An English Bride In Scotland (20 page)

Sitting there, she wondered if perhaps that jealousy had not caused her to read more into Kate’s behavior than had really been there. Or perhaps the only way Kate knew how to interact with men was in a flirty manner so didn’t see it as flirty. The way she’d acted with Ross may even be how all women acted around men, at least those women who had not been raised in an abbey where the only man in sight was a quaking old priest.

“All right,” Annabel said finally. “Perhaps I misread your intentions with Ross.”

“Aye, you did,” Kate assured her.

“Well, I shall try not to allow my feelings about my lack as a woman and wife affect my judgment in future,” she said quietly.

“Good.” Kate gave a sharp nod as if to say that was as it should be.

“But in return,” Annabel continued, bringing a wary expression to Kate’s face, “I would appreciate it if you did not call me ‘Belly.’ ”

“But that’s your name,” she protested.

“Nay, my name is Annabel.”

“But I always called you ‘Annabelly’ or ‘Belly.’ ”

“And I always hated it,” Annabel informed her quietly.

“Nay, you did not,” Kate said at once.

“Aye, Kate, I did,” Annabel assured her.

“Nay. You liked it,” Kate insisted.

“I never liked it, Kate,” she said impatiently, finding it ridiculous to have to argue the point. She knew what she liked and did not like. “I hated it from the day you first started using it, and I told you that at the time and you just laughed and danced around me in a circle singing, ‘Annabelly has a fat belly. Annabelly has a fat belly.’ ”

“Oh, God, I did, did I not?” she said with horror. “I am an awful sister!” On that note she threw herself back down on the bed and began to weep copiously again.

Annabel rubbed her forehead with her fingers, wondering how her requesting that Kate not call her what was ultimately a rather offensive name ended with a situation where she felt she had to comfort the girl. At least some part of her was urging her to comfort Kate. Another much larger part of Annabel simply didn’t want to.

Frankly, at that moment she didn’t even want to deal with her. She wanted to pack her up in a wagon and send her home to their parents and let them deal with the daughter they had raised into the woman she’d become. Unfortunately, her mother had made it clear that Kate was no longer welcome at Waverly. But did that mean that she was stuck with her? She had not even seen her in fourteen years. Really, they were strangers.

But she was her sister, her conscience reminded her, and she had been raised better than that. She had been taught charity and service and suffering and perhaps Kate was just her cross to bear.

And reasoning like that was why Annabel had always disliked life at the abbey. Charity was fine, and service to God, but the suffering bit? She wasn’t so sure about. Should you give charity to the point that you hurt yourself? Were you expected to serve with complete and utter selflessness, even when the people you were serving were selfish as hell? And was she really expected to spend her life suffering in misery so that others were happy? Because she was pretty sure that taking care of Kate was going to be a thankless, miserable experience that made her life a living hell. But by the same token, she couldn’t just put her out; Annabel’s conscience wouldn’t allow that. So it looked like she was stuck with Kate . . . unless she could think of something else to do with her.

Perhaps her parents would take Kate in after all, Annabel thought hopefully. Perhaps their anger had cooled now that there was no more worry about the marriage contract. Maybe they would allow her to return. They could always arrange for her to marry someone else, couldn’t they? Kate was their daughter; surely they couldn’t just cut her out of their hearts that easily. Of couse they hadn’t seemed to care much for Annabel’s well-being, but then she was as much a stranger to them as she now found Kate to be to her. But Kate had grown up at Waverly—surely they had some affection for her?

“Are you just going to let me lay here crying?” Kate asked, sitting up to scowl at her. “Are you not going to comfort me?”

Annabel stared at her, wondering why Kate’s demanding comfort just made her want even less to offer it.

“I am going to write a letter to Mother,” Annabel said, standing up and heading for the door.

“What?” Kate gasped with horror. “Nay!”

Annabel didn’t realize she’d rushed after her until she caught her arm as she reached the door, and swung her back around. “Nay. You cannot do that. It would be humiliating and—”

“Kate,” Annabel interrupted wearily. “I know this whole thing is humiliating for you. You ignored the contracted marriage Father arranged for you, went against our parents and ran away for love only to have it fail miserably. ’Tis unfortunate, but that is the situation. However, Mother and Father may be able to yet save the situation. They may be able to arrange a marriage with some nice man willing to overlook your transgression.”

“Oh, aye,” Kate sneered. “You would like that, would you not. Me having to marry some fat doddering old fool and let him touch me. Never!” she snapped. “Besides, I am already married.”

“You are?” Annabel asked with a frown.

“Aye. We handfasted before we ever indulged in the bedding. In fact, we handfasted weeks before we ran away,” she said triumphantly. “So you see, I cannot be married off to someone else, I already have a husband.”

Annabel frowned. She had no idea what handfasting was. She’d never heard of it and supposed the abbess and Father hadn’t thought it important for nuns to know about. But Kate seemed to think it meant she was married . . . which was something of a wrinkle, since this husband she had handfasted with now appeared to want nothing to do with her.

“Promise me you will not write Mother and Father,” Kate said now.

Annabel hesitated. If she didn’t write their parents, she was definitely stuck with her sister. At least, she was if Ross allowed it and at that moment she didn’t know which she hoped for more: that he would be furious and insist Kate be packed off to Waverly, or that he would be understanding and let her stay.

It would be easier in one way if he was furious and sent Kate away. At least she would not have to suffer guilt at sending her away herself. However, she did dislike it when Ross was angry with her and didn’t want him to be. But if he let Kate stay, Annabel would be stuck with her, especially if she could not write her mother.

“I will have to think about this . . . and talk to Ross,” she added, turning to the door.

“Nay,” Kate cried, clawing at her arm. “You have to promise. I will not have you writing them.”

“I promise I will tell you before I send a letter if I do, but that is the best I can offer at the moment,” Annabel said firmly, tugging her arm free and slipping out of the room before Kate could grab her again. Pulling the door closed, she hurried up the hall to her own chamber, sure with every step she took that Kate would give chase. When she reached the master bedchamber and managed to slip inside unaccosted, Annabel leaned against the door with relief and closed her eyes for a moment.

Her eyes popped open a heartbeat later at a shuffling sound though, and Annabel stared with dismay when she spotted her husband turning from the window to face her. Damn, she thought wearily, it seemed she would now be giving those explanations she’d promised Ross.

Ah well, Annabel thought, pushing herself away from the door. Better to get it done. At least then she would not have to worry about how he would react to the news that she was an untrained ex-oblate, as well as the presence of her sister in their home.

R
OSS WATCHED
A
NNABEL
move away from the door and walk sedately to the chairs by the fire. When she settled in one and glanced to him expectantly, he left his position by the window to join her. He’d barely set his behind in the chair before she blurted her explanations.

“I was sent away to the abbey at seven and raised there. I was trained to take the veil. I illuminated texts, and worked in the stables until the morning my mother arrived to collect me. I had not yet taken the veil so she took me from the abbey to Waverly, where I was married to you. I have no training to run a castle and a passel of servants. I am doing the best I can, but will no doubt make mistakes and please say something for I shall continue to babble until you do and I—”

“Breathe,” Ross interrupted quietly.

Annabel paused and stared down at her hands in her lap as she took a deep breath.

Ross considered her silently, her words slipping through his mind. Actually, learning this explained some things. Her discomfort around his men at first, something she still suffered when in the presence of men she hadn’t met previously. Her patient acceptance of his sometimes less than considerate behavior, like—

Pausing, he frowned and asked, “If ye lived in the abbey since ye were a child, yer wardrobe—”

“I had none,” Annabel interrupted him to confess. “I was not given a chance to pack when my mother collected me from the abbey, so I had only the gown I was wearing and the one they altered to fit me for the wedding and then wore here. You did me no disservice by not giving me time to pack. There was nothing to pack.”

Ross nodded at this news. It made him feel a little better. He’d felt guilty on several occasions about that business. Every time he’d found his wife and Seonag sewing diligently away, for instance, and the day Giorsal had visited with her husband and the women had been forced to remain upstairs sewing because Annabel had nothing to wear. It eased his conscience somewhat to know he wasn’t entirely at fault for that. He was glad.

“Now explain how yer sister came to be residin’ in the bedchamber next to ours,” he said and Annabel frowned.

“That is it?” she asked uncertainly. “You are not going to chastise me for your not being told about my lack of training and experience? You are not going to demand the marriage be annulled because you were tricked into marrying someone so inept?”

Ross raised his eyebrows with surprise and then shrugged. “Yer a smart lass, wife. Ye’ll learn.”

Annabel seemed somewhat stunned by his response and sat back for a moment to simply stare at him as if seeing him for the first time. He let her get away with that for a moment and then reminded her, “Yer sister?”

“Oh,” Annabel let her breath out on a weary sigh. “She just showed up here yesterday while you were sleeping. Apparently, Grant, her stable boy, was not prepared for her to be so . . . er . . .”

“Spoiled?” he suggested dryly.

“Aye, she is spoiled,” Annabel admitted with an apologetic grimace.

“And demanding.”

“Aye, that too,” she agreed unhappily.

“And a bitch.”

Annabel gasped at the word, but Ross shrugged.

“ ’Tis no use pretending she is no’ a bitch. She ordered ye to punish Seonag, and then was doin’ her damndest to hurt ye below with her comments about the gown being so big and whatnot.”

“I do not think she meant to hurt me exactly,” Annabel said without much conviction. “To her it is just fact that she is prettier than me . . . and slimmer.”

Ross frowned at her disheartened tone of voice and the way she had slumped in her seat as if trying to make herself look smaller. Sitting forward in his own, he said, “First o’ all, she is no’ prettier than ye. Her eyes are a mud brown, not the lovely teal blue o’ yers. Her hair is a nice gold color, but ’tis lank and just lays on her head like straw, while yers is the color o’ midnight and flows in waves from yer head to frame yer lovely face beautifully. And her lips are smaller, thin even, not like yers, which are large and luscious enough to give a man ideas that turn his staff into a sword in search o’ a sheath.”

Her eyes widened incredulously at this and Ross shook his head.

“Wife, ye should ken by now that I find ye beautiful, and love yer body. I bed ye at every opportunity.”

Annabel flushed at this.

Satisfied that he had made it clear that she had nothing to fear when it came to her looks, Ross sat back and added, “ ’Sides, even if she had been fortunate enough to have been born more attractive than ye physically, she’s no’ a nice person, and that combined with her acting like a light-skirt would counter it quickly enough.”

“Light-skirt?” Annabel echoed, feeling as if she should defend her sister . . . whether she wanted to or not. “That seems a bit harsh, husband. She simply fell in love with the wrong man and ran off rather than marry the one she was supposed to.”

Ross’s eyebrows rose. “So ye saw nothing wrong with the way she was sidling up to me, jiggling her bosoms in me face, and pawing me body right there in front of everyone. And me being yer husband, too.” He shook his head with disgust at the memory.

“Ah.” Annabel frowned. “So ladies do not act like that?”

Ross felt his eyebrows fly up his forehead, but then asked with concern, “Surely ye jest?”

Annabel bit her lip, but admitted, “Kate insisted she was not flirting with you, that she was just being nice because you were my husband, and that I must be jealous. So I started wondering . . .” She hesitated and then shrugged helplessly and pointed out, “I grew up in an abbey, husband. I do not know what is appropriate behavior outside the abbey walls. Perhaps her flirty attentions were how women interact with men.”

“Flirty attentions?” he echoed with amazement. “Is that what ye call her sliding her hand up under me plaid trying to measure me manhood?”

“What?” she gasped with some amazement of her own.

Ross nodded grimly. He’d nearly plowed his fist into the chit’s head when she’d tried that. Fortunately, Fingal had distracted her with his less than complimentary comments and then Annabel had dragged the lass off.

“I only saw her rub your arm,” she muttered with displeasure and he recalled she had been behind the girl and several feet away. He had no doubt she hadn’t been aware of what Kate was doing under cover of the table. That was a relief, for he’d wondered why the devil she wasn’t smacking the girl silly herself.

“What are yer plans fer her?” Ross asked finally. Much as he disliked Kate, she was Annabel’s sister and if she wished her to stay with them for a while, he would try to be forbearing. Although, frankly he wanted to toss the sneaky wench out of his home and never let her return. Not because she’d tried to feel him up at the table—that had disgusted him—but the thing that had really infuriated him was the way she treated Annabel. She had hurt her several times in just a matter of moments below and he wouldn’t have that. No one was going to hurt Annabel . . . and if Kate called Annabel ‘Belly’ one more time—