8

Butting Heads

Belle woke to the sound of rain hitting the lead glass panes and on the roof and for a moment groaned, as her ankle was now throbbing because of the weather. She recalled her old nurse saying that her rheumatism always ached fit to being stretched on the rack when it rained and now she knew exactly how the poor woman had felt. She wished she could rub the ache away, and shifted her foot slightly under the covers.

The movement woke her husband, who sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Belle? Are ye in pain?" He half turned to her, shoving back the hangings on his side so he could see her face.

She turned to him, a grimace on her face. "It just . . .aches so in this rain," she admitted. Then she felt like a coward and whining over her hurt ankle. "I'm sorry, I dinna mean to complain—"

He touched her cheek gently with his hand. "Complain? Because the damp makes the bones of yer ankle ache? Dearie, ye've every right to be hurting and to say so when I ask ye. I hae no wish fr ye to play the martyr and suffer needlessly. Now, let me get a wee dram o' poppy from my bag an' let me see if Theo is up to get me some mead to put it in or tea for ye."

He moved his feet in preparation to arise, rustling the bed covers.

That in turn brought one very playful and curious kitten to investigate.

"Oww!" her husband yelped as Rumple pounced upon his feet, and grasped a toe in his paws and gnawed on it. "Why ye wee wretch!" He shook his foot. "Get off, ye wee varmint!"

But that only caused the kitten to hang on tighter and bite harder.

Belle giggled, her pain somewhat forgotten as she viewed the battle of wills—or rather toes—between her husband and her rumple-eared kitten.

"Oh sure, ye can laugh," Rab muttered, still trying to reclaim his foot.

Rumple growled and hung on determinedly.

The doctor glanced exasperatedly back at his cat, who was leisurely grooming herself on his pillow. "Raine, why d'ye no' help me out, instead o' sitting like the Queen of Sheba an' watching?"

Raine continued licking her spotless white bib, her golden eyes lidding and then eyeing her master with a Look that spoke volumes. If he's bothering you, YOU deal with it.

Then she began to wash her paws.

Huffing about faithless creatures, Rab went and grasped the kitten by its scruff, gently lifting him into the air and Rumple lost his hold on the doctor's foot. "Ye wee devil, ye need to learn no' tae bite people!" he scolded.

"Rab, he was only playing," Belle began. "Dinna hurt him!"

"Dearie, he needs tae learn to keep his teeth off people. I'm no' gonna have a wildcat attacking me every morning." Rab said firmly. He tapped the kitten on the nose. "No biting! Bad!"

Rumple mewed in protest.

Then Rab let him go. The irritated feline scurried under the table, where he glared at them.

"Och, Rab, ye scared him!"

Her husband snorted. "I dinna do anything his own mama wouldna done. 'Tis how I taught my puppy not to chew things—including my ankles, since collies wanna herd everything, no matter if they hae wool an' four feet or no'." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Now if it hae been my papa, he'd have gotten a wallop sure enough."

Belle gasped. "He'd have hit such a wee creature?"

"Aye, if he were drunk. Otherwise he'd bellow till it ran from him. But then, Papa hae never been the sort to take up wi' critters, ye ken. He's no' that sort, like ye an' me. 'Twas my mama who loved beasties."

"I wish I could hae met her," Belle said wistfully.

"Aye, she woulda liked ye, dearie," Rab said, with a fond smile. "But 'tis as God wills. Now let me get ye that posset."

He went and pulled a bell rope for Theo, who came immediately and then departed to fetch the goblet of mead Rab requested. While his manservant was doing so, Rab came and examined his wife's ankle. "'Tis sore, aye, but no' swollen like it was. I think it will be safe for me to cast it, an' then ye can move more freely about the castle wi' yer crutches."

"Truly? I hae been so bored cooped up in my room," Belle said, relieved. "I want to see more o' my new home and people."

"Good, then after the cast sets, ye shall," Rab promised.

Theo returned with the mead and Rab mixed up another pain potion for her, then Missus Potts came and brought them their breakfast, which was porridge with dried fruit and honey, an apple, and some smoked bacon along with some tea. Most people drank ale with their meal, but Rab preferred tea in the morning and also said patients who took his medicines should restrict their intake of alcohol so Belle had tea also, which she had to admit she preferred to ale anyway.

Once they had eaten, Missus Potts came in to assist her mistress in dressing and Rab also dressed and hurried down to his infirmary to mix up the plaster he needed. He returned some ten minutes later with Neal, who had volunteered to be his assistant, and who carried a roll of soft linen bandages under his arm.

"Good morrow, Belle!" the boy announced cheerfully as he entered the room. Belle was now sitting up in a chair beside the small table while the undermaids tidied the room and made the bed, and Missus Potts straightened out her wardrobe and trunk. "Rab made a deal wi' me that if I help him wi' this, he'll let me use the extra plaster to make figures to paint."

"That's good, Neal. Do ye like to paint things?"

"Aye, I do." The boy said. "Someday I told Papa I was gonna make him a large painting to put on the wall of the great hall, only I dinna ken yet what it will be."

"That's better than ye drawin' on the wall like ye did as a wee lad," Rab teased. "Ye nearly gave Papa a seizure, an' yer lucky Mama was around tae prevent him from tanning yer behind."

Neal rolled his eyes. "I'm no' a bairn anymore, Rab. He willna ever let me forget that!"

"Anymore than ye will let me forget the time Jamie an' I tipped the boat over wi' Papa in it fishing!" Rab returned, setting the bucket of plaster down beside his wife's foot. "Now, dearie, I'm gonna unwrap some o' the bandages here, so I can wind these new ones about with the plaster on it. It may be a wee bit uncomfortable, but I'm gonna gi' ye a stronger draught to make ye sleep for a bit, aye?"

"Must I sleep?" Belle asked, for she was curious about the casting.

"Aye, because if ye move while I do it, I'll hae t'start over," her husband said. He pulled out a vial and said, "Two swallows." As Belle drank the medicine, he ordered Neal to stir the bucket of plaster while he dipped the strips of linen into it. He swished them around till they were well coated, then when he saw Belle doze, began to unwind the bandages from her ankle.

He took off the old bandages and splint, gently washed the foot and dried it with a soft cloth and then wrapped three bandages about it that were not plastered as a cushion. Neal watched intently, waiting for his brother to tell him to hand him a plaster strip, which Rab did after a few seconds.

Neal dipped his hands in the bucket and handed a dripping plaster strip to Rab, who quickly wound it tightly about Belle's ankle while she slept. "How long will it take tae dry?"

"A few minutes. Hand me another," the physician ordered. He continued winding securely, making sure each end was wound tightly and attached with plaster before he did another strip. Finally the bucket was empty and Rab said, "Wash yer hands, Neal, before ye bring this bucket down to wherever ye want to cast those clay figures."

"I'll call Tessa in tae mop up this," Missus Potts said to Rab after Neal had departed, as there were plaster spots on the floor.

"Thanks, Missus Potts," Rab said politely as he scrubbed. "The cast should dry while Belle sleeps and when she wakes should be fully dried. I'll come by in about two hours and check."

"Ye're a good doctor, milaird," Missus Potts said. "Better than most."

Rab felt pride suffuse him. "I had a good mentor. He believed in the Hippocratic oath "First, do no harm." As do I. Many o' those who call themselves physicians hae no more knowledge o' true healing than would fill a thimble. And in their ignorant minds, they hurt more than heal."

He did not say so, but his mentor, Azhir actually had medical texts, ancient ones, copied from the ancient Roman physicians and Egyptians who attended the ancient medical school of Alexandria. Azhir maintained that the ancient physicians had knowledge that their predecessors had forgotten, and a better understanding of how the human body worked. Rab's study of these ancient texts, which would have condemned him for heresy if the church ever knew of them, enabled him to use different techniques on his patients rather than relying on the false idea of humors and astrology that most of those who called themselves doctors did. Some of what the Egyptians did mentioned magic spells, but Rab had ignored those, knowing better than to read them, and just relied on the actual medical practices set down for treatments of wounds, and some bodily ills. Azhir was also something of a medical rebel, and didn't follow any particular treatment or diagnosis blindly no matter who said it or taught it, he questioned, and taught Rab to question also, and to observe and use rational methods with regards to diagnosis and treatment of patients.

Rab had read all of the ancient texts and treatises, including ones translated from Arabic and Egyptian, ones in Latin and Greek from Galen and Pedanius Discorides, an ancient herbalist whom Rab had found excellent as a pharmacology reference. He tended, however to take some remedies with a grain of salt, especially folk ones, and relied upon methods and treatments he had known to work for his patients or that made sense to his logical brain. Anything that sounded outlandish or promised miracle cures or instant panaceas for ills—like animal dung, urine of a pregnant ass, or tobacco—he dismissed as bunk. He did believe there was a connection between the spirit and mind and body, as some of the Arab physicians believed, and encouraged patients to think happy thoughts and meditate and fill themselves with peace and positive affirmations, using their own experiences or God's word as their touchstones. One of Rab and Azhir's most prized anatomy texts, and the one that had led both physicians to disavow the traditional practice of cupping and bleeding patients was a forbidden copy of DaVinci's anatomy book, smuggled out of Italy at great personal cost by one of his apprentices and which Azhir had paid dearly to obtain. In secret, he and Rab had studied the drawings and the theories postulated by the great artist and inventor, and both had come to the conclusion that the genius was correct in his conclusions about the heart, circulatory system and so forth. Azhir had given Rab a precious copy of the book upon his "graduation" from his apprenticeship, though it was a secret known only to them, for had any church official ever seen that text it would have been burned as heretical and they themselves might also have gone on trial for being warlocks. Rab was careful to keep it "disguised" in a false cover labeled Galen's Anatomical Treatises, with some of Galen's Greek writings in the front and back and DaVinci's illustrations and Latin commentaries in the middle. It was not hidden on his bookshelf either, but in plain sight along with his other medical texts and law treatises. Because no one's curiosity would be aroused by a book kept in plain sight, only one that was hidden.

He nodded at the lady's maid, knowing Belle would be in capable hands, and went back downstairs to tidy up his infirmary before getting a simple snack of cheese and grapes to nibble on before he sought out Father Bryce to ask how the cottage was coming along for his papa, and then to locate Malcolm and Steward Burns and ask about a shipment of goods delivered to the estate which included some new muslin sheets and blankets for his infirmary.

It was while he was overseeing the lads putting the new sheets and blankets on the twelve beds in his infirmary that a frantic young husband from the village ran into the keep. "Dr. Rab!" the young man, Hamish, panted. "My wife's time is upon her an' the midwife Old Clarice be away in the next village tending another woman. Please will ye no' come help? I dinna ken what tae do!"

"Aye, lad. I'll meet ye out in the bailey." Rab said, then he spoke to the boys and said, "Finish wi' the beds then ye may go about yer other duties, an' tell Missus Carmichael I said ye may have some extra pasties an' cider for a job well done." He then grabbed his medical satchel and after saddling Auriel, rode down to the village to the house of Hamish, who was a cooper, with the man riding pillion.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Belle woke up thirsty and hungry, and after examining her newly cast foot, decided to venture below stairs and get something to eat. Missus Potts accompanied her, worried she would slip and fall. But Belle soon found that navigating the stairs was easier now that she had the cast once she had walked back and forth a few times on her crutches in her room, getting used to the new feel of it.

People looked up as she entered the hall, and some looked surprised to see their new mistress there and others ignored her, going about their duties. Belle nodded at them in a friendly manner and then sat at the high table where she had sat last night for the feast.

Missus Potts and a serving girl named Jenny soon brought her some food and some mead. Belle ate hungrily of the repast—which was leftover venison, bread, vegetables, and a honeycake.

She asked a passing servant where the laird and Rab were, and he replied Malcolm was out on the estate and Rab was down in the village delivering a baby. It was still drizzling and mucky out, and Belle decided to find Moira and ask her to show her about the keep now that she was more mobile. If this was going to be her new home, she wanted to know it as well as she had Fraser keep where she had grown up. That was one of the first lessons her mother had taught her—to know the people and place where you were going to rule over.

She instructed one of the keep lads to go and fetch the housekeeper and meanwhile listened to the ebb and flow of conversation around her. It seemed that most of Carlyle was content now that Malcolm had returned with Rab and his new bride. She heard several complimentary things about her new husband, mostly in praise of his skills as both doctor and lawyer in settling dispute that arose. It appeared her husband was known for his shrewd dealings and ability to see every side of an issue as well as his even temperament, unlike his papa's, which often flared up when he was drunk.

It made Belle feel much better that she was the wife of someone whom her people respected and liked, not the tyrant beast she had initially feared. When she asked the serving maid Tessa why Rab had gone into the village to deliver a baby, and not a midwife, since usually that was their job, Tessa replied that Dr. Rab filled in if the midwife was unavailable and the villagers trusted him with many of their medical issues rather than going to the barber-surgeon the next town over or even to their own apothecary most times.

Belle smiled. Mama, it seems ye were right and Queen Mary did me a favor with this match. I hope that luck continues to smile upon me, if God is kind.

But when the servant came back and said they couldn't find the housekeeper, Belle lost her smile. "Um, verra well. I suppose I can just . . . see for myself," she said trying not to be disheartened, though she felt something was very odd here. Normally such a prominent figure's whereabouts would be known, in case of an emergency.

Belle began to walk from the hall, intending to visit the kitchens, when she spotted Neal and waved to him.

The laird's third son brightened when he saw her. "Belle, ye're walking better with the cast. Where are ye going? Rab's no' here, he went out on a call to the village, the cooper's wife is havin' her bairn."

"Aye, I ken that," she replied. "I was hoping to find Moira, so she could show me around the castle, but she seems to be nowhere to be found at the moment." Belle sighed.

"I can show ye," Neal said, thinking this was the perfect excuse to get out of his dreaded lessons with his tutor. "I know everything about the castle."

"But . . . ye looked like you were going somewhere? Do ye have lessons?" Belle queried.

Neal shrugged. "Aye, but old Stuart, my Latin tutor, isna feeling too well after last night's feast. Guess he had bit too much whiskey. I'll just tell him to go back t'bed an' we can do my lesson tomorrow."

"If you're sure? I dinna want to get ye in trouble, Neal."

"Ye won't. Dinna fash yerself, Belle," he said with a smirk. "Wait here." Then he darted away through the hall.

Belle leaned on her crutches and waited. Within seven minutes, Neal was back, breathing a bit heavily, and he slid to a stop in front of her. "All right, are ye ready, milady?" he sketched her a bow. "I am at yer service."

"Lead on, sir," she said, and gestured.

Neal looked like a boy on a holiday, saying gaily, "Where would ye like to go first? The kitchens, mayhap? Did ye meet the cook yet? Her name is Bridie Carmichael, but we all call her Missus Mike, cause o' my brother Jamie. Jamie couldna say her name when he first learned to talk . . ."

Belle found that Neal was a font of information about the keep and its inhabitants, and happily prattled to her with amusing stories and anecdotes. After meeting Missus Mike, whom she liked a great deal, and the cook saying that the former lady of the castle had actually written meal plans down for her to follow, since Missus Mike could read and write, Belle took some of the plans Lady Ceri had written back with her, to get an idea of what she ought to plan for dinner and supper.

"'Tis high time Dr. Rab wed, an' ye seem like a pleasant lass," the cook chortled, she was a round woman with lively green eyes and dark hair bundled up under her cap. "The keep needs a lady around the place. And dinna let this scamp tell ye any tall tales, aye?" she ruffled Neal's hair affectionately.

"Now would I do that, Missus Mike?" the boy said, playing innocent.

"Ye would do whatever ye could get away wi'!" the cook grinned. "Like yer papa, ye can be a rascal." She turned to Belle. "I've been here since the laird was a wee lad like this one, ye see."

"Aye, Missus Mike is as old as Methuselah!" Neal teased.

"Get on wi' ye, laddie!" she pretended to swat him with her dishcloth. "Behave or no hot cross buns for ye!"

Neal gave her puppydog eyes. "Ye're like a May morn, Missus Mike an' all the lads wanna dance wi' ye."

The cook giggled. "Och, aye, ye mean they want a piece o' my scones an' meat pies." She then handed them each a hot cross bun and they lingered in the kitchen to eat, which Belle noted was run tighter than a ship at sea, before Neal led her out again to the pantry and buttery.

After speaking again with the butler and pantler, Neal took her to the storage rooms on the lower level. "But I canna get in here, because Moira always has the key," he told her.

"I see. Mayhap when I find her I should tell her to give me it," Belle surmised, knowing perfectly well the housekeeper should have given up her keys to the new mistress of the keep.

"Aye, mayhap she forgot, as there was a lot to do yesterday," Neal said. "Let me show ye the weaving rooms. We Carlyles weave a lot, an' all o' us, even the laird knows how to weave."

"I know too," Belle said. "The first blanket I wove I used to put on an injured mare in the winter."

Neal smiled. "Rab says ye heal animals like he does people."

"I try . . .but wi' this leg 'tis difficult." Belle admitted with a chuckle.

"But 'tis healing, aye?"

"Aye, yer brother is a verra good doctor."

Neal nodded proudly. "Rab is good at whatever he does. Only sometimes . . . my papa doesna see that . . .an' he keeps comparin' him tae Jamie an' it makes Rab feel like nothin' he does is good enough." Neal sighed. "An' once he said he dinna ever think he'd marry because he's a difficult man to love."

Belle felt a sudden pang of sorrow thinking about how Rab must have felt trying to please a man who kept comparing him to a ghost. She knew that death sometimes made people give the lost one attributes they never possessed in life-like sainthood. She took Neal's hand in her own. "Neal . . . I want ye to ken this—when I was commanded to marry yer brother I feared he was a beast like all the stories we Frasers had ever heard about ye Carlyles. But after I was . . .rescued by him an' he healed me I started tae see that the stories were just that—stories."

"Rab would never hurt ye, Belle. He doesna hurt women ever. Or children. An' the only time he ever skelped me I think it hurt him more than it did my backside." Neal said ruefully.

"I would imagine it did. He dinna seem like the type to use a belt or a switch on a child."

"Och, an' he dinna. He only used his hand. My papa . . .well sometimes he's used one . . ." Neal grimaced.

Belle winced. She knew that was a common method of punishment for misbehavior but she couldn't imagine ever doing such to her own child, or her husband either. She suspected her brother might have gotten a thrashing a time or two from his tutor or even her papa, but generally Marcus was not a strict dour disciplinarian. "I'm sorry for that, Neal," she said sincerely. "And I dinna think yer brother is as difficult to love as he thinks."

"Nay, Belle. He is no' . . . sometimes I think I . . . love him more n' our papa," Neal admitted softly. "But he can be distant n' prickly sometimes."

"I can be a pain in the . . .backside when it comes to doing something like healing an animal and be pretty . . .impulsive too," Belle admitted. "But Neal, no one is perfect. And the more I get to ken Rab, the more I see someone that I . . . like."

Ye more than like him, Belle if yer thoughts last night were any indication! Her conscience sniggered. Recalling why she had those thoughts made her blush.

"That's good, Belle. Rab needs someone tae love him. Since I dinna think that girl he met in Edinburgh loved him at all." Neal informed her.

"What girl?" Belle sputtered.

"Och, dinna worrit, Rab told me she was the herb woman's daughter an' he dinna like her the way she wanted him to. He said she was too grasping an' greedy an' he dinna love her." Neal explained quickly.

"What was her name?"

"Err . . .Zelena . . ." Neal said, coughing. Now he was sorry he'd mentioned that little detail. But truly, it couldn't matter now, could it? After all, Belle was his brother's wife now.

Belle sniffed. "Sounds foreign. Like a Gypsy or something." She already could imagine what this girl looked like—all lush curves, big hips, bosoms that filled a man's hands, sultry smile, dark skin and hair black as night—and already she felt an unaccustomed jealousy. What if Neal was wrong? And Rab had loved this Zelena . . .but had to let her go because the son of a laird didn't marry the herb woman's daughter?

Suddenly all of her insecurities returned tenfold. She gripped her crutches, white knuckled, and stared off down the corridor, the torchlight dancing on the wall.

"Belle? Are ye feeling poorly?" Neal asked, concerned. They had been all over the bottom portion of the castle in about two hours. He wiped his hands on his kilt agitatedly, thinking if Belle became ill because he had taken her traipsing all over, Rab would be furious. And more than likely teach him the error of his ways with the flat of his hand to his backside. "Belle? Ye look pale, would ye like to stop now and go lie down?"

Belle rubbed her head, feeling a sudden throbbing in her temples. Normally she would sneer at any woman who had "attacks of vapors" or anything so weak and girlish. But upon learning of this girl Rab had known in Edinburgh, she felt as if she were smothering. As if on cue, her ankle throbbed.

"I . . .mayhap that's a good idea, Neal," she agreed. Then she began to limp back up the corridor, followed by the anxious lad, all the way back to her room, where she set her crutches aside and tumbled into bed, weary and aching.

"Lovey, is sommat wrong?" asked Missus Potts, concerned.

"No I just . . .need to rest," Belle muttered fretfully, and closed her eyes, wishing she could forget what she had just learned. But if her husband loved another—how could he ever learn to love her?

Page~*~*~*~Break

Rab arrived back at the castle an hour after Belle had gone to lie down, tired but triumphant. The birth had gone well, better than he had expected for a first time, and both mother and wee bairn—a bonny lass—were resting comfortably before he took his leave. Rab had thought, as he had held the baby in his arms after cutting the cord and cleaning her up, that he wouldn't mind having one himself one day. Or two or three.

He hurried upstairs to wash and change, since there were a few hours before dinner, he had a tray sent up to his room, because he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He asked Missus Potts if Belle had been in her room all day, and the lady's maid replied that no, Belle had gone downstairs for several hours and had come back up to nap an hour before.

"Good, she's moving around more, though I hope she dinna overdo it," he said.

"How did the birth go, sir?"

"Fine. Mother and bairn are doing well . . .and so is the new papa, once I picked him up off the floor," Rab chuckled wickedly. "She was delivered safely of a wee lassie."

Missus Potts looked relieved, for a woman, childbirth was like going to war, you never knew who would win, life or death. "That's good to know."

She departed then to let her master wash up and change, and eat his supper.

Four hours later, Belle and Rab went down to the hall for dinner, and while not the lavish affair yestereve's feast was, there was still three courses and plenty of food for all.

Belle was quiet during dinner, though she did ask Rab about the delivery and was assured that mama and daughter were doing well. She still felt upset and nervous about learning that Rab had a woman he might have loved back in Edinburgh, and she wondered if that was why he had never married. She pushed the fish around on her plate without really eating, her appetite spoiled by her unvoiced concerns.

Just before the sweet course, Malcom stood to address the hall. "Good people, I hae an announcement t'make," he called, somehow making his voice carry to all parts of the hall. "I am gonna go on a month retreat wi' Father Bryce tae a cottage up by the burn on the northwest side o' my lands. Of late, I hae noticed the sorry state o' my soul an' need a period o' reflection and meditation tae get back in balance." Murmurs of shock flew around the hall. "In addition to that, as long as I am absent, ye will obey my son Rab, yer tanist, as ye would me." He nodded shortly at Rab.

People nodded and looked pleased.

Belle smiled at Rab, and said, "I am sure ye shall do well, Rab." Then she leaned in and whispered, "And yer papa shall do fine."

"One can only hope," her husband said, then he ate a sugar comfit from a dish on the table.

Rab prayed his papa would keep his word and actually go through the retreat as he'd said, and hopefully with Father Bryce's guidance make it through the initial period without his whiskey. Rab was unsure what doing without the whiskey might cause Malcolm to do, but he recalled Azhir saying that sometimes doing without a substance brought on cravings, rages, and in some cases eating food and mood swings. He had stocked the cottage with barrels of spring water, cider, perry-a juice made from pears, and obtained several oranges from a trader along with different kinds of tea to be flavored with honey. He had asked Azhir to send him some kaffee beans and a grinder, as well as how to prepare that popular Arabic drink. If they were going to wean Malcolm away from drink, they needed to supply him with alternatives.

Belle ate a sugared peach from the bowl on the table, then she glanced at Rab, who was speaking with Malcolm and the chaplain about the retreat, and once again her concern over Rab's being forced to abandon a woman that he could have care for deeply intruded. Suddenly she felt ill, and stood up, the peach like lead in her stomach.

"Something wrong, dearie?" Rab queried.

"I . . .I think I'm going to bed early," Belle said. "I'm rather tired and my ankle is hurting," she explained.

"All right, dearie," Rab dug a small cloth bag out of his satchel. "Tell Missus Potts to steep this in tea with a tablespoon of honey, it's willowbark powder and will help yer foot so ye can sleep."

Belle took the cloth bag then bid Neal and Malcolm good night and then limped upstairs.

Once she had entered her chambers again, she handed the bag to Missus Potts and told her Rab's instructions, then her old friend rang for tea and honey to be delivered and began helping her out of her gown.

Belle pulled her nightrail over her head while Missus Potts hung her gown in the wardrobe, sitting on the edge of the bed. She massaged her temples, wishing she could quit thinking about Zelena and pondering whether or not to bring this up with her husband. She bit her lip, worrying it back and forth. But then, what if he hadn't wanted her to know? After all he hadn't told her anything about this woman from Edinburgh. She didn't want him to be angry at his brother. She was also afraid of what his reaction might be to her knowing. Perhaps she was right and he truly had loved this woman?

She thought of the way Malcolm was with women and how she had heard some of the keep gossips about his taking mistresses. What if Rab were cut from the same cloth? What if he wanted a wife at home and a mistress in the city? She knew it wasn't uncommon for noblemen to take mistresses even after they were married. And a good wife wasn't supposed to complain, because that was a man's prerogative.

She felt ill, however, thinking of having to share her husband with another woman.

He vowed to be faithful to me, she reminded herself. But, dear Jesu have mercy, what if he still longs for this Zelena in his heart? Shall I never be first in any man's heart?

The thought turned her cold and gloomy.

She sipped the hot posset Missus Potts brought, and prayed the medicine would take effect quickly. She wanted to sleep, to be numb, to stop hurting and fratching and feeling miserable.

"You can go, Missus Potts. I'm going to sleep now," she told her maid, and then swung her legs into bed, propping her cast up on the pillows that were piled on the foot of the bed. As she pulled the covers up, Rumple came and jumped on her stomach, turning about and purring loudly.

"All right, m'dear, I'll be goin' tae sleep myself after I have a spot o' tea. Good night and may angels watch over ye."

As soon as Missus Potts had vacated the room, Belle stroked Rumple and cried, "You're so lucky you're a kitty, Rumple. Cats never worrit like this over anything."

Rumple, as if sensing his mistress' distress, began kneading her tummy and purring loudly.

At least her kitten loved her, she thought, and between Rumple's purring and the willow bark she fell asleep some fifteen minutes later.

But in her dreams she chased Rab down a road and a Gypsy woman appeared to block her way, laughing evilly and sneering, "You cannot have him! He is mine!"

She tossed and turned from the horrid dreams, but the tea did not permit her to wake, and Rab came in some hours later and found her sound asleep then crawled in beside her, relieved that she could sleep without pain.

"Good night, my bonny dearie," he crooned before he drew shut the hangings, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Belle woke to the sun shining and Rumple mewing in her ear. Figuring the wee cat was hungry, she forced herself to sit up. Rab's side of the bed was empty and she wondered where he had gone so early, until she recalled him saying he was going to see Malcolm off on his retreat. "Hush, ye wee scrap," she gently scolded the meowing feline. "Dinna fash yerself, Rumple! I'm gettin' yer breakfast."

A movement by the hearth startled her as shoved back the blankets, and she saw one of the young undermaids, she believed the girl was called Lily, kneeling by the fireplace, shifting the andirons and sweeping out the ash and then re-laying the fire with fresh apple wood.

"Good morn to ye, Lily," Belle said as she sat up, hoping she hadn't confused the two girls. But she believed Lily was the one with dark hair. "'Tis Lily, aye?"

"Och, I'm so sorry, milady!" the girl cried in dismay. "I dinna mean tae wake ye wi' my noisy clatter!"

"Ye dinna, but my wee kitty did," Belle corrected, trying to put the girl, she was about thirteen, at ease.

But the girl seemed to become even more upset and when she looked up at her mistress, Belle could not help seeing the tear tracks in her sooty face.

"Why, Lily, what is the matter?" Belle said, alarmed. "Why are ye crying? Ye're no' in trouble."

"Och, o' course I am. I canna do anything right." Lily sniffled, swiping at her face with a rag. "Moira tol' me to lay the fire an' sweep away the cinders wi'out wakin' ye, an' I dinna do it. An' if she finds out, she's sure to switch me again because I'm a clumsy idjit!"

Belle's eyes narrowed. "Again? What—what do you mean? Has Moira skelped ye?"

The girl cringed at her angry tone, though it was not directed at her. "Aye, milady. For—for bein insolent tae her."

"Insolent how?" her mistress demanded. She had been under the impression that the servants here were treated well and while she knew it was the province of the housekeeper to maintain order among the chambermaids, she disliked the use of force on anyone, but especially children.

Lily licked her lips and stood, trembling slightly, her hands twisted in her apron. "W-weel, ye see, I . . .I hae to notice that . . .Moira still hae the keys on her belt an' so I asked her why she dinna gi' them tae ye yet, an' she said to mind my own business an' tend tae my work an' I said 'twas only a question. Then she got fratched wi' me and said if I couldna hold my tongue she'd hae me dismissed. An' I said . . .och I shouldna but I dinna like how she was talkin' 'bout ye, milady tae one o' the other maids . . .I said she couldna do that, because only the mistress o' the castle could dismiss servants and then she grabbed me by the hair and said she were still the head housekeeper around Carlyle an' she'd teach me tae be disloyal tae my clan and side wi' the enemy an' be an insolent miss!" Lily dropped her head. "Then she took the switch outta the closet an' she . . ."

The girl gestured weakly to her legs, and then lifted her skirt, showing Belle the red welts on the backs of her calves and thighs.

Belle was furious. "Och! She-she beat ye for defendin' me? I willna let this stand!" She groped for her crutches. She realized now that she should have demanded the keys back when she had first arrived, but between her injury and trying to acclimate herself to the keep, her husband, and everyone in it, she had quite let that slide. It was a lapse she saw now that had been encouraged by Moira.

"Here milady," Lily handed her the crutches. Then she said, "But ye dinna hae to say anything, please, else Moira will think I be tellin' tales . . ."

"Let me worry about Moira," Belle said briskly. "For ye were correct. I am the mistress o' this castle and I will decide what warrants a beating or no'!" She stood, Rumple twining around her ankles, meowing piteously. "Oh, dear! Rumple is hungry."

"I'll get the wee beastie sommat tae eat," Lily said eagerly, glad to have some task to do that involved her being far away from the mistress and the housekeeper when they clashed. She set her pail and shovel down, dusted off her hands and said, "I'm gonna fetch food from Missus Mike."

As she scurried out of the room, Belle followed, closing the door. Rumple meowed distraught on the other side. "Now, where can I find Moira?" she asked herself. She was going to have it out with the crotchety housekeeper once and for all, and settle the notion of who really was mistress here at Carlyle.

She glanced about the empty corridor and tried to figure out where the housekeeper was, when she heard a familiar voice say, "Now mind ye dust the furniture good in the laird's room, because we want everything tae be neat when he returns . . ."

Belle began limping down the hall to where the laird's suite was, her face set in what her papa used to call her thundercloud face.

It was an expression she wore rarely, but when she did, people learned to get out of the way for it meant she was going to give someone the rough edge of her tongue and flay them raw, figuratively speaking.

She found the head housekeeper standing in the doorway of Malcolm's room, her large iron ring of keys jingling on her belt.

Belle's jaw clenched. "Moira, a word wi' ye."

The other woman turned. "Milady, is there sommat ye need?"

"Aye, I need to discuss something wi' ye. In private," Belle declared. Then she pointed to the ring of keys. "An' I do believe those belong to me now."

"The keys?" Moira clutched them as if they were her firstborn. "Och, aye, but since ye are so sore afflicted, milady, I thought to keep them till ye were well."

"Afflicted?" Belle frowned sharply. "I hae a broken ankle, no' the plague. And now that Rab hae made me a cast, I am able to get around the keep and so the keys are mine as the new chatelaine o' Carlyle."

Moira stiffened. Then she reluctantly unlocked the ring from her belt and handed them to Belle, who tucked them on her wrist and limped down the door to her chamber.

Upon opening the door, she nearly tripped over a meowing Rumple.

As she stumbled and caught herself, Moira sniffed and said, "A fine chatelaine ye'll make, if ye canna keep yer feet!"

Belle turned, her eyes flashing. "At least I dinna beat my servants for speakin' the truth!"

"Did that wee wretch Lily come whining tae ye about her well-deserved thrashing?" sneered the housekeeper. "She was an insolent baggage who needed to ken her place—"

"Like ye need to ken yours, Moira MacNamara?" Belle snapped.

"I ken well who hae served Carlyle these past six years since Lady Ceri went to heaven!" Moira growled. "An' I dinna consider no upstart Fraser lass who married by royal decree a fit mistress for a household where her kin hae slaughtered half the inhabitants, including my own betrothed!"

Belle gasped. "I hae slaughtered no one, Moira, an' 'twas no' my idea tae wed a Carlyle, but I obey my queen, and to keep the peace between our houses I am here, despite the feud that threatens tae tear our families apart."

"Simply 'cause ye hae wed a Carlyle doesna take away the stain o' yer kinsman's bloody deeds against us!" hissed Moira. "An' I'll never forget ye cost me my Kenneth, ye an' yer murdering clansmen!"

Belle opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Rab strode into the chamber, his cognac eyes hard, and snapped, "What the bloody blazes is goin' on here?"