10
Harsh Lessons
Belle felt her heart trip over itself like the staccato rhythm of a bodhran, which was a war drum her people often used when going off to fight the English soldiers. She wanted to run after her husband and ask what he thought he could do, a physician, hunting a pack of wolves? Wolves that had killed his sheep and could kill a man if given the opportunity. And Neal too, though she knew that her brother Gavin had gone hunting when he was that age. Still, it made her panic, imagining the wolves closing in on the hunting party, red eyes and slavering fangs, ready to rend and tear her loved ones apart. She trembled and gripped her fork in white-knuckled fists.
Until she felt a presence at her elbow, and looked up to see a maiden, a little younger than she was, with long brown hair coiled into a coronet and wearing a pretty dress of amber with green embroidery at the bodice and sleeves and hem. She wore an arisaed of Carlyle plaid with the yew crest pinning it together. She was slight and reminded Belle of a wren, with a sweet face.
"Hello. I dinna believe we've met," she greeted this newcomer, thinking she dressed too finely to be a servant.
"Och, nay. I just got back from visiting my mother," the young woman said, her eyes were the same shade of cognac color as Rab's. "I'm Ailsa, and Laird Malcolm's my uncle. I'm the daughter o' his younger brother, Raibeart. 'Tis who Rabbie's named after, ye ken." She curtseyed politely to Belle.
"Pleased to meet ye. I'm Belle, yer cousin Rab's wife," she explained.
Ailsa's eyes widened in astonishment. "Och, I had heard some talk but . . .I dinna ken whether to believe it or not. When were ye married? It must hae been awful fast, since neither my mama nor I were invited to the wedding . . ." the girl sounded rather hurt.
Belle made haste to disabuse her of the notion that she had been forgotten. "Oh but there was no wedding . . .no' yet. Ye see, Rab and I decided to handfast first . . ." Belle went on to explain the reason for the haste and reassure this new relative that she would be included in the wedding when the time came round. She showed Ailsa her foot and told her how she had broken her ankle.
The young woman clucked in sympathy, then said, "But 'tis good that Rab's been takin' care o' ye. He's the best doctor about in these parts, and I dinna say so just 'cause he's my cousin, ye ken. It's the God's honest truth."
"Aye, I ken," Belle said. "Do ye no' live here in the keep? Or with your mama and papa?"
Ailsa seated herself on the bench next to Belle, and signaled one of the servers to get her a cup of mead. She pulled a platter of cheese and bread over and began to eat, saying softly, "I live here half o' the year an' the other half wi' my mama. 'Tis been so since my papa died these seven years past. I was ten, but I still recall it. My brother Aidan was hunting wi' my papa and Uncle Malcolm in the forest when it happened."
Belle shivered. "Did yer papa fall off his horse?"
"Nay. He . . . was gored by a rogue boar. They werena hunting it, but the boar came outta nowhere and my papa was in its way—he threw himself in front o' Aidan . . .so the boar attacked him instead. Its tusk cut the great vein in my papa's leg . . .and he died ere they could bind it. Aidan an' Uncle Malcolm killed it though t'was too late. I still remember my mama's face when they brought his body home . . .it was awful!" Ailsa whispered, her expressive eyes bright with an old sorrow.
"I'm sorry for yer loss," Belle said.
"Thank ye. Anyway, 'tis why Mama prefers her house over in Meadowhearth, the village just beyond the next ridge. My papa, being the younger son, inherited no land, but mama's family had some, as my grandsire was the sheriff, and he gave them a house. When Papa died, she retired there and wanted me to stay with her half the year. The other half I spent here at the keep, being tutored in how to be a lady by my Aunt Ceri. But then she passed too and . . . things havena been the same, so I stayed with Mama mostly . . .until I heard there was a new lady at the keep and I decided to see if the rumors were true."
Belle smiled at her new cousin. "I am glad ye came, Ailsa. I dinna ken Rab had a cousin who was near my age."
"I am ten and seven," the girl said. "And ye?"
"I am twenty this past December," Belle told her. "And yer brother?"
"Aidan is three and twenty, close to Rabbie's age," Ailsa replied. "He an' Rabbie an' Jamie were like three mischievous devils when they were young."
"I canna imagine my husband as verra mischievous."
"Och, aye, he was!" Ailsa giggled. "Mischievous as a monkey, ye ken, but also always kind and gentle to others. When I was a wee lass I used to follow them around and Aidan used to shoo me away, saying I couldna play wi' them, but Rabbie always said he dinna mind an' let me come along."
"He does seem verra patient an' kind," Belle observed.
"Aye, he is that." Ailsa nodded. Then she looked about. "Where has everyone gone? Is Rabbie out tendin' patients in the village? What about Uncle Malcolm or wee Neal?"
"Nay. Yer uncle hae gone into retreat wi' the chaplain for a month," Belle explained softly. She didn't know whether to reveal Malcolm's true reason for the retreat, and not wanting to overstep decided it best to let Rab tell Ailsa if he chose. "And Rab and Neal . . .they hae just left for a wolf hunt!"
Ailsa crossed herself. "May Saint Hubert guard them," she prayed. St. Hubert was the patron saint of hunters. "How long ago was that, cousin Belle?"
"'Twas just about a quarter o' an hour past." Belle murmured, and drank some more mead.
Ailsa looked at her keenly. "Are ye scairt for them then?"
Belle swallowed hard. "Aye," she whispered. "'Tis just . . . Rab is a physician, what does he ken about hunting wolves?"
Ailsa put her hand on Belle's comfortingly. "Dinna fash yerself, dearie. Rabbie may be a physician now, but before he was, he could hunt as good as my brother an' Jamie. He kens well how to use a bow an' a rapier. An' wee Neal does too, Rabbie taught him. And they have the huntfolk too. So he isna helpless."
"I ken, but . . ." Belle bit her lip worriedly.
"I do ken how ye feel," Ailsa said sympathetically. "How about ye come up to the solar wi' me? Before I left three months ago, I was working on a tapestry, perhaps ye can offer me some pointers?"
Belle agreed, because anything was better than remaining in the hall fretting. Ailsa led her up the stairs to the solar, which was a bright airy room with window seats and a card table, several candelabras with beeswax tapers, and looms and spinning wheels as well as embroidery frames.
Ailsa's half finished tapestry was right on the frame where she'd left it, and as she set to work again on the heather filled meadow of a country scene, Belle found some very soft mohair wool and began to knit a bonnet for Rab, while she listened to Ailsa regail her with stories about Rab as a boy. In turn Belle told her about growing up a Fraser and some of the mischief she and her sisters used to get into, and her own ventures into animal husbandry.
Belle nearly asked the wren-like girl if she knew aught about a girl in Edinburgh Rab had courted called Zelena, but at the last second her heart failed her and she kept quiet. Then Rumple came in, and Belle introduced him to Ailsa and the two had fun playing with the kitten until the long shadows began to darken the courtyard.
And still the men had not returned.
Page~*~*~*~Break
The supper hour came and went, and still the hunting party remained conspicuously absent. Belle was close to flying to pieces, her overactive imagination conjuring up grisly horrors as she forced herself to eat her soup. She barely picked at the roast partridge and rosemary-sage stuffing, or the custard berry tart with slivered almonds. Ailsa kept her company at the high table, and tried to distract her by telling her amusing stories of a pet raven she had, and while any other day Belle would have been delighted to hear them, that evening she paid barely any heed to the girl's chatter. Her heart was buried somewhere in the forest, wherever her husband had gone and had not returned from.
A fiddler and piper began to play an aria, but Belle found the music discordant and jarring, and she longed to run from the hall and into the woods, to do anything besides sit and wait like some silly maiden in a tale for the bearer of ill news. She came close to shredding the table cloth before a commotion at the front of the hall drew her attention.
"They're back! Dr. Rab and the others hae returned!"
Belle was on her feet in a flash, hampered only by her injured ankle, she limped determinedly to the hall doors and out into the courtyard. The torches had been lit and she could see by the flickering light that her husband was walking slowly into the bailey, leading Auriel, with Neal and the others of the hunting party behind him.
But Belle had eyes only for the slight man in the Carlyle plaid. Was he hurt? Had there been an accident?
"Rab!" she called, hurrying as quickly as she could across the bailey. "Are you hurt? Is anyone injured?"
"Nay. All o' us are fine. Except for my bonny mare. 'Tis why it took us so long to get back here." He indicated his beautiful palomino mare, who walked up three legs, and favored the fourth.
Belle uttered a cry of dismay. "Oh, Rab! Poor Auriel! What happened? Was it the wolves?"
"Aye. The wolves were holed up in a den deep in the woods, and we decided to smoke them out. They came all in a rush, ye ken, and I was on foot, because I had a torch and Auriel detests fire." As he spoke he was leading the mare around to the stables. "A great gray beast jumped me, despite my torch. I burnt its mouth, but it would hae savaged me if not for my braw mare."
A groom helped him untack Auriel, who stood with her head drooping, plainly exhausted and in pain from her leg. Belle stroked her nose.
"She came and defended me, kicked that hellspawn across the clearing, and she stood over me while I got up, but by then, there were several more, and even as I fought with one, another came for her. She dinna run, she stayed and fought . . .Azhir told me that an Arabian is loyal and possessed the courage o' a Saracen warlord, and she hae been trained for war . . .but when it was over, I found her on three legs, she must hae sprained a tendon, for she coulda walk. My huntsman, Rory, said t'was a bad one, and mayhap I ought to end her suffering, but I couldna reward her so. Thus . . . we were late coming home."
She saw that he was muddy and scratched, his hair askew, his palms abraided whether from the ground or holding the reins so long she couldn't tell. But it was the look in his eyes that moved her most. It was a look of weary fear, when he looked at the sorely wounded mare, fear that he might lose something precious, despite the care he had taken. She recognized that look, for it was the same as she had worn on many occasions when an animal she loved was hurt.
"Rab . . .it may no' be as bad as ye think," she said, putting her cool hand on his arm. "Let me examine her."
He coughed, his throat was dry. "With yer ankle, ye think ye can—"
"My ankle has nothing to do with my eyes or my hands," she answered. "I am a healer too. Now let me see," she insisted fiercely. "Hold her steady."
"Belle, be careful!" he admonished as she limped around to Auriel's off hind. Then seeing she would do this, despite everything, he went to the mare's head and began murmuring to her in Gaelic, telling her how brave she was and to be still and let Belle see to her leg.
Auriel buried her nose in her master's shirt, blowing softly, her tail switching, but recognizing the command to stay, remained like a statue while Belle gently touched the injured hock, feeling the heat and swelling with a sure hand.
Auriel quivered at her touch, but Rab whispered something and she didn't try to kick Belle or draw away from her.
Belle straightened after looking over the Arabian's leg, saying, "There's a lot of swelling, she's strained a muscle or tendon, I canna see how badly until we get the swelling down. I need a bucket of icy water and then warm wet rags, with a poultice wi' following herbs—an onion chopped fine, wintergreen oil, pepper, and willowbark mix them together with some bran to form a paste. Get me some gloves an' some bandages." She found she was barking orders like a chieftain to the stableboys and grooms, who were jumping to do her bidding, while her husband stood there, gently stroking Auriel and keeping her calm.
"You're a bright lass, a good lass, dinna fratch yerself, my bonny one," he crooned to the mare, his hands soothing her as he scratched behind her ears, putting her into a somnolent state, despite the pain in her leg. A shudder went through her when Belle had the groom help her lower the hind leg into a bucket of icy water, but Rab whispered, "Easy now, mo cridhe, 'tis just water, aye?"
Auriel's eye rolled at him, but he swiftly rubbed a muscle in her cheek, relaxing the mare until she dozed against him, her dished nose pressing into his shirt. He cradled her head in his arms. He felt the way he did when he watched a patient, especially a child, trying to battle some disease, knowing he had done all he could do, and the rest was up to God and the determination of the patient to fight off the sickness. All during the long walk back to the keep, he had talked softly to his mare, telling her what a wonderful brave horse she was, a paragon among horses, and how grateful he was that she had saved him. He had reassured her that he would not let her die, that he would do everything possible to make sure she lived, and if she turned out permanently lame, as long as she wasn't in pain, he would breed her rather than let her go alone into the cold and dark.
Belle patted the horse's flank and said softly, "If I can get the swelling down, Rab, I can poultice the sprain. I think it's that rather than anything torn. Sprains swell a lot in the beginning. But then you ken that."
"Aye," he nodded. "A sprain is a sprain whether in a horse or a person." He was still hugging the mare's head to him, his face warm from Auriel's breath. "Then ye dinna think I'll hae to . . .put her down?"
Belle shook her head rapidly. "Nay, Rab! I've seen much worse. Once I set a lamb's broken leg, an' managed to make it fast so it healed good as new. This will heal too," she told him encouragingly. "It just may take awhile." She reached out a hand and clasped his larger one in hers. "Please trust me, Rab. I may not ken about running a keep like yer mama, but I do about animals. I was always out wi' them, watching and learning from our grooms and horse copers an' herdsmen. My mama used to think I was daft, an' so did my sisters, but they dinna ken how I couldna bear to see a wee beast suffer, an' be killed when if taken time an' care, they would heal like a man would. They had no voice to speak for them, so I became their voice." Her eyes shone with unmitigated passion as she went on. "In Genesis, God bids Adam and Eve to take care o' all the birds o' the air an' the beasts o' the field. And I dinna think He meant just for us to eat, or to serve us an' then when they hae reached the end o' their usefulness to kill them. I think He meant for us to . . .treat them as we would our own kin, and to heal them when they were sick and comfort them when it was their time to go to heaven. For are we not all God's own creatures?"
"Aye, we are," he agreed, and thought that she had never looked more beautiful than she did now, with her indigo eyes flashing with the courage of her convictions. "And yer compassion does ye credit, Belle. Though some would say 'tis no' an asset in a healer, whether be he a doctor or an animal healer."
"But ye don't believe that, do ye?"
He shook his head. "Nay. I believe that compassion an' love help a patient as much as do the herbs and medicines. I ken that sometimes I must hurt in order to heal, but I dinna hae to like it. An' as much as I can, I seek to end pain rather than cause it. I ken plenty o' doctors who look upon a patient as just another body to ply their trade on. But I canna do so, and I am glad o' it!" he declared fiercely. "For the day I cease t' care about my patients an' see them as people is the day I quit practicing medicine, for then I shall no' be a doctor, but a butcher."
"Rab, hav e ye ever lost a patient?" she queried gently.
"Aye, some. The first was the worst one. But 'tis a fact o' life. We are born an' we die, an' God calls us all in His own time," he answered quietly. He didn't tell her that a part of him died with those patients, but he considered that the price of his healing them. And he recorded each one faithfully in his consult book, because sometimes you learned more from the failures than the successes. He also lit a candle for the departed on Christmas, in remembrance in case their families did not.
"I realize that. It was hard for me also, when I lost animals that I had become close to, or that were pets of friends and so on," Belle said, recognizing in him a kindred spirit. "My old herdsman Walt used to tell me no' to become so attached to the beasties because sometimes they died, but I canna help it, even now." She turned and asked the stableboy Danny for a soft cloth and a brush to groom and wash Auriel, and while Rab kept the mare quiet, groomed the horse, rinsing off the dirt, combing away the tangles and washing the small scratches the horse had acquired.
When she was finished, another groom had brought her the herbs for the poultice and the bran and warmed water. Belle pulled on gloves then and mixed the herbs, bran, and water together to form a paste, put it on a large soft cloth and wrapped it around the injured hind leg. She then wrapped it in place with several lengths of muslin bandages. "There! Now let's put her in her stall and give her some food and water. She can keep that on for twenty minutes, then we must change it again, and alternate cold and hot, for at least the next four hours or so. Do ye hae a time piece, Rab?"
"Aye I can get one from the castle," he said, then turned to Neal and asked him to fetch the clock from the mantle in his bedroom.
He led Auriel into her stall, which had fresh straw and her manger was filled with sweet hay and the trough with water. He put a blanket on her in case she grew chilled with the injury and then said, "Now what do we do?"
"Wait. Are ye hungry, Rab? Ye missed supper an' were out all day."
It was only then that he realized he was starving. He had been so consumed with worry and fear he had forgotten that he hadn't eaten since a brief stop for some ale and bannocks earlier in the day. "Aye. I am now."
When Neal returned with the mantle clock, which Rab put upon a crate, and then pulled up some hay bales to make a seat for him and for Belle, who refused to leave until her patient was finally able to rest comfortably, Rab asked him to please fetch him some supper and eat some himself.
"Aye, Rab. Ye want some o' everything?"
"Whatever we had for supper will be fine, Neal. Thank ye, lad. And bring a pitcher of mead or wine out too." He looked at Belle, with her ankle propped up on a smaller bale of hay, and asked, "How's the cast holding up? Do ye need a draught of poppy or willowbark?"
"God's truth, I hadna even felt any pain until now," she murmured.
"I'll have Danny fetch me some water from the pump," he said, and rose to retrieve his medical satchel from where it rested beside Auriel's stall. Once the lad had brought him a cup of water, he mixed some powder and gave it to Belle to take.
As she quickly swallowed the bitter draft, she said, "While I'm glad no one was hurt, I was worried about ye, Rab. I feared that ye had . . .met with an accident or . . .or been bitten when ye didna return home by dark."
"Forgive me for worryin' ye, lass. I shoulda sent Neal or Aidan on ahead, but I wasna thinking too clearly, ye ken? Auriel is like . . . well almost like my bairn, and . . .I . . ." he shrugged, unable to articulate what the horse meant to him.
"It's all right." She touched his arm gently and he felt a frission of warmth and desire flow through him. "Oh, I met yer cousin Ailsa this afternoon."
"Ye did? Then she hae returned from her mama's house? I'm glad, for she was always a good friend to me an' it hasna been the same here wi'out her. After my mama died, she decided to go back an' stay with her mama for most of the time, especially since my papa's gambling and wenching took over the keep an' t'was no longer a place for a lass of gentle breeding. But now that you're mistress o' the keep, things can mayhap get back to the way they used to be—more civilized an' less like a tavern, aye?"
Belle nodded. "I like her verra much, Rab. She's sweet an' tells the most interesting stories about ye an' yer brother Jamie an' Aidan."
"Och, nay! She'll be tellin' ye all my worst scrapes as a lad!" Rab put a hand in front of his face. But his eyes twinkled merrily.
Belle giggled. "She's funny an' she kens all about the villagers an' the castlefolk."
"I'm happy ye have made a friend. Ailsa is a bright lass an' makes ye laugh even when ye want to throttle her," Rab smirked. After the disagreement with Moira, Rab had feared his new bride would have difficulty fitting in at her new home, but his cousin could act as a buffer and show the others that Belle was indeed a good person, despite being a Fraser. Plus it was good for her to have another woman of equal rank around, who would be a confidante and not a servant.
Soon Neal returned with their supper, for Belle had decided now she was also hungry, and ate companionably on the hay bales, feasting on roasted partridge, stuffing, cod in a butter sauce, green beans, fresh bannocks with butter and honey, fruit, and berry custard.
After the repast, Belle rose and with Rab's help changed the poultice again, switching it for a cold one. Auriel was a bit twitchy at first, but soon settled when Rab went and held her head and spoke in that lilting tone to her.
Belle thought dreamily she could listen to Rab's voice forever, especially when he crooned Galeic endearments. She almost wished she were Auriel, so he would speak to her that way. To quiet the butterflies in her stomach at his seductive tone, she busied herself rewrapping the bandage about the mare's leg, then she limped back to rest upon the hay bales again.
Rab, thinking she might be cold, grabbed up a plaid from a stack in the tack room and brought it to her, tucking it about her shoulders. "Are ye sure ye willna go in now, Belle? I can get one o' the lads to help me with Auriel now, and ye can get some sleep."
"Nay. Would ye leave a patient o' yers that was still sick?" she countered.
"I wouldna," he conceded, then sat down beside her, snuggling up by her, and putting an arm about her.
There came the sound of several horses chomping their oats and hay, snorting and whinnying gently. A barn cat chased a mouse around by the feed bins, and gradually the grooms and horsefolk sought their own beds in the small crofts just for them, leaving the stable to the horses and their laird and lady.
It was then, when all was silent, and the only light was from the small oil lamp on a hook by the stall, and the moonlight filtering in through the loft windows, that Belle finally brought up a subject that had sorely bothered her since she had learned about it from Neal. "Rab, when ye were in Edinburgh, did ye . . .meet anyone there?" she began tentatively.
"Aye, I met many people there. At university an' also my mentor in medicine," he replied easily.
"Och, I ken that but . . .did ye meet . . . a lass there who maybe caught yer fancy?" she probed.
"A lass? I dinna ken what ye mean. Aye, there were lasses aplenty, but none that I cared for, much less one that would hae been acceptable for me to marry. I was too busy studying law and medicine to have much time for goin' out wi' anyone. Why do ye ask?"
"But then . . .ye did no' want to marry Zelena?" she stuttered.
Rab almost fell off the hay bale. "Zelena?! How come ye to know about her?"
"Neal told me that ye knew a lass by that name when ye were at university." Now Belle felt her cheeks heat with a ferocious blush.
"Aye, I did. She was the daughter o' Cora Miller, an herb woman that my mentor and I used to go to for fresh an' dried herbs for our tinctures and medicines. She was verra . . . she was young an' used to all the lads paying her court . . .but for some reason she fancied herself attracted to me . . . even though I dinna indicate I was interested in her." He felt himself flush also, thinking this was topic of conversation he hadn't intended to have so soon, especially not when they had only known each other a week. He swore roundly in his head, both for telling Neal and because Neal had wagged his tongue like a gossipy shepherdess.
"Then ye didna have feelings for her?" Belle pressed. "Only since she was below yer station ye didn't want to . . .encourage her?"
Rab was horrified at the direction his impressionable wife's thoughts had taken. "Just what did my brother tell ye?" he demanded, a trifle annoyed. "Zelena was a spoiled wretch who fancied herself in love wi' me. After spending time wi' her for an evening at a dance and witnessing how jealous an' wanton she got wi' a few drinks in her, I saw she wouldna suit me an' never saw her again. The feelings were all on her side, no' mine!"
Belle stared at him, trying to determine if he were telling the truth, or just trying to spare her feelings.
Rab met her eyes squarely and did not look away.
Suddenly he took her hands in his and said, "Listen, dearie. Zelena was long ago an' I was but a lad when I kent her, an' never did I feel for her what she claimed she felt for me. She wanted me because I was a laird's son, an' one o' the Bruce clan, a rich catch for someone like her, the herb woman's daughter. But I saw soon enough that she had the morals of a cat in heat, an' I dinna sleep wi' tarts. Trust me, Belle. I tol' ye when we first met that I wasna a man like my papa. I meant it. I dinna hae casual affairs an' I pledged to yer papa an' during our handfasting that I would be faithful to ye an' only ye. I hae never broken a deal in my life, dearie, an' I willna start now." His hand circled her wrist. "Put that skeeving wench outta yer mind, Belle. She isna my wife, ye are, an' that is all that matters."
Impulsively, because she looked so hopeful, vulnerable, and at the same time seductive as Eve in the garden, with her hair coming loose from its hood and plaits to tumbled free down her shoulders, like a wild wood nymph, her eyes bright with anxiety, he leaned forward and kissed her.
His kiss set her alight like a pine dipped torch, and she found herself melting into his embrace, her arms wrapping about him, then kissing him back fervently.
Had they not been where they were, and she not been injured, Rab might have consummated his marriage right there. But he reined in his libido, because as he had said, he was no churl, and he wouldn't take advantage of her that way, or risking hurting her with his attentions.
Auriel leaned her head over the stall door and snorted, as if to say, Get hold of yerself, ye rutting beast!
Rab broke off the kiss reluctantly, taking his horse's unspoken advice. But he savored the sweet taste of her lips the rest of that night, as they sat vigil over the injured mare, switching the poultices until at last, at half-past eleven, Belle fell asleep on the hay, wrapped in Rab's cloak, her head pillowed upon his lap.
Rab's slender fingers threaded themselves through his wife's hair, finding her auburn tresses irresistible to play with. He thought she looked like an angel or mayhap a fae princess asleep among the heather, her pixie like features beautiful to behold, even in repose.
He placed another gentle kiss on her brow, and thanked God that her knowledge of healing beasts was as good as his own for mending people. He shifted slightly, finding that her head being in his lap was making him rather uncomfortable because it reminded a certain part of his anatomy that her was a beautiful woman, his wife no less, and he had not yet shown her "the garden of delights" as the Saracens termed it.
Then too, he had never been intimate with a woman, and he also longed to sample the delights that he had heard his friends and cousin Aidan boast of. He knew that most people would have assumed he had already done so, given where he had been, but the fact was he was shy around women and had been so busy pursuing his study of law and then medicine that he had no time for anything else, as he had told Belle. Then, once he returned home, grief over his lost mother and the same malady that had taken her struck the village and he was kept busy tending the villagers and later riding herd on his harum scarum brother Neal and also Jamie before he went off to fight. None of that was conducive to a relationship with a lass, and as he had said, he wanted nothing to do with mistresses after seeing the way his papa behaved. Nor did he wish to get some woman pregnant with his bastard, so he remained unattached and as virgin as the lass now sleeping upon him.
He smiled down at Belle and brushed his floofy hair from his eyes. "Ahh, Belle. After all this time, I ken what it means to desire a woman . . .and I also think I'm falling in love wi' ye." His finger traced the curve of her chin.
He was tempted to kiss her again, but he didn't wish to wake her. Nor did he want her to spend the night in the stables, like some common milkmaid. So he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the keep.
On his way upstairs he met a sleepy Neal returning from a late night walk with his collie, and said, "Lad, what did ye mean tellin' Belle about Zelena? That was something I told ye in confidence an' ye needn't hae gone blabbing like a fishwife at the market to her!"
Neal winced at the stinging tone, then said gamely, "I dinna ken ye wanted it kept secret, Rab. B'sides, all I did was tell her ye dinna love Zelena."
"An' ye made Belle think I might hae had an affair wi' the wee witch!" Rab said exasperatedly. "Neal, ye must learn to hold yer tongue."
The boy hung his head. "I dinna mean to get her vexed at ye, Rab."
Rab huffed exasperatedly. "Aye, well, what's done is done. Just remember fer next time." He reached the top of the stairs and headed into his chambers. "I just need to put Belle to bed an' then I can go an' sleep in the stable an' make sure Auriel doesna take a fever or something during the night."
Observing that his brother looked very tired and wanting to make up for his poor judgment, Neal said, "Dinna fash yerself, Rab. Ye go to bed an' I'll sleep wi' Auriel. I dinna mind and I owe ye anyhow."
Rab looked at him astonished. "Lad, ye dinna need to—"
"But I want to. I can sleep wi' my plaid in the stall next to her."
Rab yawned. "All right. I suppose it's no worse than when yer on sheep watch. Winter will keep ye company, an' I'll wake ye in the morning."
Neal nodded eagerly. "I can do it, Rab. Ye'll see."
Rab smiled and ruffled his hair. "You're a good lad, Neal. If it seems she's worse, ye come an' wake me. If no' I'll see ye tomorrow for Mass an' breakfast."
His brother grinned, then left him to grab an extra cloak from his room, Winter trotting alongside him.
Rab entered their room, found Missus Potts asleep in the alcove, then made haste to undress Belle and put her in a soft nightgown before gently laying her in bed. As soon as he had done so, Rumple appeared from beneath the bed and curled up on his mistress, purring.
"Hey, wee imp!" he greeted the crumple-eared kitten, and stroked the cat's head before he went to wash and undress himself.
He would want a bath tomorrow, he mused, but for tonight he would be content with a wash. Five minutes later, he blew out the candles, drew the hangings, and then crawled into bed beside his wife and the kitten, falling asleep an instant later.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
The morning sunlight streaming through the window as well as the bells down in the village chapel woke Belle. She stretched and blinked, realizing she was no longer in the stable, but in her own bed. She turned and saw Rab beside her, also just getting up. "Rab, did ye . . .bring me here last night?"
"Aye, milady. An' who else?" he teased, his hair falling charmingly over one eye. "I dinna want ye to remain there, so I brought ye to bed. Lady Carlyle ought no' sleep in a stable."
""Tis nothing I've no' done before," she laughed. "During foaling an' I slept in the fields during lambing time."
He shook his head.
"Did I shock ye then?" she asked, suddenly wondering if it had been wise to reveal her odd activities.
"Nay. I am no' surprised, for ye are as dedicated as I am." Then he said, "Come, milady, let us arise an' dress else we'll be late for Mass, an' Father Conan will scold."
Conan was the under priest while Father Bryce was on retreat with Malcolm.
Rab went to wake Neal, finding the boy slumbering peacefully in the straw, and they attended Mass together and broke their fast with scones, fruit, cheese and smoked sausage.
Over breakfast, Neal seemed sleepy and then recalled he had Latin and algebra today with Master Stuart, but he felt so tired he doubted he could concentrate. "Rab, would ye mind if I skipped lessons today wi' Master Stuart? After stayin' up last night an' all I really can't think straight."
Rab saw the boy was practically nodding over his trencher and said, "Aye. I'll write ye a note to give to him, an' ye can get some more sleep."
Neal smiled gratefully at his brother, then ate a scone with honey.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
It had been an interesting day at the retreat to say the least. Malcolm handled his first night being sober well and Archie had been relieved there'd been no need for the ropes to tie him down but the visit from Bishop Gillespie had been unexpected and his news was not pleasant.
Malcolm was rather surly that morning, his craving for drink making him snap at Bryce over their morning porridge, fruit, and bacon. He drank the tea Archie offered but snarled sullenly about it not being worth pig slop.
"Ye wanna be tastin' pig slop I'll give ye pig slop lad!" Archie said, his patience about at its breaking point.
Malcolm glared at him, his eyes red rimmed from staying awake half the night battling his demons. "Ye dinna ken how no' even having a bit o' ale to quench my thirst feels!" he griped. "I feel like a wee devil be gnawing my innards."
He stared morosely at his porridge. "Rabbie said I'd feel better! Instead I feel like shite!"
"Aye and a devil is gnawing at yer innards, ye ken and ye cannae beat it if ye continue to feed it!"
Archie sighed. "I know this isna easy for ye lad and ye'll feel worse 'fore your better I'm thinking but snapping at me like a dragon doesna help either."
The laird had the grace to look ashamed. "Forgive me, Father. 'Tis a wretched man I am. But my head is poundin' like an anvil an' I haven't touched a drop o' whiskey since two evenings ago." He massaged his temples. "Do ye think the Lord is punishing me for my wicked ways?"
The priest thought for a moment. "Aye lad mayhap. We all must do penance for our wicked deeds in one form or another. But He is also merciful to those who repent."
"I dinna ken He has much mercy for me right now," Malcolm said, gritting his teeth. His hands trembled suddenly and he couldn't even hold his cup.
Archie took the cup from his hands and set it down. "We must pray, laddie."
He was hoping the distraction would stave off the tremors.
"Let us hae Mass then, Father," Malcolm agreed.
So though they were not in church, Archie pretended they were and he conducted Mass, did a reading from the Bible about a man overcoming temptation with the strength of the Lord and then delivered a sermon also.
He'd been awake most of the night writing it, inspired by an incident from his own childhood, an incident that had saved him from a life of crime with his parents to a man of God.
It was a piece of his past no one save Bishop Gillespie had been aware of and the elder clergymen would not dare reveal what was spoken in confession.
Malcolm struggled to concentrate on the words spoken, the comforting ritual he'd known since earliest childhood. He licked his lips feeling like he was on Crusade in the Holy Land, and he was parched from thirst. But even thinking about drinking the tea made his stomach roll.
Archie handed him a cup of water.
Malcolm sipped it slowly. "Aye, Father. Now what did ye say?"
"I said laddie that as the boy floated in the river...to his own grave he thought... he heard a voice calling to him."
"Was it a kelpie, calling him to his death?" Malcolm asked, trembling.
"Nay lad, twas an angel who came to him to tell him that it was not his time and that the Lord had a purpose for him. His own father had been a slave to the ale when he was not tricking people, ye ken?"
"Aye. And was he cross as an ill-tempered badger an' beat the poor lad fer naught?" Malcolm asked dispiritedly. "Rabbie says I did so to Neal though I dinna remember it."
"Aye and to escape the puir lad ran away and fell into the river wi'out knowin how to swim."
"But the angel what did he do? Did he save the puir wee laddie?"
"Aye, by sending a shepherd to him."
"Did someone come by and rescue him then?"
"Aye..twas the bishop hisself who took the lad in and gave him a home."
"His Grace gave a beggar lad a home?" Malcolm raised his eyebrows. The bishop was a nobleman, the third son of the Earl of Mowbry.
"Aye when the lad explained his vision. He believed the lad was chosen by God to serve the people of this parish."
Malcolm blinked slowly. "It was YE, Archie. Ye were the lad ye spoke of. Am I right, auld friend?"
"Aye and though I hae dedicated myself to the Lord I hae nae been wi'out temptation."
He had never known all the story behind his chaplain's background, just that he had been fostered with Bishop Gillespie, as was common with the clergy.
"I hae never seen ye drunk, my dear," Malcolm said.
"Twas not drink I was tempted by but a lass."
Malcolm choked on his water. "Nay!"
"Aye and for a time I considered leaving the church but I couldnae and Moira... she dinna take it well."
"What happened?"
He looked away. "She ahhh...took a draught..."
"Nay! She took her own life?" Malcolm exclaimed, horrified.
"Lad, she's yer Moira!"
"What? Ye mean my housekeeper? Ceri's Moira?"
"Aye. Dinna ye wonder why she's so cross wi' me when I visit?"
"Aye, but I dinna think . . . I always thought she loved Kenneth . . .or mayhap she never loved him the way it seemed."
"He came along after..."
"And do ye still hae feeling for her? Or she for ye? Is that why she never married?"
"Aye," Archie sighed.
Though he believed Moira's love for him had died the day he told her he could not abandon his calling.
"And still ye bide here . . . how do ye do it? And no' gi' in to the wantin'?"
"I keep busy...and pray."
"The Lord is wi' ye, my friend. Though I fear He hae turned away from me, since Ceri and Jamie died . . .I hae found no solace save in a tankard."
"And what hae it done for ye but make ye a beast to yer lads?"
Malcolm cringed at the scathing tone. "I . . . I was just . . .ahh Archie, I hae hurt my bairns wi' out meaning to . . .Rabbie told me so, but I dinna want to hear it. I promised my brother Rabbie I'd look after my niece like my own lass an' I drove her away too. Ceri would kick my arse did she see what I hae become. She'd beat me like a rug."
"Aye. She was a fiesty one your Ceri...like Moira. And 'tis for Ceri and yer bairns that ye had to beat this demon."
"Like a wildcat unleashed," Malcolm coughed. He put his head in his hands. "She was all the warmth in this world . . .and now she is gone I dinna ken how I can stop becoming my father."
"As I hae stopped becoming like mine and outrun the devils chasin' ye."
And by sharing the painful events of his past he hoped he'd given his charge something to think about.
Malcolm sighed. "I . . .need to do something . . .perhaps chop some wood for the fire, aye?" He was suddenly restless, filled with a manic energy. He also had much to ponder.
"Would ye like some company, lad?"
"Aye, if ye dinna think it terribly boring," Malcolm chuckled.
"Nay. I can still swing an axe...not that auld!"
"Now dinna cut yer foot off, Father!" Malcolm teased. "I dinna want to do penance forever for allowing my priest to kill himself. And Rabbie would murder me!"
Malcolm went outside to where the wood pile was, and the huge double stump upon which rested two sharpened axes. He began the job with his sleeves rolled up, but soon became sweaty and took his shirt off and hung it over the woodpile. As he settled into a steady rhythm, he began singing snatches of songs Ceri had liked.
Archie was sweating profusely and though he'd been taught it was a sin to be unclothed in public he believed the good Lord would forgive him.
Malcolm saw, and jested, "C'mon, Archie, laddie! Take off yer cassock n' shirt before ye faint like a lass in this heat. Ye still hae yer brais on underneath it!"
The day was strangely warm, he thought.
"But...ahhh all right lad but dinna be telling everyone!"
"And who would I tell?" the chief laughed. "There's no one here but me!" He mopped sweat from his brow with a rag and paused to drink some cider from a jug they'd brought.
Archie removed his cassock and shirt and set them down on the grass.
Malcolm eyed the lean priest. "Ye sure ye can swing that axe, dearie? I wouldna want ye to pull something." He himself was still whipcord and muscle from going on raids and practicing in the tiltyard with his men, despite being almost fifty.
"I'm no' that auld!" Archie protested, swinging his axe and bringing it down. "I was chopping wood when ye were chasing lasses!"
Malcolm hooted, then brought his own axe down, and chips flew as he broke a piece of wood into fifths for the hearth fire.
The melancholy that had gripped him, as well as the terrible raging thirst, receded somewhat as he focused on his task. The pile of wood for the fire grew.
"And I'll have ye know I hae to be chopping in the winter too!"
"Oh, aye! And His Grace did he make ye walk barefoot to school too?" Malcolm asked with a devilish twinkle in his eye."
"Nay but I had to clean the manor by myself."
Malcolm snorted. "I'll bet ye I can chop more pieces in five minutes than ye," he challenged.
Archie's eyes twinkled. "We'll see, lad."
As they began chopping, the exertion making sweat run in rivulets down their well-muscled backs and shoulders, intent up their contest, they did not notice that a visitor had approached the cottage.
"Ye see laddie...not so auld after all!"
Moira tensed at the familiar voice.
"Mayhap no', but I hae five pieces here for thirty and how many do ye hae?" Malcolm asked.
"Ummm...twenty..."
"Ah then I believe ye can cook supper tonight, aye?" Malcolm grinned. "And that's a good thing, Archie, because otherwise both of us would be needin' the jakes all night."
Moira frowned. He wouldna abandon the cloth for me but he would for cards, aye?
"Ye cannae cook wi' out burnin it!" Archie teased.
She came to the laird hoping she would find an ally in him for removing the Fraiser girl from the keep but the priest would also feel her wrath
"I learned how to wield a sword, no' a cookin fork," Malcolm coughed.
"My lord, what madness is this yer Rabbie's marryin' a Fraser...!" Moira raged. She trailed off when she noticed the mens' state of undress.
Malcolm turned slowly upon hearing a familiar voice behind him. "Why, Moira, lass what brings ye here?" he drawled, thinking that her timing couldn't have been more . . .providential had she planned it so. "Ye know why Rabbie's marrying that sweet lass Belle. Good queen Mary commands it so."
He strolled over to the second rain barrel and splashed himself. "Ye must pardon us, Moira, for hard work cleanses the soul, ye ken." He hid a smirk in the towel.
"And ye, Archibald Bryce, for a man o' the cloth ye seem to be trafficking wi' the devil as of late!"
"And what of ye, lass? Ye werena a cruel one before!"
"I'm no' a lass!"
Malcolm flicked wet hair out of his eyes and tugged on his shirt, thinking it was worth forgoing drinking to see this little argle-bargle.
"No but that doesna give ye the right to beat one!"
"Who's been telling ye lies? That Fraser?"
"'Twas the good bishop and ye know he doesna lie!"
The bishop had come seeking Archie earlier that morning and had been directed up to the cottage by several servants, after lingering in the hall to hear the current gossip.
Moira blanched. "I...I..."
"Ye're no' the mistress of the keep anymore, lass, and tis time ye accepted it."
"I cannae be the mistress of my own keep now can I?"
She glared at him.
"And why are ye smiling over there?" she demanded of Malcolm.
"Nothing, dearie." Malcolm said with a grin.
"So there is no way to change the queen's mind?"
"None. Ye'll need to adjust, Moira. The Fraser lass is here to stay."
"And we'll be discussing your penance, Moira," Archie said coldly.
"I've done my penance ye sheep's arse! Years of it!"
She spun on her heel and walked away, leaving him staring after her.
Malcolm's amusement was forgotten seeing the pain in his friend's eyes. "We'll take some of this wood in and I'll make ye tea," he offered.
Archie followed him into the cottage finding it odd that their roles had been reversed for the time being.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
While Malcolm and Archie were discussing their pasts, Rab went back to the stables to check on Auriel, finding Belle there already and reporting that the mare was doing much better. She showed him how the inflammation had gone down and she said that now that the swelling had been drawn, she could tell this was not a torn tendon, as they had feared, but a bad sprain.
"'Twill mend though, in a few weeks, wi' care. She willna be lame forever an' once 'tis healed I ken she'll be as good as ever." Belle said, feeding the mare an apple.
Rab heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks be to God an' St. Francis, and ye also, dearie." He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "An' now I must spend a few hours wi' my steward Burns, doing the accounts."
"I shall see ye later then," Belle said. She herself would finish up with the golden mare and then go and see Missus Mike to plan the next week's menus.
Rab was heading down the hall to Malcolm's study, where the ledgers were kept and his steward awaited him with the rent money for the month when he passed the schoolroom where Master Stuart usually held lessons with Neal.
" . . .do you think I am an idiot, lad, to be taken in by your lies and excuses? Well, I am not, and you cannot pull the wool over my eyes, lad!" Stuart was ranting. "I told you to have those passages translated and your laziness will not be tolerated by me any longer! And perhaps this will teach you the error of your ways!"
"But Master Stuart, ye dinna even read the note my brother sent ye!" Neal protested. Then he smothered a yelp as the irate teacher struck his palm with a small strap known as a tawse.
"I told ye . . . no . . .more . . .excuses!"
The furious teacher, his head pounding from another hangover, struck the hapless Neal's hands over and over with the tawse, beating the boy savagely, leaving raised welts upon his hands.
Until a hand clamped down on his wrist and yanked him hard, spinning him around to face a blazing eyed Rab.
"What the bloody hell do ye think you're doing?" he roared.
The teacher stumbled backwards, shocked that the tanist would interfere with what he believed to be a just punishment. "My lord, I was just administering a lesson to your wretched brother for not turning in his Latin assignment . . ."
"He doesna get his lessons wi' whips, ye bloody coward!" Rab raged, wrenching the tawse out of Stuart's hand. "Ye bloody Lowland bastard, what right hae ye to beat him over an assignment he didna do because he was helpin' me track down wolves an' watchin' over my injured mare last night? Did ye no' even read the note I sent ye?"
Stuart flushed. "I . . .I thought he was makin' it up . . .all lads lie to get out of work . . ."
Rab grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shook him. "Ye didna even look at the note, did ye, ye drunken sot?" he bellowed, for he could tell the man had a hangover, he'd seen the results of a morning after many times with Malcolm. And he was furious. "How many times hae ye cancelled lessons because ye were too soused to teach, an' yet when the lad comes to ye wi' a valid reason to not have his schoolwork done, ye whip him?"
Stuart, a lanky man with a prominent Adam's apple and a sinister goatee on his handsome face, gulped sharply. "I am allowed to discipline my students!" he whined in a nasal voice, because Rab was slowly throttling him.
"Ye call whipping a lad till his hand bleeds discipline?" Rab growled. "Till he canna hold a quill or a book? You cousin to a diseased jackal's arse! No one at Carlyle is ever treated so! Servant or laird's son. Ye ken ye only got this post because o' my brother Jamie. He felt sorry for ye, comin' outta the army wi' no livelihood an' so he convinced my papa to take ye on as a tutor. Only seems like ye enjoy beating yer students more than teaching them."
"'Tis not my fault if your brother is too stubborn and insolent to learn!" babbled Stuart.
"That's no' true, Rab. I do try . . .but Master Stuart is so boring he puts me to sleep most times an' other times he falls asleep at his desk!" Neal pointed out. He cradled his stinging palms on his elbows, blinking back tears.
"Aye, because ye're too drunk to teach properly," Rab growled, releasing the other man. "You're lucky I dinna whip ye for being a drunken sot. If this is the sort of man my papa hired, then perhaps 'tis time I found a new tutor."
"What are you saying?" blustered the tutor. "You would dismiss me over a mere skelping?"
"Nay, I will dismiss ye for being an abusive bastard to my brother, a drunken lout, an' an arsehole!" snarled the tanist. "Now get ye gone within the hour, before I throw ye out!"
"You don't have the authority—"
"In my papa's absence, I am laird here, shite for brains! Now-get out!"
When the tutor still hesitated, as if not believing Rab was serious, the physician lost his temper totally and grabbed the other man by the back of the collar and tossed him bodily from the room with a sharp kick to his backside.
"Get ye gone, varlet! Or do ye need a lesson with a strap?" Rab panted.
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, the tutor dragged himself to his feet and fled.
A/N: There were some surprises this chapter, hope you liked them! Thanks to CJ for helping me with Malcolm, Archie, and the surprise connection with him and Moira. Sort of like another favorite book of mine-The Thorn Birds.