by Raina Wilde
His lips moved to her throat. Stopped.
“You bitch. ”
He moved back, then, and the blow he struck at her head made her reel back, unbalanced, to sit heavily at the desk.
“Bitch!” He was shouting at her, loudly. “Dirty, lying bitch. ”
He advanced on her, fists raised. Just as he was about to strike her, the door behind her opened and his head servant appeared, face a picture of horror.
“My lord? ”
“This lying bitch has cuckolded me. ” He shouted, not turning round. “I can see the marks on her throat, where some eager fool has bruised it. ”
The man's face went pale. “My Lord. ”
“Don't 'my Lord' me!” he shouted, still looking at Frances. His right fist was still was raised, “Call Judge Lochlan. He will have her tried for adultery. ”
He turned to her, his face twisted with anger. “You know what they do to adulterous women? ” he hissed, “They whip them and brand them. You would die on the street, no-one offering so much as a crust to you. ”
It was true. Frances knew what happened to adulterous women. If she was tried and convicted, she was as good as dead. She looked up at him, her blue eyes round with terror.
“Take her to the tower. Lock her up until she can be judged. ”
He waved a hand to the servant, who, also terrified, took hold of Frances and half-carried her out of the door. As he locked her in the tower room, cold and unfurnished, she cried out, beating with her fists on the door.
“Please!”
He closed it, deaf to the real terror in her plea.
Frances sat back against the wall. No point in beating on the door . No one would come to her rescue. She curled up, too frightened even to cry. What could she do? He would have her found guilty, have her branded on the face and put on the street; prey to anyone and everyone, left to be beaten and mocked until she starved.
What can I do? She looked out of the window, down to the distant sea. Is loving such a crime?
She thought of Duncan, and then she truly did break down.
No matter what he does to me, she thought, her tears drying on her face, I will not regret a second. I would do it all, would face anything, for you.
After about an hour, she looked around the room, exploring. It was small, and sparsely-furnished. But at the back, behind a screen, she found a desk.
You don't know that I can write, she breathed, with wonder.
Ecstatic, she looked about for a pen, and found one. Ink was more of a problem. Inspired, she took a length of ribbon from her hair. When she sucked it, the dark green color ran out, coating her tongue. As good as ink, she thought, wryly, and ran the pen along the damp cloth.
It was not perfect, but she managed to write.
He found out. I am imprisoned, to be tried. Come soon? F.
At nightfall the servant arrived, with a pail, a blanket and a bowl of soup. She begged him to send her maid. He kept silent, and she feared he would not. But after a time she heard a knock, and her familiar face appeared.
“Take this to Mistress McGuire. Please? ”
Her maid nodded, her eyes gentle. She closed the door.
Frances sank back against the wall. She still had hope.
***
“This is ridiculous!”
Duncan was pacing. His sister, Margaret, was behind him, her brow creased in a frown.
“Duncan. Please. Don't do something dangerous. ”
“Dangerous? ” Duncan laughed, bitterly. “She is risking everything. I couldn't be in more danger if I tried. ”
“Duncan. . . ”
The siblings faced each other. Duncan breathed out. He had received the letter from Jess that morning, brought across to the estate by a fast rider. He could still not quite believe it.
His sister had to physically hold him back, to stop him rushing at once to Frances and confronting McNeil. Now, he shook his head, the fight going out of him.
“I have to help her, M. Help me? ”
It could have been a plea from their childhood. Margaret leaned on her older brother's shoulder, her pretty face creased in a frown.
“Brother, if you rush to her aid, you are asking to be tried, or killed. You are, after all, as much at fault as she. ”
It was true. He bowed his head.
“Is there any other reason for your confronting him? ” Margaret asked at length.
Duncan shook his head, thinking. They were silent, brother and sister, as if carved from stone.
Then, “Yes!”
Duncan exploded from sitting, suddenly all sadness falling from him. Spontaneously, his arms went round Margaret, lifting her.
“Thank you!”
Margaret looked at him, brows creased.
“My brother? ”
“I have it! I know how to save her!”
“How? ”
“Aunt Catriona. ”
“Brother? ” Margaret stared at him. What on Earth had possessed him now?
“Don't you see? ” Duncan was pacing, suddenly, full of life.
“No. ”
“What happened to Aunt Catriona. ”
“She went mad. ” Margaret looked at him, face blank.
“Well? Remember why? ”
Margaret shook her head, then stopped. Stared at her brother.
“Yes!” She smiled. “Brother, that is brilliant. ”
He grinned. “It wasn't just my idea, Sister. ”
Her face clouded, suddenly. “Brother. What you are planning is dangerous. You could get killed. ”
“Yes, I know. ” He sounded impatient. “But, don't you see? I have to try. I would risk anything for her. ”
“Very well. ” Margaret was eyeing him, dubious.
“Sister, I do not mean to get killed. ”
“Good. ” She hugged him, a fierce embrace. Her sharp features creased into a smile. “You're the only brother I have, and I'm rather fond of you. ”
“Sister. ” His arm came around her shoulders, just as tightly. They stood for a moment, silent.
“I will tell father, after you've gone. ”
“Good. Give me a day's head start. ” He winked at her. “You know what the old man's like. ”
They shared a grin.
“He'd be after you like a shot. ” She smiled.
“Only if he wanted to join in. ”
They laughed. Duncan embraced her again, and then hurried out of the room to pack. There was no time to lose. He had the love of his life to save, almost no time, and the beginning of a plan. He had to hurry.
***
“Order! I demand order. ”
Judge Lochlan had a weak voice, a tremor shaking it as he shouted over the crowd. His gavel carried more weight than his voice, and he thumped it vigorously.
It did little to quiet the mass gathered in the hall at Castle McNeil. Just two weeks ago, it had been set for a banquet. Now, it hosted Frances's trial.
The crowd loved scandal. Since Frances appeared, pale and lovely in her white shift, they had erupted.
“Whore! Doxy!”
“Shame! Shame on the whore. ”
“Filth!”
“Burn in hell!”
Frances looked over their heads, wide blue eyes unfocused. This was not happening. She had barely eaten and not washed in a week. She felt trembly and weak, dirty and dehumanized.
The voices, throwing vile words, were as solid as a wall. She could barely stand under their onslaught. She wanted to cry. A tear ran down her face, unstopped, noiseless. Why would they say such things? What was between her and Duncan was sacred, wasn't it? It was the arrangement between her and McNeil which was wicked. She despaired.
Her own husband had testified against her moments before, painting her name as black as he could. He had even embellished slightly, his voice ringing through the courtroom, leaving the crowd in no doubt that she was a shameless adulteress. Which was true, in fact if not in heart.
“Will you give me s
ilence? ”
Judge Lachlan’s wavering voice was stern. This time, armed men stepped in from the sides, to back his words. The crowd fell momentarily silent, still muttering.
“The lady before us stands accused of adultery. Lady Frances McNeil, how do you plead? ”
“Guilty. ”
What else could she say?
The crowd roared, the sound of hounds on the hunt.
“She has no shame! See, she admits her guilt!”
“Shame on you!”
“Whore!”
The judge banged his gavel. It took a full minute and the guards stepping in to silence the group again.
“We will sentence the prisoner. ”
At that, they all fell quiet.
“Lady Frances McNeil, you are found guilty by this court of adultery against your husband, Laird Jamie McNeil. This court hereby sentences you to. . . ”
“No!”
The whole courtroom was suddenly looking away, looking to where a white-clad man stood in the center of the crowd, a naked sword in his hand. They could have beaten him down, but the sword and the sheer surprise held them back, silent, as he walked forward.
“No, ” Duncan said again, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm as he walked forward to stand opposite the judge, “there are more facts to be considered in the case. ”
“Go on. ” Judge Lochlan sounded as if he had taken interest. The man might have a weak character, but he had a sharp mind. “We have not heard enough about the plaintiff. ”
Here, the sword point lowered, pointing directly at Jamie McNeil, who sat in the center of the room, surrounded by his men.
“What impudence!” Jamie McNeil half-rose. “What can he mean? ”
The smile Duncan gave him was sharp-edged and mocking and carried more danger than his naked blade. He turned a slow circle, pointing to different men in the crowd as he went.
“Who here among you does not know of this man's reputation? You, Seamus? You, John? ” He paused. “Whom of us here has not feared for our wives, our sisters, our mothers, even? ”
Men in the crowd were nodding, sagely.
“I say to you now, if any is adulterous, it is this man. And not only that. ” He looked straight at Jamie McNeil then, and he was not smiling. “He is worse than an adulterer. He stops at nothing. ”
He had the crowd’s full attention, and he used it, crossing his legs to sit back on the railing before the judge.
“Let me tell you a story. ” His voice was low, to keep them craning to listen.
“My father's youngest sister, Lady Catriona Lanner, was little more than a child when she met him. Thirteen years old. He was at that time a man grown. He came to our estate, where his eye fell on Catriona. She was playing outside in the garden. He lured her away, ” He pointed with the naked sword again, “and took her into the woods, where he used her as a man would use a whore. ”
The crowd looked genuinely horrified at that. There were mutters starting already, and people pointing at him. Soon, they would erupt.
“My aunt has never been the same since, ” Duncan continued, “has never regained the power of speech. She lives like a child, still, though that was ten years past. All the fault of this man. ”
“Shame! Shame on him. ” Someone shouted from the back, a woman. The crowd joined in the shouting. Duncan seized the moment.
“I am here today to avenge my aunt. I challenge you, Jaime McNeil, to a duel. If I win, Lady Frances goes free. ” His mood was electric.
“What? ” Jamie McNeil laughed, bitterly. “Even if your story is true, how does it affect the trial here? ”
“You are an adulterer. We all know it. So why should we trust your word? ” Duncan said, harshly.
The judge banged his gavel down, seeing the crowd about to become uncontrollable.
“We agree to this. ”
The crowd all looked at him.
“This court would see this young man avenge his aunt. And I agree to his condition regarding the accused. It ends this neatly. ”
Duncan looked elated. Frances was looking down, a mixture of joy and horror on her face. Jamie McNeil might be older than him by twenty years or more, but he was a fearsome fighter. Would Duncan survive?
But it was too late to change anything, as they were moving out of the hall and onto the field outside.
***
Duncan stood on the field, knees slightly bent, tensed for action.
Frances was standing directly beside the line the steward had drawn on the grass, hastily, to mark a square for the combat.
On the opposite side from her, her husband removed his cloak, and hefted his sword. He looked arrogant and confident, but, knowing him, Frances could see how shaken he was. And how angry.
Judge Lochlan, looking perfectly calm, lifted a white handkerchief, to signal the start of the duel.
“On my mark: One, two and. . . now!”
The two swordsmen, who had stood opposite each other, suddenly exploded into a fury of action. Duncan was extremely fast, striking at his opponent and dancing just out of reach of the slashing strokes. They fought with sabres, newly introduced from France, rather than the two-handed swords still favored in the infantry.
Frances stood back, her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out.
As the minutes wore on, it became clear that Duncan was superbly trained. He moved like a dancer, an athlete. Frances could not help but lose her breath at his skill.
Her husband hacked grimly forward, slicing for Duncan's arm with a stroke that sent sparks from the blades as they clashed and grated. Duncan's arm was clearly jarred by the blow, but he barely moved. Then the blades parted, and he was lunging, his sword pointed at his opponent's throat.
He missed. Jamie McNeil twisted the blade aside at the last moment, and furious, swung back. Duncan was distracted, and the sword sliced into his arm. Frances felt her world darken, and almost fainted.
“Do you surrender? ” Judge Lochlan called.
“No. ”
The fight resumed. Frances felt her world rush back into focus, swimmingly. The blow of metal on metal rang out, flowing over the crowd, who stood to watch, silent; intent on the fighting.
In the square, her husband was gaining ground. He might be older, but that gave him stamina that the young man lacked. He was advancing, now, sabre held out. Duncan was backing up and backing up, slashing out but losing ground each second.
Suddenly, without warning, he crashed down. He must have slipped as he backed away.
Frances heard herself scream. Jamie McNeil lunged forward, sword pointed down, aiming for his chest.
And stopped.
Duncan's sword passed neatly through his thigh, just missing the great vessels. Still. There was a lot of blood. He hobbled forward a pace, and crashed to the ground, the leg useless.
Everyone looked on. No one made a sound. Laird McNeil was writhing on the ground, sounds of incoherent pain issuing from his throat.
Judge Lochlan was the only man to step forward.
“I declare this young man. . . Duncan Lanner. . . the winner of this bout. Laird McNeil is hereby proved an adulterer, and Lady McNeil goes free. ”
Silence. Then, as Laird McNeil's guards swarmed onto the square to lift their wounded leader, the crowd surged forward.
“Adulterer!”
“Filth!”
“He assaulted my daughter! I say we kill him here and now. ”
So many people gathered, and the mood was murderous. The guards formed a cordon around their Laird, allowing two of them to carry him off the field. They had to draw swords to keep them back.
In the confusion, Duncan signaled to Frances. He looked to the judge, who nodded coolly, and turned as if he had not seen them. Frances ran to Duncan, taking him in her arms. Duncan held her for a second, and then ran with her around the side of the manor.
The crowd, intent on their own ends, let them go.
***
“And so. . ? ”
Frances' voice was lazy, filling the tower room. Duncan, rolling over in the bed, smiled to hear it.
“So, my lady? ”
“You think we should sell this place? ”
They were sitting at that moment in bed in the tower room in Castle McNeil, overlooking the sea. After Laird McNeil fled the country to escape the crowd's ire, the governance of the estate fell to his lawful wife, as his next of kin.
“We might be happier somewhere with less. . . memories? ”
Frances stretched, easily. A slow smile crossed her gentle face.
“We might, ” she started drowsily, “but I do like the views. ”
They both smiled. Duncan wrapped his arms around her, and together they looked across the bay, watching the white-foamed waves break on the rocks, so far below.
Duncan's fingers stroked along her shoulder. She leaned back and kissed him.
Frances smiled at him, looking up, and lying back on the bed. Their bodies entwined. His knee moved into the space between her thighs, and her legs wrapped around him, entering her.
They moved together slowly, sating their passion gently now; exploring new ways of making each other reach a peak of pleasure.
After, when they lay in each other's arms, their sweat cooling softly in the evening air, Frances smiled lazily at Duncan.
“If we sell this place, we could buy Long Manor. And with what was left over, we could give Jess and Arthur Loudan Park. ”
Loudan Park was a beautiful acreage, bordering the land Jess and her husband were gifted by her father. Not only did it have a woodland for hunting, but also the best pastures in the region. Jess and her husband had longed for it.
Duncan smiled. “Let's do that. ”
They kissed again, smiling into each other's eyes.
THE END
The Rebellious Highlander Bride
At eighteen, Isabeal McNott—only daughter of the grimly powerful warlord Daniel McNott—is given in marriage to a man she has never met, in exchange for land, titles and a truce with their enemy.
Feisty, and determined make her loathsome new husband's life miserable, Isabeal finds herself tossed into a world of dark secrets, hidden intrigues, and powerful men who stop at nothing to achieve their ends.
