Page 21 of The Lyon and the Lass

Chapter Eleven

Kerrigan was growinganxious to finish the trip and arrive at his home. They were only about two hours from Luffness Castle. He’d been away a little more than a month. He had sent a messenger right after his marriage to alert the clan that he would be returning as soon as he could and with the money to purchase sheep, sustain them through the winter, and even begin the desperately needed repairs.

Christine seemed more nervous than excited, and he expected that was normal. He was returning to his home, yet she was beginning a whole new life. He had to remember that it would take some time for her to adjust. He was confident that she would have been trained as a lass growing up, as all English women were, in everything necessary to run his keep, hire and supervise servants, keep track of the larder and oversee the garden. She would most likely need a day or two to get settled, however.

He would send immediately for the animals to replace the lost sheep and other game to repopulate the woods that had been depleted with the clan folks hunting to feed their families. Aye, things would definitely be better. And with the bonny andcheerful wife he’d gained in addition to the money, he was quite pleased with his—overly long—trip to London.

He’d chosen to ride Fergus since the carriage was now crowded with Christine’s purchases during their stops. He was quite happy to ride his horse, unable to stand even one more day in the carriage. He looked around at the green hills and deep blue sky and took in a refreshing, deep breath of Scottish air. No more suffocating London air for him. He was happy here and he and Christine would have a good life. Raise strong boys and bonny girls.

He rode past the carriage and looked inside to see Christine gazing out the window. She’d tried several times reading one of the many books she’d purchased in villages along the way, but unfortunately, it seemed she was subjected to nausea trying to read in a moving vehicle. He’d teased her about helping to rebuild the castle’s library with all her books. Although with her duties as chatelaine, her time for reading would be limited until she got everything in the keep under control.

Finally, they rode over the last hill and around a curve. Luffness Castle came into view. He called to Christine and pointed. “There is yer new home, lass.”

She smiled, but he saw a slight hesitation as she gazed at his home. He was sure everything would be fine, and she would be comfortable in no time at all.

He jumped from Fergus as they came to a stop at the huge main door. Within moments the door slowly rolled open and his cousin, Patrick Lindsay, strode through the opening. “Kerrigan! We thought ye would ne’er return to us, that mayhap ye enjoyed the London life.”

They grabbed each other’s forearms in the traditional greeting and Patrick slapped him on the back.

“Nay, I dinna like London any more than the other times I visited. I was verra glad to leave it behind.”

Neil strode up to them with a bright smile on his face. “Welcome, home Laird.”

Patrick looked over Kerrigan’s shoulder. “We got yer message. Where is this wife of yers?”

Kerrigan walked to the carriage and opened the door, extending his hand to help Christine out. She was busy brushing her skirts and patting her hair. The lovely hat she’d put on that morning was crooked and it appeared the ribbons tied under her chin were knotted. Whatever it was she’d done to her hair hadn’t worked and clumps of it drooped over one shoulder. It mattered not to him. She was his wife, and she was bonny, kind, and smart. That was all he cared about.

Instead of taking her by the arm, he clasped their fingers together and walked her up to where Patrick and Neil stood. Just then several others came out of the keep, curious looks on their faces. He heard mumblings about “the Sassenach” and reminded himself to make sure everyone in the castle treated Christine with respect and no name calling.

He looked first at Patrick. “This is my wife, Lady Christine Lindsay.” Then he turned to Christine. “This is Patrick Lindsay. He is my cousin and right-hand man.” He then waved at Neil. “Neil Lindsay is my steward and supervises the shepherds.”

He beamed at the others who had gathered and, aside from very few dips and bows, for the most part they all just stared at her.

Christine cleared her throat. “I am most pleased to be here and to be part of your clan.”

Silence.

She turned to look at Kerrigan, a slight bit of terror in her eyes. “What do I do now?” she whispered.

“No’hing.” He spread his legs apart and crossed his arms over his chest as he surveyed the silent group. “Lady Christine Lindsay is my wife. She is to be treated with respect. Shewill oversee the keep and ye will obey her orders. She will be assessing what has been and not been working to keep everything in good form. Ye will answer to her and I doona want to be made aware of anything that I might find unacceptable. Ye all ken that Lady Christine is English. That is no’ her fault, she was born that way. Ye are to forget that. Do I make myself clear?”

A few mumbles followed.

“I said, ‘Do I make myself clear?’”

“Aye.” A much more robust answer pleased him.

“Good.” He turned to Christine. “See, everything is fine.” He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “I have a lot of work to catch up on. I will see you at supper time.”

With that he walked away, deep in conversation with Patrick, Neil following behind them.

Christine felt herstomach take a plunge to her feet. Whatever was she to do next? She tried to imagine this was a large estate in the country outside of London. If she was in this position there, what would she do?

“Would one of you arrange to have my things brought from the carriage and to the bedchamber the laird and I will occupy?”

One of the women standing in the group in front of the main gate frowned and nudged the woman next to her. “What did the lass say? I couldna understand her.”

Her companion leaned over. “’Tis hard to hear for sure, but I think she said she wanted someone to bring her things up to the laird’s bedchamber.”