Timeless Tales of Honor (8 page)

Crouching beside her, he lightly brushed a loose bit of hair from her forehead with his fingertips. A surge of something quite unfamiliar rushed through Aishlinn, and she knew not what to make of it.

“I ken ye be frightened, lass,” he told her. His voice was soft and reassuring. “I ken we must appear to be a strange lot to ye, all big and loud and speakin’ our minds. Och! We may stretch the truth a wee bit on occasion, but when it comes down to the very important things in life, we never lie.”

Duncan knew that her current predicament could not be an easy one. He could only hope that someday she would realize he was being truthful with her.

“When we make a pledge or a promise, we keep it ‘til our dyin’ breath. When we swore to protect ye and yer honor, we meant it.” Smoothing her hair he smiled at her. “And when I tell ye that ye be no’ plain, ye can believe that I tell no lie.” He squeezed her hand again, smiled and left the room.

While Duncan had been speaking, Aishlinn had been holding her breath. But the moment he stepped behind the curtain, she released it and with it came more than a decade’s worth of tears.

D
uncan came to her
, as promised, before the sun had risen. He gently touched Aishlinn’s shoulder and she awoke startled and frightened. “Haud yer wheesht, lass!” he whispered.

When she tried to stand, she found her legs wobbly and weak. They were not going to cooperate with her this day. She was tempted to use some of the words she had heard Rebecca using last night. Perhaps if she cursed her legs enough, she could scare them into functioning properly.

Duncan helped her to her feet and waited patiently for her to get her bearings. Rebecca soon joined them to help her out of the nightdress and into the trews and tunic. Duncan had been proper by leaving the women alone while Aishlinn dressed, but returned the moment Rebecca was done with tying the laces on the trews. She helped to put woolens over Aishlinn’s feet before handing the lass over to Duncan.

As Duncan carried her out of doors, the cold morning air brought chill bumps to Aishlinn’s skin. Stars dotted the clear night sky and a sliver of a moon hung high in the east. It would be hours before the sun would be up.

Duncan handed Aishlinn to Manghus while he mounted his horse. Aric had one hand on the bridle of Duncan’s mount, his other resting on the shoulder of his wife. Rebecca had packed food for their journey to Castle Gregor as well as an extra blanket with which to keep Aishlinn warm.

“I’ve put fresh bandages and more salve in the bundle for ye,” Rebecca told Rowan as she handed the bundle up to him. “Keep the wounds clean. Change them at mid-day, then at night and she should be well.”

“Thank ye, Rebecca,” Rowan told her as he tied the bundle to the back of his saddle. “Yer a good woman. Too bad yer already married!”

Rebecca shushed him. “Ye’ll no’ want Aric to hear ye say that!” She gave him a smile as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. They had all been friends for many years and she knew Rowan meant nothing by it.

Aishlinn thanked both Aric and Rebecca. “I fear I’ll never be able to repay your kindness,” she told them. Rebecca reached up and squeezed her hand. “’Tis nothin’, lass. Return the favor by showing kindness to another when they need it.” Aishlinn felt a twinge in her heart. Growing up she had been kept away from most people and had never been afforded the opportunity to make friends. Rebecca had been the first person that Aishlinn could consider as such, though their time together had been short. She could only hope that they would have the opportunity to meet again someday, and hopefully under far better circumstances.

“Remember,” Aric said to Duncan, “tell Angus that Caelen offers our support against the English should ye need it. We’ll be at Gregor in a fortnight, maybe two, to meet with him and his council.”

Duncan nodded his head as Manghus lifted Aishlinn up to him. He wrapped a plaid around Aishlinn, then the blanket from Rebecca, tucking both securely under her chin. “I be sure Angus will appreciate yer support,” Duncan said to Aric. “Express me gratitude to Caelen for us.”

“I will,” Aric said as he handed the reins to Duncan. “Keep the lassie safe.” Aric gave a soft slap to the horse’s rump. “Godspeed.”

As the horses began to trot down the road towards Dunshire, Duncan gently laid Aishlinn’s head upon his chest. “I still promise ye a hot bath and a warm bed when we get to Castle Gregor, lass.”

Duncan’s chest was warm and made her feel safe and protected. As she lay against him, she thought of how these men had behaved towards her. They fussed over and guarded her as if she were as precious as gold. And for reasons she could not fathom, they had sworn their unyielding allegiance. It was difficult to understand why these men were so intent on protecting her. As her eyelids grew heavier and her body warmer, she decided the reasons why did not matter. Far too tired to think further on it, let alone to will her mouth to speak, she promised to swear her own allegiance to them very soon. For now, all she could do was snuggle into Duncan’s chest and sleep.

T
he sun had risen long
before Aishlinn woke again. She lifted her head to catch a glimpse of where they might be, the movement bringing a twinge of pain in her ribs that she would not admit to and her bladder begged for relief. Not wanting to be a burden or appear weak in the eyes of Duncan or his men, she remained quiet and hoped that they would soon stop for a rest.

Duncan bade her good morning with a smile; his blue eyes twinkled in the morning light. Aishlinn yawned as she tried to stretch her weary muscles. ’Twas not an easy task when one is atop someone’s lap and on a horse no less. Perhaps they would stop soon and once dismounted, she could stand, stretch and move her muscles a bit and find a good tree. Or a rock. Or a bush. Anything behind which to hide so she might give some relief to her bladder.

They rode in silence for a while longer. Aishlinn tried to gain a more comfortable position; one that would take some of the pressure off her bladder that was threatening to empty its contents upon Duncan’s lap. After a while longer, she decided she could no longer remain quiet on the matter. “Duncan, I do need to stop for a moment.”

“Are ye in pain lass?” he asked with much concern in his voice.

“Aye,” she told him.

Duncan immediately pulled rein and brought his horse to an abrupt stop. Rowan and Manghus pulled up beside them. “What be the matter, lass?” Duncan asked, very concerned for her. He began to wonder if they’d left Aric’s too soon and were pushing her too hard.

Aishlinn squirmed as she tried to right herself, praying that the Lord would allow her to hold herself a bit longer, at least until she could get behind a tree. “Duncan, I really must get down straight away.” The urgency in her voice told them what they needed to know. Duncan handed her to Rowan who sat her upon the ground. She cursed under her breath when her legs nearly gave out. Duncan dismounted and waited to see if she could walk on her own. When she continued to teeter, holding on to Rowan with one hand and the horse with the other, Duncan sighed. He scooped her up and headed toward a tree with Rowan following behind them.

“I can walk, Duncan,” she said with an irritated sigh. She was frustrated that her body wasn’t healing as quickly as she would have liked.

“Aye, I’m sure ye can, lass,” he told her before setting her down. Holding on to the tree for dear life, she prayed that they would both go away. She would pee down her own leg before she’d allow either of them to help her with such a delicate matter. A great breath of relief escaped her when they stepped away to give her some privacy.

After several long minutes, and only because she had to struggle with the blasted trews, she finally hobbled from behind the tree. She appeared delightfully relieved and was smiling. Duncan stifled a chuckle as he looked down at her. The lass’ head barely reached the middle of his chest, her hair was mussed and the clothes hung so loosely upon her, that she had the appearance of a child playing dress up.

Whilst she had been otherwise detained, Duncan and Rowan had spread a plaid on the ground and opened the bundle Rebecca had given them. Her smile disappeared in the blink of an eye when she caught sight of the items spread out on the plaid. There was no way to change the dressings on her wounds without removing the tunic. She went red from head to toe at the thought.

“We need to change yer bandages, lass,” Duncan told her as he slid an arm around her waist to lead her to the plaid. Roots grew instantly in her feet and refused to proceed forward.

There had been many times in her life where she had wished she’d been born a lad and this was one of those moments. If she had been born the opposite sex, she would have been better suited to work in the fields and hauling rocks. There would have been no braid to cut and no trading her for sheep. There would have been no beatings or attempt at rape. And if she were a man right this very moment, she wouldn’t be trembling with embarrassment and fear at the prospect of baring her back to anyone.

Duncan could see the nervousness in her eyes. “What be the matter, lass?” he asked.

What be that matter? Where Aishlinn came from, young ladies did not bare their skin to men they were not married to! Well, a harlot or a bar wench might, but Aishlinn was neither of those things.

Thinking she might be worried that they would not be as gentle as Rebecca had been, Duncan attempted to sooth her worries. “Lass, I promise we’ll do our best to be gentle and not harm ye.”

The only harm she was worried about at the moment was to her reputation. What if word got out that she had removed her clothing in front of a man? Two men to be exact! “You’ll be seeing my back,” she whispered.

Rowan coughed lightly and turned his back to her while Duncan let loose with an exasperated sigh. “Aye, lass, we will be needin’ to see yer back fer that’s where yer cuts are.” He could understand the lass’ reluctance but now was not the time to stand on proper social protocol. “If we dunna change yer bandages, they could grow infected.” He hoped she would listen to reason.

While the thought of infection did not please her, perhaps it would be worth the risk. “But what would people think?” she asked as her knees began to knock together.

Duncan threw back his head and laughed heartily. Aishlinn’s eyes blazed with anger. He was a man, a blasted fool, who could not appreciate the fallout of a sullied reputation. “I am glad, Laird McEwan, that I’m able to bring such amusement to you,” she gritted her teeth at him. She noticed Rowan had remained with his back turned and his body shook with laughter. “And you as well Laird Graham.” They could both take a leap from the nearest cliff as far as she was concerned. Men set the rules in this world, and then laughed at you when you followed them.

“Lass, there be no one here but us,” Duncan said through smiling lips. “Yer reputation will remain in tact.” He shook his head as his laughter began to subside.

Rowan had managed to take a deep breath and turned back to them. He was doing his best to remain composed as well as thoughtful. “Lass, we really must change the bandages. We’ll only be lookin’ after ye like a brother would towards a sister who is ill or injured.”

Her own brothers would have poured salt into her wounds and laughed while she cried in pain. Neither Rowan nor Duncan appeared to be anything like her brothers. Aishlinn knew they meant well and she began to relax a bit towards the idea. She couldn’t very well change her own bandages. And as long as they behaved as a good brother might, then perhaps she would be able to suffer through the embarrassment.

T
hankfully
, the men had allowed her to keep her tunic on while she lay face down on the plaid. Manghus had brought water to clean her wounds with and apologized repeatedly for it being so cold. The tunic was so big that Duncan had no troubles pushing it up towards her neck so that he could get to the bandages.

Although the cuts were healing nicely, her back was a ghastly sight. A dark bruise, looking very much like the bottom of a man’s boot, could be seen quite clearly just under her left shoulder blade. There were five deep cuts across her back, left by a man’s belt. Not just any man’s belt; these were left behind by the same bastard who had killed his family. If the man had not already been dead, Duncan would be on his way to Penrith to slice his blade across the man’s throat.

By the time he was finished cleaning the wounds, applying fresh salve and bandages, his jaw ached from clenching his teeth. He could not comprehend how a man could do such a thing. Duncan was also baffled by the fact that not once in the past days had Aishlinn complained of being in pain. She had only winced twice when he had applied the salve, but spoke not a word. Duncan knew from his own experience how badly the salve stung when first applied to a cut or open wound. But the lass had only balled her hands into fists and said nothing.

Duncan had carefully lowered the tunic and patted the back of her head. “We be done now, lass.” His throat had gone terribly dry and left his voice sounding husky.

Aishlinn quietly thanked him as she pushed herself to sit. His stomach seized when he saw her face and the tears that had fallen from her eyes. She wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of the tunic but said nothing.

“Lass, I ken it hurts like the devil. ’Tis right fer ye to say it does,” Duncan told her.

Aishlinn forced a smile to her face. Yes, it did hurt like the devil, but she had learned at a young age that the only thing complaining got you was a slap to the back of your head. Or worse. “Aye.” It was all she could think to say as she tried to stand.

He studied her closely for a moment and realized she was quite a remarkable young woman. She complained not of anything and did her best to behave bravely. There was not one woman who came to his mind, who could have endured what this lass had, and still manage to hold on to her composure and pride. He also took note that she was doing her best to not be a bother to them. He tried to give her a moment or two to walk on her own. He saw no sense in allowing Aishlinn to try to force her body to do something it was not quite capable of doing just yet. Duncan scooped her up in his arms and headed towards the horses. There would be time, soon enough, when she wouldn’t need to be carried to and fro. Today wasn’t that time.

“Really, Duncan,” she told him. “I do know how to walk. I believe I mastered that task right around the age of one!” If they would only give her but a minute, she would be able to convince her legs to move on their own accord.

“Aye. I’m sure ye did lass. But I’d rather not wait while ye relearn it! We need to ride away from this place and get to Dunshire quickly.” He quashed a smile that had formed when she began to protest again. “Lass, I’ll damn well carry ye if I damn well choose. Ye be in no condition to argue the point.” He handed her to Rowan and mounted his horse.

“How long do you plan on carrying me wherever I need or wish to go?” she asked him. Rowan handed her up to Duncan who sat her gently upon his lap before wrapping the blankets around her. “Until I grow weary of it.” He cast her a look, that had she known him better, would have warned her not to argue the point.