Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  Aggie took in fearful, ragged breaths as she attempted to ascertain his intentions. What on earth is he doin’ here? No good can come of it!

  Robby could plainly see the fear and trepidation awash in her eyes. He had meant to stay far enough away as to give her some privacy, but close enough to come to her aid should the need arise. ’Twas also quite evident that his apology did nothing to calm her nerves. “In truth, mistress, I didna mean to frighten ye,” he offered hopefully.

  Robby was well aware that Aggie McLaren could, in fact, speak. ’Twas her speech impediment, Frederick had explained to them days ago, that kept her from speaking to anyone. Robby took the confused and aggravated expression on her face to mean she demanded an explanation. “I was just following’ me orders.”

  Aggie pursed her lips together and began to walk backward and away from him. He kept his feet firmly planted so as not to cause her further consternation or fright. “I’ll just leave ye to it, then, mistress.” He leaned his frame against the chimney and gave a wave of his hand toward the planters. “Ye’ll no’ even ken that I’m here.”

  She did not return his smile. Instead, her eyes darted around the rooftop as if she were looking for a means of escape. Robby held his hands up. “Mistress, I ken ye’d rather no’ have me here. But Frederick would kill me with his bare hands if I left ye alone. Ye ken?”

  No, no she did not ken. Her private space, the only spot on this earth where she ever felt safe, free or normal, had been horribly violated by this scary looking man. And why would Frederick care if she were alone or not?

  Robby continued to sense her confusion. “Did Frederick no’ explain it to ye?” he asked.

  She took another step back until she felt her back against the wall. Her mind worked to calculate how quickly she could get to the ladder. Robby stood to her left, between the chimney stacks and the ladder. He’d reach her before she could make it even halfway.

  “Mistress,” Robby said calmly as he placed his hands on his heart. “I truly mean ye no harm. Frederick has ordered ye to be guarded at all times when he canna do it himself.”

  Guarded? But why? To keep me hidden away in me room? Was he so embarrassed and ashamed of me that he’s worried the world will see what he’s married to? Her heart constricted with that particular thought. She should be used to it by now, shouldn’t she? Yer a fool, Aggie McLaren, fer thinkin’ Frederick be different than any other person. Aye, he may no’ want to beat ye, but that doesna mean he wants to have ye paradin’ about fer all the world to see.

  Why it hurt as badly as it did to realize the truth, she didn’t know. But hurt it did. If Robby wasn’t here, she would simply sit down by the rain barrel and cry. Choking back a sob, she took a deep breath and bolted for the ladder. Let the man catch her, let him throw her off the roof for all she cared.

  Aggie heard Robby call out to her, but she didn’t stop. She flew down the ladder. Her feet tangled in the hem of her skirt as she reached the bottom rung. The distinct sound of fabric ripping was barely audible over the blood rushing in her ears.

  As rapidly as her feet would take her, she raced down the spiral stairs, through the open doorway and back toward her room. She’d bolt the door behind her, not allowing anyone entry. Needing very much to be alone, to work out why her heart hurt so badly and why it stung almost as badly as her father’s whip, she ran to her room and flung open the door.

  What she saw when she looked up, stopped her dead in her tracks.

  AT FIRST SHE had covered her mouth to stifle her shock at seeing someone in her room. When the realization of what exactly she was seeing hit her full force, she drew her lips in and pressed her hand more firmly over her mouth to keep the laughter from escaping.

  There was her big, tall husband, standing in the middle of the room. He was holding a yellow gown up against his torso, with one arm extended, as if he were trying to figure out if the dress would suit him. Gundar was standing just a step away, shaking his head at Frederick.

  Both men looked up when Aggie came crashing into the room. Frederick smiled kindly. “Good day, wife!” He sounded genuinely happy to see her. “I hear ye took in a bit o’ sun today.”

  Stunned and confused, she remained in the doorway staring at her husband. There was no anger in his voice, nothing at all to warn her that she’d done anything wrong by leaving her room instead of resting.

  “I reckon ye were sorely tired of restin?” he asked. “Mayhap we can take up some sun together, after the noonin’ meal?”

  Was that an invitation? To be seen, with him, out in the open? Och! None of this made any sense. A hundred questions rattled around in her head but she could not find the wherewithal to ask even one. Her anguish at thinking he wanted to keep her hidden, out of the public eye, vaporized as quickly as steam from a kettle. Still, she was confused as to why her husband was standing in the middle of their bedchamber, holding a beautiful gown up to his chest, as if he were a wee lass showing it to another wee lass.

  For the second time in less than a quarter of an hour, Robby scared the living daylights out of her. Aggie jumped with a start when she heard the man’s voice from just a step or two behind her.

  “Och, Frederick!” Robby chortled. “That color looks horrendous on ye!”

  Aggie jumped and made a beeline for the bed, her heart pounding with fright. The man needed a bell tied around his neck!

  Frederick’s brow furrowed as if he were giving some consideration to Robby’s words. “Ye dunna like this color on me?”

  Robby stood beside Gundar. Both men placed a hand on their respective chins as if they were truly considering the dress. Gundar tisked and shook his head. “Nay, Robby be right. I think blue be a better color on ye.”

  Robby nodded his head in agreement.

  Frederick paused to look at the gown. “Blue, ye say?”

  “Aye. Blue would be better with yer colorin’. Mayhap even green.”

  Frederick’s lips twisted as he tilted his head. “Hmmmm,” he pondered. “Mayhap ye be right. But I do like the color of yellow. Reminds me of springtime and buttercups.”

  Aggie slowly sat on the edge of the bed. Were they being serious? Mayhap there was a reason her husband was giving her time to “heal” and not bothering her to consummate the marriage. Mayhap he liked wearing women’s dresses. Mayhap he preferred the company of men. She’d heard of such things before, but didn’t think she’d ever met a man thusly inclined.

  Soon, the men were twittering about like women. Falsetto voices, exaggerated hand movements. “Have ye a proper veil to go with it?” Gundar asked.

  “Slippers! Ye must have yellow slippers!” Robby interjected.

  “Mayhap if ye put a few flowers in yer hair?” Gundar offered.

  “I fear me hair be too short to hold flowers, Gundar,” Frederick said, mimicking Robby and Gundar.

  It took a few moments before Aggie realized they were play acting when she caught them glancing her way, as if they were waiting for her to applaud or laugh at their antics. Pulling her lips inward, she propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands and watched.

  “I think we should plan a grand feast and dance!” Robby exclaimed to which Gundar nodded his head in agreement.

  “Oh! Fredericka!” Gundar said excitedly. “Ye’ll be the envy of all the other lasses! The lads will be trippin’ over their feet to get a chance to dance with such a fine lass as ye!”

  Frederick twirled once, and lifted his shoulders with feigned excitement. “Do ye really believe so?” He batted his eyes for good measure.

  And so it went for nearly a quarter of an hour. The men flitted about the room like young, primping lasses, going on and on about dresses, slippers, combs, flowers and veils. The more they went on, the more difficult it became for Aggie to keep from smiling. They were daft men, to be certain, but they were very funny. The longer they went on, the less inclined she was to hide the fact that she was enjoying their antics.

  There it was. The smile
he’d been dying to see again. Frederick stopped abruptly and looked down at his bonny wife. Aye, he found her quite bonny. Especially when she smiled. The room felt brighter, lighter and warm. With certainty, he knew she did not realize just what her smile was capable of doing to him.

  It dawned on him then, exactly what her smile meant to him. That big, toothy smile that brought a twinkle to her eyes, was home.

  He cleared his throat and shot a look at his men. “I fear this dress isna meant fer me.”

  Gundar and Robby feigned ignorance. “’Tis no?” Gundar asked. “Then who be it fer?”

  Frederick worried that if he didn’t stop staring and pull his gaze away from his wife, she’d begin to think him a lecher. But alas, he could not. Her smile captivated him. It tugged at his heart while it also tugged at other parts of his person, reminding him that he was a man and she a bonny young woman. “’Tis fer a beautiful young woman that I’ve grown quite fond of.”

  In the blink of an eye, her smile was gone. Somehow, the room felt darker, more bleak. Without a word, Aggie stood and turned her back to the men. Puzzled by his wife’s reaction, Frederick shrugged his shoulders and gave a nod of his head toward the door, indicating he wanted Robby and Gundar to leave.

  WHEN, OH WHEN, would she learn? Why did she lose all grasp on reality and forget who she was whenever Frederick was near? One moment she was as happy as a lark on a bright spring morn, allowing herself to get lost in the moment and believe he was different. The next? Broken as a piece of fragile glass thrown at a stone wall.

  She had to busy herself with something, any small task that would keep her from having to look at him. Whoever this beautiful young woman was, she hoped the harlot would trip on the hem of the dress and tumble into a big puddle of mud! Aggie grabbed a rag and began dusting the already clean mantle, all the while cursing herself for being such an addle-headed fool.

  “Aggie.” Frederick’s voice was soft and low. She hated how the sound of his voice felt like silk drawn across her skin. To the devil with ye, Frederick Mackintosh! She mused quietly. And take yer harlot with ye!

  He said her name again, a bit louder. “Be there somethin’ the matter?”

  Bah! Somethin’ the matter, he asks? Nothin’ more than me bein’ a fool and ye bein’ a whoreson who likes to humiliate his wife in front of his men.

  “Have I said or done somethin’ to offend ye?”

  She continued to ignore him whilst she began to wipe down the stone mantle. She heard him take a few tentative steps toward her. Nay, she didn’t want him close enough to touch. Didn’t want him in the same keep, but there was nothing to be done for it. Aggie stopped his forward progression by finding her voice tossing her comment over her shoulder.

  “I k-ken most m-men take a m-m—” she nearly choked on the word. Swallowing back tears of humiliation, she tried again. “A m-mistress. I k-k-ken there b-be n-nothin’ I can do about it. B-but if y-ye have any heart at all, ye’ll n-n-no speak of her in m-me p-presence.”

  She knelt down in order to wipe the lower part of the stone surround. Married less than a fortnight and he’s already taken a mistress. And one he apparently cares enough about to give pretty dresses to!

  Frederick wasn’t sure if he felt insulted by her accusation that he’d taken a mistress, or a wee bit of pride in knowing that doing such a thing would bother her so.

  “Aggie,” he said as he knelt beside her.

  She refused to look at him and instead focused on dust that only she could see. He imagined she’d rub the rough stones to a shiny finish if she continued at her current, angry pace. “I’ve no’ taken a mistress.”

  “Bah!” she hissed. “Ye n-n-need no’ lie about it. M-m-me heart willna b-break if ye did.”

  From the way her eyes were glistening, Frederick doubted she was being truthful. Part of him was glad to see that she did possess a temper or, at the very least, that she felt comfortable enough with him to speak her mind. He doubted she’d ever use such a tone with her father, out of fear alone. The fact that she was visibly angry—even though she tried to lie her way around it—was a step in the right direction.

  Carefully, he placed a hand on hers and he could feel her grow tense and fearful. More used to harsh hands than kind, he knew he would have to tread very carefully. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Aggie, please, look at me.”

  As patiently as he could manage, he waited for her to muster the courage to turn and look at him. He watched as she swallowed the lump in her throat before turning to look at him. Hurt, damp eyes looked up at him.

  “I’ve no’ taken a mistress and I will no’ take one. I took a vow to be faithful to ye, Aggie. And I mean to keep that vow.”

  Plenty of men took similar vows, she thought, and it didna mean they kept them.

  “Aggie, I’ve asked ye to try to trust me. I ken that canna be easy fer ye. I ken I’m a flawed man. I sometimes lose me temper too quickly and I dunna always listen with me ears. But when I make a promise, I keep it. And when I tell ye I do no’ have a mistress, it be the truth.”

  Aggie contemplated what he said, but for only a moment. With all her heart she wanted to believe him, but her own self-doubts stood in the way. “B-but ye said the d-d-dress—”

  A warm smile lighted on his face. “Was for a beautiful young woman that I’ve grown quite fond of,” he finished her sentence. “That is true.”

  When she pursed her lips and let loose a long breath of frustration through her nostrils, Frederick held up his hand to stop any potential protest. “The dress is fer ye, Aggie.”

  A tilt of her head and an arched brow told him that she didn’t believe him.

  “’Tis true. That is what Rose has been workin’ on these past many days,” he explained as he pushed himself to his feet and drew Aggie up with him. With her hand in his, he led her to the bed and picked up the yellow gown.

  “Rose has been verra busy workin’ on this. I had brought the fabric with me. ’Twas a gift from me mum to ye.” He held the dress against his own chest so that Aggie could get a better look at it.

  Never had she seen such a fine gown! Made of heavy brocade in houppelande style, it was as yellow as a buttercup and she imagined just as soft. Gold thread trimmed the long sleeves that tapered to fine points as well as the hem and train. When the candlelight hit it just so, it sparkled and danced as if it were made for a faerie. Aggie was afraid to touch it.

  “Do ye no’ like it?” Frederick worried.

  Aggie took her eyes away from the dress in order to read his face. He looked sincere and it befuddled her. Moments ago, she would have sworn he had a mistress. Doubt fell over her now when she looked into his eyes. Detecting no insincerity or lies, her heart began to fill with excitement and a bit of embarrassment for having jumped to the conclusion of a mistress so readily. Her cheeks burned and she knew she wasn’t deserving of such a fine gown, not after accusing him of infidelity.

  Clearing her throat, she searched her mind for an appropriate response. “I b-be sorry, Frederick.”

  He arched a brow. “Fer what?”

  “Ac-accusin’ ye and wishin’ ye to the devil,” she said remorsefully.

  Frederick threw his head back and laughed heartily. “I do no’ remember ye wishin’ me to the devil.”

  Aggie wondered if it were possible for her skin to catch fire from the wave of embarrassment that burned her cheeks.

  “Do ye like the dress?”

  “Aye!” she answered. “’Tis a fine dress!”

  Frederick had the sense that there was more she wanted to say. “But?”

  If she hadn’t accused him moments ago of being an adulterer and breaking her heart, she would have ripped the dress out of his hands and hugged it. As it was, she had, and did not feel deserving. “Are ye c-certain ye w-want me to have it?”

  “Well, I do no’ think ’twill fit me,” he answered playfully.

  She stopped the giggle with her hand.

  Frederick took a deep breath. Thi
s was not going how he had imagined things would play out. She didn’t squeal with joy and throw her hands around his neck and smother his face with grateful kisses. Instead, she was reluctant. “If ye do no’ like the color,” he began before she cut him off.

  “Nay! ’Tis m-m-me favorite c-color!” she argued.

  “Then what be the problem?”

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other before answering. “I accused y-y-ye of s-somethin’ horrible. How c-c-could ye still w-want m-m-me to have it?”

  Her question answered his. While Aggie was capable of giving unconditional love—and Ailrig was all the proof he needed of that—she was unaccustomed to receiving the same. It pulled at his heart, made it feel heavy.

  He let loose a slow breath before answering. “Aggie, there be many reasons why I want ye to have the dress. Ye be the chatelaine of the keep. Ye be me wife. I want ye to have nice things, things ye should be accustomed to simply by yer station in life.”

  She eyed him for a time, giving consideration to his words. He had asked her to trust him, had admitted to being a flawed man. Mayhap it was time for her to admit to being a flawed woman. Like her husband, she was quick to jump to conclusions.

  Aye, she was damaged and defective, what with her scars and stutter. For years now, she hadn’t been able to see past those two things, had allowed them to define her completely.

  In an odd way, it lifted her spirits to realize she was more than just a scarred woman who stuttered. Evidently, there was more to her than what she had realized. For her to even recognize a flaw or two helped her to see that she was indeed more. More than just Mermadak McLaren’s scarred, mute daughter. It might not make a lick of sense to anyone else, but to Aggie, the new awareness made her feel better.

  For the first time in she didn’t know how long, she lifted her chin and pushed her shoulders back. Frederick Mackintosh, handsome devil that he was, wanted good things for her—even if she was flawed. How could she say no to that smile of his, so full of hope and promise? If he was willing to do his best both to earn her trust and not jump to conclusions, then she should be able to offer him the same consideration.