A Wife for the Highlander

"You know that I'm barren? No man will have a soiled and barren wife. I'll grow old and die in this house if you keep your word."

"But I will have you. I may not have you in my bed, but I will have you here, with me, all the same."

"You'd do that? You'd not take a wife just to have me at your side, forever in love with another?" she whispered, her heart breaking for Keane.

He smiled at her, his heart sinking with her words. "Yes, Fianna. Your presence is a salve on the cut caused by the lack of your touch."

She turned her attention back to her porridge, no longer able to meet his eyes. He was young, approximately her age, and tall, strong, and handsome in the way of all the MacNobaill men. He could have his choice of women to share his bed, yet he said he wanted her. Why? Why would he forgo a wife and family of his own for her, a soiled and barren woman who could give him no heir. It made no sense. Was it his oath to Boadhagh?

"I release you from your oath," she whispered without looking at him. "I won't--"

"You can't release me," he murmured before she could finish. "My oath wasn't given to you."

"Then I--"

"Do you hate me so much that you'd deny me your company?" he asked, speaking over her again.

She slowly brought her gaze to his. "There could be another, one--"

"There have been others... but none could take the place of you."

She looked at her bowl again, her mind a whirl, unsure of what to say... or think.

The next three months were a whirlwind of activity as Keane moved to his new manor. He added one of his grooms, his carpenters, mason, and gamekeeper to the staff. There were some squabbles for position as the houses were merged, but Keane doled out responsibility without regard to which house the man came from. With return of the rest of the clan from battle, he left several well-armed families at his old estate to care for the now closed manor and to tend the lands, not wishing to add to their burden by housing them at his new manor so far from their responsibilities.

He ordered additional homes to be built to house the extra staff, along with an additional room added to the manor. Objecting to the smell, he'd also ordered the toilet filled in and relocated further from the house, with a stone path and stakes connected with ropes leading from the manor to make the journey less hazardous in the dark.

Fianna took charge of the house staff as was her duty. Combining the estates had little effect on the men, but she had nearly twice as many house servants as she required. After Keane paid the farmers, herders, and fishermen what they were promised for their service as soldiers, the newly returned men took some of the maidens as wives, both from her house and Keane's. Relieved that the number she had to find positions for had been greatly reduced, she selected a few additional women to add to the manor's staff, giving preference to those with husbands working the estate, and then carefully began placing the remaining men and women with good families. It was a delicate and time-consuming task, but Boadhagh and Keane were well regarded, and within a few months, all the excess staff had been placed with new estates. She was relieved that she hadn't been forced to turn out any of her staff to fend for themselves, while trying not to think about the possibility that the staff at the other households may have lost their positions, or had been reduced in rank, to make room for the new additions.

The combined fleet of fishing boats now in Keane's possession ensured there were sufficient funds to easily maintain the newly enlarged estate, and as winter storms lashed the manor, Keane's expanded holdings began to run more smoothly. As the houses were merged, Fianna was nervous around Keane, expecting him to make demands upon her, but he seemed to accept their rolls as they were.

One evening over dinner, she told him of the scandal their arrangement was causing. "Living as husband and wife, yet not being married," she said softly with a slow shake of her head. "I feel all their eyes upon me."

"The clucking old hens should mind their own business," he said firmly.

"But, Keane, we--"

"Are doing nothing!" he said firmly. "I have not taken you to my bed. You share my house, your house, just as Nighean, Myrna, Donella, and the rest of your maids do. Do they think it's a scandal that they live here as well?"

"That's not the same, and you know it. I'm treated as the Lady of the house, yet I'm not your sister, daughter, mother, or wife. It's been long enough now that people no longer assume I retain my position because of your kindness... and the fact that you're young and haven't taken another..."

"Perhaps, but the day I care about the tongue waggings of dried-up old women will be the day I am floated to the center of Loch Nobaill." He watched her a moment and then softened. "I know it's hard for you, but don't let the whispering upset you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, so hold your head high and proud. The house staff know the truth, and if anyone, inside or outside my house, wishes to take issue with you, me, or my decision to allow you to share my home, then invite them to come speak their concerns to me directly."

The firmness of his voice made it clear if anyone did accept his offer, it likely wouldn't be a conversation the petitioner enjoyed. "Yes, my Lord," she said softly, but she couldn't stop the faint smile from painting her lips.

As the chill of winter deepened, Fianna found she thought less often of Boadhagh and more often of Keane. She was torn by the feelings she was beginning to feel for the handsome man that reminded her so much of Boadhagh, and her guilt for having them. Not once, no matter how drunk, had he demanded her presence in his bed as was his right, though she sometimes caught him looking at her with longing before he'd smile and turn his attention elsewhere. The maidens of the house were simply aswoon with him, and she knew several had offered to help soothe his longing... offers he'd apparently never accepted.

During the teeth of winter, after a hunt for fresh meat with the gamekeeper, Keane came down with a wet, racking cough. She feared that he'd contracted sweating sickness, and sat by his side, rarely leaving him as burned with fever, keeping him warm, and when he was awake, patiently urging him to eat the thin gruel mixed with crios chu-chulainn--meadowsweet--the wise woman said would draw out the fever.

She finished wiping the sweat from his flushed face and returned to her chair beside his bed. She was so tired, but he seemed to be sleeping more peacefully than he had in several days. She realized she was nodding as she jerked herself awake. With a yawn, she slid her hand under the piles of linen and gripped his hand so that any movement would wake her, before leaning forward to rest her head on her other arm at the edge of his bed.

He moved with a cough and she sat bolt upright, instantly awake. He was looking at her, his face bathed in sweat but his eyes clearer than any time since he'd taken to his sick bed. She tried to draw her hand back from his, but he tightened his grip, so she touched his forehead with her other. His fever had broken, and tears of relief and gratitude flooded her eyes.

"How long have you been here?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper and a shadow of itself. "Beer?"

"Three days," she said as she helped tip Keane's head up so she could dribble the beer past his lips.

He sucked at the liquid greedily before turning his head to the side. "You must be exhausted," he murmured as he fell back with a sigh.

"I've slept. "

"As I found you, in the chair?"

"Yes," she said softly, unable to meet his gaze.

He watched her silently for several long moments. "Thank you," he whispered, his gentle smile as he took her hand saying more than words ever could.

As the first buds of spring began to show, Keane, the stone hoe in his hand, stomped into the kitchen where Fianna and the rest of the kitchen staff were preparing the noon meal. "Come woman," he bellowed. "There's tilling to be done!"

"Keane," she replied calmly, trying to hide her smile,"there's more than enough help that you don't have to do that. Why don't you go help with the fishing?"

"I won't hear of it! I want to discover for myself what Boadhagh found so interesting about digging in the dirt."

No longer able to hide her smile, she handed her spoon to one of the cooks so the woman could continue stirring the oats and milk simmering in the large black pot hanging in the cooking pit.

"Remember, this is your idea."

Like Boadhagh, Keane complained bitterly as he toiled, threatening vile retribution upon those who had invented farming, those who had developed the tools for farming, and especially upon anyone who might ever have the audacity to suggest farming was a worthy and noble pursuit. As she planted her seeds and root vegetables, while also supervising and directing his efforts, a smile danced over her lips each time he issued a particularly creative and vile curse.

Later, after he'd eaten heartily at the evening meal, she tended to Keane's aching muscles. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" he grunted as she dug at his shoulder and neck, before chuckling to himself. "Fianna, you are far tougher than I have given you credit for," he said while wincing again as she worked out his kinks. "If I were to do that every day, I'd be unable to walk upright, lift a sword... or feed myself," he growled, baring his teeth as her fingers dug deep in his shoulders.

"As would I if I had to handle nets all day, something you do with ease."

"Handling a net, I don't have to bend over the entire day."

She smiled as she felt the knot of muscle in his shoulder began to relax. The hoe was sized for her, and Boadhagh had complained just as bitterly that the handle was too short. "I told you to have the carpenter fashion you a longer handle."

He grunted as she continued to work on his shoulders. She'd told him that when he first asked about helping her with her private garden, but in his arrogance, he'd dismissed her suggestion. After all, he'd rationalized, if she could work with the hoe, he should be able to do so with ease. He was still learning the lesson that ignoring her suggestions often resulted in regrets later... like now.

"Fianna, when is the last time you left the manor other than to attend church?"

"I don't know. Perhaps a year. Maybe more. Before... Boadhagh left."

"If I'm able, will you go for a ride with me tomorrow? I understand that Boadhagh turned you into quite the horsewoman."

She considered his offer. It'd be nice to be away for a few hours. Keane hadn't found the blackguards who'd attacked the manor, but apparently word had spread he was looking for them, and if caught, they'd die hard. The threat of his vengeance had apparently been enough to discourage any other would-be highway men from preying on the innocent. With his threat, and the return of the rest of the clan, still freshly trained in the ways of killing men, peace and stability had returned to MacNobaill lands, and people were again traveling without fear during the day.

"Thank you, Keane, I think I'd enjoy that. I'll prepare a meal for us."

He took her hands from where she was kneading his shoulder and pulled her from behind him to where he could see her lovely face. "As will I," he said softly.

The next morning, after leaving orders for what she expected done while she was gone, Fianna joined Keane as the groom led her horse out. With her previous horse stolen, it had been replaced with an easily controlled mare with a sweet and gentle disposition that nuzzled her as she caressed her face. The groom was going to help her mount, but Keane nudged him aside and helped her into the saddle himself.

Once she was comfortably settled in her equally new saddle, he mounted his own horse, a much more spirited stallion. His horse dancing in excitement, he led her out of the stable and through the estate. It was a glorious day, and as she and Keane rode through his lands, past pastures of sheep and men working oxen to break the ground, she enjoyed seeing the budding trees and the green fields. She tipped her face skyward, the bright sunshine and refreshing air on her face making her feel as renewed as the land itself. He led her on, past where his lands had once joined to Boadhagh's, before stopping for their meal by a bubbling stream.

He helped her down and she staggered slightly, her muscles unused to riding after her long absence from the saddle. He steadied her by quickly pulling her into him, before releasing her slowly as she recovered her balance.

"Thank you," she murmured as she gradually pulled out of his steadying embrace.

"It was my pleasure, my Lady," he said softly, a small smile on his lips.

While enjoying a lunch of porridge flavored with honey, they discussed the trivialities of running the estate. She could sense that something was on his mind, but she'd allow him to speak of it in his own time. In the almost year since his arrival, she'd come to trust this noble, handsome man, and she believed that so long as it was within his power, he wouldn't cast her from her home. Smiling, she was aware of him watching her as she again tipped her face to the sunshine, her eyes closed as the sun warmed her face. She sighed, happy and content. As the sun warmed her, she realized that happiness had gradually replaced her sorrow, the change coming over her so slowly she hadn't realized she no longer ached for Boadhagh.

"Why are you smiling?"

She didn't move. "I don't know. I'm just happy, enjoying my time here with you." When he didn't respond, she looked at him.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked as he stood and held his hand down to her.

She took it, and he pulled her slowly to feet. Holding her hand, he led across the glen in a leisurely stroll. It was the first time he'd held her hand for so long a time. Since she didn't try to remove it, he steeled himself for what he must do next, no longer able to contain what his heart was aching to say. As she'd became less cool and distant toward him, it became increasingly difficult for him to deny or hide his feelings for her. He wouldn't turn her out, but the unknowing and hope she was growing close to him was slowly killing him. Better to be crushed with disappointment but know the truth than to live with false hope for more slowly making him mad.

"Fianna," he said softly as he stopped and turned her to face him,"I know your heart will always belong to Boadhagh, but in the past year, you seem to have grown fond of me."

He paused to give her an opportunity to deny it. If she did, he'd reassure her he'd keep his word to not turn her out, but that he'd be spending more time on the boats and in town, returning to the manor only occasionally. He'd explain that he needed to take greater control over clan MacNobaill interests, and not the true reason for distancing himself from her was because the ache in his heart was too much to bear when she was so near but out of his reach. He'd thought her presence in his home would comfort him, and in a way it did, but his heart wanted what it wanted, and it wanted more than just her presence.

When she didn't respond, her gaze steady as she watched his face, he struggled to contain his hope. "Is there, perhaps, a small space left in your heart for me?" he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

She was quiet for a long moment. "What are you asking me, Keane?"

He swallowed hard. Never with sword in hand had he been as afraid as he was in this moment. "I have coveted you since I first met you, Fianna, but as you were taken by Boadhagh I knew you could never be mine, and I was content that you and Boadhagh were happy. Now, I can't stop myself from wondering if..." he paused as he took a deep breath to fortify his nerve before pressing on. "In the past year, I've come to love you even more and..." He paused, his heart sinking as her eyes welled with tears. It was too late for him to stop now, so hardening himself against disappointment, he plunged again. "I... would like you to be my wife... but only if you wish it in return."

She swallowed hard as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Keane, you know I'm barren and can't give you an heir. Why would you want a woman such as me when you can have your pick among the loveliest maidens in the land, from those that would be delighted to bear your children?"

"I know you're barren, but that doesn't matter to me. There are... other ways. I have withheld my seed since Boadhagh's death, not taking a woman to my bed, in the hope that one day you will have me."

"You've been without a woman for almost a year?" she asked, her surprise clear in her voice and on her face. She knew he hadn't taken one of her maidens, but she'd assumed that on his trips to Cyulkein he'd availed himself of the women there who served men for money. "I'd hoped the rumors weren't true."

"As you've been without a man for even longer. There's only one woman for me, and I won't give my seed to another without her approval." He looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "Not unless the woman will never want me."

Fianna watched as he slowly lifted his gaze, hope painted on his face even though she could tell he was trying to hide it. A smile touched her lips. She did love Keane. She'd realized she'd fallen in love with him when she was afraid the fever would take him. She'd refused to admit, even to herself, it was anything more than concern she would feel for anyone, or perhaps a little more because he was the man protecting her and giving her shelter, but it was. It was much more. He was everything Boadhagh was, and more. He was kind and fair to the staff without her prompting, and though Boadhagh had never mistreated her, Keane deferred to her wishes far more readily than Boadhagh ever had. He'd made no demands on her, despite his right to do so, and he'd asked for her hand only if she wanted his in return. When Boadhagh had asked her father for her hand, he'd simply assumed she'd want him in return. Keane was strong but kind, and she finally admitted that her longing was no longer for Boadhagh, but for Keane. She yearned for his touch, to feel him between her thighs, but... having admitted to her feelings, if only to herself, a crushing guilt settled over her.

She looked down, ashamed of her feelings but no longer able to deny them. "I do love you Keane," she murmured,"but... Boadhagh..."

"Yes, I know. I miss him too, but Boadhagh is dead. I won't forget him, and I'm not asking you to forget him either, but you shouldn't go through the rest of your life mourning him. Is that what you think Boadhagh would want? Is that what you'd want for him if you were to die?"

"No..." she whispered as she continued to stare at the green, growing things beneath her feet. It'd be cruel for her to want that for him. She forced her gaze upward. "Are you sure this is what you want... a barren woman that was once another man's wife?"

His heart thudded in his chest, both with excitement and fear. Now for the true test of her feelings. "Fianna Ceannaideach, will you take my hand in marriage, to be the Lady of my house, to once again become a Lady in clan MacNobaill?"

She smiled, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she was afraid she'd become faint, Keane's words almost identical to Boadhagh's proposal six years ago. She answered as she did then. "I will."

Fianna followed Keane back to the manor, the sun low in the sky. He could have stayed in the meadow with her for hours yet, but despite the seeming safety, he didn't want to risk traveling at night, even this deep in clan MacNobaill lands. He was armed with is sword, but despite his prowess as a warrior, he could be overwhelmed, as Boadhagh had been overwhelmed, and he wanted to arrive back at the manor before darkness fell to ensure her protection.