The Clan MacDougall Series (15 page)

He brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead and wished he could crawl into the bed with her. He cursed himself for thinking it. “Good rest to ye, Aishlinn,” he said and quickly left the room.

Aishlinn did not respond for she was lost in the tingling sensation she felt the moment he touched her forehead. She was not sure what that sensation was for she had absolutely no romantic experiences in her past to refer to. She only knew that when he was near her, when he touched her, she lost all sense of reality.

She would have to get these sensations and thoughts under control, reminding herself again, that men like Duncan could never be interested in someone like her. He was merely being kind, like a good brother would be and there would never be anything more to their relationship than that.

She also warned her heart against getting used to luxurious beds and hot, lavender scented baths. Soon, she was certain, she would be healed enough to begin to earn her keep here, and she would be living below stairs with the rest of the servants. But for now she would sleep in the bed, only because she did not want to catch a chill and risk getting the fevers. It had nothing to do with the luxuriousness that she was swathed in at the moment. It was for practical reasons alone and nothing more. But goodness, it did feel good.

Duncan did not breathe again until he closed the door behind him.
Wretched man!
He cursed to himself. It had taken every ounce of willpower he owned to not kiss her then and there as he held her in his arms. A scowl came to his face as he wondered where in the hell these beastly thoughts of his were coming from. Pushing them aside, he went in search of Rowan and cared not if he interrupted anyone his friend might be in the middle of.

Isobel had finally returned from helping Brown Robert’s wife deliver her first bairn, a healthy baby boy. It had been an exhausting event that lasted well into the evening. Mary happily informed Isobel of Duncan’s safe return and the fact he had brought a guest with him.

Isobel went in search of Duncan but found her daughter, Bree, instead. Bree excitedly shared the story of the orphaned Highlander lass. Isobel was certain her daughter was making things seem far more dramatic than they actually were. But when she finally found Duncan and discussed the matter with him, she knew her daughter had not been exaggerating.

There were only a few differences between Bree’s version and Duncan’s. According to Bree, the earl had passed out before being able to go through with his devious intentions. Isobel was certain Duncan’s version was more in line with the truth. They could only assume that Aishlinn had lied either because she thought Bree too young or the truth was too painful for her to discuss out loud.

Isobel peeked into Aishlinn’s room but was unable to get a good look at the lass for she had the covers pulled tightly about her head. She thought it best to allow the poor thing to sleep as much as possible.

Isobel returned to the kitchens and left instructions with Mary that the lass was to be left alone for now in order to rest. Mary promised she would have someone look in on on her periodically then quickly ordered Isobel to her own bed. Isobel may very well have been the chief’s wife and the mistress of this castle but even she knew better than to argue with Mary. She went to her own room where she fell into her bed and slept until morning.

U
ninterrupted by the nightmares she had been having for many days, Aishlinn slept. She did not wake until well after the midday meal the following day. When Bree informed her of that fact, Aishlinn was appalled. She wasn’t one to lie about in such a lazy manner. Very much ashamed of herself, she apologized to Bree repeatedly.

“’Tis all right, lass!” Bree told her as she brought a tray of warm broth and fresh bread and sat it upon the bed. “Ye’ve been through a trial, that is certain. No one holds it against ye fer sleeping!”

Bree was insistent that Aishlinn stay in bed while she ate. Too tired to fight, Aishlinn acquiesced but not before making certain the young girl knew she was not a slothful person.

“I’m not a princess who takes her meals in bed whilst others wait on her hand and foot!”

Bree giggled and shook her head. “But isn’t it nice to be treated as one on occasion?”

Aishlinn had no good response for she had never really thought of it before. She had been kept far too busy over her years to have time to waste on such frivolous thoughts and daydreams. Well, perhaps she did daydream, but only on the rarest and most special of occasions. Such as when her brothers were being particularly cruel and she thought of very clever ways to get even with them. Or when she would fall into bed at the end of a bone-tiring day of working in the fields.

Only then would she lie awake and think of a knight in shining plate who would come to rescue her. Of course the knight in her dreams had always been blind and therefore cared not if her face was plain. The knight had only cared for her inner beauty. A regal knight with perfect vision would have taken one look at her extremely plain face and run away.

She let out a long sigh and turned her attention to the broth and warm bread dripping with butter. The meal left her feeling warm and content, but nature called and would not allow her to sleep again just yet.

When Aishlinn struggled to leave the bed Bree said, “Lass! Ye need yer rest!”

Aishlinn laughed at her. “Aye, I do. But if I don’t get to the privy soon, you’ll have a mess to clean!” Bree chuckled and helped her to the privy. Aishlinn thought it all ridiculous, the way everyone fawned over her, treating her like a bairn. When she was finished, Bree happily helped her back to the bed where she snuggled again into the pillows. The bed was luxurious Aishlinn thought, and prayed her body would not get used to it.

“Yer face looks much better this day, Aishlinn!” Bree told her as she grabbed the mirror from the table. “Look! Ye can see fer yerself!”

“Thank you, but nay.” Looking at her own reflection was something Aishlinn never did.

“Och! But lass ye must!” Bree was an insistent.

After a few moments Aishlinn’s curiosity got the better of her, and she took the risk to glance at her reflection. If what Bree said was true, that she looked better this day than last, then she could only imagine how terrible she must have looked in the beginning. Why on earth Duncan and his men had not fled in fear at the sight of her, she could not begin to guess.

Purple patches surrounded her eyes and dotted her still swollen cheeks and chin. The cuts on her lips remained but were barely noticeable. How anyone could tell her she was not plain she couldn’t fathom. Tears welled as she slumped into her pillow.

Bree smoothed her hair and spoke to her soothingly, as she might do to a child with a bruised knee. “’Tis all right, Aishlinn,” she whispered. “Ye’ll be completely healed soon enough. Yer face is truly bonny, even with the bruises.”

Aishlinn knew better. Bruises or no, it was still the same plain face her stepfather had warned her of. Not wanting to argue the point, Aishlinn closed her eyes and took deep breaths. “Thank you, Bree.”

Bree stayed quietly at her side until Aishlinn fell back to sleep. Bree may have been young but not so young that she couldn’t recognize a broken heart when she saw it. She felt sorry for Aishlinn and the life she had led.

Over the next few days the ritual of bringing meals to Aishlinn only to have her fall asleep soon after eating was repeated. Frequently Bree would give her updates on the color of her bruises and would try to offer reassurance that she was healing quite nicely. Aishlinn refused to look into the mirror again and was thankful that Bree did not push the matter further.

Duncan had been very busy those first few days after their return to Castle Gregor. Training would take up most of his mornings while the duties of acting chief took up his afternoons. Bree and Mary would update him on Aishlinn’s progress several times throughout the day.

As he began to wonder if he should not send a search party for his search party, his men finally returned. Gowan, Tall Thomas, Findley and Richard rode through the gates late in the afternoon. Oddly enough they had returned with the missing cattle.

“What the bloody hell?” Duncan exclaimed as he bounded down the steps and into the courtyard. Gowan dismounted and handed his horse off to a young lad. “We came across the reivers on our return home, Duncan!” he said rather proudly. “They were camped to the north and west of the McDunnah’s lands.

“What of the English?” Duncan asked, for that had been his main worry these many days.

“Now that is an odd story!” Gowan said as they waited for Tall Thomas, Richard and Findley to join them. A group of men came to lead the cattle to the pasture just beyond the keep.

As the group entered the castle, Duncan told a young lad to have food and drink brought to his men straight away. Though his men were travel worn, covered in dust and grime, they appeared peculiarly excited. For his men to return unscathed and apparently happy made Duncan assume they had good news. However he would not breathe a sigh of relief until he learned what had happened.

“We rode all the way back to Penrith and kept a watch outside Castle Firth,” Findley told him as they sat down at a table. “There were no’ a sign of any soldiers about. We watched for an entire day. ’Twas as if nothing had happened there at all.”

Duncan found that quite strange. The bruises and welts across Aishlinn’s body were evidence enough that something bad had happened to her. Had she been truthful when she said she stabbed the earl? A scowl came to his face as he wondered if there was more to her story than she had told them.

While he pondered the new information, food and ale were brought in. His men quickly downed a tankard of ale each before filling their trenchers with food. “We went north, south and east Duncan. We found nothin’,” Richard told him before filling his hungry mouth with venison.

Duncan could make no sense of it. If what Aishlinn said were true, that she had in fact killed the Earl of Penrith, then most assuredly the English would be looking for her. That is, unless they knew not who to look for. Many questions raced through his mind and he needed answers.

“I’ll need to speak to the lass,” he told them as he stood to leave.

Gowan smiled up from his trencher. “Would ye like to know more of the cattle reivers, Duncan?” he asked.

Duncan had completely forgotten about the reivers. He was more concerned with what the English were doing. He sat back down. “Tell me.”

“We headed north from Penrith and having found no sign of English soldiers, we decided to head home,” Gowan said before taking a pull of ale. Wiping his mouth on his dirty sleeve he continued. “As we crossed over McDunnah land, through their northern territories, we came upon the reivers.” He paused long enough to belch. “They were a fierce lot!” he smiled. “’Twas nearly all we could do to fend them off!”

Findley and Richard laughed raucously. Duncan cast each of them a puzzled look. He asked why they found a fierce lot of reivers humorous.

“They were children Duncan. The oldest a whopping ten and three!” Gowan said.

“Aye,” Richard wiped a tear from his face for he had been laughing so hard. “And they were fierce. Good rock throwers!” he chuckled again. “Anyway, ’twas only five of them, all lads. They had gotten lost on their return home and that’s why ’twas such a curious route we followed,” he explained. “They had taken the cattle it seems for two reasons. One,” he began as he held up a finger, “to prove to their chief that they were indeed fierce and able warriors.” He took another drink of his ale.

“And two?” Duncan asked rather impatiently.

“And two,” Findley interjected. “They were starving.”

The scowl returned to Duncan’s face. He was not sure if he would like where this story might lead.

“There canna be more than twenty in their entire clan, Duncan. Mostly auld men and women and a couple of men near Angus’ age. Though I would no’ give ye a groat for any of them.” The smile had left his face.

“The lad’s mother—a bonny thing she is by the way,” Richard added, “Och! She was mad at the lot of them! I thought she’d skelp them all for what they’d done.”

“Her husband died three years ago,” Findley said. “He was the last of their warriors. They’d been wiped out by a pox. How the auld survived it, I dunna ken. They’ve no homes save for a few tents and a hut they all sleep in for the winter. The lad’s mum it appears is their chief of sorts.” A rather pitiful look had come to all of their faces.

Duncan waited to see if they would offer more. “And?” he finally asked.

Findley stood and looked at him with a most serious expression painted on his face. “I’d like permission to bring them here, Duncan.”

Though it was true they had room for them, and plenty of good fortune to share, Duncan wondered what he would do with the lot of them. He could not in good conscience ignore those in need. And the thought of a mother with five young lads to feed and no husband to help tugged at his heart. There was no reason for him to take time pondering what Angus might do. They would take them in. “I give it. Go get yer band of fierce reiver warriors, Findley. We’ll take them in.”