Several more painfully long moments passed by, quietly, slowly, like ice melting away on the loch. Were his hands trembling as much as hers? Nay, that could not be. Men never trembled.
When he spoke, his voice was so soft and low it felt like a gentle caress against her skin. “I’ll never raise a hand to ye. I swear it.”
Was it simply her heart longing for one morsel of kindness or did he truly speak those words? Was it wishful thinking on her part, to hear something kind tossed her way instead of curses and insults or fists?
If he were going to beat her, wouldn’t he have done it by now? Why didn’t he simply pull her from the tub and be done with it? Let the beating commence. She’d not demand an explanation as to why he felt the need to beat her for it would not matter in the end. He didn’t need a good reason, just the desire. Isn’t that what all men did? Take what they wanted, do what they wanted and damn the consequences? Beat, strike out, harm, hurt, inflict pain for no other reason than they could?
“Aggie,” he whispered softly. “Please, I wasna goin’ to hit ye. I—” he stopped and cleared his throat. “I was only goin’ to wipe away yer tears. Please, do not fear me. I am no’ yer da.”
When he placed his palm to her head and gently smoothed her damp hair, it was all she could do not to curl up into a ball and cry her eyes out.
Do no’ fear ye? I fear all men.
Oh, how she wished she could tell him that, tell him how afraid she was, how she’d give her right eye to believe the words he spoke. And to beg him to take her with him when he left. His leaving was inevitable and as certain as the sun rising and setting each day. There would be no stopping either event.
“Aggie, please look at me.”
Reckoning she was either the world’s biggest fool or as dumb as her father and fellow clans people claimed her to be, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes and looked into his.
If she did not know better, she would have sworn that tears threatened to fall from his hazel eyes. Was that relief she saw reflected in them as well? She studied him closely, looking for any sign of deceit or malevolence, but could not find a trace of anything resembling either. No malice, no disgust, no anger bubbling just under the surface. Instead, he looked relieved and concerned.
For Aggie, it was so much easier to steel herself against angry and cruel hands and words, for that was all she’d been used to since her mother’s death. But to see this huge man, with his massive arms and broad chest, a man she had no doubt was strong enough to snap her in two if he chose to, to see such a man with concerned filled and damp eyes, was too much. ’Twas all too unreal, too incredible to believe, but there it was. Staring back at her, pleadingly, as if to beg her to believe in something or someone other than all she had known these past years.
Choking back a sob, she swallowed hard, uncertain as to what she should at this moment do.
“I ken it most likely is hard fer ye to believe me words, Aggie. But I need ye to at least try.”
’Twas when he gave another gentle squeeze of her hands that she realized she was holding on to his as if she were dangling off the side of a cliff and he was her only means of rescue.
“Can ye do that fer me? Try to trust?” he asked.
She swallowed hard again before giving him a nod of her head.
He let loose his breath in a great whoosh and his shoulders sagged with relief. “I ken it canna be easy, lass, but I’ll do me best to earn yer trust, ye ken?”
She nodded her head again as her body began to shudder and her teeth chattered.
“Och! The water must be cold by now,” Frederick said as he let go of her hands and pushed himself to his feet.
He was such a large man, at least in comparison to her own small stature. As he stood, she followed him with her eyes and by the time he stood to his full height, her neck was craned as far back as it could go. Her father was at least a head shorter than Frederick. She shuddered again when she thought of what this man, her husband, could do to her if he chose.
There was something in the way he spoke, in how tender his hands felt when they had held hers, that spoke far louder than words could. There was a sincerity and kindness she hadn’t felt from anyone in years other than from Rose and Ailrig. But there was something more…a promise perhaps? She could not yet be certain of what that unnamable something was. All she knew was that she could feel her fear slowly slipping away.
Frederick glanced about the room for drying cloths. “I’ll help ye out, Aggie,” he said as he spotted the cloths on the stool behind her. He reached them in two short steps, grabbed them up and spun around.
He was about to make a promise that he’d keep his eyes closed while he helped her from the tub. But when he caught sight of her back, much different words left his stunned mouth.
“Christ,” he breathed out. “What has he done?”
FOR A TINY moment, Aggie had forgotten who she truly was. For a brief, glorious moment in her life, she had forgotten she was the damaged and defective Aggie McLaren. The woman who did not speak. The woman with the scars. The woman who walked the face of the earth unseen and unnoticed until someone chose to either hurl insults or fists her way.
Frederick’s stunned voice, filled with dismay and laced with disgust, brought her back to reality. Her fingers dug into the sides of the tub. If she let go, she’d slip back and drown.
She could feel his eyes staring at her back. Though she had never seen the scars, she knew they were there. On occasion, if she brushed against a wall or if her shift rubbed against it the wrong way, it would send a numbing sensation across her scarred skin. A constant reminder as to just how imperfect she was.
Ten
DEEP, RED GASHES from the beating she had endured that morning, splayed across her back. What made it all the more worse was the fact that those gashes lay atop dozens of other marks and scars. Too many to count and crisscrossing in all directions, scars of varying ages and states of healing marred her tiny back and shoulders before disappearing under the milky water.
My God! he thought. What has this woman endured? If his men were to see this woman’s back, he had no doubt they would not try to stop him from killing Mermadak a second time.
Frozen in place, his mouth agape, he found it difficult to look away. He made himself a promise then, that were he ever given the opportunity again to kill Mermadak McLaren, he’d not let anyone stop him.
Where she managed to find the courage to do what she did next, she would not have been able to explain to anyone. Still clinging to the tub, shame and humiliation burning across her skin, Aggie did something she had not done in four long years. She spoke.
“Th-they g-go all th-the way t-t-to m-me ankles.”
AFTER SEEING HER scarred and mutilated back, Frederick didn’t think anything could ever shock him again. But when he heard his wife speak, he nearly fell over. He rushed back to the side of the tub and knelt down beside her. “Aggie,” he asked, his voice filled with shock and disbelief.
“P-p-please d-do no’ t-t-tell d-da!” she whispered as she shook.
It was difficult to push past the shock of hearing words come from his wife’s mouth. Dumbfounded, he stared at her, shaking his head. “But, Aggie,” he began. “Why? Why did ye let everyone believe ye canna speak?”
Aggie shook her head. “P-promise,” she pleaded with him.
“Aye, I promise,” he told her. “But please, tell me why?”
It had been so long since she had heard the sound of her own voice that she had forgotten what it sounded like. Her throat felt strange, using muscles that had lain dormant for too long. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “M-me voice,” she began slowly. “M-makes d-da’s ears bleed.”
It took monumental efforts on Frederick’s part not to quit the room and seek out Mermadak McLaren. Frederick wanted nothing more at the moment than to cut the man’s throat and watch as the life drained from his old, decrepit and evil body. How any man could do the things Mermadak had done t
o his daughter, how any man could be filled with such hatred and evil, was beyond him.
“How long,” Frederick asked, trying to mask his seething anger.
Aggie answered with a shrug of her shoulders, still unable or unwilling to look at Frederick. Gently, he took her hands in his. “Aggie, how long have ye gone without speakin’?”
Her voice was so soft and low he had barely heard her answer. “F-four y-years,” she said before finally looking up at him. “Ye-ye willna t-tell?”
Frederick shook his head. “Nay, I’ll no’ tell him.”
He saw no relief in her eyes when he gave his answer, only fear and apprehension.
“Wh-when y-ye l-l-leave, p-please take m-me with ye!” Her words spilled out, so fast that Frederick had a difficult time making them out.
“Leave?” he asked.
Aggie nodded her head. “P-please? D-d-do no’ l-leave m-me here. I c-canna t-t-take another beatin’.”
Her pleas made his chest tighten further, as if someone had wrapped their hand around his heart and squeezed. She was worried he was leaving her. “But I am no’ leavin.”
Her brow knitted into a deep knot of confusion. “B-b-but me s-c-cars and m-me voice.”
He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “Are no’ enough to make me want to leave ye,” he said before standing up. “I made a vow to ye yesterday, Aggie McLaren. I mean to keep it. Now, let’s get ye out of that cold water before ye catch yer death,” he told her as he stepped behind the tub and unfolded one of the drying cloths. “Can ye stand?” he asked.
STAND? AGGIE MUSED. Every muscle aches and me back burns and ye’ve shocked me to me bones fer ye don’t appear angry or disgusted. I can barely think, let alone stand. Me voice and scars might no’ make ye want to go screamin’ into the night, but when ye learn the rest of it, ye’ll no’ be stayin’.
“Do ye need me to help ye lass?”
She gave him a rapid shake of her head. For a moment she actually felt modest, embarrassed for him to see her naked form. But remembering the response he had to her scars, Aggie doubted he’d be thrown into an irresistible bout of lust and desire should he see her completely naked. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly pushed herself to stand. The rush of cold air put goose pimples on top of goose pimples.
FREDERICK STOOD MOMENTARILY paralyzed. She had not exaggerated when she said the scars went all the way to her ankles. Though they decreased in size and number, at least in comparison to those on her back, numerous pink and white scars were scattered across her buttocks and the backs of her thighs and calves.
Another wave of shivers swept over her and set her teeth to chattering. Carefully, Frederick draped the drying cloth around her shoulders and helped her from the tub. She moved slowly and carefully. He could see that she clenched her jaw as she kept her pain hidden and quiet.
“Let’s set ye by the fire, Aggie,” he offered as he guided her to the little stool. Slowly she sat down and tried to get her shivering under control.
Frederick took one of the furs from the bed and draped it around her shoulders. He then took the second drying cloth, knelt in front of her and began to dry her hair. “I be no’ lady’s maid, but I’ll do me best,” he said with a smile.
Such acts of kindness and thoughtfulness coming from a man were completely foreign to her. Though the fire and the fur felt warm, she still shook and trembled.
“Do ye want another fur?” Frederick asked as he carefully wrapped a drying cloth around a long tendril of her hair.
Aggie shook her head nay as she drew the fur more tightly around her arms. Her back burned and stung as the drying cloth scratched across it, but she was too cold and tired to complain.
“Aggie, I ken we said vows yester morn, but I would like to add to them,” he said as he ran the drying cloth down another length of hair. “I promise that I’ll do me best to be more patient.”
He cast a glance her way and saw that she had a vacant and distant look about her as she stared at the hearth. “Aggie, I want ye never to be afraid to speak to me. If I promise to always be honest with ye, do ye think ye can do the same?”
Aggie gave a solemn nod of affirmation without looking at him.
Someday … Frederick thought to himself, someday he would seek retribution on Aggie’s behalf.
“Let us get ye to the bed now so I can tend to yer back.”
She grew tense and looked at him curiously. “Rose always d-does that,” she explained.
“’Twill be all right, Aggie. I ken how to dress wounds and such. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
She didn’t think most husbands would be so patient or gentle of hand, thus she found his tender ways all the more confusing. She wasn’t embarrassed for him to see her back, for that ship had already sailed. Nay, she thought, a wife takes care of her husband, not the other way around.
Frederick sensed her hesitation. “Lass, I’ve already seen yer back. Ye needn’t be embarrassed, fer we are married now.”
Aggie gave a slight shake of her head. “I b-believe ye would b-be,” she told him.
Frederick studied her closely for a moment, attempting to understand her hesitation. “Aggie,” his voice was soft. “I made ye a promise earlier, to always be truthful and honest with ye. I’d like ye to give me the same respect.”
“A w-w-wife should t-tend t-to her husband, no’ th-the other w-way around,” she told him. Her mind was jumbled with more questions and worries she could not yet put a voice to.
Frederick chuckled as he caressed the back of her head. “Lass, I realize ye’ve no’ been shown otherwise, but aye, husbands do—and should—tend to their wives when their wives need it. I’m sure when ye are hale and hearty again ye’ll make a good wife.”
Aggie raised a brow and let out a long breath. “How c-can ye s-say that? I’ve f-f-failed ye as a wife.” She had embarrassed him in front of the world, had made him so angry that he spent their wedding night elsewhere. And now she sat shivering with a broken and bloodied back. Aye, she was a failure in so many ways. He wouldn’t stay around long enough for her to try to make up for it.
“Failed me?” he asked with some incredulity. “How can ye say that when we were just married yester morn? Nay,” he said giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “’Tis far too soon yet to judge such a thing. And I ken in me heart that ye’ll be a fine wife.”
Something in her stomach fluttered, as if a bird were trying to take flight inside it. Mayhap she had died and gone to heaven, for her reality had never been anything close to what she had experienced in this past short while. Were it not for the throbbing pain in her back she would believe she were in heaven. But her mother had promised her time and again that there was no pain or sickness there, so earthly bound she was.
Mayhap then, she had taken a blow to her head and was simply hallucinating. Or, she had succumbed to the beating in such a way that reality was blurred, had lost her mind and was now locked in that safe away place where reality was what she made it to be. Certainly none of his kind words could be real.
Frederick stood to his full height. His brown tunic stretched taught over his broad chest. From where she sat, he looked like a giant. It made her feel all the more tiny and slight.
He gave her a smile, showing white, nearly perfect teeth. If the sun ever bounces off those nice teeth, he’s sure to blind a person! she thought as she looked up at him. He held out his hand for her which she took hesitantly.
Once he saw she was steady on her feet, he led her to the bed and carefully pulled the blankets back.
Aggie swallowed hard, frozen in place. He truly means to tend to me. He was a baffling man, to be certain. Pain radiated up and down her back as she moved slowly toward the bed. She kept the drying cloth wrapped around her shoulders as she climbed in. She lay on her side, curled into a ball and took slow, deep breaths.
Frederick was pulling the furs over her when a knock came at the door. Rose stepped in before he could bid her to enter. “I’ve the salve and bandages
, Aggie,” she said as she stepped into the room. Holding a tray filled with bandages, salve, and a pitcher of water, Rose shut the door with her toe. When she saw Frederick next to Aggie, she looked perplexed as well as surprised to see him still here. “What are ye doin’?” she asked.
“Helpin’ me wife,” he explained. “Ye may leave the tray on the table.”
“But I need to dress her wounds,” Rose argued.
“Rose,” Frederick began. “I will tend to Aggie. Ye can go.”
“But—” she started to argue further.
With a wave of his hand and a fierce scowl, Frederick put a stop to any further arguing. “Rose, I ken how to dress wounds. Aggie be me wife, I’ll tend to her.”
Rose looked down at Aggie with a raised brow as if to ask if this was what Aggie wanted. Aggie gave a nod of her head that all was well. Rose’s lips drew into a firm line as she set the tray down and quit the room.
FREDERICK STOOD BY the table and waited for his wife to settle onto her stomach. Once he felt certain Aggie was comfortable he spoke to her from over his shoulder. “Are ye all settled in, lass?”
“Aye,” she answered with a shudder.
He turned around, the salve and bandages in his hands. He stopped abruptly at the sight before him. She lay on her belly with her head resting in her folded arms with the drying cloth pulled down to her waist, exposing her back. Her hair was pulled over her shoulder and disappeared somewhere under her breasts. Her eyes were closed tightly, shivering as her skin turned to gooseflesh. Though he knew she hadn’t intended on striking such a seductive pose—for he doubted she possessed a single drop of guile or feminine wile—the effect on his person was just the same. God’s teeth, she is beautiful.
A wave of shame and guilt washed over him. Yer a bastard, Frederick Mackintosh! He shouldn’t find her so beautiful or attractive when he considered her current physical and mental states. He swallowed his shame once, then again, trying to regain some composure and thanked God the woman didn’t possess the ability to read minds. She’d either slap him or run for the safety of the hills.
Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series Page 11
