Timeless Tales of Honor (11 page)

For days she had been sleeping on the cold ground. She’d not complained once of being cold, even when her teeth chattered and her body shivered. There had also been no complaints about the pain he knew she must have suffered. He could not leave her to sleep here on the cold hard floor even if she were by a warm fire. Gently he reached his hands under her tiny frame and scooped her into his arms.

She had been sound asleep when she suddenly felt her body being lifted into the air. She let out a loud gasp before she realized Duncan was lifting her into his arms.

“Haud yer wheesht, lass!” he smiled.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Put me down, Duncan!” She had no idea what he wanted or why he was here.

“Lass, ye fell asleep on the floor. I was merely putting ye in yer bed so ye could rest more comfortably,” he told her. “Ye’ve spent enough time of late sleeping upon the cold hard ground.” He remembered how cold she had been that morning, chilled to the bone with her teeth chattering.

“I’m used to sleeping on a pallet, Duncan,” she protested.

Duncan wondered then if she was afraid of the bed after what the earl had done. Silently he sent a slew of blasphemies down to the bastard in hell. Mayhap a bed brought back too many painful and frightening memories. “Lass, the bed will no’ hurt ye,” he whispered trying to reassure her.

“I know that!” she said indignantly and let out and exasperated sigh. She knew he would not leave her alone about it. “I’m used to sleeping upon a pallet.” She hoped she would not be forced to explain it further.

So that was it. The lass had never slept in a bed before. She was probably embarrassed and wanted not to admit it aloud. He decided to take a softer approach.

“Now, lass. What happens when ye find a nice young lad to marry? Do ye expect yer husband to be sleepin’ upon a pallet or in a nice warm bed with ye?”

She went red with embarrassment. She knew that more likely than not she would never marry. And if she did it would be no business of Duncan’s where she and her husband might sleep! She began to protest when she suddenly noticed his smooth face. He had shaved his beard and he looked even more handsome without it. “You shaved your beard,” she said.

“Aye, I did,” he said as he began carrying her towards the bed. “I find the lasses complain far less when I kiss ‘em with a smooth face!” he said with a smile and a wink.

A momentary sensation of sadness, blended with a tint of jealousy, ran over her skin. Other women, women far more beautiful and buxom than she, would be given the honor of those kisses. She cursed herself for thinking such things.

As he stood holding her beside the bed she noticed an odd expression had come to his face. “Are you going to put me down?”

For an uncomfortably long moment, he did not move. His eyes seemed to be glued to hers. With a slight nod of his head he said “Aye” before he carefully laid her upon the bed.

It was as she had thought it would be, soft, warm, and quite luxurious. Taking a deep breath, she caught the faint scent of thrushes and lavender, as the bed seemed to wrap around and hug her tenderly. ’Twas an exquisite feeling of comfort, warmth and safety. ’Twas nearly as good as having Duncan’s arms wrapped around her. Not quite as good, but close enough.

“Now,” Duncan said. “Be that better than the cold floor?”

Aishlinn closed her eyes as he drew the blankets around her “Aye,” she whispered softly.

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.

D
uncan 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.

I
sobel 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.

D
uncan 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.”

A broad smile came to Findley’s face causing Duncan to wonder if mayhap his friend had not taken a fancy to the mother of the lads. “How bonny is she?” he asked.

Findley raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Bonny enough that I’d ride for days to get her.”

Duncan chuckled as he stood and smacked Findley upon the back. “Be sure to explain to the lads though, that we dunna take too kindly to reivers. And if they ever think of stealing again, ’twill no’ be their mum that’ll skelp ’em, ’twill be me.”

D
uncan had tried
that day to speak with Aishlinn. But when he entered her room, he found that she was asleep. It had been like that for days now and he was beginning to wonder if her injuries weren’t worse than he realized.

The following day he decided he would try again. If he found she was still sleeping he would send for the healers. He was quite surprised to hear Bree’s cheerful voice bid him entry when he knocked upon Aishlinn’s door.

He was also surprised to find Aishlinn awake. But he was even more surprised to find a very beautiful lass sitting near the open windows -- one whose bright smile was enough to light even the darkest of nights.

Aishlinn sat with a shawl draped around her shoulders while Bree ran a comb through her golden blonde hair. Duncan wished for a brief moment to be the comb so that he might have a chance to feel her smooth, silky tresses. As he cursed his wicked thoughts, he promised himself he would attend two masses this week as well as confession and beg the Lord to forgive him these wicked thoughts.

Nearly gone were the bruises and he could see clearly that she did in fact have a most beautiful face. She had magnificent features -- an angular jaw and a perfectly proportioned nose. Her lips were full and pink and he imagined they would taste as sweet as honey if he were to kiss them. She had a long slender neck and dainty ears that he would not mind at all brushing his fingers against until he brought chill bumps to her creamy skin. By the time he got his sinful thoughts back in control, he was up to mass every day for the next sixty years and confession twice daily through eternity.

His thoughts had turned to Aishlinn’s stepfather and the fine manner in which he managed to convince the lass that she had no beauty. Only a truly evil son of a whore would do such a thing. Duncan had not realized his face held a deep scowl until Bree brought it to his attention.

“What be the matter, Duncan?” Bree asked. “Ye look angry.”

Duncan shook away the thoughts along with the scowl. “Sorry lasses! I was thinking of something else.” He came into the room and stood near Aishlinn. “I am glad to see ye awake. How be ye this day, Aishlinn?”

“So much better, thank you, Laird McEwan.” Her smile was sweet and appreciative.

Duncan chuckled as he reached out to put a hand upon her shoulder and he felt his own skin begin to sizzle when he touched her. He withdrew it quickly. “Ye may call me Duncan, lass,” he told her, doing his best not to appear as addle-headed as he felt. There was a reason why he was here and it took him a moment to remember it. “Bree, I’ve need to speak to Aishlinn privately,” he said, never taking his eyes from Aishlinn’s.

“I’ll come back soon, Aishlinn,” Bree assured her before leaving the room.

Duncan pulled the stool from the fireplace and sat in front of Aishlinn so that he could read her face while he questioned her. Unease began to build in his stomach for he truly did not want to cause her any discomfort. But it was important that he have as many details as possible.

“Aishlinn, I’ve questions I need to ask ye,” he told her. “I’ll need ye to answer them honestly.”

Puzzled by his statement, her brow creased. She had been completely honest with him from the start and had only held back the most embarrassing of moments. “Aye, I will, as I have done since we first met, m’laird.”

Duncan nodded his head and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me about the night ye stabbed the earl.”

Aishlinn could live her entire life ten times over and it would not be enough time to forget that night. Memories of what had happened and what almost happened, would be forever burned into her soul. They would more likely than not, haunt her all the rest of her days. She took a deep breath before answering him. “I stabbed him.”