by Fiona Faris
Emily glared, her mouth twitching as she tried to think of a suitable retort. Rebecca leaned back against the bench, looking around at the garden.
“Ye have a nice home here. Bonnie lookin’. Comfortable. Tis a different world than the one I hail from.”
Emily glanced curiously at her, still sulking, but interested in spite of herself.
“I was but a wee bairn when my parents were killed by some sort of bad miasma. It was very sudden, I dae not remember them. All I knew in my childhood was Alexander. He was my big brother, my protector, my pàrantan.”
Emily nodded in understanding, and despite herself, felt the tears prick the back of her eyes at the poor girl’s tale.
“He stole food for us. Found us shelter and kept us safe. When he was tall enough tae pass, he joined the Scots Guard. They had nae place for a wee chit like me, and Alexander was forced to seek board for me with an auld bawheid what ran the local inn. Alexander agreed to pay him two shillings a month if ’n he would let me sleep in the attic and allow me tae have the lefto’ers from his kitchen.”
Emily swallowed, her hand seeking out the other’s in empathy.
“For the first month, everything went well. I helped with the serving and washing the plates and ate wha’ was left in the pot at the end of the evening. But one night, when I was sleeping…”
Rebecca paused, swallowing hard, and Emily leaned forward to catch her eye.
“What happened?”
“The bawheid he…’e came to ma loft and ‘e...lay on me. Fumbling wi’ ma chemise. He tore it clean in half, grunting in my ear th’ whole time. ‘E was bloostered. I could smell the whiskey on ‘is breath. It was a fair fankle. But I was a braw lassie and Alexander had made sure I could fight. I scratched an’ kicked until he had to let me go. Ran out o’ there like the hoose was on fire and the de’il was chasin’ me.”
Emily nodded, fully absorbed. “Then what happened?”
“Ran all the way to the barracks and shouted and screamed until they had to fetch Alexander. The Watch told him he couldn’t bring me into the barracks. No lassies allowed.” Rebecca's face lit up at this point, her eyes far away in thought. “Alexander would not hear of it. He insisted they let me in. There wa’ a huge stramash aboot it.”
She paused, laughing softly.
“ They let me in o’ course. Alexander bundled me up in his great coat, led me to the stables, and made a bed for me in the stook. Kept watch ower me all night while I slept, and then in the mornin’, we went to see the captain. Alexander explained my predicament...The captain was sympathetic, but didn’t see that there was much he could do.” Rebecca inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly, to dispel the tears gathering in her eyes. Emily squeezed her hand, biting her lip as she listened expectantly.
“Alexander looked around the room, and ‘e says. ‘Look, sir, your office could use a clean and mo piuthar is the best washer I know. She’ll earn her keep.”
“What did he say?”
Rebecca shook her head. “He said no.”
Emily sighed with disappointment.
“No lassie, he made the right choice. If ’n I wasna safe in the tavern, I wouldna hae been safe in the barracks. Alexander pleaded with him, shouted, and did everything he could. In the end, the captain says as I can live with his mathair. She was all alone, he said, and needed someone to do for her. Better still, she wasna far from the barracks. Alexander took me there himsel’ to make sure it was safe.”
“Was it safe?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Safe as twa women living together can be. Safest place I ever stayed.”
“And now you’re back on the road with your brother?”
Rebecca looked down at their clasped hands. “My brother, ‘e wants what is best for me. He wants me to have a home. He thinks that if he marries ye, then he can keep me safe. But who keeps him safe?”
Emily stared into her eyes, not understanding the question.
“If ye mean to dae harm to mo bràthair, I beg ye to break this engagement now.”
Emily sat up, caught by slur on her character. “I am an honorable woman!”
Rebecca regarded her doubtfully.
“It was a shock for me, to have this Scotsman thrust upon me, and perhaps I have acted...immaturely. But I know what is at stake and I will play my part with truth and honor.”
“I hope so, Emily. I make a great friend and ally, but if ye hurt my brother, ye will earn an enemy for life.”
“And what if he hurt me?” Emily challenged back, chin stuck out defiantly.
Rebecca slowly shook her head. “Alexander would never do that.”
Emily snorted. “Your faith in your brother is...commendable, but likely misplaced. Just because he took care of you as you grew up does not mean he would never hurt anyone! He was at war. I’m quite sure he killed people.”
“Indeed, he did, including a man who would have killed your father. But that is war. That is survival.”
Emily froze, surprised to hear that Alexander had saved her father’s life. Nobody had informed her of this. Perhaps that was why her father had chosen him, and not Philip to marry her. It explained a lot.
Alexander wandered about the mansion in search of his sister. He hadn’t seen her since breaking his fast in the vast dining hall, and now she seemed to have vanished.
Heading for the doorway, thinking that she might have decided to take some air, he bumped into Philip Bristol, who was deep in conversation with one of his men.
“Pardon me—” he began before he raised his eyes and saw who was blocking his path. “Oh, it’s ye.”
“Yes, it is I,” Philip smirked. “Where’s your little sidekick, then? Did you lose her?”
“Do not speak about my sister, ye bawface.”
Philip smirked, taking a step closer to glare into Alexander’s face. “You’re quick with the insults, Teutcher. But are you as quick with your sword, I wonder?”
Alexander sneered. “Perhaps ye should have joined us on the battlefield if ye wanted the answer to that question.”
“Ah yes, your prowess on the battlefield. You cling to that because it’s the only thing you have to boast about, isn’t it?” Philip spat to one side. “You’re nothing but a barbarian, and the girl is too good for you.”
Alexander’s eyebrow lifted in derision. “I suppose she’s nae too good for ye, huh? Too bad her father chose me as her betrothed. Ye’ll just have to live with it.”
Philip snorted. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Alexander watched as he strode away, a slight frown marring his forehead.
And just what do ye mean by that?
He inhaled sharply, turning away as he remembered the purpose for venturing outside. He had to find his sister. Philip’s words had worried him; if that man or his followers had touched so much as a hair on Rebecca’s head, he would slaughter them all.
He had not been walking long when he spotted his sister and his fiancée seated together in an arbour at the bottom of the garden. He stopped, hesitating to approach them. Whatever they were discussing seemed intense, and he was not in the habit of joining women’s conversations.
At that moment, Emily Caldwell turned her head and caught sight of him. She jumped guiltily, coloring up and looked away again. Now Alexander was intrigued.
Where they talking about him?
Ambling over to them, he stopped a foot away to regard them warily. “May I join you?”
Rebecca grinned with delight. “But of course, Alexander, we were just speaking of you.”
“Aye. My ears were burning.”
Emily colored beautifully at his words. “Good morrow, Lady Caldwell. I trust the day finds you well?”
She inclined her head in acknowledgment and smiled slightly. “I am well, thank you, and yourself?”
He bowed as he had seen her father do. “I am well, thank you.”
Rebecca was amused at this formal interaction, and Alexander sent her a quelling look, lest she say something emba
rrassing.
In response, her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come, brother. Join us.”
Alexander looked to Emily to see if he was welcome, but her eyes were downcast, her cheeks pink and her hands clasped demurely in her lap. He sighed, taking a seat beside her and watching the color in her cheeks deepen.
“I…” He began as his throat clicked with nerves. He coughed and began again. “I am very honored to be allowed to take you as my wife, Lady Caldwell. I only hope that you feel the same.”
Emily looked up towards him, raising her eyes slowly and favouring him with her eyes, before her lashes swept downwards again. “It is always an honor to be chosen as a wife.” She spoke as honestly as she could.
“I will do my best to be deserving of your honor, my lady.”
She nodded demurely. “And I will do my best to support you in your endeavours.”
Rebecca clapped her hands. “There ye go. Yer wedding vows are written. Now let us go and write this marriage contract.” Alexander stood and offered Emily his arm. Taking it reluctantly, she offered him a small smile.
His eyes travelled up her body. “You are a tall woman. That is good, we shall do well together.”
Her face flooded with color. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh...uh. I simply meant that...I shouldna have far to bend to kiss ye.”
Confused by his boldness, Emily let out a sudden scream, picked up her gown and ran off towards the safety of the Hall.
Chapter Five
Emily burst into the green room, where her father and his men, as well as the king, were waiting.
Lord Caldwell looked towards his daughter. “Emily, nice of you to join us. We are just waiting for the MacTavishes.”
“I think they’re close behind me, father.”
Her eyes travelled around the room and found Philip Bristol, smirking slightly, as if he knew exactly what had transpired in the gardens. Emily could feel the heat in her face and she bit her bottom lip, looking away. She was very confused about her feelings.
When Alexander had spoken about kissing her, she had felt a curious heat in her belly, unlike anything she had felt before. She had acted scandalised, yet she was surprised at how much the idea did not repel her.
Kissing a Scotsman.
Emily shivered at the thought, feeling quite giddy. The door opened behind her and without turning, she knew that Alexander and his sister had arrived. Quickly, she took a seat behind her father and flopped down, keeping her eyes on her lap. Until she had a better idea of what was happening, she did not want anyone else to discern her feelings.
“Welcome, MacTavish. Have a seat.”
Lord Caldwell passed a parchment over to Alexander. “Right, so we have here a standard marriage contract. You can read, correct?”
Alexander narrowed his eyes at the Englishman. “Yes, I can read.”
“Right then, let’s get started.”
The Mantua-maker came by the next day to measure her for a dress.
Lady Caldwell held the fabric close to Emily’s skin to gauge whether it was suitable for her coloring.
“Now, my dear, how are you feeling?”
Emily stretched her lips in the parody of a smile and tried to look as happy as she could. She was still taken up with the details of the marriage contract— her father would give them Dun Alba as their marital home and they were to go there as soon as the wedding was over.
Emily knew that Dun Alba had belonged to her uncle. She had not been there since she was very young. It was in the north, and rather close to the Scottish Highlands. At least Alexander and his sister would feel at home. Emily did not want to go so far away from her sisters.
Elinor needs me!
She could feel another fit of distemper coming. Her chest felt tight and she could hardly breathe. Standing quickly, she noticed that all eyes turned to face her.
“Fresh air…” she managed to mumble before quickly stumbling out of the room. Her sisters carried on their conversations, eagerly chatting about styles and lengths, coiffed hair and cosmetics.
She was happy for them, but her heart was heavy. If only she could stay at home and watch over them, help her mother, and be a support to her father.
It was painfully ironic that she must leave with a Scotsman.
“Devil take it,” she murmured as she loitered about the balustrades.
“Devil take what?”
Whirling around, she almost jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, Lord Edenhall, you frightened me.”
He gave a short bow. “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you. You seem agitated, is there anything I can do to help you?”
Emily wanted to say ‘marry me,’ but remained silent. Philip took a step closer.
“Emily? May I call you Emily, Lady Caldwell?”
She nodded jerkily, feeling her heart race with guilty pleasure.
“Emily, I know this marriage is not to your liking and I am very much at your service for anything you might need me for.”
Emily stared into his eyes. He seemed to know her better than the man she was destined to marry.
Why, why, why couldn’t it have been you?
“Thank you for your kind words.” She smiled rather shakily, feeling the tears start in her eyes. Rather gallantly, he plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.
“Please my lady, do not shed a single tear. It hurts my heart so to see you sad.”
Taking the kerchief, she blew her nose. “I am not sad,” she protested.
He gave her a sideways smile. “Are you not? Then why are you crying?” Reaching forward, he curled a hand around her wrist. “You do not have to pretend with me, Emily,” he whispered.
Emily’s lips parted. Her throat went dry as she took in his scent. He was so close to her, scandalously so.
The sound of footsteps on the cobblestones forced her to step away and she peered over Philip’s shoulder. She stared in horror at Alexander, who stood as still as a statue in an archway between two pillars. His face looked like thunder, as if the wrath of God had come to rain down retribution upon her.
Philip turned to see what had upset the girl, smiling when he saw Alexander.
“Mr. MacTavish. How nice of you to join us.”
Alexander cocked his eyebrow at Philip, before turning to Emily. “I was under the impression that ye were measuring wedding clothes.”
Emily tried to steady her breathing, feeling as if she might faint.
“I—”
“You don’t owe him an explanation, Emily. You’re not yet married to the yaldson.”
Alexander took a step closer, his blue eyes as piercing as the midday sun. “Not married to the yaldson, yet.”
Emily hiccupped, her face pale with fear.
The two men were now standing toe-to-toe. “You should go.” His voice was a low growl that filled Emily with both fear and passion.
What is happening to me?
“I think the green suits me,” Katherine declared, “and it will match my bouquet.”
“Who said you’d be carrying the bouquet? Nobody. It’s going to be me,” Elizabeth retorted.
“Ha! You’re too short.”
“I am not!”
“Are too!”
“Girls! Girls! Stop. You can both be flower girls and have bouquets.” Their mother held her hands up for the girls to be quiet, looking sternly from one to the other.
“Are we all to be bridesmaids?” Anne looked hopeful.
“I think so. If you want to be?” Lady Caldwell smiled.
“We want.” Elizabeth, the youngest, stepped forward.
Elinor smiled. “I think you’re a little young to be a bridesmaid.”
“Not too young. I can wear heels. I can be tall.” Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips and gave Elinor a challenging smile.
Blanche laughed aloud. “Ha! You can be tall! Just like me!”
Blanche was just five years old, and small for her age. Her rem
arks caused the group to laugh.
“Emily’s beau is so tall,” Blanche sighed dreamily as laughter died away.
“Yes, he is,” Anne agreed with a faraway look in her eyes. “And so dangerous-looking.”
Both Katherine and Elinor sighed deeply at the thought.
