Part 16 (2/2)
Gwynne sat up and yawned as she pushed the coverlet aside. ”Please do.”
Jean entered, face rosy with fresh air and happiness. Today she wore a proper green riding habit that complemented her bright hair and fair complexion. ”I've been riding with Robbie. He has to return to the army tomorrow, but he can stay here tonight.”
”Good. I'd like to get to know him better.” Gwynne's gaze was caught by a lithe creature that followed on Jean's heels. The beast leaped on the bed a mere yard from Gwynne and regarded her with baleful green eyes. Sleek and striped, it was definitely feline, but like no cat she had ever seen.
Evaluation finished, the cat b.u.t.ted her ribs in a blatant bid for attention. She automatically scratched behind the tufted ears. ”Is this a typical Scottish cat? He's enormous!”
”Lionel seems taken with you.” Jean perched in the chair by the dressing table. ”His papa was a wildcat, which explains the size and arrogance. He comes and goes as he pleases, but until now, he hasn't shown much interest in people.”
”A wildcat? I've never seen one. Not even a half wildcat. What a very bushy tail you have, Lionel.” Gwynne stroked down his back. He began to purr, his claws kneading her thigh.
Jean grinned. ”I think you have a pet. Crossbreeds have a reputation for attaching themselves to one person. Isabel de Cortes had one.”
”Ouch! Impressive claws.” Gwynne removed his paws from her leg. Now that Jean mentioned it, Lionel did resemble Isabel's cat in the library portrait. ”How does one detach from an overenthusiastic wildcat?”
”One doesn't. If you were a witch, Lionel would be considered your familiar.”
”Guardians don't have familiars.”
Lionel reached out a paw and curved his claws into her skirt as if to say, ”Mine.” Gwynne began to laugh. ”I had to leave my sweet old tabby behind. I planned to find another, but I didn't expect a brute like this to adopt me.”
”You belong here, Gwynne. Lionel is just another sign of that. But the reason I stopped by was to tell you about our traditional Dunrath Friday night dinner. Has anyone mentioned that to you?”
Gwynne glanced out the window at the setting sun. ”No, and since it's Friday and almost dinnertime, I'd better learn.”
”Family, staff, and a rotating group of crofters dine together in the great hall,” Jean explained. ” There's a bit of ritual led by the mistress of the household. I've been doing it, but after tonight it will be your responsibility.”
So much for Gwynne's vague idea of having a quiet supper in her room after the full day. ”Very well, I shall watch closely.”
”When I first saw you, I thought you would be a terrifying London lady,” Jean said shyly. ”I'm so glad you're not.”
”No wonder you looked horrified when we met. The most London thing about me is my wardrobe, Jean. I'm used to a quiet life with books and horses.” A heavy paw batted her thigh. ”And cats.” She frowned at Lionel, who looked remarkably possessive. ”Do you think he understands English?”
”It wouldn't surprise me if he did. Crossbreed cats are very bright, and very loyal to their chosen humans.” Jean got to her feet. ”We dine in half an hour. I'll send your maid up to help you dress.”
Jean left. Lionel didn't. Instead, he rolled on his back with his large paws in the air so Gwynne could scratch his striped tummy. As she obliged, she wondered how the cat and Duncan would get on. A castle had room for only one king. . . .
There were easily twenty people in the great hall when Gwynne arrived, with more coming in the front door. Fires roared in both fireplaces and the trestle tables usually set against the walls had been pulled out and placed end to end to create one long table. Four ma.s.sive silver candelabra were set along the tabletop.
She had vaguely thought this would be a formal occasion, but the atmosphere was warm and relaxed. Duncan crossed the hall to join Gwynne when he saw her. The expression on his dark face was wary. Though they had settled their disagreement earlier, it was impossible not to remember their argument. ”I just realized that I didn't tell you about the Friday night dinners.”
”Jean did.” Gwynne glanced around the hall. People were chatting casually, many of them sipping tankards of ale. ”This is so different from England. Servants at Harlowe were treated well, but they never dined with the family.”
”Since everyone at Dunrath is more or less related, this is a family gathering. Isabel de Cortes began the custom. She thought we should take time every week to celebrate our blessings, not solemnly the way we do in the kirk, but joyfully.”
A deep musical sound boomed through the hall, echoes resonating from the ancient stone walls. Gwynne jumped. ”What was that?”
”A gong from China.” Duncan grinned and offered his arm. ”We enjoy the eclectic at Dunrath. May I show you to your seat, my lady?”
With a smile, she took his arm. His seat was at one end of the table, and he placed her beside him in another mark of the evening's informality. After everyone was seated, Jean entered the hall carrying a slender burning taper. As she lit the candles on the table, the talking stopped and people settled into comfortable silence.
When the candelabra were radiating warm light, Jean moved to her chair at the opposite end of the table from Duncan. Before sitting, she said in a clear voice, ”This is the last time I shall act as Mistress of Dunrath. Welcome to Glen Rath, Gwyneth Owens.” She beckoned to her sister-in-law with both arms, her palms facing up.
”Welcome, family and friends.” Another beckoning gesture as her gaze moved over the a.s.sembled group. ”And welcome to any visitors who may be joining us tonight.” She smiled warmly at Robbie Mackenzie beside her and gestured once more before sitting. ”Now let us offer thanks for the blessings of family, food, and fellows.h.i.+p.” She covered her eyes with her hands, as did the a.s.sembled guests.
Gwynne followed Jean's lead, but she didn't pray, because her thoughts were full of wonder. When the moment of prayer ended, she leaned over to Duncan and whispered, ”Do you know the origin of this ceremony?”
He looked puzzled. ”As I said, Isabel de Cortes started the custom.”
”Once my lord Brecon took me to dine at the home of a friend of his, a Jewish scholar. It was Friday night, and the lady of the household led a ritual very like this one to welcome the Sabbath.” Gwynne smiled. ”Even though Isabel and her family had converted to Christianity, they kept some of their ancient traditions.”
Duncan's face lit up. ”And those traditions live on here in the wilds of Scotland. I'm glad to know that.” He took her hand, and they shared a moment of perfect accord.
Gwynne knew there was more conflict ahead of them, but she also knew beyond doubt that she was in the right place-and with the right man.
TWENTY-TWO.
J ean was so immersed in a letter that she didn't notice when Gwynne entered the breakfast room. The letter was from Robbie Mackenzie, Gwynne a.s.sumed. He wrote at least twice a week, and the letters were fat. So were Jean's replies.
In the weeks since the Jacobites occupied Edinburgh, there had been little action except for the Battle of Prestonpans. As Gwynne had predicted, it was a swift triumph for the prince's forces. Since then, the rebels had been drilling and gathering strength for the next move.
Gwynne took a seat, Lionel leaping into the chair beside her. His manners were excellent and he wouldn't climb on the table, but he did expect to be rewarded for his forbearance. She gave him a bit of cheese, then leaned forward to top up Jean's cup with fresh steaming tea. Her sister-in-law looked up, blinking. ”Oh, sorry, Gwynne, I didn't know you were there.”
”I'm practicing invisibility,” Gwynne said with mock seriousness.
Jean grinned. ”As a child, I always thought it would be lovely to be invisible. Think of the mischief one could get away with!”
”It's hard to be invisible with red hair.” They shared a laughing glance of commiseration.
Gwynne tucked into her breakfast, thinking that Duncan had been right to say that she would soon find a place at Dunrath. The new mistress's lack of sn.o.bbery, acceptance of existing household customs, and progress with spoken Gaelic had endeared her to everyone in the castle. The Scottish-looking red hair hadn't hurt, either. Auld Donald had commended Gwynne on her tact. She hadn't explained that her motive was not tact but sloth. Why wrest control of the household from the hands of those who enjoyed managing it, when her own interests lay elsewhere?
She spread berry preserves on a piece of bread. ”Does Robbie say anything about the situation with the rebel army, or is it all sweet words for his lady's ears alone?”
Jean blushed and folded the letter. ”The latest news is that several French s.h.i.+ps managed to slip through the English blockade with arms and supplies and money.”
Gwynne's bread tasted suddenly dry. ”How fortunate for the prince.”
”Though you wish Charles Edward at Hades,” Jean observed, ”the rising is growing more powerful every day. The Jacobites can win all, Gwynne. How I would love to be with the army! But Robbie says I would only be in the way.”
Gwynne was grateful for Robbie's good sense in keeping his impetuous sweetheart in a safe place, though Jean did not appreciate his consideration. She had a warrior heart and would have joined the rebellion in a heartbeat if she were male. Several young men from Glen Rath had gone to the prince. Their absence was not discussed.
Thinking it time to change the subject, Gwynne said, ”This morning I'm going to be working on some interesting spells. Would you like to join me?”
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