“Yer face looks much better this day, Aishlinn!” Bree told her as she grabbed the mirror from the table. “Look! Ye can see fer yerself!”
“Thank you, but nay.” Looking at her own reflection was something Aishlinn never did.
“Och! But lass ye must!” Bree was an insistent.
After a few moments Aishlinn’s curiosity got the better of her, and she took the risk to glance at her reflection. If what Bree said was true, that she looked better this day than last, then she could only imagine how terrible she must have looked in the beginning. Why on earth Duncan and his men had not fled in fear at the sight of her, she could not begin to guess.
Purple patches surrounded her eyes and dotted her still swollen cheeks and chin. The cuts on her lips remained but were barely noticeable. How anyone could tell her she was not plain she couldn’t fathom. Tears welled as she slumped into her pillow.
Bree smoothed her hair and spoke to her soothingly, as she might do to a child with a bruised knee. “Tis all right, Aishlinn,” she whispered. “Ye’ll be completely healed soon enough. Yer face is truly bonny, even with the bruises.”
Aishlinn knew better. Bruises or no, it was still the same plain face her stepfather had warned her of. Not wanting to argue the point, Aishlinn closed her eyes and took deep breaths. “Thank you, Bree.”
Bree stayed quietly at her side until Aishlinn fell back to sleep. Bree may have been young but not so young that she couldn’t recognize a broken heart when she saw it. She felt sorry for Aishlinn and the life she had led.
Over the next few days the ritual of bringing meals to Aishlinn only to have her fall asleep soon after eating was repeated. Frequently Bree would give her updates on the color her bruises and would try to offer reassurance that she was healing quite nicely. Aishlinn refused to look into the mirror again and was thankful that Bree did not push the matter further.
******
Duncan had been very busy those first few days after their return to Castle Gregor. Training would take up most of his mornings while the duties of acting chief took up his afternoons. Bree and Mary would update him on Aishlinn’s progress several times throughout the day.
As he began to wonder if he should not send a search party for his search party, his men finally returned. Tall Gowan, Findley and Richard rode through the gates late in the afternoon. Oddly enough they had returned with the missing cattle.
“What the bloody hell?” Duncan exclaimed as he bounded down the steps and into the courtyard. Tall Gowan dismounted and handed his horse off to a young lad. “We came across the reivers on our return home, Duncan!” He said rather proudly. “They were camped to the north and west of the McDunnah’s lands.
“What of the English?” Duncan asked, for that had been his main worry these many days.
“Now that is an odd story!” Tall Gowan said as they waited for Richard and Findley to join them. A group of men came to lead the cattle to the pasture just beyond the keep.
As the group entered the castle, Duncan told a young lad to have food and drink brought to his men straight away. Though his men were travel worn, covered in dust and grime, they appeared peculiarly excited. For his men to return unscathed and apparently happy made Duncan assume they had good news. However he would not breathe a sigh of relief until he learned what had happened.
“We rode all the way back to Penrith and kept a watch outside Castle Firth.” Findley told him as they sat down at a table. “There were no’ a sign of any soldiers about. We watched for an entire day. ‘Twas as if nothing had happened there at all.”
Duncan found that quite strange. The bruises and welts across Aishlinn’s body were evidence enough that something bad had happened to her. Had she been truthful when she said she stabbed the earl? A scowl came to his face as he wondered if there was more to her story than she had told them.
While he pondered the new information, food and ale were brought in. His men quickly downed a tankard of ale each before filling their trenchers with food. “We went north, south and east Duncan. We found nothin’.” Richard told him before filling his hungry mouth with venison.
Duncan could make no sense of it. If what Aishlinn said were true, that she had in fact killed the Earl of Penrith, then most assuredly the English would be looking for her. That is, unless they knew not who to look for. Many questions raced through his mind and he needed answers.
“I’ll need to speak to the lass,” he told them as he stood to leave.
Tall Gowan smiled up from his trencher. “Would ya like to know more of the cattle reivers, Duncan?” he asked.
Duncan had completely forgotten about the reivers. He was more concerned with what the English were doing. He sat back down. “Tell me.”
“We headed north from Penrith and having found no sign of English soldiers, we decided to head home.” Tall Gowan said before taking a pull of ale. Wiping his mouth on his dirty sleeve he continued. “As we crossed over McDunnah land, through their northern territories, we came upon the reivers.” He paused long enough to belch. “They were a fierce lot!” he smiled. “Twas nearly all we could do to fend them off!”
Findley and Richard laughed raucously. Duncan cast each of them a puzzled look. He asked why they found a fierce lot of reivers humorous.
“They were children Duncan. The oldest a whopping ten and three!” Tall Gowan said.
“Aye,” Richard wiped a tear from his face for he had been laughing so hard. “And they were fierce. Good rock throwers!” he chuckled again. “Anyway, ‘twas only five of them, all lads. They had gotten lost on their return home and that’s why ‘twas such a curious route we followed,” he explained. “They had taken the cattle it seems for two reasons. One,” he began as he held up a finger, “To prove to their chief that they were indeed fierce and able warriors.” He took another drink of his ale.
“And two?” Duncan asked rather impatiently.
“And two,” Findley interjected. “They were starving.”
The scowl returned to Duncan’s face. He was not sure if he would like where this story might lead.
“There canna be more than twenty in their entire clan, Duncan. Mostly auld men and women and a couple of men near Angus’ age. Though I would no’ give ya a groat for any of them.” The smile had left his face.
“The lad’s mother -- a bonny thing she is by the way,” Richard added, “Och! She was mad at the lot of them! I thought she’d skelp them all for what they’d done.”
“Her husband died three years ago.” Findley said. “He was the last of their warriors. They’d been wiped out by a pox. How the auld survived it, I dunna ken. They’ve no homes save for a few tents and a hut they all sleep in for the winter. The lad’s mum it appears is their chief of sorts.” A rather pitiful look had come to all of their faces.
Duncan waited to see if they would offer more. “And?” he finally asked.
Findley stood and looked at him with a most serious expression painted on his face. “I’d like permission to bring them here, Duncan.”
Though it was true they had room for them, and plenty of good fortune to share, Duncan wondered what he would do with the lot of them. He could not in good conscience ignore those in need. And the thought of a mother with five young lads to feed and no husband to help tugged at his heart. There was no reason for him to take time pondering what Angus might do. They would take them in. “I give it. Go get yer band of fierce reiver warriors, Findley. We’ll take them in.”
A broad smile came to Findley’s face causing Duncan to wonder if mayhap his friend had not taken a fancy to the mother of the lads. “How bonny is she?” he asked.
Findley raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Bonny enough that I’d ride for days to get her.”
Duncan chuckled as he stood and smacked Findley upon the back. “Be sure to explain to the lads though, that we dunna take too kindly to reivers. And if they ever think of stealing again, twill no’ be their mum that’ll skelp ’em, twill be me.”
******<
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Duncan had tried that day to speak with Aishlinn. But when he entered her room, he found that she was asleep. It had been like that for days now and he was beginning to wonder if her injuries weren’t worse than he realized.
The following day he decided he would try again. If he found she was still sleeping he would send for the healers. He was quite surprised to hear Bree’s cheerful voice bid him entry when he knocked upon Aishlinn’s door.
He was also surprised to find Aishlinn awake. But he was even more surprised to find a very beautiful lass sitting near the open windows -- one whose bright smile was enough to light even the darkest of nights.
Aishlinn sat with a shawl draped around her shoulders while Bree ran a comb through her golden blonde hair. Duncan wished for a brief moment to be the comb so that he might have a chance to feel her smooth, silky tresses. As he cursed his wicked thoughts, he promised himself he would attend two masses this week as well as confession and beg the Lord to forgive him these wicked thoughts.
Nearly gone were the bruises and he could see clearly that she did in fact have a most beautiful face. She had magnificent features -- an angular jaw and a perfectly proportioned nose. Her lips were full and pink and he imagined they would taste as sweet as honey if he were to kiss them. She had a long slender neck and dainty ears that he would not mind at all brushing his fingers against until he brought chill bumps to her creamy skin. By the time he got his sinful thoughts back in control, he was up to mass every day for the next sixty years and confession twice daily through eternity.
His thoughts had turned to Aishlinn’s stepfather and the fine manner in which he managed to convince the lass that she had no beauty. Only a truly evil son of a whore would do such a thing. Duncan had not realized his face held a deep scowl until Bree brought it to his attention.
“What be the matter, Duncan?” Bree asked. “Ye look angry.”
Duncan shook away the thoughts along with the scowl. “Sorry lasses! I was thinking of something else.” He came into the room and stood near Aishlinn. “I am glad to see ya awake. How be ya this day, Aishlinn?”
“So much better, thank you, Laird McEwan.” Her smile was sweet and appreciative.
Duncan chuckled as he reached out to put a hand upon her shoulder and he felt his own skin begin to sizzle when he touched her. He withdrew it quickly. “Ye may call me Duncan, lass,” he told her, doing his best not to appear as addle-headed as he felt. There was a reason why he was here and it took him a moment to remember it. “Bree, I’ve need to speak to Aishlinn privately,” he said, never taking his eyes from Aishlinn’s.
“I’ll come back soon, Aishlinn.” Bree assured her before leaving the room.
Duncan pulled the stool from the fireplace and sat in front of Aishlinn so that he could read her face while he questioned her. Unease began to build in his stomach for he truly did not want to cause her any discomfort. But it was important that he have as many details as possible.
“Aishlinn, I’ve questions I need to ask ye.” He told her. “I’ll need ya to answer them honestly.”
Puzzled by his statement, her brow creased. She had been completely honest with him from the start and had only held back the most embarrassing of moments. “Aye, I will, as I have done since we first met, m’laird.”
Duncan nodded his head and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me about the night ya stabbed the earl.”
Aishlinn could live her entire life ten times over and it would not be enough time to forget that night. Memories of what had happened and what almost happened, would be forever burned into her soul. They would more likely than not, haunt her all the rest of her days. She took a deep breath before answering him. “I stabbed him.”
“Aye, I ken that, lass. Tell me what happened before ye stabbed him.” Duncan needed to make sense of why the English had not yet stormed his castle.
“All of it?” she asked, hoping he would at least allow her the decency to leave out the most painful and embarrassing parts.
“Aye, lass. All of it.”
Collecting her nerve through another deep breath she began again. “I was asleep in my room when Baltair, one of the guards, came to me. He said the earl wanted to see me in his chambers immediately.” A shudder came over her at remembering the sad look upon Baltair’s face. “He took me to the earl’s room.”
“Ye were asleep? Was it late at night then?”
She thought it odd to ask what time it might have been. “Yes. It was long after the evening meal had been cleared and the kitchen put back into order.”
“Did ye know why the earl asked for ye?” Duncan asked.
“Fairly certain.” Her stomach felt heavy, as if she had swallowed a bucketful of rocks. “The earl had a reputation about him.” She cast her eyes to the floor. “But I truly hoped it would be for another reason. Though I could not think of one.”
He gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. It wasn’t any easier for him to ask for the details of that night than it was for her to give them. The only comfort he had was in his firm belief that the earl now burned in hell.
A long moment passed before Aishlinn could lift her eyes to him again. “I would not bed him,” she said firmly. “That is why he hit me. Again and again and again he hit me. Every time I told him ‘nay’, he would slap me. When I lay on the floor he kicked me. When I still said nay, he beat me about my back and legs with his belt.” Her back and legs began to ache at the memory and caused her to shift uncomfortably in her chair. She swallowed hard to keep the tears from coming, deciding she had cried far too many tears of late.
“I have never been with a man that way and I was not going to do such a thing with the likes of him!” Her voice was beginning to grow angry. “I swore that I would die first before I let him do such a thing. But when he pulled the dagger out and held it to my throat, I could no longer fight. I hurt so badly, Duncan. I could barely see and it was painful to breathe.”
The tears she had tried valiantly to hold back finally escaped. They travelled down her cheeks and fell from her chin. “I have never been more frightened in my life, Duncan. He cut my dress and pulled it from me.” More tears fell. “He stank of wine and onions and he had not bathed. He was forcing himself upon me, tearing at my shift.” The rocks in her stomach had turned to boulders.
Duncan’s scowl deepened as she recounted what had happened. He swore that had she not killed the earl he would have an army of men swarming Firth at this very moment. “I’m sorry, Aishlinn.” He couldn’t find the right words to express what he truly thought at the moment.
Using the end of her shawl she wiped the tears from her face. “He was grabbing at me, pulling my shift up. That’s when I saw the dagger.”
Duncan raised a curious brow. Was there a possibility that she had stabbed him before he had time to rape her?
“I could not let him do that which he wanted, Duncan. He was so angry and I feared that when he was finished, because I had put up such a fight, he would kill me. So I picked up the dagger and I plunged it into his back. He had been biting me and would not let go, so I pulled the dagger out and stabbed him again.” She was far too embarrassed to tell him exactly where the earl’s teeth had been when she stabbed him. It was far too vulgar a thing to say out loud.
The anguish in her eyes was more than he could stand. He stood and pulled her into his arms while her body shook from crying. Duncan felt helpless and angry. Helpless because that was often how he felt when in the presence of a crying lass, and angry because he could not take the pain from her heart or the memories from her mind.
“I’m sorry to make ya relive it, lass. There are many questions that have gone unanswered.” He smoothed his hands over her hair.
He let her cry it out for a while before finally setting her back upon the chair. “Lass, how did ye escape Castle Firth?”
“Baltair helped me. After I stabbed the earl, I crawled from under him and fled the room. There was a guard in the hallway, but he was asleep. I t
hink from too much ale. When I came to the bottom of the stairs, Baltair took hold of me. He led me through secret corridors and to a horse. He told me he was sorry for taking me to the earl. Said he had a daughter my age.” She wiped her face again.
“He’s the one that told me to come to the Highlands. He said the Highlanders would help me. I wanted to flee to London because I felt it was bigger and would be easier to hide. But Baltair said nay, go to Scotland.”
Duncan felt a sense of hope come to him then. If this Baltair was truly remorseful for taking Aishlinn to the earl, and then to help her escape, there was a possibility he lied to keep the English from looking for her. He felt he would owe a lifetime of debt and gratitude to the man.
“Aishlinn,” he said, “the scouts have returned, lass.”
“Are they well?” she asked with much concern in her voice. “They’ve not been injured have they?” While she had not had the opportunity to get to know those men who had gone in search of the English, she still felt a great sense of gratitude towards them.
Her next thought was that the English had followed them and were now waiting outside the castle walls for her head. “Are the English here?”
Duncan held his hands up to stop her. “Lass, the men are well. No one has been injured and the English are no’ here.”
He smiled as she sank into the chair relieved with his news. “Tis why I had to ask ya of that night, lass. Tall Gowan, Findley and Richard scouted all the territory. It seems the English do no’ look for ye.” He let the news sink in.
“I believe we may owe it to Baltair that we do no’ have a swarm of English soldiers ready to ram the walls for ya.” Duncan said with a smile. “How well did ya know the man?” he asked.
“Only by his name. We never spent much time together. I only saw him when he came to the kitchens for a meal.” Her brow creased, as she thought of it further. Why had Baltair risked his own life to save hers?
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