By God's Grace (16 page)

****

The rain increased from a steady downpour to a deluge as Duncan noticed the huddled figure next to the keep wall. Approaching the individual, it was clear the person was a female. The lass must have been one who assisted in the water line. She appeared to be in a complete state of utter exhaustion. Duncan turned his head, looking for a family member who might be able to assist the poor lass to her home for a much-needed rest.

As he drew closer, he noticed a few things: a familiar set of pointed-toed boots, a familiar blue dress, a familiar set of hands, arms, neck, and finally familiar brown eyes, shining out from a black-stained face. Arbella looked almost as bad as he felt.

Down on his haunches, Duncan bent in front of her. With a quick change of mind, he scooted beside her, leaning back against the keep wall. Rain continued to pour down upon them. They had little protection in their current location. The rain pelted Arbella in the head, running down her face, causing the soot and ash to run. It ran down stained cheeks, continuing along the side of her neck, and into the front of her dress. Duncan's own frame was soaked even before he'd sat beside her. With his head leaned back in a restful pose, his eyelids closed.

When they opened, Arbella was staring at him. He longed to marry her. His arms ached to carry her upstairs to their room, strip her from the wet clothes, and make passionate love to her, warming both of them to their very souls.

“Duncan, are you all right?”

He shook his head to clear the wayward thoughts. “Aye. And ye?”

“What happened?”

“A storm with lightning caused the field to catch fire. If not for the rain, I don't know if we could have stopped the flames.”

The rain fell in a steady sheet upon the charred ground. Duncan spoke loudly to be heard over the sound. “We should get ye inside before ye catch yer death of the ague.”

Arbella's eyebrow rose as she sent Duncan an expression of seriousness. Ignoring what he'd said, she asked, “Has the priest arrived yet?”

Duncan wouldn't have known the location of the priest under most circumstances, but since he'd been looking for the man to arrive any day now, he had spotted the man entering the gates. The priest had noticed the fire and the predicament of the village, thrown off his coat, and stepped into the fray, helping in any capacity possible. Duncan knew the priest was at this moment helping the people who had suffered minor injuries during the fire. So he answered, “Aye, he has arrived.”

The gaze sent his way carried a heat that pierced the soul. The words spoken caused delight. “I wish to marry now.”

He chuckled as he lifted his hand like a cup. A palm full of water was caught in mere seconds. The water poured through his open fingers as a strand of Arbella's soggy hair hanging limply around her face was lifted and examined. Noticing how her mud-spattered gown hung to her curvy frame, he began, “Arbella—”

“Duncan.” Her hand rose to stop the excuses. “I'm cold. It's a cold that goes bone deep, and it's going to take more than a hot fire, a warm bath, and some warm covers to pull me through. I believe your warmth would go a long way in assisting me. Also, I came this close…” she made a pinching sign with her fingers “…to losing you today, and I would prefer to have you as husband before I lost you.”

The lass looked lost and vulnerable sitting on the rain-soaked ground, begging to get married. Before Duncan knew what he was doing, he said, “I will find the priest.”

“Good.”

“Where do ye wish to have the ceremony?”

“Right here.”

One eyebrow lifted in question. “Here? But it's rainin' here.”

Arbella repeated, “Here is good.”

Duncan shrugged mumbling to himself that he would never understand women. With one shove, he pushed up from the ground and headed to find the priest.

****

While Duncan was retrieving the priest, Arbella tried every way possible to get up from the sitting position. With one hand she pushed against the wall behind her. Then she pushed against the ground. When this didn't work, she positioned herself onto all fours and attempted to push up that way. Her legs slid out from underneath her, and she wound up with a face full of mud. Rolling over onto her back, she used her palms to reach a sitting position. Now covered in mud from head to toe, she no doubt resembled a mud monster. When all hope seemed lost, and there were no other things to try, a hand magically appeared in front of her face.

“Need assistance, my lady?”

Arbella gazed up. One streak of light came through the dark clouds, creating a halo around her rescuer. “Oh, Boyd, could you help me up? Duncan went to retrieve the priest so we could get married, and I'm afraid I'm stuck.”

“Get married? Now?” questioned Boyd. His head shook in confusion. He wedged his feet in a spread position, gaining stability before pulling Arbella off the rain-slickened ground. When ready, he reached down to grasp her and pull her up. His hands went under her arms while she struggled to get her knees underneath her. With a grunt, she pushed up and stood on one foot. Now all there was to do was the same with the other side. But as pushed off the other knee, her foot slipped out and hit Boyd's, causing him to lose his own footing. When he came down he landed directly on top of her, his lips inches from her own.

“Boyd, I can't breathe.”

“Pardon, my lady.” His hands were placed flat on the ground on either side of her head as he attempted to push himself up, but it was no use. His hand slipped, and his head fell forward, landing with force upon her cheekbone, causing her to cry out in pain.

Before Boyd could apologize, he was grasped by the scruff of the neck and hauled backward. He was placed on unsteady feet for just a moment before being sent sailing across the yard when a fist connected with his face.

Duncan yelled, “How many times do I have to tell ye to stop being familiar with Arbella!”

Duncan's face was red with anger as he spoke, “Get up, lass.”

Arbella lay flat on her back like a stuck turtle. “I can't get up. Boyd was trying to help me, but he slipped and fell.”

“Oh,” said Duncan. He never glanced at Boyd while adding, “Well, I don't feel bad, because if he hadn't been familiar with ye before, then I wouldn't have assumed he was being familiar with ye now.”

“Duncan, stop worrying about that and get me up from here. Otherwise I'll be forced to get married right here in this very spot.”

“Well, ye did say ye wanted to marry here.” Duncan chortled. “Lass, if ye looked at yerself, ye would never marry this day.”

“I know it's bad. But I believe part of the wedding vows are ‘for better or worse'.”

“Aye, they are.” Duncan reached forward, grasped Arbella just as Boyd had done a few moments ago. With legs spread and good bracing, he was able to get Arbella on her feet. “Don't move,” he said, while attempting to steady them both.

They stopped shifting, and Arbella saw the priest assisting a battered Boyd. “Maybe we should have the priest come here and marry us. Then after the ceremony we can crawl on our hands and knees until we reach the keep.”

Duncan studied his bride-to-be. A strand of her wet muddy hair clung to her face. “Arbella, if we marry like this, ye will never forgive me.”

Arbella laughed. “So you don't believe this would be a good story to tell the children?”

“If ye see yerself after the wedding, and ye look like this, I won't live long enough to give ye any children.”

“All right.” She laughed. “I give up on the idea of marrying and spending the afternoon wrapped in your arms getting warm. Just get me inside so I can order a bath drawn.”

Duncan's head lowered. “Yer wish is my command.”

As they went to move toward the keep doors, the mud refused to comply with Duncan's intentions or with Arbella's wishes, and their feet flew out from under them. They landed in a tangled pile of arms and legs. Boyd, who had recovered, was standing several feet away with his arms crossed in a relaxed position while his belly shook with laughter. Duncan glared at Boyd from his humble position.

Boyd glared back, rubbing an aching jaw. “Serves ye right.”

As Boyd's legs carried him away, Duncan called out, “Come help us, ye lout.”

“Nay, I think not.”

“Ye better get over here, or ye will pay for it later.”

“I have tried to help yer lady once already, and ye almost broke my jaw. What more can ye do to me?”

“Do ye really wish to find out?”

Arbella rubbed at her aching bum. The skirt of her dress was fast becoming a problem. As Duncan and Boyd argued over who was going to assist them, Arbella took matters into her own hands. Sitting upon her backside, she grasped a handful of skirt and jerked. The dress ripped about an inch above the knees. Next she proceeded to flip over onto her knees and started wiggling back and forth like a babe in training. With great effort she was able to get a crawl started toward the stairs of the keep. The rain continued to pelt her backside as she made a slow and steady ascent up the small incline to the keep doors. The first wooden step was reached. Arbella turned to sit upon it with her knees scrunched in front of her.

Pride with the progress kept her from noting the villagers' shocked expressions. Even Duncan stared at her incredulously. Arbella couldn't understand why everyone was staring. Maybe they were happy with her success in reaching the stairs, or maybe they had been following her progress and were recording it for their future use.

These thoughts went no further as a cool breeze wafted around her bum. Realization hit. When the dress had ripped in the front, it must have ripped a little further in the back. At this moment the villagers were getting an eyeful of tattered hose, ragged petticoats, and dirty drawers. Cheeks red with embarrassment, she kicked off muddy slippers, stood up, twirled around, and flew through the keep doors, slipping and sliding all the way to her private rooms.

****

Duncan didn't know what to think of Arbella's display. What he did know was he had to protect her reputation. An intimidating glare was directed toward the gawking spectators. All the people who had caught a glimpse of Arbella's secret unmentionables immediately forgot what they had seen and went about their normal business.

All except one, of course. “What a sight!”

Duncan groaned. “Boyd, the lass is struggling as it is. Can ye not see fit to forget this happened? If ye don't, ye might find ye'll have more than yer jaw hurtin'.”

Since Duncan remained in a sitting position in a slippery pile of mud, Boyd thought it safe to verbally torture him. “Aye, I will never mention it to the young lass, for I have no desire to distress her, but ye are a different story. It does me young ticker well to mention how delectable Arbella is and—”

Boyd never finished, for Duncan came off the ground in a flash and descended on him like lightning. First he knocked the wind out of Boyd, then he used his fists to pummel his cousin's face. Boyd was laughing so hard he wasn't even fighting back. Once the laughter left his system, Boyd managed to roll over on top of Duncan and pay him back.

After they were spent, Boyd rolled off, both of them breathing heavy. “We are going to be a sight for yer wedding.”

Duncan groaned and covered his eyes with a mud-covered arm.

****

While Lyall rested, the inhabitants of the Burns's keep were busy. The servants who had been there for a while were in a frenzy. Work to get the keep in a certain condition was underway. At the same time, the Sinclair men paced around the keep's yard, waiting for word from Lyall.

Before the journey began, they had all heard Cainneach's widow say she planned to send them home before she herself was ready. Bryce had been elected unofficially to speak with Grant about this possibility.

“Grant, should we stay or can we leave?”

“Nay, we must wait for a word from Lyall.”

“But she told Duncan we could leave after we deposited her at the keep.”

“Even so, I am sure Duncan meant for us to wait for her to return with us.”

Bryce muttered, “I canna imagine why.”

“What was that ye say?”

“Grant, ye know as well as I, Lyall is a thorn in Duncan's side. He would love for the woman to never return to the Sinclair keep, and we both know it.”

“That is not for us to decide. Whatever Lyall's faults, she is a Sinclair, and we are charged with protecting the Sinclairs. So we will stay here until she is ready to leave.”

Bryce kicked at the ground. Gazing upward, he said, “The men are tired of being here.”

“We have only been here one afternoon. How can they already be tired?” Bryce scratched his day-old beard. The young cousin shaved every day because he liked the ladies to see his youthful and handsome face. Perhaps their pace on the journey had messed with his routine?

“The men were kinda hoping we could make it back to Aberdeen before dark set in.”

Grant laughed. “So the men want to spend time getting drunk and lying with women in Aberdeen before we return to the Sinclair keep?”

“Aye, that about sums it up.”

“Then I have ye an answer. Nay.”

“But, cousin—”

“What makes ye think I want to spend an extra day nursing yer sorry hides back to health after a night of that kind of living? Now get back to the men and keep watch for Lyall.”

“Where will ye be?”

“Just never ye mind where I will be, and do as ye are told. And never ye fear, I'll be close by.”

“How will I find ye if Lyall dismisses us to return home?”

“Just whistle, Bryce, my boy. I will be close enough to hear ye.”

Bryce bowed and returned to the men with the disappointing news.

Grant, on the other hand, went looking for an old friend he remembered from his last visit. He found her. She was in her front yard taking laundry off the line. Her honey-colored hair billowed out behind her in long flowing strands. As she spotted him, a knowing smile lit her face. Was the lass still unattached? When she crooked a finger at him in a come-hither way, he didn't hesitate but joined the maid for the afternoon.