Joan blinked in surprise. She had never considered herself lovely, ever. But aside from that--"I've hardly said a word since you brought me up here. How could you know whether I'm kind or not?"
"You have kind eyes, dear," Annabel said gently and then smiled and added, "And Maggie's letter said that you were. She said you were smart and kind and brave and that she was ever so proud of you."
Tears blurred Joan's eyes at these words and she turned away, blinking repeatedly to keep from crying. She had always loved and respected her mother, so it was good to know the woman had thought highly of her in return.
"Besides, she also said that you had followed in her footsteps and become one of the finest healers she knew. Healers tend to be kind by nature, at least good ones in my opinion," Annabel announced, and then said thoughtfully, "You are more like me in that regard. Your mother did not have any skills in that area that I know of."
"But you do?" Joan asked with surprise.
Annabel smiled and nodded. "I used to work in the stables at Elstow Abbey. Sister Clara was in charge of them and taught me all I know about healing. We worked mostly with animals, but treated the other sisters' ailments too and she taught me much in that area as well." Her expression turned thoughtful and she murmured, "Sister Clara was very old though. The abbess must have brought in Maggie to help her when I left . . . or to replace her when she died," she said softly and then sighed and shook her head as if to remove a sad thought.
Joan merely nodded. While she had been silent during her bath and the fussing that had followed, Lady Annabel chattered away about many things. One of those had been the fact that she'd grown up in Elstow Abbey, expecting to become a nun. Fate could be fickle, however, and her circumstances had changed so that she'd ended up married to Laird MacKay and bearing him three children instead.
"Come, we should go below and--" Lady Annabel paused and turned toward the door with surprise when it suddenly banged open. Two young women burst into the room, skirts flying, only to come to a shuddering halt after a couple steps as they took note of Joan. When they simply gaped at her, she shifted uncomfortably and glanced to Annabel to find her smiling faintly.
"Well?" Lady Annabel said with amusement. "Are you not going to greet your cousin?"
"Cousin!" the younger one squealed, rushing forward to throw her arms around Joan. "Father told us we had a cousin, but we could hardly believe it and had to come see ye fer ourselves. We've never had a cousin before, ye see. We've never had any family at all besides Mother and Father and each other. Oh, and Uncle Fingal," she added, pulling back to peer at her as she explained, "We did have Uncles Ainsley, and Eoghann too, but they were both very old and died. Uncle Fingal's old too, o' course, but he still works as a blacksmith in the village and Mother said that keeps him healthy and strong."
"Stop and breathe, Kenna, or ye shall faint from lack of air," the other girl said with amused exasperation as she moved forward.
Kenna rolled her eyes, and then grinned at Joan and said, "She's always sayin' that, but I've ne'er fainted yet, no' once."
"Oh, well that's good," Joan said weakly, her gaze moving between the two. With dark hair and rosy cheeks, both girls were versions of their mother at different stages in her life. At twelve, Kenna was the youngest of Annabel and Ross's children, while Annella was the middle child at sixteen. Something else Joan had learned from Lady Annabel's happy chatter during her bath.
"That dress looks much nicer on ye than it e'er did on me," Annella commented, drawing her attention and Joan shook her head.
"Nay. I'm sure it doesn't," she said solemnly. "But thank you for letting me borrow it. I shall clean and return it soon as I'm able."
"Ye're welcome, but ye do no' ha'e to give it back. It really does look better on ye than me," Annella assured her.
"Thank you," Joan murmured self-consciously.
"Well, I suppose we should go below stairs." Annabel said and then smiling wryly, added, "What with rushing you up here to bathe and change, you never did get the chance to break your fast."
"Oh, then ye have no' tried Cook's pastries," Kenna said excitedly, catching Joan's hand. "Ye must try them."
"Nay, ye should no'," Annella countered dryly, and confided, "They're horrible."
"Aye," Kenna agreed, turning to her sister, "That's why she must try them." Turning back to Joan she added, "There is no' a worse pastry cook in all o' Scotland than our cook. Father says so and he's always right."
"Aye," Annella agreed. "But he makes the finest stews and cakes, better e'en than our old cook."
"But our old cook used to make the loveliest pastries," Kenna said on a sigh and turned back to Joan to tell her, "I love pastries."
"So do I," Joan admitted with a smile.
"Oh no!" Kenna said with dismay. "Then 'tis a shame our old Cook died. He would have made fine pastries fer yer wedding."
"Wedding?" Joan and Annabel asked as one, each sounding as amazed as the other.
"Aye," Kenna said with surprise. "To Cam."
"YE DO NO' THINK THE GIRLS'LL SAY ANYTHING?" Cam asked suddenly. The apples had been ripe for picking. Kenna and Annella had picked two baskets full, but when they'd delivered them to Cook in the kitchens, they'd overheard the servants talking excitedly about the wedding and the feast they were to prepare. The girls had come rushing out of the kitchens all atwitter, wanting to know who this Joan was that Cam was marrying and why he was marrying here rather than at Sinclair. So Ross had explained that she was their cousin. The girls had been so excited to learn they had a cousin, they'd forgotten their other questions and had rushed upstairs to meet Joan.
"About what?" Ross asked. "The wedding?"
"Aye. I'd rather tell her meself," Cam said quietly.
Ross nodded solemnly, and then grimaced and stood up. "We'd best get upstairs then, ere they tell her fer ye."
Standing abruptly, Cam followed him to the stairs and started up with him.
They were nearly to the top before Cam said, "I'd like to speak to her alone."
Ross nodded as they started along the landing. "O' course. If the girls have no' already told her, I'll send them below and--"
"What?"
Cam stopped and glanced to Ross when that shriek rang out.
The MacKay grimaced, and then said apologetically, "I'm thinkin' me daughters may ha'e said something."
Cam merely started forward again, moving more swiftly this time.
"Marry him?" came the next cry as he was approaching the door. "Nay!"
"Aye, they definitely said something," Ross muttered, catching his arm. He waited until Cam turned to peer at him and then said, "And I think ye'd best wait below while I talk with me niece."
Cam stood still, mouth tight, Joan's horrified shout seeming to echo in his ears.
"Campbell," Ross said firmly.
Cam sucked in a breath, his head raising, shoulders straightening, and then nodded silently, turned on his heel and headed back downstairs. The good news was, she definitely would not be marrying him for his wealth. Apparently even that wasn't enough of a lure to tempt her.
"Now, Joan, I am sure the girls have this a little muddled up," Annabel said, a small frown on her face as she tried to calm her.
"Nay, Kenna is right, Mother," Annella said quietly. "Father said Cam and Joan were to marry. Here. After the nooning. Cook is preparing a feast as we speak."
"You must have misunderstood, Annella," Annabel said firmly. "Cam would hardly marry without his parents present and by the time a messenger reached Sinclair . . ." She shook her head. "There is no way they could get here in time."
"Cam said he did no' wish his parents to attend," Kenna announced.
Joan vaguely noted the way Annabel frowned at this news, but was too distracted with her own thoughts to care. Cam didn't want his parents at their wedding? Not that she was marrying him, she assured herself. But if they had been going to marry, why would he not want his parents to attend? Was he ashamed of her? Because she was
brought up a peasant?
"I am sure you are mistaken," Annabel insisted. "Your father would hardly agree to marry off your cousin to Campbell Sinclair without at least talking to me first. And her, of course," she added with a diplomatic smile for Joan.
"But he said--"
"Annella, Kenna, go below please."
All four females glanced toward the door at that order in a deep voice. Joan scowled when she saw Ross MacKay in the now open door. Her gaze then shifted to her cousins as Kenna reluctantly released her hand, which she'd still been holding, and followed her sister dutifully out of the room.
Annabel waited until Ross had closed the door behind her daughters, and then hurried anxiously across the room. "Husband, the girls said that you have arranged for Cam and Joan to marry."
"Aye," the MacKay said solemnly, clasping her upper arms soothingly. " 'Tis sorry I am that I did no' talk to ye about it first, wife. But it would ha'e made little difference. They ha'e to marry. After what the men and I saw this morning when we found them . . ." He shook his head. "Honor demanded he marry her."
Joan grimaced, aware that she was blushing. But she protested, "We weren't doing anything. We were talking."
"Cam was bare arsed and ye were in his arms," Ross said grimly.
"He wasn't--" she began and then changed directions with her argument because his shirt did not always cover his entire behind and he may very well have been bare arsed. "We were only talking."
"Oh?" Ross asked with obvious disbelief. "Cam agreed that honor demanded he marry ye. Ye're saying otherwise?"