The Scottish Bride (18 page)

“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. MacFardle. “Change of this nature is unwelcome. I knew that an Englishman would bring disaster. However, congratulations, my lord.”

He had forgotten about Mrs. Griffin. When he walked into the drawing room, she was sitting in a deep, faded chair that she'd had Mr. Griffin pull over to within a foot from where Mary Rose sat on the settee. She was tapping her foot, lightly tapping her cane on the carpet at her feet as she said in a loud voice, “I have had quite enough of this, Mary Rose. I have decided that I will take you to Edinburgh with Mr. Griffin and me.”

“Mary Rose has agreed to marry me, Mrs. Griffin.”

Meggie jumped to her feet. “Papa, really? Oh, this is wonderful! Mary Rose, you will really marry Papa? You will live with us?” She dashed across the drawing room, rubbing the bread crumbs on her skirts, and dropped to the floor at Mary Rose's feet and hugged her knees. “I hadn't really expected this to happen, but it is ever so nice. We will all have such fun, you will see. Oh, I am so very happy.”

“Child, you will hold your tongue now. You should be in the nursery or sitting quietly reading sermons, or whatever it is that children—”

Tysen was grinning from ear to ear, he just couldn't help it. “Mrs. Griffin, my daughter needs to get acquainted with her future mother. Now, tea is to arrive shortly. Pouder, what is it?”

The ancient old man was leaning against the doorframe, grinning widely, showing each of his remaining teeth. He was nearly wheezing as he said, “Congratulations, my lord. Oh, this is a miraculous thing! I am needed now more than ever. I am learning to be a varlet. Perhaps Mary Rose will also teach me to be her maid.”

Mrs. Griffin continued, as if she hadn't been interrupted, “Mary Rose, we will leave in thirty minutes, right after we have had some of Mrs. MacFardle's tea. It is a great imposition, but I suppose that it must be done. You may be my companion, my maid, perhaps you can even set the fires in the mornings. I will contrive to pay you a bit, just enough for the occasional gewgaw. Now, get up, Mary Rose, and put on your clothes. This is—”

Tysen said then, “Meggie, I wish you to go outside and see that your geese have eaten enough. No, don't argue with me, just go.” No one said another word until Meggie, her step slow, finally was gone from the drawing room. As for Miles MacNeily, he had left to help Pouder back to his chair. Only the three of them were left. He wished that Mary Rose was safely hidden away, but she wasn't.

It had to be dealt with, now.

“That will be quite enough, Mrs. Griffin,” Tysen said. Then he looked over at Mary Rose as he spoke and nearly lost what little control that remained. She was crying, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, not making a sound, just tears and more tears. The cruelty, so much cruelty she'd endured, mean words that cut deep, and they'd finally cut
so deep she couldn't hide her pain. He'd thought that the careless cruelty simply didn't touch her, but it did. He wanted to kill Mrs. Griffin, and after her, Mrs. MacFardle.

Rage made him feel hot, strong, and vicious. He was ready to go into battle. He was ready to kill. He strode to stand right in front of Mrs. Griffin. “I want you gone from Kildrummy Castle in five minutes. No longer. You are a malicious, nasty old woman. You and that nonentity of a husband of yours are despicable. I wish never to see either of you again. You are no longer welcome at Kildrummy. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Mrs. Griffin, her face scarlet with fury, leapt to her feet, but Tysen very calmly continued, “Get out of my house, both of you. Now. This time, if you dare to return, I will have you thrown out. No—I will do it myself.”

He heard Mrs. MacFardle give a shriek. She was late with the tea tray, he realized, at least five minutes late. A clean sweep, then. He turned to see her trying to hold the tray and commiserate at the same time with Mrs. Griffin. He said, “Mrs. MacFardle, you will leave Kildrummy Castle. Perhaps Mrs. Griffin would like you to accompany her back to Edinburgh. I believe she needs a companion, a scullion, a maid, and a valet. You could, I doubt not, fill each and every one of those roles for her. Perhaps she will even pay you a pittance to buy some gewgaws.”

He heard a sound from Pouder, but when he looked over at the old man, his chin was still on his chest.

Once the drawing room was empty of Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. MacFardle, he closed and locked the door. He went to Mary Rose, who was looking up at him, sniffing, rubbing her hands over her eyes. He was still shuddering from the ferocious rage that had come from the deepest part of him. “I'm so very sorry, Mary Rose. I should never have allowed that miserable old witch to continue her vicious tirade for as long as I did. I should never have
allowed her to remain when she dared to come back here again.

“Oh, my dear, please forgive me. I was blind, quite blind. But it won't happen again. Also, Mrs. MacFardle will be leaving. She and Mrs. Griffin belong together.”

He sat down beside her, simply because he couldn't stand that awful pain he saw in her eyes. “Mary Rose,” he said, and pulled her onto his lap. He rocked her, then just held her, his cheek against the top of her head. “It will be all right now. I'll take care of you. There will be no more cruelty, no more spite. Trust me, all right?”

She said nothing, just lay limply against him. They sat quietly for a very long time. Tysen didn't know how long they'd remained together until he heard Meggie's voice and her light knock on the drawing room door.

He leaned back, looking down into Mary Rose's face. She looked beaten down, defeated, and he hated it. But no more pity. He'd never found that to be good for anyone. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you know where we can find someone to cook dinner for us?”

 

Id imperfectum manet dum confectum erit.

It ain't over 'til it's over.

 
 

M
ARY
R
OSE HEARD
the whisper of sound so very close, nearly in her ear. It was a man's voice, soft and low, telling her something, but what? Then she jerked awake, realized it wasn't a dream, and opened her mouth to yell. A fist slammed into her jaw, and she fell back against the pillow.

Erickson smoothed the hair off her face and just looked down at her for a moment in the dim light of the one candle. He had to do this, there was simply no choice. He cursed under his breath as he pulled the covers off her. She was wearing that damned vicar's nightshirt. It didn't take him even a moment to realize that she would also shortly be wearing the damned vicar's dressing gown as well.

Once he'd wrapped her in the dressing gown he hauled her over his shoulder, then walked quickly to the
bedchamber door, cracked it open, and looked out. Nothing. No one. It wasn't all that dark, since several of the bedchamber doors were open and bright moonlight poured through the windows and out through the open doors. He didn't need a candle.

All he had to do was get her back down to the library, out the door that was covered with draperies, and into the garden. Then it was easy, just through that narrow ivy-covered gate and to his horse, tied a good hundred feet from the castle. Everything was going splendidly. He had known immediately that it was an excellent plan. It was a pity that he'd had to tap her on the jaw to keep her from yelling, but it wasn't much, after all, and surely she would forgive him. A new bride, perforce, had to forgive her husband. He wondered for a moment if his mother had ever forgiven his father anything. No, that was impossible. He firmly believed that his father had died to escape his mother.

It was just past midnight, and everything was quiet. Erickson paused a moment, listening. He thought about his mother telling him at dinner the previous evening how simply everyone in the area now knew that the new Lord Barthwick—a vicar!—had kicked out not only the Griffins but also poor Mrs. MacFardle, who had surely worked there longer than anyone could remember. Erickson remembered that he'd always hated Mrs. MacFardle, the old witch, for the way she'd treated Mary Rose. He frowned as he thought about that. Actually, she'd been a witch to most everyone, particularly the children. He felt Mary Rose's limp weight over his shoulder, felt her bouncy hair touch his face. No, he refused to feel guilt about what he was doing. He had no choice.

One step at a time. He was very quiet. Mary Rose didn't weigh much, so that didn't bother him. Then, with
no warning at all, he heard giggling. Good Lord, giggling? From the room just down the hall.

There was obviously a woman in that room, and she was awake and giggling. Only one thing that could be about. Then he heard a man shout, not loud, then laugh, and another damned giggle. He heard bare feet running across a wooden floor. He stood, frozen, in the middle of the corridor, waiting, wondering what to do, when a door flew back and a woman, dressed in a flowing white nightgown, ran out of the room, still giggling, looking over her shoulder at the man who was running after her. The man who came out of the bedchamber was naked. For an instant, Erickson thought it was the vicar, and he was chasing a woman. But it wasn't. It must be the vicar's sister and her husband. They were the only ones left in the castle that the vicar hadn't kicked out. But what were they doing, running around out here in the corridor? For God's sake, wasn't there a bed in that bedchamber?

Suddenly the woman eased back into the shadows and stood still as a statue. She wasn't more than ten feet away from him.

The naked husband ran beyond where she was standing silent and still, then pulled up sharp, held a candle high, and looked right into Erickson's eyes.

It wasn't fair, dammit, just not fair. Erickson cursed, ripe, full-bodied curses. Damnation, his was an excellent plan, and it had gone perfectly until he'd had the rotten luck to have an amorous couple want to play in the corridor.

“She's mine, damn you!” He was so furious, so frustrated, that he yelled right in Colin's face, “I'm taking her!”

For a moment, Colin couldn't believe his eyes. “My God, you puking little bastard, you've got Mary Rose. Sinjun, come quickly!”

Erickson saw the flash of a white nightgown, saw the man hand her the candle. Erickson didn't wait. He turned on his heel and ran down the long corridor as fast as he could with Mary Rose bouncing up and down on his shoulder, the naked man nearly on his heels.

Then Mary Rose groaned, reared up, and shouted, “No, Erickson! This is madness! Let me down, you fool!” She stiffened right up, knocking him off balance. She grabbed his hair and kept pulling even as she leaned as far back as she could.

“Damn you, Mary Rose, stop it! Trust me. We're leaving this place, together.”

They went down, Erickson falling on his back, half on top of her. Mary Rose yelled, Colin came to a stop to stand over them, and Sinjun, her white gown fluttering about, was holding a candle over them.

“He's smashing me,” Mary Rose gasped, trying to breathe, then, “Thank you both for coming out for whatever reason I don't yet know.”

“It is no problem,” Colin said, coming down to his knees beside Erickson, who was just lying there, staring up at him. “You're bare-assed, man,” Erickson said. “Have you no sense? There is a lady present.”

Colin looked briefly over at Mary Rose. “Close your eyes.” She did. Colin jerked Erickson off her, and Erickson came up fighting. He was strong, a dirty fighter, and he would have had a chance if it hadn't been for Sinjun. She gave a low growl when Erickson sent his fist into Colin's belly. She threw the candle at him. The iron base hit him in the jaw, then bounced onto the wooden floor, sparking flashes of flame as it hit.

“You asinine idiot,” she yelled, “trying to steal Mary Rose,” and she joyfully jumped at him.

Erickson knew he was in very deep trouble. He was doing his best to hold the woman off, even as he realized
that she smelled wonderful, a sort of violet smell, before the naked man was ripping his arm out of the socket. He smacked his fist against the woman's shoulder, sending her reeling back into the naked man, who let him go to catch his wife. Then Erickson was on his feet again, running as fast as he could. The only thing was, he didn't know of a way out of the castle that lay in this particular direction. But it didn't slow him.

And then directly in front of him, a door flew open and a man came running out, fastening his breeches as he moved. This time it was the damned vicar. At least he wasn't altogether naked.

“I don't have her,” Erickson yelled. He briefly considered trying to knock the vicar senseless, but thought better of it. It was ridiculous for a man of God to look strong and mean, but this one did. Erickson turned quickly, only to run into both Colin and Sinjun. All three of them went down. Tysen looked up to see Mary Rose running toward them, his dressing gown held in one hand above her knees so she could run faster, the other hand carrying the candle that thankfully hadn't set the castle on fire or even gone all the way out. It was flickering wildly, but hanging on.

“He tried to steal her, Tysen!” Colin shouted, coming to his feet, giving Sinjun his hand to pull her up as well. “Ah, it's you, Mary Rose. Close your eyes again.”

Instead, Mary Rose quickly shrugged out of Tysen's dressing gown and thrust it toward Colin, her eyes shut tightly. Colin laughed as he put it on and belted it around his waist. Then the three of them stood over Erickson MacPhail, who, in truth, was too smart to stand up and get pounded. He didn't like this, couldn't believe he'd failed, cursed himself, cursed Mary Rose for her damned stubbornness, and cursed Mary Rose's damned uncle for getting him into this in the first place.

Tysen, legs spread, stared down at the man, well aware
that he was getting less calm, less reasoned, by the moment. In a very low voice that didn't sound like him at all, Tysen said, “Did he hurt you, Mary Rose?”

“He hit my jaw to keep me quiet, but it's not bad.”

Tysen looked back at Erickson. “You were going to steal her and rape her?”

“No, damn you,” Erickson said, flat on his back, not moving. “I was going to ask her to marry me. Again. Don't you understand? I am wild for her. I must have her. I will not rape her if only she will see reason and agree to become my wife. Damnation, I want her. No one will dare call her a bastard when she is my wife. She will be safe. She will be protected.”

The blood was pounding through Tysen's head. He did something he'd never done as an adult—he lost all control. He leaned down and grabbed Erickson by his shirt collar, jerked him upright. He pulled him close. “That is all nonsense and you know it. I don't know why you want her so badly, but I will find out before I let you leave Kildrummy. Now, you miserable excuse for a man, I'm going to kill you.”

He didn't hear Mary Rose's yell or Sinjun's voice telling him to calm down, to remember who and what he was. But he did hear Colin saying, quite clearly, “Let me kill him when you're through with him, Tysen.”

Tysen hadn't struck another man since he'd left home. There, naturally, he'd fought every day of his life with his brothers. He'd learned to fight as dirty as they did in order to survive. He hit Erickson in the face, then in the belly, in the kidneys. He threw him against the wall, smiling when he heard his head hit hard against the oak. Erickson shook his head and came out fighting, fists pounding into Tysen.

“Oh, yes, come on,” Tysen said, and grabbed his right
arm, bending it back until Erickson managed to kick him in the leg and pull free.

“I didn't do anything, damn you,” Erickson yelled and sent his fist toward Tysen's face, but he didn't make it because Tysen blocked him at the last instant.

“You bastard,” Tysen said, and he was on him again, this time beyond himself, hitting and hitting him until he felt hands dragging at his arm. He tried to shake off the hands, and then he realized it was Mary Rose, and she was crying.

Mary Rose crying? Why was she crying? They'd saved her, and he was in the process of killing MacPhail, who should have been strangled at birth. He shook her off and grabbed Erickson again, who, having caught his breath, came back swinging. He got Tysen in the belly, and the two men went down, rolling over and over, slamming their fists, hurling yells and groans of pain. Finally, Tysen managed to twist Erickson onto his back and hold him down. The moment he straddled him, Tysen felt thunderous joy roar through him. He smiled down at Erickson, then slammed his fist into his jaw, once, twice.

“That's enough,” Mary Rose yelled in his ear. “Stop it, Tysen.”

“Yes, it's nearly my turn,” Colin said, striding up. “She's right, Tysen. You've pounded him enough. You've probably even pounded him more than your share. Now give me a go at the bastard.”

Tysen didn't even look up. He hit Erickson again. The man was nearly unconscious, not fighting back now.

“No,” Sinjun said. She was standing over her brother, her eyes wide, still trying to understand what had happened. Tysen had bashed the man, bashed him good, but he hadn't stopped. He was holding him around his neck now, not trying to strangle him, thank God. She could tell that at last he was calming down, that finally he was
gaining control. No, she was wrong. He was strangling him again. She laid her hand on his bare shoulder and said very gently, “Tysen, my dear, you must stop now. It's over. You've punished him quite well enough. Stop or you won't like yourself very much. I know you very well, so believe me. I don't want you wallowing in guilt, con-signing your own soul to hell. Stop. Now.”

It was her last words that finally cleared away all the rage from his brain, made him aware of the nagging and various pains in his own body. His blood was no longer furiously pumping through him. Everything was slowing now. He felt his heart steadying, slowing back to normal. He rose to his feet and stood over Erickson MacPhail. He said very calmly, as he stared down at the man, “If I ever see you again within fifty feet of Mary Rose, I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

“All of us will kill you. We will take turns, each with a gun or fists or a knife,” Sinjun said. “God will forgive my brother his violence toward you because you are such an evil fraud that you deserve to be sent to hell.”