His words pierced her. This was really happening.
“No!” Father Addison emerged from behind Gawain and rushed to Aileana’s side. “No, it cannot be! When?” The priest smoothed Aileana’s hair, tears forming in his crinkled eyes.
It all seemed like a hazy dream. Less than a sennight ago, they had spoken of travelling to France. Now he was a body deplete of life on the putrid stable floor.
“Yesterday,” Andrews said.
Gawain turned to the men. “Deliver his body to his room and find the gravedigger.”
She gasped. How could he be so unmoved? Cold seeped into her belly.
“For pity sake man, give the lass a moment.” Andrews stepped forward, still holding her tight as if she needed protection from Gawain.
Their words echoed through her. She broke free from Andrews’s embrace and moved to Gawain’s side, her fingers itching to touch his. She hoped he would comfort her, as Andrews had, but Gawain never would. Instead, his brows knit as he examined her. Did it just occur to him she was present?
“Of course. Father Addison, please escort Lady Aileana to her room and see that her maids attend her. These distasteful details are not a lady’s concern.”
His voice was too calm, as if he was unaffected. She barely kept from collapsing, yet Gawain stood aloof with the countenance of someone reviewing the crofters’ rents. She forced a weak smile, for inside he must be just as devastated as she. How she longed for some of his strength.
Father Addison ushered her from the stable. Above them, gloomy clouds parted and one brief shaft of sunlight shone through, reminding her of a recent sermon on Christ’s ascension. Aileana clutched her chest. Her uncle was gone forever.
Father Addison wrapped his arms around her and guided her up the stone steps to the castle keep. Her ever-faithful maid, Gwen, met them as they entered. Once in her chamber, Gwen draped a thick quilt over Aileana’s legs while she stared into the hearth, lulled by the dancing flames.
“My lady, would you care for some heather mead?” Gwen asked.
Aileana stirred. “Thank you, no.” Numbing emptiness nipped at her heart. Gwen produced a pouch of dried valerian and sprinkled some into the mead, passing it to her anyway.
Aileana held up her hand. “No, Gwen, I don’t want anything to help me sleep.”
“Come my lady, you will need this tonight.”
Aileana placed the goblet on the side table. Her uncle’s warm smile was the comfort she needed. “I fear nothing will help just yet.” Her voice cracked. “So much must be done.”
“There’s nothing that cannot wait until the morn. And your uncle would want you to take care of yourself.”
She sighed as fresh tears flowed, giving in to the ache in her chest.
Gwen placed loving arms around her. “’Twill be all right.”
Aileana drew a deep breath. As much as she would like to bury herself in her grief, there were responsibilities which fell to her. Much would change with her uncle gone. For starters, she would have to marry. Was she ready for this? Her hands shook as she reached for the sweet draught. Perhaps it would help.
She sipped. The normally fragrant drink was tasteless.
She recognized the worry on Gwen’s face. Aileana was fortunate to have such a woman for a lady’s maid. Gwen should have had her own maid instead of serving others. Still, she endured her demotion in status with grace.
The maid squeezed her shoulders. “Please, my lady. Drink up, ’twill help.”
“Thank you, no. I cannot drink it.” She clattered the goblet onto the table and pushed it away.
“I wish there was something I could do for you,” Gwen said.
“There is nothing anyone can do. I’m an orphan, one of means, but an orphan just the same.”
The word conjured demons from the past as piercing as winter’s north wind.
Aileana never knew her mother. Regarding her father, Uncle always said, “Do not seek revenge. Seek meaning.” Despite these tragedies, she might not be the person she was today without them. Still, losing parents when one is so young is nothing compared to losing them when one is older with a lifetime of memories to lament. Uncle Iain was the one parent she’d had for most of her life.
“I feel helpless,” Gwen said.
Aileana reached for her hand as more tears flowed. “I will come through this, Gwen. I just need some time to accept what has passed and what must occur.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gawain and I will marry.”
Gwen’s jaw dropped a fraction. “My lady, your uncle—”
“Uncle and I never discussed it. Nevertheless, as he is my cousin, he is the most logical choice to keep the Chattan line going. A new chief must be established right away. As you know, these matters are never left to sit. For the clan’s sake, the wedding will be arranged soon enough, but our betrothal must occur within the next few days.”