"I would thank you again-" Helen began.

Judith cut her off. "I didn't come here to gain your apologies. That problem was taken care of and Andrew has learned his lesson."

"Since his father passed away, the boy has been… clinging. He thinks he must stay by my side all the time to protect me."

"Perhaps he's worried inside that you might also die and he'd be left alone," Judith suggested.

Helen nodded. "There's only the two of us now. It's difficult for him."

"Are their uncles or cousins who-"

She stopped her question when Helen shook her head. "We are quite alone, Lady Judith."

"No, you're not," Judith argued. "You're part of this clan. Your son will grow up to be a Maitland warrior. If there aren't any uncles or cousins to direct Andrew, then the matter should have been mentioned to Iain. Helen, you know how important it is for a child to believe he's important." She paused to smile at the midwife before adding, "It's important for women too, isn't it?"

"Aye, it is," Helen agreed. "It's been difficult, living here. I come from the MacDougall family. I've eight sisters and two brothers," she added with a nod. "Needless to say, there was always someone to talk to, and always time for a friendly visit. It's different here. The women work from dawn to dusk. Sundays are just the same. And yet, I find I envy them. They have husbands to look after."

With Judith's prodding, Helen continued to talk about her life for over an hour. She'd married late in life and was so thankful her late husband, Harold, had saved her from becoming a spinster, she spent every waking minute trying to make his home as perfect as she could.

She admitted that, after he died, she actually enjoyed not having to scrub the floors every single day, but boredom soon caught up with her. She laughed and confessed that she was now scrubbing and cleaning just as often as she did before her husband died.

Judith was surprised when Helen admitted she missed preparing special meals for her husband. She loved to create new dishes and swore she knew at least a hundred ways to prepare mutton.

"Do you like being a midwife?" Judith asked.

"No."

Her answer was quick, emphatic. "I had already assisted with at least twenty birthings before I came here," she explained. "And I thought, after Harold died, that my expertise could be a way to… fit in. I won't be helping any more. After the confrontation over Isabelle, I decided I would rather find some other way to…"

She didn't finish. "Helen, do you believe that a woman must suffer horribly in order to please her God?"

"The Church-"

"I'm asking you what you believe," Judith interrupted.

"All birthings have some pain," Helen replied. "But I cannot believe that God would blame every woman for Eve's sins."

She looked worried after making that whispered admission. Judith hurried to ease her fear. "I'm not going to tell Father Laggan. I also believe God is more merciful than the Church would have us believe. I try not to question the wisdom of our leaders, Helen, but sometimes I cannot help but shake my head over some of the confusing rules."

"You speak the truth," Helen agreed. "We cannot do anything about these dicates, or find ourselves excommunicated," she added.

"I've strayed from my topic," Judith said then. "I would like to talk to you about my friend, Frances Catherine, and ask your help."

"What is it you want me to do?"

Judith explained. "I know you've just told me you have decided against assisting in any more birthings, Helen, but I don't have anyone else to turn to and I'm very worried about my friend. If it becomes complicated, I won't know what to do."

Helen couldn't turn her request down, not after the delicate way she had taken care of Andrew.

"Frances Catherine is afraid of you," Judith explained. "We will have to convince her you don't believe in being cruel. We'll have to keep this quiet too. I don't want Agnes to interfere."

"She will try," Helen announced. "She'll have to," she added with a nod. "It won't do you any good to talk to her. Agnes is set in her ways. She's furious with you too, for snatching her daughter's husband."

Judith shook her head. "Iain wasn't married to Cecilia," she remarked. "And Frances Catherine told me he. didn't have any intention of offering for her."

Helen shrugged. "Agnes is spreading rumors," she whispered. "She's saying he had to marry you to protect your honor."

Judith's eyes widened. "Do you mean she's saying that Iain and I… that I…"

She couldn't go on. Helen nodded. "She's saying it, all right. She's hinting you're with child. God help her if our laird gets wind of her vile gossip."

"I hope he doesn't hear," Judith replied. "It would upset him."

Helen agreed. Judith tried to leave then, but Helen mentioned she was the very first company she'd had in over three months. Judith immediately sat back down again.

They visited for another hour before Judith stood up to leave.

"I've enjoyed our talk, Helen," she said. "I'll speak to Frances Catherine this evening, and I would appreciate it if you would go and see her tomorrow. Together, I'm certain we can rid her of her worries."

Judith was almost out the doorway but suddenly stopped. She turned back to Helen. "Did you know the women all take turns preparing the meals for Iain and the two elders living at the keep?"

"Yes," Helen answered. "It's just the way it's always been done. I volunteered to help, but Harold took ill right then, and there wasn't time."

"Is it a chore for the women?"

"Oh my, yes," she replied. "Especially in the winter months. There's seven women, one for each day of the week, you see, and with their own families to look after, it's most difficult."

"But you love to cook," Judith reminded her.

"Yes."

"Where do you get the food you prepare?"

"The soldiers keep me supplied," she explained. "And some of the women give me their leftovers."

Judith frowned. What Helen had just explained sounded like charity to her. "I don't know how to cook," Judith remarked.

"You're the laird's wife. You don't need to know how."

"Andrew needs direction from a man as well as a woman, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does," Helen agreed, wondering why Judith was jumping from one topic to another.

"And you love to cook. Yes, that's the answer. It's all settled then, Helen, unless, of course, you don't want to," Judith rushed out. "It's not a favor I'm asking or an order I'm giving, and I would think about this long and hard before making up your mind. If you decide against my suggestion, I'll understand."

"What suggestion, milady?"

"To become the housekeeper," Judith explained. "You could direct the serving girls and cook the meals. You'll have all the help you wanted, of course, but you would be in charge. I think it's a sound plan. You and Andrew would have all your meals at the keep, and he'd be with Gelfrid and Graham quite a lot, and Iain, too, of course, though probably not as often. The elders are in need of someone to pamper them, and it seems to me you're in need of pampering someone besides Andrew."

"You would do this for me?"

"You don't understand," Judith countered. "We need you far more than you needs us. Still, I believe you can make your place at the keep. It would probably be easier if you live there. I wouldn't rush you on that decision. We would let Andrew get used to the arrangement of having his mama at the keep all day, and then broach the topic of moving. There's a large room behind the buttery with a nice window."

Judith realized she was getting ahead of herself and immediately paused. "Will you think about this suggestion?"

"I will be honored to take on this duty," Helen blurted out.

It was nicely settled. Judith left the cottage in high spirits. She felt as though she had just made an important change, a positive one that would benefit Helen and her son as much as it would her household.

At supper that evening she explained the request she'd made. She expected a little grumbling from Gelfrid, for she'd already decided that of all the elders, he most hated change of any kind, but he didn't give her any argument at all.

Iain walked into the hall in the middle of the discussion. He took his place at the head of the table, nodded to Graham and Gelfrid, then reached over and hauled Judith close for a quick, no nonsense kiss.

Graham filled the laird in on Judith's decision. Iain didn't say anything when the elder finished. He simply nodded.

"What do you think about the idea?" she asked.

He reached for the goblet Judith had placed in front of him and took a long drink of the cool water. "It's fine with me," he remarked.

"I'm thinking it will be a nice change," Graham announced. "We won't have to put up with Millie's supper any longer. Lord, how I've grown to hate Wednesdays."

"Is Helen a fair cook?" Gelfrid asked.

"She's exceptional," Judith replied. She turned to Graham. "As for changes, there is another I would like to make, but I'll need your cooperation… Iain's, too."

Graham frowned. "Is this a matter for the council?"

"No," she replied. She turned back to her husband. "I'm certain you'll think this is a minor change and not worthy of the council's attention."

"What is this change you're hinting at?" Gelfrid asked.

She took a breath. "I want Sundays."

Patrick walked into the great hall just as Judith blurted out her request. "You might as well give it to her, Iain," he called out.

"What does the lass mean, she wants Sundays?" Gelfrid asked Graham.

"I don't believe we heard her correctly," Graham replied. "She couldn't have said-"

Gelfrid interrupted Graham. "If the lass would learn to roll her words together, the way we do, she'd be better understood."

Duncan came strutting into the hall then, followed by Vincent and Owen. Judith leaned closer to Iain. "Is there going to be a meeting tonight?"

He nodded. "We won't start until after you've explained this bizarre request for Sundays, though," he said.

She shook her head. He raised an eyebrow. She leaned closer, until she was perched on the edge of her chair. "I don't wish to discuss this matter in front of the entire council," she told him in a low whisper.

"Why not?" he asked. He reached over and brushed a strand of her hair back over her shoulder.

She put her hand on top of his. "Because it's a private matter you must agree to support first," she explained.

"Graham and Gelfrid were here when you-"

She cut him off. "They're part of our family now, Iain. This private matter must certainly be discussed with them."

"Did you hear that, Graham?" Gelfrid bellowed. "She's calling us family."

Judith turned and gave the elder a disgruntled look for deliberately listening in on her whispered conversation. He grinned in reaction.

She turned back to Iain. "I will be happy to explain up in our chamber if you could spare a few minutes."

Iain wanted to laugh. He didn't dare, of course, for his wife would have her tender feelings injured if he showed any amusement now. She was looking very worried, out of sorts. Yet there was a faint blush covering her cheeks. Was the matter she wished to discuss an embarrassment of some kind? He let out a sigh. He did know that if he took her upstairs to discuss this problem, there wouldn't be time for talk. He'd take her to bed instead, and while he would find great satisfaction in touching his wife, he would also miss the meeting. Since he'd called the council together to once again discuss the possibility of an alliance, he couldn't leave them.

The elders were filling in the spaces at the table. A young warrior Judith hadn't met before carried a jug of wine over and filled each elder's goblet. Iain waved the squire's hand away when he reached for his goblet. Judith hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. She let it out when her husband declined the drink.

Owen noticed Iain's refusal. "What's this? You've got to toast your own marriage, son," he announced. "This is our first meeting with you, a married man, advising us."

"Why does he advise you?"

Judith hadn't realized she'd blurted out the thought aloud until it was too late. She certainly gained everyone's attention. The elders were all staring at her with puzzled expressions.

"What kind of question is that?" Owen asked.

"He's the laird," Vincent reminded her. "It's his duty to advise us."

"It's all upside down up here," Judith remarked with a nod.

"Explain what you're meaning, lass," Graham suggested.

She wished she hadn't started the topic, and God, how she hated being the focus of everyone's attention. She could feel her face heating with a blush. She tightened her hold on Iain's hand, then said, "Your laird is young and doesn't have your wisdom. It would seem to me that you, as the elders, should do the advising. That is all I meant."

"It's the way it's always been here," Gelfrid countered.

The other elders all nodded agreement. Judith noticed that the squire, with Owen's prodding, had moved forward and was now filling Iain's goblet full of the dark, red wine. Her mind was centered on asking Gelfrid another question, however, and she forced herself not to overreact to the sight of her husband having a drink or two.

"Gelfrid, please don't think me insolent for asking this question," she began. "But I was wondering if you've become so set in your ways, you cannot consider making any changes at all, even if they benefit the entire clan."

It was a bold question to ask. Judith worried over his reaction. Gelfrid rubbed his jaw while he gave the matter consideration, then shrugged.

"I'm living in a household with an Englishwoman," the elder announced. "And I'm thinking that's a change, all right. I must not be too set in my ways, Judith."

She was pleased to hear this, Iain guessed, when she lessened her grip on his hand.

"Let's have our toast now, and then the laird's wife can give us her reasons for wanting Sundays," Graham announced.

"Did you hear that, Owen? Our lass is wanting Sundays," Gelfrid told his friend in a loud whisper.

"She can't be having that, can she?" Vincent asked. "You can't have a day all to your own. It belongs to everyone."

"It's peculiar," Duncan muttered.

"She's English," Vincent thoughtfully reminded his companions.

"Are you saying she's backward?" Owen asked.

"She isn't backward," Gelfrid defended.

The discussion was getting out of hand. Iain was trying not to smile. Judith was trying not to become irritated. She smiled at Gelfrid for defending her, pleased that he at least realized she wasn't at all backward.

He ruined her good opinion of him, however, when he remarked, "She's just illogical. Don't think she can help it. Do you, Owen?"

Judith glared at Iain, a silent message that he really should defend her now. He winked at her.

"Here, here," Graham blurted out to gain everyone's attention. He stood, lifted his goblet into the air, and then gave a long-winded toast to the bride and groom.

Everyone, including Iain, downed the contents of their goblets. The squire immediately hurried forward again to pour more wine into each goblet.

She edged her chair back, away from the table. It was an instinctive habit, born years ago, and she was barely aware of what she was doing.

Iain noticed. He also noticed that with each drink he took from his goblet, Judith moved a little farther away.

Her attention was centered on Graham. The leader of the council was now officially welcoming Judith into the clan.

Frances Catherine, hanging on Alex's strong arm, came into the hall then. Patrick looked both surprised and irritated to see his wife.

She waylaid his lecture before he could start in. "I wanted a breath of fresh air and a visitation with my dear friend. She lives here, too, Patrick, so you can quit your frowning. Alex didn't let me fall."

"I was going to give her a ride on my mount, but-"

"He didn't know where to lift," Frances Catherine explained. She patted her stomach and smiled up at her husband.

"Come and join us," Judith called out. "Graham just finished giving a lovely toast to welcome me into the family."

Her friend nodded. She looked up at Alex. "See? I told you there wasn't a meeting going on. Judith wouldn't be here."

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Judith asked.

Frances Catherine went over to the table, sat down next to her husband and took hold of his hand so that he'd quit frowning at her. She smiled at Judith while she pinched her husband.

She was telling him to behave himself, Patrick supposed. He found himself grinning over his wife's outrageous conduct. As soon as they were alone, he was determined to tell her that once he gave her an order, he meant it to be carried out. He specifically remembered telling her to stay home tonight. The thought of his love taking a fall terrified him. He only had her safety in mind, he thought to himself. If anything happened to her, he didn't know what he would do.

He was getting all riled up just thinking about that dark possibility. His wife turned his attention then. She squeezed his hand and leaned against his side. Patrick let out a sigh. He didn't care if it was appropriate or not. He put his arm around his wife and pulled her even closer against him.

Frances Catherine shyly asked Graham to repeat his toast so that she could hear it. The elder was happy to accommodate her. Another gobletful of wine was immediately consumed by everyone.

Again Judith moved her chair a bit farther back. She could feel the familiar knot forming in her stomach. Iain had promised her he wouldn't get sotted in her presence, but what if, quite by accident, he did get a little drunk? Would he become as mean- and surly-tempered as her uncle Tekel?

She forced her panic aside. Gelfrid was demanding her attention. "Tell us why you're wanting Sundays," he instructed.

"What in heaven's name are you doing in the corner, Judith?" Graham asked, suddenly noticing how she'd moved away from the gathering.

"She scooted herself there," Owen explained.

Judith could feel herself blushing. She took a deep breath and stood up. "Sundays are supposed to be days of rest," she announced. "The Church says so. In England, we follow this rule."

"We do, too," Graham said. "We rest, don't we, Gelfrid?"

"Aye, we do," his friend agreed.

"All the men do."

Frances Catherine made that remark. Her gaze was centered on Judith. "That's what you're getting at, isn't it?"

Judith nodded. "I have noticed the women don't ever have a day to rest," she explained. "Sunday is just like every other day for them."

"Are you thinking to criticize our women?" Duncan asked.

"No," Judith answered. "I'm criticizing the men."

Iain leaned back in his chair and smiled. Judith had warned him she wanted to make some changes, and he assumed this was one of them. Hell, he'd been the one to suggest she change what she didn't like. He recalled the conversation they'd had in front of the cemetery. Aye, he'd made the suggestion, all right.

"Do you want us to order the women not to work on Sundays?" Graham asked.

"No, of course not. If you order them, it becomes another duty."

"Are you believing we've mistreated our women?" Duncan asked.

Judith shook her head again. "Oh, no," she said. "As fine warriors, you provide well for your wives. You cherish and protect them. In return, they keep your homes comfortable and see to your needs."

"That's what marriage is all about," Graham announced.

"Is she taking issue with marriage, then?" Owen asked, trying to understand.

Gelfrid shook his head. "It's the stones. They addled her mind," he decided. "The one nearly plucked out her eye."

Judith felt like screaming in frustration. She didn't, of course, and tried once again to use logic to make the men understand. She turned her attention to Iain. "When do the women have time for amusement?" she asked. "Your clan never attends the festivals, do they? Have you ever seen any of the women taking their nooning meal outside so they can enjoy the sunshine while they talk to one another? I haven't," she ended with a nod.

She turned to Graham next. "Do any of the women own horses? Have you ever seen any of them ride on a hunt for game?" She didn't give him time to answer. "I would only ask that you think about setting Sundays aside for amusement of some sort. That is all I wished to say."

Judith sat back down in her chair. She was determined to keep her mouth shut now. She would give them time to think about this issue before broaching it again.

"We value every member of this clan," Gelfrid announced.

"I'm thinking it's time to start our meeting," Duncan interjected. "If the women will take their leave, we can begin."

Judith bounded out of her chair again. "The women aren't a part of this clan, for if they were, they would be allowed to bring their problems to this council."

"Now, Judith, that isn't true," Owen contradicted. "Only a few months ago we allowed Frances Catherine to come before us."

"Aye, they did," Frances Catherine agreed. "They wanted to talk me out of sending for you."

"Let's have another toast and put this talk aside for now," Vincent suggested. "Iain, you'd best have a talk with your woman about her illogical thoughts. She'll be having us obeying our women if we let her have her way."

Judith's shoulders slumped. She wasn't going to get the council's support after all.

Iain drew her attention then. He was shaking his head at Vincent. "I cannot take issue with my wife," he announced. "Because I support what she's telling you."

Judith was so pleased by his remarks, she wanted to run to him. He reached for his goblet and took a long drink. She sat down in her chair instead.

"What are you saying, Iain?" Graham asked.

"Judith was an outsider when she came to us," Iain explained. "Our way of life was new to her and she was able to see things that we have ignored… or accepted without question over the years. I see no reason why we cannot insist our women rest on Sundays."

The elders nodded. Graham wanted his laird to be more specific. "Do you advise us to order the women to take this day as leisure?"

"No," Iain replied. "As Judith has just said, an order becomes a duty. We suggest, Graham, and encourage. Do you see the difference?"

Graham smiled. He turned to Judith. "Now do you understand why he's laird? He gives us sound advice, Judith."

It was still upside down in her mind, but she was too happy over her husband's defense of her request to argue.

"And now, perhaps you will understand why I married him," she replied. "I would never marry an unreasonable man."

"She's scooted herself and her chair into the buttery," Gelfrid remarked in a loud whisper. "And I'm not understanding that at all."

"Judith," Iain called out. "I've ordered Brodick and Gowrie to wait outside until the meeting begins. Would you go and tell them to come inside now?"

It was an odd request to make considering the fact that his squire was standing right beside him. The boy warrior looked like he wanted to see the errand completed, but when he opened his mouth to offer his assistance, Iain raised his hand.

"I would be happy to go and get them," she said. She was so pleased by the way Iain had phrased his order, she couldn't quit smiling.

Iain watched her leave. The second the door closed behind her, he turned to Frances Catherine. "It was a false errand I gave Judith," he explained in a low voice. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?" Frances Catherine replied, trying not to worry over the frown on her brother-in-law's face.

Iain motioned to Judith's chair over in the corner, then asked, "Why?"

He was asking her why Judith had moved away from the table. "The wine," she replied in a low whisper of her own.

He shook his head. He still didn't understand. Frances Catherine took a deep breath. "It's something she's always done, since she was very little… and learned to protect herself. It used to drive my father daft, and he finally decided not to drink at all in front of Judith. I doubt she even realizes now… you mustn't take exception."

"I would like to understand," Iain countered. "And I won't become insulted," he promised. "Now tell me why she moved the stool each time I took a drink. What is this lesson she learned?"

"Judith moved to put herself…" Iain patiently waited. Frances Catherine couldn't hold his gaze. She turned her attention to the tabletop. "… out of striking distance."

Iain hadn't expected that answer. He leaned back in his chair to think about Frances Catherine's explanation.

A long minute passed in silence. Then Iain asked, "Were there times she wasn't able to get away?"

"Oh, yes," Frances Catherine answered. "Many, many times."

The other elders had heard every word, of course. Gelfrid let out a long sigh. Graham shook his head.

"Why would she believe you would strike her?" Owen asked.

Iain hadn't realized until that minute how much he hated the lack of privacy in his life. "This is a family matter," he announced.

He wanted the discussion stopped before it went any further. Frances Catherine didn't catch on to his hint, however. She turned to Owen to answer his question.

"She doesn't believe Iain would strike her," she explained. "She wouldn't have married him if she thought he would hurt her."

"Then why-" Owen began.

"If Judith wishes you to know about her background, she'll tell you," Iain said. His voice was hard, determined. He stood up. "The meeting will take place tomorrow," he announced.

He didn't give anyone time to argue, but turned and walked out of the hall.

Judith stood in the center of the courtyard. She turned around when she heard the door closing behind her, even managed a smile for her husband.

"They still aren't here, Iain," she called out. "I'll be certain to send them inside as soon as they arrive."

He walked down the steps and started toward her. She backed away, though she couldn't help but notice her husband didn't appear to be muddleheaded. He wasn't scowling, either. She had counted, though, and he had had three full cups of wine… or had he only taken sips of the brew? She couldn't be certain. He didn't look sotted. Still, she wasn't going to take any chances. She backed up another step.

He stopped. So did she. "Judith?"

"Yes?"

"I got roaring drunk when I was fifteen years old. I remember it as though it happened yesterday."

Her eyes widened. He took another step toward her. "It was a painful lesson," he added with another step in her direction. "I'm never going to forget how I felt the following day."

"You became ill?"

He laughed. "Extremely ill," he told her. He was only a few feet away from her now. If he reached out, he could grab hold of her. He didn't. He wanted her to come to him. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at her. "Graham fed me the ale and watched over me the next day. He was giving an important lesson, but I was much too arrogant to realize it at the time."

Her curiosity overcame her worry. When he took another step toward her, she didn't back away. "What was this lesson?" she asked.

"That a warrior who gives up his control to drink is a bloody fool. The wine makes him vulnerable, dangerous to others, too."

She nodded agreement. " 'Tis the truth it does," she said. "Some men would even do things they don't recall the next day. They might hurt someone and not remember. Others must be on constant guard against attack. Drunks can't be trusted."

What she was so innocently telling him made his heart ache. He was careful to keep his expression contained. "And who gave you that lesson?" he asked her in a mild, soothing voice.

"Uncle Tekel," she replied. She rubbed her arms while she explained about his injuries and how he used the wine to dull his pain. She was shivering with her memories. "After a time… the wine turned his mind into mush. Then he couldn't ever be trusted;"

"Do you trust me?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then come to me."

He opened his arms to her. She hesitated for only the briefest of minutes, then hurried forward. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"I promised you I'd never get drunk, Judith, and you really do insult me by thinking I would break that pledge."

"I do not mean to insult you," she whispered against his chest. "I know you wouldn't deliberately break your pledge. But there will be times, like tonight, when you must drink with the others, and if the celebration requires-"

"It wouldn't matter what the reasons be," he interrupted. He rubbed his chin across the top of her head, loving the feel of her silky hair against his skin. He inhaled her light, feminine fragrance and found himself smiling with pleasure.

"Husband, you're going to miss your important meeting," she whispered.

"Yes," he agreed. He let go of her. He waited for her to look up at him, and when she did, he leaned down and kissed her sweet mouth.

He took hold of her hand and led her back inside. He didn't turn toward the great hall, however, but started up the stairs, pulling his wife after him.

"Where are we going?" she asked him in a whisper.

"To our chamber."

"But the meeting-"

"We'll have our own meeting."

She didn't understand. He opened the door to the bedroom, winked at his wife, and then gave her a gentle little shove to get her inside.

"What is the purpose of this meeting?"

He shut the door, bolted it, and turned his attention to Judith. "Satisfaction," he announced. "Take your clothes off and I'll explain in detail what I mean."

Her immediate blush told him she'd caught on to his game. She laughed, a full, rich sound that made his heartbeat accelerate. He leaned against the door and watched her battle her embarrassment.

He hadn't even touched her yet, but he was already feeling incredibly content. He hadn't realized, until she came into his life, what a bleak, cold existence he'd led. It was as though he'd moved around in a fog of duties and responsibilities all his life, never allowing himself time to think about what he was missing.

Judith had changed his life completely, of course. He found such joy just being with her. He took time to do inconsequential things now, such as teasing her to gain her always refreshing reaction. He liked touching her, too. Oh Lord, how he liked the feel of her soft body pressed up against him. He liked the way she blushed over the most insignificant things, the way she shyly tried to order him around.

She was a delightful confusion to him. He knew it had been difficult for her to plead for the women in the clan, yet she hadn't let her own shyness stop her from championing their cause for better treatment.

Judith was strong-willed, courageous, and extremely tenderhearted.

And he was in love with her.

Lord help him now, he thought to himself. She had captured his heart. He didn't know whether to laugh or roar. Judith paused in her task of removing her clothes to look at him. She wore only her white chemise now and was reaching for the chain holding her father's ring around her neck when she caught Iain's dark expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I asked you not to wear that ring," he reminded her.

"You asked me not to wear it to bed at night," she countered. "And I never have, have I?"

His frown intensified. "Why do you wear it during the day? Do you have a special attachment for the thing?"

"No."

"Then why the hell do you wear it?"

She couldn't understand why he was becoming so vexed with her. "Because Janet and Bridget are now coming into our chamber to clean, and I didn't want either one of them to find the ring and wonder about it." She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. "The ring's become a nuisance. I do believe I would like to get rid of it."

Now would probably be the perfect time to tell him who the ring belonged to and why she was so worried someone might recognize the distinctive design and guess it was Laird Maclean's.

She put the chain and ring back in the chest for the night and closed the lid. Then she turned around to look at him. She would tell him now. "Do you remember, right before we were married, you told me my background didn't matter to you?"

He nodded. "I remember," he replied.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"I never say anything I don't mean."

"You don't have to snap at me," she whispered. She started wringing her hands together. If Iain loved her, the truth she was about to give him wouldn't destroy that love… would it?

"Do you love me?"

He pulled away from the door. His scowl was hot enough to burn. "You won't be ordering me around, Judith."

She was taken aback by that command. "Of course not," she agreed. "But I asked-"

"I won't be turned into milk toast. You'd best understand that here and now."

"I understand," she replied. "I don't wish to change anything about you."

Her compliment didn't ease his scowl. "I'm not a weakling, and I won't be made to act like one."

The conversation had taken a bizarre turn. Iain was getting all worked up. In her heart, she was certain he loved her, yet his reaction to the simple question was so confusing to her, she started to worry.

She watched him pull off one boot and toss it on the floor. The other followed.

"Was my question that upsetting to you?" she asked, pricked at the mere possibility.

"Warriors do not become upset. Women do."

She straightened her shoulders. "I'm not upset."

"Yes, you are," he countered. "You're wringing your hands."

She immediately stopped. "You're the one doing all the scowling," she said.

He shrugged. "I was… thinking."

"About what?"

"The fires of purgatory."

She had to sit down. He wasn't making any sense now. "What does that mean?" she asked.

"Patrick told me he would walk through the fires of purgatory if he had to in order to please his wife."

She went over to the bed and sat down on the side. "And?" she prodded when he didn't continue.

He stripped out of his clothing and walked over to her. He pulled her to her feet and stared down at her.

"And I have only just realized I would do the same for you."