A smile had curved Claray’s lips as she’d listened to his plans. She’d liked that he cared about his people, that he wanted to do right by them. Her parents had been the same, but she knew many supposedly fine lairds and ladies who abused their people, meting out unfair or overharsh punishments, leaving them dressed in little more than rags and, more often than not, with empty bellies. That was no way to treat family, and that’s what clan members were, whether by birth or marriage. Sometimes they were family several times removed, but they were still family and deserved their laird and lady’s care and concern.
Once the first wave of weakness passed, getting about was not so bad. Being cautious though, Claray was quick about her ablutions, and tried to conserve as much of her energy as she could while brushing her hair and dressing. She bent over as little as possible and stopped to rest when needed.
Still, Claray was quite exhausted by the time she had finished and almost changed her mind and climbed back into bed. But that seemed a great waste after all her efforts. Besides, she really did want to go below and check on what progress had been made since she’d been wounded.
Conall had told her that his aunt Annabel had taken control of things in her absence, at least since she’d regained consciousness and no longer needed constant attention. Apparently, Lady MacKay had gone down the next morning and organized the women into groups, keeping half with her, and assigning half to Kenna. She’d wanted to whitewash the walls before arranging the furniture and goods they’d received, but that task would have to wait until they had the lime to do it. In the meantime, they’d set up the kitchens, and then arranged what furniture they had in the great hall, before heading out to clean the bakehouse even as the men were building a new roof on it.
During that time, Kenna’s ladies had finished preparing the cellars for the beer, mead and wine they hoped would soon arrive, and then had headed outside to continue Claray’s efforts in the gardens.
Her husband had assured her that the two women were in bedchambers and no longer sleeping on the keep floor. Conall had also told her that he’d assigned men to make furniture and they’d made beds for the mattresses that had arrived in the wagons, as well as trestle tables and benches and such for the great hall. He’d said they weren’t fancy, but would do until the few carpenters they had amongst the clan could create more elaborate furniture.
Claray had been pleasantly surprised to learn that three of the MacDonald men who had worked as mercenaries for her husband had actually been trained as carpenters before he’d taken them on. He’d also told her he had other skilled men in his ranks such as stonemasons and blacksmiths, etc., and that their skills had actually saved time and coin in the repairs because they had been able to start the jobs right away rather than wait to find and hire outsiders in the trades. Their skills would continue to be valuable in future too.
Claray had smiled as he talked, glad to see him so relaxed and happy, and thinking that perhaps Deagh Fhortan would live up to its name and they would enjoy some good fortune here after all. Now, she was eager to see all the changes that had been wrought, but she also wanted to help if she could. It didn’t sit well with her to know that everyone else was working their fingers to the bone while she was abed. It was to be her home too, and Claray felt she should be helping to fix it up.
She knew she would probably be useless when it came to physical labor for the first day or two, but she wasn’t going to regain her strength lying about in bed. And truly, her shoulder was mending nicely, hurting less every day as long as she didn’t move it too much. Something she’d discovered while dressing. That had been painful and taxing because there was no way to don a dress without moving both arms. But surely there was something she could do to help out while using only the one hand and arm?
Not liking to think of herself as useless, even if it was temporary, Claray pushed away from the wall where she’d been leaning while regaining her strength, and walked to the door. Knowing that Roderick and Hamish would probably be difficult about her being up and about, she paused to take a deep breath before reaching for the door.
She opened it, all ready to do battle, only to find Roderick and Hamish missing and only Hendrie and Colban in the hall. The two men straightened at once, surprise and concern on their young faces as they took her in. Claray smiled, knowing her chances of getting below stairs had just more than doubled.
Chapter 22
“Have any of the men spotted signs of outsiders camping in the area on their rounds?” Conall asked, noting that several men were riding out of the bailey to start their tours of MacDonald land, even as several others returned. He’d started sending out large groups of men to ride the property from border to border to ensure MacNaughton had not followed them to MacDonald or been behind the attacks. He’d ordered it the day Claray took the arrow.
Not that he thought MacNaughton would try to kill Claray. But then, he was quite sure neither attack had been aimed at her. The first arrow by the pond would have hit him if he hadn’t lowered himself toward Claray at just the moment he had. And the same was true of the second arrow in the stables. If he hadn’t stepped to the side at the exact moment he had, the arrow would have hit him in the back.
Nay, Claray wasn’t the target, and perhaps he was biased, but he really couldn’t blame the bastard for trying to make his beautiful wife a widow so he could swoop in to marry her himself. Conall knew he was a lucky bastard, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to his parents for contracting the marriage to her.
“Nay, they’ve no’ seen even a hint o’ anyone camping on MacDonald land,” Hamish said, sounding grim and unhappy, and Conall knew the man wished to stop these attacks as much as he did. In truth, he suspected his first held a tendre for his wife and was still angry at him for sending the men out of the small stables and getting Claray injured, but knew he deserved it. He’d let his cock lead him in his decisions and had nearly lost his wife because of it.
“But that does no’ mean he hasn’t sent a man or two here to get rid o’ ye,” Roderick pointed out. “They might even be in the bailey itself. With both the MacKay soldiers and yer men too, everyone does no’ ken everyone else. They may no’ recognize a stranger in their midst. The MacKay men may just assume he’s a MacDonald, while yer men are assumin’ he’s a MacKay.”
Conall scowled at the suggestion. He knew all his men, but he did not know every one of his uncle’s warriors. Even he might stare right at a MacNaughton soldier and assume he was a MacKay. But he wasn’t sure what to do about that, and decided to think up some plan to figure out if that was going on. In the meantime, he changed the subject and asked, “I’m guessin’ no one’s come forward sayin’ they saw anything out o’ the ordinary while we were in the small stables?”
Conall had men questioning everyone at Deagh Fhortan on what they’d seen around the time when Claray had been shot. He’d also addressed everyone in the bailey and asked anyone who had seen anything to please step forward and tell either Hamish, Roderick, Gilly or Machar. Unwilling to leave Claray at the time, Conall’d made the request from the bedchamber. He’d had the men gather everyone in the bailey, and then had addressed them from the window. He’d had to shout to be heard, and going below certainly would have been easier, but Conall hadn’t been willing to leave Claray. Fortunately, she hadn’t even stirred at the noise he’d made.