The Highlander’s Demand

by Wine, Mary

  “Cora is none of yer concern, Rhedyn,” Buchanan’s tone lowered. Something flickered in his eyes which made Rhedyn think he actually agreed with his sister’s actions.

  “Doing such will only cause more animosity between the Lindseys and Mackenzies,” Rhedyn implored.

  “Me sister is plenty old enough to take the household in hand if she feels it is needed.”

  Rhedyn did not wish to be responsible for more pain. She wanted her time with the Mackenzies in the past. A memory.

  “I forgive Fenella,” Rhedyn informed him. “There is time for ye to send someone after yer sister. Time to intervene…”

  Buchanan clamped his hand over her mouth, trapping the rest of her words. He lowered his head so their faces were inches apart. “It’s time for ye to know that while I didn’t dare order Fenella be given a taste of that rod because I must always try to maintain the standing of those in me household, it doesn’t mean I am not fully in support of me sister doing what should be done. Fenella needs a reminder of just how painful a single blow is. That is why she is not allowed to deliver more than ten. I’m grateful Cora is wise enough to see the need of the lesson. Otherwise, I would see to the matter myself.”

  Rhedyn stiffened, her eyes widening as she caught the glitter of determination in his eyes. His attention lowered to her forearms. Large purple bruises marked where Fenella had applied the rod.

  “It is not so important.” She turned her back on him, intent on returning to where Shona stood with a pair of stays in her hands.

  Buchanan caught a handful of the petticoat and jerked her to a stop. “Be still,” he rasped before she felt him pulling the neckline of her smock down to show her back.

  “As I said, it is naught to be concerned about.”

  Buchanan cupped her shoulder and turned her around to face him. Her next argument died on her lips as she caught sight of the rage flickering in his eyes. For certain, she’d seen him enraged before, only this time, it was on her behalf. Such an idea opened a door she hadn’t realized she was keeping several feelings locked behind.

  “It is a matter for concern,” Buchanan spoke up. He looked toward Shona and the other maids before returning his gaze to Rhedyn. “Every one of ye are witness to the bruises on our guest. The household rules will be strictly followed or the offender will answer to me. If a single one of ye says anything but the truth of what ye saw here, ye can have a taste of the rod yerself so ye learn not to make light of such punishments.”

  “Aye, laird,” came the mutters of agreement from the maids.

  Rhedyn did not see Buchanan leave, but the maids relaxed, telling her he was gone. Shona continued helping her dress as the pressure in her chest eased.

  Breathless?

  Really?

  As if she didn’t have enough difficulties to face.

  Yet it was undeniable. She felt something speeding through her veins. A sense of satisfaction that was at best unkind toward Fenella, but there was no point in trying to deny it.

  What claimed Rhedyn’s attention the most was the look in Buchanan’s eyes. The man who had called himself her captor was long gone. Now, staring back at her was someone who was willing to defend her. The maids were attending to her with the most careful motions. They’d heard their laird clearly and weren’t interested in stepping over the line Buchanan had just drawn.

  Right in front of her.

  Her pride might like to argue against the need for it, but she couldn’t hide how warm it made her feel at the same time.

  Did she really want to be protected by the man who had stolen her?

  Beggars can’t be choosers…

  True. But there was something else that was true as well; she liked seeing the rage in Buchanan’s eyes on her behalf.

  *

  Tyree didn’t have to hold Fenella down.

  The Head-of-House faced off with Cora for a long moment before she nodded. “Well…ye are the mistress.”

  Fenella walked over to the wall and took the rod from where it hung. She turned and marched back to the place Cora was still standing. Fenella turned the rod in her hands, sticking the handle out toward Cora.

  There was deathly silence all around them. It wasn’t the look of doubt on Fenella’s face that made Cora reach for the rod, it was the memory of the horrible bruises all over Rhedyn.

  She had never wielded it.

  But she’d felt it sure enough. Cora broke into a sweat as she grasped the weapon. Fenella’s eyes narrowed before she turned and positioned herself over the table. She stretched her arms out with her palms up.

  Everyone watched Cora, waiting to see if she’d just been sputtering like a child or intent on exercising her authority.

  She might order Tyree to do it but such would be cowardly. Cora set her teeth into her bottom lip and raised the rod.

  *

  Shona rapped on Cora’s chamber door later in the day.

  “Yes?”

  Shona pushed the door open with her hip because her hands were full. “I brought ye some bread and mutton.”

  Cora’s belly still heaved. “I am no’ very hungry.”

  Shona placed the tray on a table and straightened up. “Second thoughts then? Ye seemed very determined this morning when ye went toward the kitchens.”

  “Fenella committed a grave injustice,” Cora defended her actions.

  Shona stood for a long moment without giving Cora any further argument. Just a steady look which made Cora sigh with frustration. “Me brother should have seen to the matter.”

  “Ye are no longer a child, Cora. And yer brother is laird now. He must always be mindful of keeping the peace. Do nae look to him to do the things a mistress of the house should.”

  “I saw to the matter, didn’t I?” Cora demanded.

  Shona nodded. “All which needs doing now is for ye to stop hiding in this chamber as though ye are feeling guilty.”

  Cora shrugged. “I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. Wouldn’t that make me terrible?”

  Shona nodded before she pointed at the chair in front of the tray. “It’s to yer credit that yer face was pale the whole time.”

  Cora sat down. “I held onto me composure better than that.”

  Shona merely shook out a linen and laid it across Cora’s right shoulder.

  “Ye must show yer face in the kitchens,” Shona advised. “But I warn ye against sampling any of the fair for a few days. Fenella’s skills might just be suffering a wee bit if ye grasp me meaning.”

  Cora did. Sometimes a person had to choose between being happy or right. The Head-of-House just might burn supper in retaliation.

  As laird and mistress of the Mackenzies, it might appear Buchanan and Cora held all the power, but the truth was, all they really had was a much longer fall should they lose their positions. She shouldn’t argue against the position she’d been born to, for it was God’s will.

  And yet, Cora felt a longing for something far simpler in life.

  *

  Hamish Mackenzie was cold and hungry.

  He grinned as he guided his horse into the back yard near the entrance to the kitchens of the Mackenzie stronghold. Younger lads began streaming out from the stables to grasp the reins as Hamish and his men dismounted. There was more than one groan from them, for they’d ridden hard and long.

  He stretched his back before letting out a whistle. “We’re home, lads! Let’s enjoy the comforts to be had!”

  He took the steps two at a time and burst into the kitchens. There was a squeal as two of the maids caught sight of him. “Who has a kiss for me?” Hamish demanded.

  “Here, now.” Fenella admonished him with a click of her tongue. “This is a kitchen, no’ a brothel, Hamish.”

  Hamish reached up to tug on the corner of his cap. But he looked past Fenella, toward one of the maids. There was another sound of disapproval from the Head-of-House before the burly Retainer was grinning and leaning over to kiss her cheek.

  “Una,” Fenella said. “Go and make
certain there is hot water in the men’s bathhouse for Hamish.”

  Una’s face didn’t reflect happiness. But she lowered herself and turned to hurry off to see to the chore she’d been given. Fenella swept the long table with a stern look where the rest of her staff was toiling. She then turned her full attention to Hamish and his men. “I would have a word with ye first.”

  Hamish gave the woman her due respect. His men took their lead from him, the conversation dying away until only the crackle of the fire in the hearth was left.

  “It seems someone,” she began, “saw fit to carry some bundles of pelts abovestairs to the storage chamber over me kitchen.”

  Several of the men who had ridden in with Hamish cleared their throats. But Hamish wasn’t going to argue over some pelts or the reason his men had taken them to the tower.

  “If me men caused damage to goods belonging to the clan,” Hamish said firmly, “I will settle the account.” He reached for the tie on his purse hanging at his waist.

  Fenella drew in a stiff breath. “As it happens, the damage was done by that Lindsey bitch the laird brought here.”

  Hamish grunted.

  Fenella’s lips twitched. “Aye,” she continued. “She made free use of the pelts. Sewed them into a blanket for herself without permission.”

  “I hope ye took their worth out of her hide.”

  His men rumbled with approval.

  “The laird’s sister took the rod to Mistress Fenella for beating the Lindsey lass,” Tyree spoke up from where he was hovering in one of the stone archways.

  Hamish turned on the Butler, intent on starting a fight. He thought twice about it when he took in Tyree’s bulk.

  Fenella scoffed. “If I did nae make certain everyone knew there would be a price to be paid for pilfering, we’d all starve in the winter. It was worth being reprimanded. Cora is too young to understand. She’ll be gone soon.”

  Hamish’s men all muttered in agreement.

  Fenella turned and stared at the Butler. Tyree did not strictly answer to her. The Head-of-House understood she needed him, even if, at the moment, she was irritated by his disagreement with her.

  Hamish looked at the Tyree. “The laird is soft on that bitch?”

  Tyree kept his mouth firmly shut.

  “Oh, aye,” Fenella answered. “The laird is beguiled by her. Took her away and placed her in the north tower as though she’s some manner of guest.”

  Fenella made a sound under her breath that made it clear what manner of relationship she thought was going on.

  Hamish grunted. “Well, I’ll see what’s what now that I am back. The laird saw reason in me case against the Lindsey. I’ll take the matter up with him.”

  Fenella nodded. She turned her attention back to the meal being prepared, snapping her fingers at her staff. But there was a smug smile on her lips that none of the women mistook as anything but a warning. They’d seen it before, and none of them wanted a lesson imposed on them.

  The Lindsey lass had better stay far away from the kitchens.

  *

  “Does this chamber suit ye, mistress?” Shona asked.

  Rhedyn could see she was serious. Yes, Shona understood the situation, and unless Rhedyn was wrong, Shona was enjoying knowing she held the authority to make her feel welcome.

  “Yes, thank you, Shona.”

  Shona offered her a nod before she turned and left. Freshly bathed and dressed, Rhedyn might have believed she’d simply woken from a nightmare. Yet, she wouldn’t let her guard down. Reality was harsh, and if you turned your back on it, well, it was likely you’d suffer all the more for not keeping an eye on the beast intent on devouring you!

  The chamber was beautiful with a bed that came with fine, thick curtains to keep out the winter wind. There was a hearth with a stack of wood at the ready and two fine, padded chairs to sit in front of the fire while reading or sewing. A wardrobe stood against one wall, and next to it was a small vanity with a polished mirror. Rhedyn counted three candles about the room, each one ready to cheerfully chase away the night whenever she desired.

  But Rhedyn looked toward the door.

  There was no sound of the chain…

  She moved toward it, testing it to see if it would open. The hinges didn’t make a sound as the door opened. Rhedyn realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a whoosh as she moved through the doors and onto the steps.

  She could breathe…

  Of course, she had no idea where to go. It did seem a shameful waste to remain in the chamber when the choice was hers. She spared a momentary thought for the animosity she’d been greeted with upon her arrival. Still, the chance to get outside was too tempting.

  Besides, she was sick to death of idleness. Spring was a time of plenty to do. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation of accomplishing something.

  It didn’t take her very long to find a task. At the bottom of the north tower, there was a small courtyard. Several women were there. Young girls came and went, delivering ashes from the numerous hearths in the stronghold. The ashes would be put into half barrels that the slats in the bottom had dried and separated on. Water was poured on top of the ashes and left to seep through them. Lye water was the result.

  To get the finished soap though, they’d have to boil the lye water with tallow until it all condensed into a thick syrup which might be put into wooden molds for drying.

  “Are ye here to help or no’?” one of the women asked.

  The woman was doing the hardest part of the process. A large cauldron was set on the ground over a pit which was lined with stones. A fire burned beneath it. The lye water and fat inside it was bubbling away. The woman was stirring it with a large paddle. It was hot, hard, and dangerous work, for the hem of her skirts could easily catch fire.

  “I’m here to work,” Rhedyn said. She tucked her skirts up and picked up another paddle. The other woman never really looked at her. The bubbling soap took all their attention. They worked in tandem, scraping the surface of the cauldron in steady stokes as they slowly circled one another.

  Sweat was trickling down Rhedyn’s neck and her arms ached. As more of the water boiled away, the chore became harder. She worked until her arms burned from the effort. Just before it was finished, two of the younger girls tossed in huge piles of rosemary needles. The scent made her smile in spite of the hard labor.

  “Get the molds!” the woman in charge ordered. “Keep going,” she instructed Rhedyn as she turned and picked up a ladle.

  The younger girls had wooden molds in their hands. They lined up for the lead woman to pour the hot soap in. They took the full molds over to a table and returned with new ones.

  Round and round they went until the last of the soap was scooped up. Only then did the woman in charge stop and draw her arm across her forehead to mop the sweat away. She raised her face and smiled at Rhedyn.

  “Well now, right glad I am to have…had….yer….” Her words trailed off as she got a good look at Rhedyn.

  “Pleased to have been of assistance,” Rhedyn finished for her as the women suddenly recognized her.

  “Mistress Lindsey.”

  Rhedyn jumped, but Cora was smiling as she came down the last few steps into the courtyard.

  “Mistress Cora,” the lead woman muttered before she lowered herself quickly and turned to hurry over to where the soap molds were.

  Cora winked at Rhedyn before she gestured for her to follow her back to the tower.

  “I’m pleased to see ye dressed.” Cora went to the passageway doors and peered both ways. “Are we alone?”

  “Aye,” Rhedyn answered. “As such, I would like to speak with ye about Fenella.”

  It was Cora’s clan and home. Arguing with her wasn’t something to do.

  “Fenella has received seven strikes for what she did to you. She went over the limit by seven strikes, and the kitchens have always had guidelines for such punishments. Even the Head-of-House must follow the rules. Do nae tell m
e it is different on Lindsey land? That yer father’s Head-of-House may decide on punishments?”

  “Only when it comes to who receives them,” Rhedyn admitted. “Still, I would rather ye did not reprimand Fenella. The kitchen staff does no’ need more reason to hate me.”

  Cora propped her hands on her hips. “Ye are no’ so many years older than me. Did ye no’ ever get tired of the list of rules ye were expected to obey?”

  “I am not too much older than ye, Cora, but one thing I know is that sometimes it’s wiser to let things go,” Rhedyn advised. “Yer kin are not going to see ye were following the rules, all they will think about is that I was the cause of the unrest.”

  Cora let out a huff. “I know it.” She looked behind her once again. When she was looking at Rhedyn once more, there was a flicker of determination in her eyes. “I came looking for ye because I realize me kin is no’ going to see how unjust yer situation is. So, I will deal with ye meself.”

  Cora’s cheeks were pink, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She looked down the stairway before she reached down and pulled her skirt aside. “We need to get ye far away from here, before anything worse than a beating befalls ye.”

  Cora pulled something from where it was stuck in the top of her ankle-high boot. As she straightened, the afternoon light flickered off the edge of a knife. The blade was long and sharp.

  Rhedyn recoiled.

  “We’ll sneak down to the stables together, and then ye can hold this knife at me throat if anyone tries to stop ye…”

  Rhedyn felt her blood run cold at the idea of Cora trusting someone she knew so little about. A need to protect the girl rushed through her.

  “I will do no such thing, Cora,” Rhedyn exclaimed as she took the knife from her hand.

  “But why no’?” she demanded. “It’s a fine plan. No one will risk me being harmed.”

  Rhedyn drew in a deep breath, relying on all of her patience to deal with the girl in front of her. “Cora,” she began. “Ye must never, never offer yerself and a weapon to just anyone who has come to this stronghold. I might be so frightened, so desperate to escape, that I would take yer offer and place ye in harm’s way.”

  “But ye do need to escape,” Cora insisted. “Ye were beaten even though me brother told one and all he’d investigate the matter at the tavern. Me kin will not wait. They are blinded by their anger. I saw the angry way that woman looked at ye.” Cora was breathing hard with agitation. “Those bruises on yer arms are proof I need to take action.”