Free Saving Grace by Julie Garwood

fires and roofs over their heads at night. MacBain puts himself last. Think about that, Johanna. I found out there are two bedchambers on the east side above the stairs in the keep proper. Neither was disturbed by fire. Yet MacBain hasn’t spent a single night there. He sleeps outside with the other soldiers. Doesn’t that tell you something about the man’s character?”
    Her smile was all the answer he required.
    The color came back into her face. Nicholas nodded with satisfaction.
    They had almost reached the edge of the courtyard when they stopped to watch the crowd of men and women working to prepare for the ceremony. Since the chapel had been gutted by fire, the wedding would take place in the courtyard. A makeshift altar consisting of a wide, flat wooden board was propped on top of two empty ale barrels. A woman spread a white linen cloth over the board. Father MacKechnie waited until the covering was in place, then put a beautiful golden chalice and plate in the center. Two more women were kneeling on the ground in front of the barrels, arranging bouquets of flowers in front of the wood.
    Johanna started walking forward again. Nicholas took hold of her hand to stop her.
    “There is something more you need to know,” he began.
    “Yes?”
    “Do you see the child sitting on the top step?”
    She turned to look. A little boy, surely no more than four or five summers, sat all alone on the top step. His elbows rested on his knees, and his head was propped up by his hands. He was watching the preparations. He looked terribly unhappy.
    “I see him,” Johanna said. “He looks forlorn, doesn’t he, Nicholas?”
    Her brother smiled. “Aye, he does,” he agreed.
    “Who is he?”
    “MacBain’s son.”
    She almost toppled over. “His what?”
    “Lower your voice, Johanna. I don’t want anyone to overhear this conversation. The boy belongs to MacBain. There’s speculation he might not be his son, of course, but MacBain has made it clear he accepts him.”
    She was too astonished to speak.
    “His name’s Alex,” Nicholas remarked for lack of anything better to say. “I can tell I’ve given you a bit of a shock, Johanna.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “How long was MacBain married?”
    “He wasn’t.”
    “I don’t understand . . .”
    “Yes, you do. Alex is illegitimate.”
    “Oh.”
    She didn’t know what to think about that. “The boy’s mother died during childbirth,” Nicholas added. “You might as well know it all, sister. The woman was a camp follower. There are at least three other men who could claim the boy.”
    Her heart went out to the little one. She turned to look at him again. He was an adorable child with dark curly hair. From the distance separating them, she couldn’t see the color of his eyes. She wagered they were gray, like his father’s.
    “Johanna, it’s important for you to know MacBain acknowledges the boy as his son.”
    She turned to her brother. “I heard you both the first and the second time you mentioned that fact.”
    “And?”
    She smiled. “And what, Nicholas?”
    “Will you accept him?”
    “Oh, Nicholas, how can you ask me such a thing? Of course I will accept him. How could I not?”
    Nicholas let out a sigh. His sister didn’t understand the ways of their harsh world. “It’s a bone of contention among the Maclaurins,” he explained. “MacBain’s father was the Laird Maclaurin. He went to his deathbed without ever acknowledging his son.”
    “Then the man I’m marrying is also illegitimate?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yet the Maclaurins made him their laird?”
    Nicholas nodded. “It’s complicated,” he admitted. “They needed his strength. He does carry his father’s blood, and they’ve conveniently forgotten he was born a bastard. The boy, however . . .”
    He didn’t say another word. He would leave the conclusions to her. Johanna shook her head. “Do you suppose the little one’s upset about