The Highlander's Accidental Bride (9 page)

Eaden did not appear at dinner. Mary listened with poorly concealed irritation to the young man he’d sent with his message of regret. With a sigh, she toyed half-heartedly with the food on her plate. Unable to create an appetite, she crept back up the stairs to her room. Slipping out of her gown, she slid beneath the covers of the bed Kirsty had straightened earlier and closed her eyes. Drained from the morning’s events, the burgeoning throb in her head was the last straw.

The mattress dipped and swayed as Sorcha lurched up beside her, settling to join Mary in an afternoon nap. Within minutes Sorcha’s light snores filled the room. Mary’s mind raced as sleep eluded her. How could she have come to this end? Wrestling uselessly with unanswerable questions, she finally faded away into exhaustion and disappointment.

Mary’s nap did little to alleviate her unease and she remained fretful and out of sorts later, as Kirsty brushed the wrinkles from her gown.

“Stop!” she cried, throwing her hands up into the air in emphasis, seeking to be free of the girl’s well-intentioned help. “I can’t stand here any longer. I have to be outside!”

Not waiting to comb the sleep-wrought tangles from her hair, Mary jerked her skirts from Kirsty’s hands and fled the room. Taking a scant moment to compose herself, she glanced about the hall before striding purposefully through the main doors and out into the bailey. The cool air fanned her hot cheeks. Taking a deep draught of the misty air, she felt the tension at last drain from her body.

Her anxiety at a more manageable level, Mary searched the area, seeing the stables and armorer’s building, clamoring with the noises of men at their tasks. The shrill whinny of a horse split the air, and she jerked in fear as a chill passed over her. She turned from the stables and saw Ranald entering a smaller building with half-walls and a gate for a door. Her interest piqued, Mary followed him.

Taking two steps inside the stone building, she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. The interior of the building divided into several pens with a wide aisle down the middle running the full length of the single room. The half-walls allowed air to flow through the building, but the sun only cast dust-filled streamers around the edge of the room.

Sounds of scuffling in the pens caused Mary to draw back in alarm. Her fright giving way to excitement, she realized this was a kennel where the sounds were not rats among the rushes as she’d feared, but chubby puppies pushing past each other to get to their dams who shifted on their beds to accommodate their greedy babies.

“Oh!” she cried in delight as she moved to lean over the gate of the first kennel.

“Hold, lass!” The voice in her ear held an urgent warning and the hand encircling her arm stopped her from getting any closer to the hounds. Mary whipped her head around in alarm, relieved to see Ranald at her side.

Ignoring his warning, she pulled from his grasp and leaned over the gate. “They’re adorable!” She rested her chin on her forearms as she propped them along the top of the gate.

Ranald paused beside her and turned to watch the wriggling mass of puppies. “Aye, but ye need be careful. These dogs are bred to hunt and are no’ so friendly as Sorcha.”

Mary tilted her gaze to Ranald. “Is it all right if I come here and watch the puppies?” she asked.

“Ye need to be sure ye stay out here and dinnae open the gate. These bitches can be aye protective of their bairns and Eaden’d no’ forgive me for letting ye get yer pretty self bit.”

Mary felt heat rise in her cheeks at the oblique compliment and she ducked her head so Ranald wouldn’t notice.

“I promise. Though I doubt he’d care,” she added under her breath. But she underestimated Ranald’s hearing and probably his ability to keep his own counsel.

“What d’ye mean, lass? Eaden’d have my head and my teeth to play with if anything happened to ye.”

Mary continued to watch the fuzzy puppies as one rooted in to his dam’s belly from beneath one of its siblings, causing it to roll away, bleating in protest.

Ranald touched her arm to get her attention. “Why d’ye no’ think Eaden cares about ye?”

Mary sighed heavily. “Oh, he does care. But I’m just a mistake he’s trying to make right. He doesn’t want me.”

“I think ye’re being too hard on him, lass.”

“Hard on him!” Mary cried, rounding on the hapless man. “I slept in the wrong bed one night and woke to find myself being married to a stranger!” Her eyes pooled with tears and she brushed them impatiently away. “He spent less than two minutes with me after the wedding then took himself off to prattle to the king about his ‘duty!’ That’s all I am to him, Ranald. His ‘duty.’ And the king won’t grant me a divorce.”

Ranald drew back with a frown. “Divorce, lass? Ye still think ye cannae live with this marriage?”

Mary turned around to prop her back on the kennel gate, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. “I don’t see how it could work. I’m not even the person he was supposed to marry and no one here likes me, anyway.”

“Och, lass, ye haven’t given it enough time. I know Eaden is just as frustrated with the way things have turned out. He isnae usually so hotheaded. But `tis over and done, and time to start fresh.” Ranald bumped his shoulder against Mary’s. “Besides, I like ye,” he teased her.

“Ah!” Mary groaned as she tilted her head back, closing her eyes against the reality of Ranald’s words. “I don’t know how to start.”

Ranald nudged her again. “Look over there.”

Mary opened her eyes and saw him point to one of the puppies. She turned around to see what caught his interest.

“He’s been pushed away,” she noted with dismay. The chubby puppy had rolled clumsily to his side and away from his dam’s belly.

“But watch. He’ll no’ give up.” The puppy flailed with his rubbery legs, trying to find footing amid his siblings’ round bodies. His head bobbled as he searched sightlessly for his dam.

“He’s lost!” Mary exclaimed in worry. “Can’t we help him?”

“He’s no’ lost, lass. But he is a fighter. See?”

As they watched, the puppy strained forward until he was once again in position. Rooting vigorously, the puppy shoved himself between two of his littermates and at last found what he sought.

“He’s no’ a quitter, Mary,” Ranald said. “He knows what he wants and willnae let anything stop him. No’ without a fight. Find what ye want and dinnae let anything stand in yer way. I want ye to be happy, but fighting against the truth willnae help.”

“In other words, take what I have and make it work for me?”

Ranald gave her a huge grin of relief. “Exactly! There are plenty of folk here at Scott Castle who like ye. Just be yerself and let people get to know ye.”

Mary sighed. “I understand here,” she said, touching her head. “But it’s taking time to reach here,” she added, moving her hand to point to her heart.

Just then the puppy rolled down the furry backs of his littermates as he was once again rousted from his spot. His feet pawed the air as he tried to right himself, and in moments he rejoined the fray.

“Never give up, lass,” Ranald said. “Never give up.”

Eaden viewed his sleeping wife, once again protected by Sorcha’s slumbering body. He’d sent word to her after dinner with his regrets at being detained and he hoped to join her at supper. Deep in the mud of the second moat, he hadn’t made it in time for the evening meal, either, and she’d obviously not waited long afterwards to retire.

He hunkered beside the bed, reaching one hand to brush a lock of her hair away from her face. Mary sighed and stirred, her lashes rustling against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him, the lack of fear in her eyes telling him she was still mostly asleep.

“Ye dinnae wait up for me, Mairi,” he scolded softly.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Mary replied grumpily.

Eaden patted her knees and gave her a little shove to get her to move over. But with Sorcha against her back, all Mary could do was straighten her legs, affording Eaden a few scant inches of mattress to claim for his own. He frowned. This would never work.

“Sorcha!”

The hound moaned and snuggled deeper into the coverlet. Eaden reached over Mary and swatted the dog on her flank.

“Get by, dog!”

With a groan of protest, Sorcha rolled onto her chest. Eaden waved a hand at her and pointed to the floor. “Down, Sorcha!”

The dog scrambled to her feet and bounded from the bed in a graceful arc, crossing to her blanket by the hearth. Turning around on it three times, she sank down with a grunt of discontent and laid her head on her enormous paws, gazing balefully at the two humans across the room.

Eaden yanked the coverlet from the bed and quarter turned it before smoothing the material with a flick of his wrist.

“I dinnae want to sleep with the smell of hound in my nose,” he replied in answer to Mary’s questioning look. “I’ve slept all I will with the dog between me and ye. ‘Tis yer scent I want, no’ some hairy beast.”

“What about me?” Mary asked.

“Have it washed on the morrow,” Eaden said carelessly, sliding into bed beside her.

“No. I mean, you’re a fairly hairy beast yourself.”

Eaden stopped, stumped for a moment by her unprecedented statement. He grinned at her, liking the way sleep loosened her tongue. “That well may be. But at least I’ve bathed this night.” He carefully touched her shoulder, sliding his hand down the length of her arm, his work-roughened hands catching on the delicate nap of her silken night shift.

“I’m sorry I’ve no’ been able to be with ye this day,” he said, his voice a husky rumble. “I promised ye we’d fix things between us, and I mean to do it.”

Mary stiffened beneath the slow stroking of his hand and did not reply. Eaden sighed. His anger at the king’s command to wed Barde’s daughter had cost him much. He knew he was wrong for using her as he had and was still paying dearly for a moment of ill-advised pique.

“I dinnae want ye to fear me, Mairi. I want ye to like me to touch ye. Can ye at least let me hold ye and no’ be afraid?”

He heard her breathing quicken and he bit back an oath. “Come here, Mairi,” he said firmly as he rolled onto his back, pulling her close. “Put yer head on my shoulder.”

Hesitantly, Mary scooted against him and laid her head on his shoulder. Eaden sighed and cuddled her against his side. “Lay ye here,” he murmured. “And learn to sleep next to this hairy beast. That must, then, be the first step.”

Mary was gone when Eaden woke the next morning. He cursed roundly as he rolled from the bed. It was early, the sun barely up, and he’d thought he’d have a chance to take things further with his wife before they left their bedroom for the day. Her soft body, tucked warmly against his, had played havoc with his senses long into the night. But he’d held himself and his desires in check, hoping to give Mary time to accept their intimacy. She might have played the compliant wife in her own mind, but he’d not felt her body ease until she’d at last fallen asleep.

It took only a moment to rinse the grit from his eyes and don his clothing. Since Sorcha was also missing, Eaden assumed Mary had taken the dog out for her morning walk. He stomped down the stairs, past the tables in the great hall holding mugs and pitchers of water, bread and freshly carved cheese. Everyone awake at this hour already bustled at their work and gave their laird no more than a respectful nod as they went about their chores.

Eaden climbed the stairs to the parapet, exchanging greetings with the men-at-arms he passed as he strolled along the wall, searching the bailey below for a sight of his wife. At last he spied her, Sorcha at her side, as she crossed the courtyard and entered the kennel where the hounds were kept.

“Damn!” he muttered as he turned and bounded down the stairs. Those hounds were bred to hunt, not to be pets, and she could be seriously injured if she bothered one of the nursing bitches, or thoughtlessly intimidated one of the large males. He crossed the courtyard in long, purposeful strides, reaching the kennel mere minutes behind Mary.

Pausing in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the dim light, he saw Mary nod a silent greeting to Auld Fionn, the grizzled kennel master. The normally crusty old Scot merely grunted in answer as Mary slowly approached a bitch who had whelped her puppies only a few days earlier.

Before he could shout a warning, the dog lowered her ears against her skull and thumped her tail on the floor in greeting. Eaden wasn’t sure if he was more surprised at Fionn’s or the dog’s acceptance of Mary.

“Oh, what beautiful babies you have!” he heard Mary croon softly. She squatted on the floor, drawing herself into a small, non-threatening position, her hands dangling loosely in her lap. Again the bitch thumped her tail on the floor and Sorcha whined in answer.

Mary crept forward and stroked one of the furry morsels of puppy as it nursed its dam vigorously, the wet sounds noisy in the quiet kennel. It wriggled beneath her hand and she laughed softly as she moved to pet each puppy in turn. Eaden’s heart leapt into his throat as the bitch swung her head around, but the dog merely licked Mary’s hand once and then turned away.

He battled his heart rate back to a manageable pace and walked into the kennel. His shadow fell over Mary’s shoulder and onto the dog and her litter. Caught unaware, Mary’s surprise at seeing him turned quickly to a dismay she tried to hide, though the blush on her cheeks betrayed her thoughts.

Eaden frowned. Who had she been expecting? “Careful, Mairi,” he warned her, his voice soft, not wanting to alarm the mother dog. “She is very protective of her bairns.”

Nodding, Mary rose to her feet and stepped out into the aisle, closing the gate to the kennel behind her. “I know. But that littlest one isn’t doing very well.” She turned to look back into the pen. “I wish I could help, but Ranald says he must stay with his mother.” A slight smile played on her lips. “She likes me.”

Eaden couldn’t argue. In fact, it seemed as though everyone was beginning to like Mary. Amazingly, she’d charmed the fiercest of his dogs as well as garnered grudging respect from even the most irascible of the Scots who would normally have never spoken to the Barde’s daughter, much less accepted her as their laird’s wife.

“Ye’re charming all of us here at Scott Castle.”

She hunched her shoulders as she dusted her skirt with her hands. “No. I’m not welcome here. Not truly.”

Eaden’s eyes narrowed in astonished anger. “Who has told ye so?” he thundered, though he knew full well there were those who still resented the new Lady Scott.

“No one.” Mary sighed, looking into his eyes. “But it’s so difficult. I don’t fit in because I’m a Barde, and no one is anything but scrupulously respectful because I’m Lady Scott.” She gestured with her slender hands. “Well, Ina and Isobel both talk to me as if I’m a person, not a ‘thing.’ And Kirsty is very nice as well.” She tried a brief smile. “I’m sure it will get better.” There didn’t seem to be much hope in her voice.

His fingers itched and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stroke the misery from her eyes or punch whoever made her sad. Unfortunately, he could probably attest to being the biggest cause of her unhappiness, and so he merely nodded.

“Aye, it will.” But after last night, he wasn’t sure he spoke the truth.

“The king has invited us to visit,” Eaden commented as they headed inside. Mary glanced up, alarm on her face, and almost missed her step. “Wheesht, lass,” he admonished, catching her by her elbow to help her regain her balance. “‘Tis no’ a death sentence to see the king. Even if ye once were a Barde, he willnae hold it against ye now ye are properly married to a Scott.”

Mary stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I didn’t think the king would likely to have me drawn and quartered simply for being raised a Barde. But why has he invited us to court?”

“When I last saw King Robert he asked I bring you to visit him, but I wanted to wait until he returned to Troon. ‘Tis a nice ride from here and a grand view of the ocean once we’re there. I think ye’ll like it.”

“I’ve never seen the ocean,” Mary said. “But I don’t like long coach rides. Miriam and I never traveled far from home.”

“I’ve no coach for ye to ride in.” Eaden handed her to her seat at the table. “We’ll go a’ horseback.”

Eaden sat and motioned for the platter of bread next to her hand. When she did not respond, he spared her a curious look, noting the pallor of her skin.

“What is the matter, Mairi?” he asked her. “D’ ye no’ ken how to ride?”

Mary shook her head and opened her mouth, but no words came.

“Mary?” Eaden’s voice was sharp, his teasing gone. Mary acted as though she scarcely heard him. He reached to grasp her arm and she bolted out of her seat, her eyes unfocused and wide with alarm.

“Mary,” he called to her in a low voice, struggling to calm her before she caused a scene he knew she’d regret. She blinked once then slowly looked around her. Heads turned in her direction and she gave a stiff nod as she slowly settled back into her chair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, bold splashes of color tinting her pale cheeks. Eaden slid his grasp down to catch one of her hands and squeezed it reassuringly.

“D’ ye no’ like horses?” he asked with a wry smile.

“I never learned to ride,” Mary replied. “Miriam was thrown from her pony as a child and we were never afterward allowed to ride.”

“A bad memory, then?”

She tilted her head as if unsure, then shrugged and turned her attention to her plate. So, she feared more than a bad memory. He vowed to seek the root of the problem, but this was clearly not the time or place to push her further. He filled his plate with food, then laid a hunk of bread and a meat pasty on Mary’s plate.

From the corner of his eye he watched as she prodded the crumbly pastry with her knife. When she made no move to feed herself, Eaden reached over and cut a bite-sized piece of meat from the pie with his own knife, spearing it to wave beneath her nose.

“Eat up, Mairi,” he told her. “We’ve a minstrel to entertain us this day.”

Carefully, Mary plucked the offered piece from his knife and put it in her mouth. She chewed the morsel thoroughly before swallowing and Eaden smothered a sigh as he finished his own meal. He turned and spoke to Ranald and a few others who came to the table with comments and questions for him.

At last, the meal drew to an end and the minstrel rose from his seat. With nimble fingers, he tuned his lute. The room quieted as everyone’s attention turned to the performer in their midst. After a moment he began to sing, and even Mary seemed to have forgotten her earlier moment of panic. The young man’s voice rang clear, his poignant ballad of love the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

Eaden watched his wife’s face as they listened. A blush rose to her cheeks as the melodic words described the lovers’ plight. He now knew Laird Barde had not allowed his daughter or her companion to stride the parapets of Bellecourt Castle, nor had he allowed them to learn to ride. ‘Twas obvious no one had prepared Mary for marriage. What else had Laird Barde kept from the two young women in his care?

Recalling the fabulous green cross, hidden beneath the bodice of Mary’s dress, he had to wonder: what other secrets would he find locked in Mary’s past?