Highland Belle

by Patricia Grasso

  Back off, Lil, or yall regret it! Marianne snarled. And dont never call me Randi — the names reserved for friends only!

  Whats going on here? a deep, masculine voice rumbled. The voice belonged to a brawny, roughly handsome man whod run into the kitchen at the sound of the womens angry voices. Weve customers waitin. Move ya blasted arses!

  Bertie scurried back to his cooking, and Lil retreated into the common room. The man turned his attention on Marianne. What the bloody hell happened? he questioned sharply. And whos this?

  I fell over this lady in the street. The sweetest of smiles graced Mariannes face. Brie, this is Bucko Jacques, the Roosters owner. Bucko, this young lady is Brigette . . .?

  Brigette Devereux MacArthur. Its a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jacques.

  Buckos dark eyes narrowed and Marianne tugged on his sleeve like a child. Bucko, love, might we speak privately?

  Bucko nodded and walked to the far side of the kitchen with Marianne. The wench is not a wench, she whispered, but a lady in distress. Sooner or later, a rich lord is bound ta come searchin for her. If we keep her safe here, hell be ever so grateful and hand us a bag of gold for our trouble.

  I dont know, Randi. Bucko looked doubtful.

  She can work for her keep until he comes. We could use an extra pair of hands.

  Wheres she ta sleep? he protested. Business is good and weve no empty rooms.

  Smiling coyly, Marianne rubbed her lush breasts against his arm. If she shares the room with Lil, Ill be forced ta share ya bed.

  An excellent idea. Buckos eyes gleamed with lusty anticipation. An extra pair of hands, a bag of gold, and you! What more could a man want?

  Bucko returned to the common room, unaware hed fallen into a tender trap. Marianne smiled with satisfaction at his retreating back, then fetched a pan of hot water and a bar of soap. Follow me, she ordered Brigette, who fell into step behind her.

  They went up the narrow, creaky stairs at the far end of the kitchen. At the top of the stairs, Marianne turned left, and they entered the first chamber. Depressingly small and windowless, it contained two cots, two small chests, and one ancient table, standing almost on its last leg.

  Yall share the room with Lil, Marianne said, placing the pan of water on the table. Its the best I can do. She rummaged through one of the chests and pulled out an old, frayed nightshift, then glanced at Brigette, whod made no move toward the pan of water. Strip!

  I — I beg your pardon?

  Beg it all ya want, Marianne returned, but drop those clothes and wash, then get into the nightshift.

  Brigette removed her muddied cloak and gown but retained her chemise. Then she began washing.

  Ya call that strippin? Marianne asked sharply.

  W-what?

  Strip means ta take everythin off, sweetie. I want ta see ya bare-arse naked!

  I beg your pardon? Brigettes face was a vibrant scarlet.

  Ya really are an innocent babe, aint ya? Marianne chuckled. Listen, angel, ya aint got nothin that I aint got more of. Understand?

  Your words are quite clear.

  And I aint bein naughty, Marianne added. I want ta wash those clothes.

  Oh. Brigette removed her chemise and stood there, self-conscious in her nudity.

  Hurry up and wash. Ignoring her embarrassment, Marianne grabbed the soiled clothes and headed for the door. Ill bring ya somethin ta eat.

  Brigette washed quickly and donned the tattered nightshift. Then she sat on the edge of a cot and waited.

  Carrying a tray, Marianne returned a few minutes later. Here we are, baby, she said. Ive brought ya stew, bread, cheese, and mulled wine. Fall to and eat every bite.

  Marianne sat on the other cot and watched, keeping up a steady stream of chatter all the while. Ill be sleepin at the far end of the hall. Dont let Lil bother ya — shes all kitties and no brain. Brigette opened her mouth to speak, but Marianne cut her off. Eat, she ordered. Ill do the talkin. Ya too skinny, and Im plannin ta add some flesh ta those bones. In case ya didnt know — flesh attracts men and bones attract dogs.

  When Brigette had consumed every morsel of the food, Marianne set the tray aside. Its time for sleep, sweetie. Ill wake ya early, and ya can come to Cheapside Market with me. In motherly fashion, she tucked the coverlet beneath Brigettes chin.

  Youre a great lady, Brigette said softly, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. Youve been exceedingly kind.

  Its noble of ya ta say so. Marianne patted her hand.

  How can I ever repay you?

  Dont worry about that, Marianne said, then grinned. Im certain Ill think of somethin.

  Alone in the darkness, Brigettes thoughts veered to Scotland, traveling those many miles in the blink of an eye. Ill never see Iain again. Has he returned to Dunridge? Does he know Im not there? Does he even care? Turning her face into the pillow, Brigette cried herself to sleep.

  10

  Ye stupid bastard!

  Iains fist connected with Percys jaw, sending the younger man crashing to the floor in front of the hearth in Black Jacks study. Percy leaped nimbly to his feet. Poised for battle, the brothers circled each other.

  Brie left while I was in charge, but she wasna runnin away from me, Percy jeered. What did ye do to her?

  Enraged, Iain swore loudly and attacked, capturing his brother by the shirt. He raised his fist to strike but was grabbed unexpectedly from behind.

  Dinna be rash, Black Jack said. Yer brothers a blockhead, but slaughterin him isna goin to bring yer wife home. Ye ken?

  The wisdom of his fathers words penetrated Iains fury. He took several deep breaths to cool his boiling temper, then nodded. Black Jack released him, then cast Percy a scathing glance, more painful than Iains fist.

  Enter! Black Jack bellowed, hearing the almost hesitant rap on the door. Moireach and Spring entered at his call. Ladies, he said, tell us what ye recall of Bries departure.

  Nothin. Moireach shook her head sadly. I could almost swear she took nae food.

  I ken yer the ladys kin, Black Jack said, his attention turning on Spring, but tell us what ye know.

  She took no change of clothing, nor did she wear her warmest cloak.

  Yer protectin her, Iain snarled. Where is she?

  I swear I know nothin.

  Perhaps theres been foul play, Black Jack mused aloud. Brie couldna be so lackin in common sense that shed flee wi nothin.

  Yes, my lord, Spring disagreed, she could.

  I knew Lady Brie was leavin, a small voice announced. She told me. All eyes darted to the door, where Glenda stood.

  Why did ye no tell Percy two weeks ago? Iain roared, frightening the child. Tell us what ye know!

  Glendas face became deathly pale. Her bottom lip quivered as she struggled to stem a rushing tide of tears.

  Shut yer mouth, Black Jack growled at Iain. He sat down in the chair in front of the hearth, then smiled at Glenda and beckoned her. Come in, hinny. Dinna be frightened. Uncle Iains cross because hes worried aboot Lady Brie. Sit yerself right here.

  Glenda perched on Black Jacks lap. Enfolding her in his arms, he gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. Did ye miss me, hinny?

  I did.

  I missed ye also. Now, sweetheart, tell me what ye know aboot Lady Brie. Glenda glanced nervously at Iain, who was pacing the chamber like a wild beast.

  Nae need to be frightened, Black Jack assured her.

  I — I was havin my lessons, Glenda told him. Lady Brie asked Father Kaplan if she could speak privately wi me. She asked me to care for Sly while she was gone. I wanted to go, too, but she wanted to be alone to think aboot her problems.

  Did she mention where she was goin? Black Jack prodded.

  Ridin.

  I see. Black Jack smiled at his granddaughter. And have ye been carin for Sly?

  Glenda grinned. Most diligently.

  Black Jack hugged the little girl. Shell be pleased wi ye when she returns.

  Lady Brie will be comin home, then?

  Of co
urse, Black Jack assured her. Do ye doubt it?

  I met Brie in the foyer, Percy interjected. She mustve just left Glenda. I offered to ride wi her, but she refused, sayin she needed to be alone.

  Ye should have insisted, Iain snapped.

  I amna the one who caused her unhappiness, Percy defended himself.

  What was her frame of mind, Black Jack asked, when last ye saw her, Iain?

  She was purrin contentedly from our lovemakin.

  Black Jack chuckled. So, ye said yer farewells upstairs?

  No, Brie was in the garden when I left.

  Her spritely step betraying her light heart, Antonia fairly danced into the study. Oh, Iain, she gushed, pasting an appropriately sympathetic expression onto her face, Im so verra sorry Brie has deserted ye. She seemed like such a sweet thin.

  When Iain faced Antonia, he recalled how his sister-in-law had cornered him in that very chamber and thrown herself into his arms. What did ye do to Brie? he demanded, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her roughly.

  Nothin!

  With the vilest of oaths, Iain pushed her away.

  When ye saw Brie in the garden, Black Jack asked again, what was her frame of mind?

  Iain ignored his fathers question. Antonia kissed me, he recalled, and then I found Brigette, strangely disheartened, in the garden. To get to the garden, she had to pass the study door. The open study door.

  I believe my wife has returned to England, Iain informed his father. Hopefully, shes arrived there safely. Ill be leavin in the mornin to bring her home.

  Ill come wi ye, Percy offered.

  Iain glared murderously at his brother. Therell be a Highland blizzard in hell before I have need of yer dubious aid.

  Marianne gently nudged Brigette awake. Placing a finger over her lips, she warned her young guest to silence. Lil still slept in the other cot.

  Wash and dress, Marianne whispered, then come downstairs.

  Brigette dressed hurriedly, then went downstairs. Bertie was alone in the kitchen. Swallowing her revulsion, Brigette smiled and asked, Randi?

  Shell be along. Bertie was impressed with the change in Brigettes appearance. After studying the beauty of her face, his beady-eyed gaze dropped to peruse Brigettes body as if she were a succulent sweetmeat. Anticipating the taste of her tempting flesh, the cook smacked his blubbery lips together, and a dribble of spittle ran slowly down his chin.

  Id like ta be ya friend, he murmured, advancing on Brigette, who recognized the lusty glint in his eyes and stepped back.

  With a swiftness one would not expect in a man his size, Bertie closed the distance between them and tweaked a plump breast. In the next instant, he shoved Brigette against the wall, but she retaliated by kicking his shins. Berties scream of pain rent the tavern.

  What the bloody hell is happenin? Bucko shouted as he and Marianne raced into the kitchen from the common room.

  He attacked me!

  She attacked me!

  Keep them greasy hands off this lady, ya lecher, Marianne warned in a deadly voice, or yall answer ta Bucko and me. She turned to Brigette. Let me know if he bothers ya and Ill fix him good. Grab some of that bread and cheese for yaself and well be off.

  Marianne led Brigette into the common room. It was a surprisingly spacious chamber with two hearths, one at each end. Near one of the hearths was a stairway leading to the second-floor bedchambers. In one corner stood Buckos domain — the bar. Small tables and chairs were positioned around the chamber. Even unoccupied, the common room possessed a comfortable atmosphere, exuded relaxation.

  They went outside. The previous days rain had ceased, and Brigette looked curiously at everything around her. The morning was young, but the narrow street was quickly becoming congested with all kinds of people — housewives, merchants, apprentices, vendors.

  This is Friday Street, Marianne told her.

  Brigette giggled. How strange to name a street in honor of a day.

  Marianne shrugged. Perhaps it was built on a Friday.

  Whatever the reason, its a fair enough day to glimpse Londontown.

  Glimpse Londontown? Marianne looked at Brigette. Aint ya never been ta London?

  No, Ive lived my entire life in the country.

  Whereabouts?

  Id rather not say.

  Marianne arched a brow. Dont ya trust me?

  Of course, Brigette answered, but Id still rather not say.

  When weve time to spare, Marianne promised, Ill take ya ta see some of Londons most interestin sights.

  Where?

  The Bloody Tower is off ta our left. Thats where the queen sends a body when shes unhappy with ya.

  My father was once locked in the Tower, Brigette confided.

  He was? Marianne was impressed. The Tower was a place of confinement for erring nobility. Did he get his head chopped off?

  Nothing so dramatic as that. Brigette chuckled. Papa was forgiven and released.

  Whos ya father?

  Nobody — hes been dead for several years.

  Oh. Marianne switched to a more pleasant subject. Blackfriars is off ta the right. One day well cross the Blackfriars Bridge into Southwark, where the bear-baitin rings are. Want ta see it?

  I dont think so.

  Why not? Its excitin!

  Its cruel to abuse animals for sport.

  Then well go for a stroll across London Bridge, Marianne announced. Leaning close, she whispered in Brigettes ear, Where the tarts are.

  Tarts?

  Marianne laughed. Not that kind of tart — whores!

  Whores? Brigettes face was a brilliant scarlet. You mean, where a man can —

  Thats correct, Marianne interrupted.

  Brigette MacBria! a familiar voice shouted.

  Brigette scanned the crowded marketplace for the owner of that voice. Suddenly, Magnus materialized from nowhere. Except for the familiar stubbles of a growing beard, a dashingly handsome lord had replaced the gaberlunzie.

  You are beautiful, Brigette cried, flinging herself into his arms.

  I thank ye, fair maiden. His eyes drifted to Marianne, who smiled, thoroughly impressed. Im relieved to see yeve found yer friend.

  Randi, Brigette introduced the two, I would like to present Magnus. Magnus, this is Marianne, also known as Randi.

  Smiling, Magnus bowed to Marianne, who was thrilled by his courtly manners. Nobody had ever bowed to her before.

  Where is it yer stayin? he asked, turning back to Brigette.

  Ive found employment at the Royal Rooster Tavern.

  On Friday Street, Marianne added.

  I must soon return to Scotland, Magnus said. Ill stop by the Royal Rooster before I leave.

  Do! Brigette exclaimed. I would be glad of the chance to see you again.

  Magnus grinned and hugged her close, then kissed her cheek. He turned to Marianne and kissed her hand, then strolled away.

  Sweet Jesu! Marianne swore. Nobody aint never kissed my hand before.

  What of Bucko?

  Bucko aint the hand-kissin type, if ya know what I mean, Marianne said. But I love him anyway and Im bound ta catch him in wedlock, even if its the last thing I ever do. Have ya ever been in love?

  Brigettes eyes misted with anguish. Once.

  From her companions glum expression, Marianne realized love was a sore subject. How is it ya know a Scottish lord? Ya sound as English as me.

  My husband is Scottish, Brigette answered in a choked voice.

  Marianne placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. Why dont ya lighten that load? Tell Randi what happened.

  Brigette sighed. I learned my husband is in love with his brothers widow. Involved, in a manner of speaking.

  He admitted he was layin her? Mariannes eyes were wide with shock.

  Brigette flushed. Antonia told me.

  Let me get this straight, Marianne said, her eyes gleaming with shrewd intelligence. This Antonia told ya that she and ya husband are lovers?

  Correct.

  And ya
believed her?

  Why shouldnt I?

  What did he say? Marianne asked.

  Iain was away at the time.

  Ya left without speakin ta him? Marianne was incredulous.

  What would you have done?

  Strangled her and gelded him!

  Supper at the Royal Rooster was a noisy and crowded affair. The tavern was a beehive of activity, filled with men, very few of whom were accompanied by a female.

  Marianne and Lil divided the room in half, save for the two tables nearest to the bar, which were assigned to Brigette. Bucko had wisely decided to keep close watch on her.

  With a spritely step, Brigette approached her first customers, two successful-looking merchants. One was rotundly piggish. His companion was lanky and sported a hawkish beak that overwhelmed his face. Both were expensively dressed.

  Good evening, sirs, Brigette greeted them. For what would you care this evening?

  Whatve we here? Sir Pig said contemptuously, arching a brow at her accent. A tavern wench giving herself airs?

  Brigettes eyes narrowed, a sure sign of danger. I am a lady, sir, no wench, she returned tartly. You are no gentleman to speak thusly, no matter the cost of your doublet.

  Sir Pigs face mottled with anger at her rudeness, but the hawkish one chuckled. Very well said, my dear, the Hawk replied. Wed like a pitcher of ale and a couple of bowls of Buckos stew.

  Right away, my lord. Brigette scurried to the bar and gave Bucko her order. Beside her, a slightly inebriated patron glanced her way. Pleased by what captured his eye, the man reached out and pinched her derriere.

  Ow! Brigette cried and leaped away.

  What a rump! The man leered at her. How about a taste of that after work?

  Brigettes mouth dropped in disgusted disbelief. Before she recovered herself, a pitcher of ale and two mugs were set on her tray.

  Deliver ya order, Bucko said.

  Brigette served Sir Pig and Lord Hawk their ale, then raced into the kitchen to get their stew, missing the entrance of the Royal Roosters newest patron. Magnus took a seat near the door.

  Good evenin, sir, Lil said, admiring his good looks and rich apparel. Whatll it be for ya? She leaned forward so he could feast his eyes on her ample cleavage.