Terri Brisbin - Taming the Highlander

“I just left yer ladywife’s chambers where I found her huddled on the floor in front of a cold hearth. She’d passed the night there heaving and wrapped in whatever she could pull from the bed.”

“What?” he roared. “That canna be true. She was in that bed when I left her.”

Now she stepped closer and poked him sharply in his chest with her finger. “She drank whatever was left of yer fine wine and slept on the floor, I tell ye. And this,” she shoved a bundle into his hands and shook her head at him with something in her gaze that resembled disgust, “This is what ye left her in.”

The sodden fabric fell open and he found himself holding a woman’s shift that had been torn and was red with what looked to be dried blood. His thoughts might be muddled by too much wine, but it took only a moment to realize what Ailsa had handed him.

Connor clenched his jaws together. Could it be hers? She had not seemed overly distressed when he left. Indeed, she’d been more upset by what he’d been doing than when he’d finished and moved off the bed. And her refusal when he’d offered to send Ailsa to her showed someone who was well.

“She was well when I left her.”

“Weel, she isna now.”

They stood toe-to-toe until Duncan made some noise that broke into their private conversation. Ailsa noticed Connor’s second-in-command standing near the door and stepped back from the confrontation.

Still unwilling to discuss what he did and did not do, unwilling to even think about it, he crossed his arms over his chest, signaling an end to any more talk.

“Ailsa, see to your duties and I will see to mine.”

“Aye, laird. As ye wish,” Ailsa said, her voice filled with anger.

“I did not harm her, Ailsa.”

The old woman muttered something which Duncan heard for his face bore the look of someone trying not to laugh. The only words he had heard involved not caring for her either.

“I think that someone of your years may not be the right maid for my new wife. Seek out and train one of the girls from the village to serve in your stead.”

If she feared the threat, there was no sign of it. If anything changed, her expression hardened and the anger in her eyes flared anew. Ailsa crossed her arms over her own formidable chest and met his glare with a more insolent one. He’d used the threat on many, many occa sions but had never rid himself of the woman yet.

Mayhap ’twas time?

“Connor?” Duncan’s voice interrupted the two-sided argument.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself, cousin. You have no place in this discussion.”

“Then I bid you good day,” Duncan replied. With a hard smile and narrowed eyes, a nod to both of them and a few steps, he was gone from the chamber as was any hope that Connor had of keeping the full wrath of Ailsa at bay. He would not let this escalate into something that had him examining his motives or his intentions about this new wife. Not even for Ailsa. He raised his hand in front of her and shook his head.

“Ailsa, go and see to the lady’s needs. I will speak to her later.”

“And when she asks of her brother?”

Damn! How did the woman discover so much so quickly?

“Say nothing. I will speak to her of it later.”

It could have been something he’d said or the tone of his voice, but Ailsa paused, sticking out her chin and meeting his gaze for a moment. Mayhap she’d sensed he had truly reached the limits of what he would accept from her in personal commentary or intrusion? Whatever had worked, he was glad of it. The servant nodded and backed away. When she’d reached the door and was pulling it closed as she left, the words escaped him.

“I did not harm her, Ailsa.”

“As ye say, laird,” she replied without slowing or looking back.

Pushing aside all thoughts of the woman at the center of discussion, Connor decided he’d been inside enough this day. He needed to get back to his duties as much as Ailsa did, so he strode down his tower chamber, through the hall of the keep until he left the tall, stone building. Following the path to the stables, he ordered a small troop of men readied to accompany him to the site of the most recent complaints of incursions onto his lands. A few hours later and miles away, only his clan and his lands and their defenses claimed his attentions.

Jocelyn’s respect for the old woman grew quickly as each of her offered remedies worked its magic on her—first on her head and stomach, both of which threatened upheaval at any moment, and then on the rest of her body. The hot concoction that Ailsa brought her soothed the swirlings in her belly and eased the pain in her head. A long, very hot bath eased the aches and coldness that seemed to have seeped into her bones during the night. Then, dressed in warm stockings, a clean chemise, a new gown and length of woolen plaid, Jocelyn felt as though everything that came before had been just a nightmare.

Never one to suffer from self-pity or bad humors, Jocelyn faced the rest of the day knowing that the worst was behind her. She’d lived through the arduous journey to this place. She’d lived through meeting and wedding and being bedded by the infamous Beast. It had not been a pleasant experience on the whole of it, though parts of it were. His touch made her feel things that she’d only heard hinted at by other women, things only sampled lightly with Ewan.

If he kept his word, and she had no doubts that he would, her brother would be free to return to their clan along with the aid and protection promised by the clan MacLerie. Jocelyn intended to ask about the arrangements as soon as she could find the laird. Athdar’s treatment at the hands of the MacLeries was uneven at best and she only hoped that his temper did not get him into more trouble than he already was. He would learn to control it, she was certain, as he grew closer toward manhood.

Soon though, according to the provisions of the marriage contract, Athdar would arrive home with the resources and men to rebuild their keep and village and feed the entire clan through this next winter. No more a target for the hungrier clans around them, her marriage insured her family’s survival. For now, at least as long as her heart ached over Ewan’s loss, she could content herself with the knowledge that no one in her family would die due to a lack of food or shelter this year.

The sun had fought its way through the thick clouds that lingered after the storms of the night, and now it beckoned to her. Jocelyn found her cloak and made her way down to the hall. Determined first to see to her brother and confirm the arrangements for his release. Then, mayhap with his company for she was certain he would welcome the chance to be out of the dungeon cell, she would explore the keep and castle. She made her way to the stairs that would take her deep underneath the keep.

Pushing on the strong wooden door, Jocelyn hit its surface when it did not give under her pressure. Stepping back, she turned the knob and still it did not open. Stretching up to peer in the small opening, she tried to remember the name of the man guarding it last night.

Two nights ago, she corrected herself.

So much had happened in the last few days, she| looked around to make sure she was trying to open the correct door.

It had not been locked when the laird had brought her to see her brother, but it was now. Finally remembering, she called inside to the guard.

“Duff? Duff, are you there?”

No one answered. Jocelyn lifted the latch again and pushed. It was locked and by the sound, or lack, of it, no one stood guard below.

“Duff?” she called out louder. “Is anyone there?”

“Does Ailsa know you are creeping around outside your chambers?”

She let out a scream as someone whispered in her ear—from just behind her. Turning quickly, she discovered the laird’s cousin Duncan apparently up to more of his mischief. Her bottom twinged as she remembered how his last scare had caused them both to arrive mud-covered from their journey.