But he wanted more than just misery from Aggie. He wanted heartache. Anguish. Pain. She deserved no less than to be made to suffer as he had.
Ailrig.
Ailrig was the one thing she loved more than her own life. There was naught she would not do to protect him.
He would begin with Ailrig.
Twenty-Four
AGGIE AND ROSE sat at the rear of the keep, near the gate that led to the tiny huts, a bit of flatter land, and the loch. They had been sewing in quiet contemplation for most of the morning. Frederick was not far from Aggie’s thoughts and from the smile she saw on Rose’s face, Ian was not far from hers.
“How be Ian this day?” Aggie asked without looking up from her stitches.
Rose’s smile evaporated. “How should I ken how he is?”
“I d-dunnae,” Aggie said matter-of-factly. “I thought m-mayhap ye had seen him this m-morn.”
Rose’s face burned brightly but she refused to look at Aggie. “I saw him in the gatherin’ room this morn. He looked fine. Mayhap ye should go yonder, to where they’re trainin’ and ask him fer yerself.”
Thankfully, Frederick and his men did not train in the glen. Instead, they used a broad, flatter area of land that lay to the east of the keep. The sounds of metal clanging against metal and grunting men uttering a few choice words were carried on the breeze to spot where the women sat.
Earlier, Aggie had stood to stretch her legs and took the chance to peek at the men through the tiny opening in the rear gate. It hadn’t taken her much time to find her husband. The sun glinted off his bare chest as he stood not far from the gate, watching his men. At some point, he had removed his tunic, and stood with his hands on his hips as he spoke with Ian.
Ian must have said something he found quite humorous, for Frederick threw his head back and laughed heartily. Her heart and stomach fluttered in unison, taking delight in the effect his laughter had on her person. When her thoughts turned to what it might be like to kiss him, she slammed the tiny door shut and hurried to her seat.
She knew there was nothing wrong with a wife wanting her husband to kiss her. It had been a topic of discussion between her and her mother long ago. And Rose had often bespoke of the enjoyment that could be found in even a simple kiss.
Until Frederick Mackintosh had come into her life, she never would have thought she would want any kind of physical relationship. But now? She sighed. Now, she did not know what to make of all the inexplicable feelings that contradicted everything she had felt for ten years.
Deciding she’d not be able to sort it all out in a morning, she picked up her sewing. Rose had taught her a new and more intricate stitch earlier, one that would give texture to the petals on the flowers, making them look and feel almost real. Using yellow thread, she was able to create a decent enough looking tiny flower. Not nearly as fine as Rose’s, but still, it was adequate.
Rose was working on mending tunics for the men. “I do no’ ken how they manage to rip and tear so many tunics!” she remarked before biting off the end of a stitch. “I swear they be worse than young boys.”
Aggie agreed with a giggle. “I s-still say I should be the one d-doin’ the m-mendin’. Yer flowers are so much prettier than mine.”
“And have that braw husband of yers mad at me fer no’ teachin’ ye the finer things? I think no’!”
Aggie shook her head and sighed. “Honestly, I do no’ ken what I’m to do with all these little squares of fabric, Rose.”
Rose leaned over and looked at Aggie’s work. No more than six inches by six with tiny vines and roses sewn into the edges. “How many of them do ye have now?”
“A dozen mayhap?” Aggie answered.
“Mayhap we could make a blanket? Sew all the little squares together and make a quilt?” Rose suggested.
“But they be all different sizes,” Aggie explained as she lifted her basket and began drawing out the little squares she had already completed.
They were deciding what to do with the different sized squares when Rognall approached, giving each woman a bow. “Pardon me, mistress,” he said, looking a bit sheepish. “I couldna help overhear ye discussin’ yer sewin’.”
Aggie noted his odd expression and slight embarrassment. His face was nearly as red as his hair. “’Tis all right, Rognall,” she smiled up at him. “’Tis no’ like we’re talkin’ in secret. Ye be just a few steps away.”
Rognall smiled and cleared his throat. “Well, ye see, mistress, I’ve been watchin’ ye sew much these past weeks. I was wonderin’,” he paused for a moment. “Well, ye see, I have three young sisters who still live at home. I thought, mayhap that I could buy four of yer little handkerchiefs to send them, as gifts.”
Aggie was pleasantly taken aback by his offer. “Och! Rognall, these just be little squares to practice me stitches. I do no’ think they be good enough to give as gifts.”
His face lit with excitement. “Nay, but they are!” With his eyes, he asked permission to take the one in her hand. “I ken ye think ye no’ be doin’ a fine job, mistress, but truly, ye are. I reckon ye sew better even than me mum!” he chuckled at his own jest as he carefully studied the fabric. “I thought, mayhap, ye could sew me sisters’ and mum’s names into each one fer me. ‘Twould make fer a verra special gift, ye ken.”
Pride swelled from within her heart. Rognall genuinely appreciated her sewing. Her smile broadened. “Nay, ye c-canna buy them, Rognall,” she told him gently. She watched as his face fell with disappointment. “But I will g-give them to ye after I sew the n-names into them.”
“I couldna just take them, mistress. That wouldna be right fer me to do. I will give ye a pence fer each,” he offered as he handed the handkerchief back.
Aggie had never sold anything before. She had no earthly idea if a pence each was a good price or not. Thankfully, Rose was there to lend her assistance.
“One pence each? Typical Scotsman!” Rose said with a shake of her head. “She’ll take two pence each as they are. For an extra pence, she’ll sew the names into them fer ye.”
Rognall’s eyes grew wide. “That would be a whole shillin’!” he exclaimed.
Rose wouldn’t back down. “Do ye expect her to just give them away?”
Rognall’s eyes widened. “Well, she was goin’ to give them to me fer free just a moment ago!”
Rose rolled her eyes, unaffected by the facts. “Should I go yonder and tell Frederick that ye be tryin’ to steal handkerchiefs from his wife?”
The man paled. “I’m no’ tryin’ to steal them! But I’d like to have a good bargain fer them!”
Rose huffed haughtily at him. “And where else can ye buy such fine handkerchiefs made by a mistress of a keep? I say a shillin’ fer all four, with names nonetheless, be a fine bargain fer such fine quality stitchin’, by a fine woman.”
They glared at one another while Aggie sat in disbelief. An entire shilling for something she had made? She would have settled for a pence each. That would have made four pence more than she had to her name. She would have felt rich as Solomon with four pence! “Rose,” she whispered as she leaned into her friend. “A pence each would be—”
Rose cast her a chastising look. “Highway robbery it would be,” she said firmly before turning back to Rognall. “Well Rognall, what shall it be? Would ye like these fine silk handkerchiefs sewn by the mistress of yer keep—with yer sisters’ and mum’s names on them—or no?”
The man glared at Rose as he thought on it. His resolve fell away when he looked at Aggie. She sat with a hopeful expression and biting her lower lip. He could not tell her no. Rose he could have bartered with and eventually walked away from. But sweet Aggie? ’Twas impossible. “Aye, I’ll give ye a shillin’ fer all four,” he said as he shot an angry look at Rose.
Aggie squealed with delight, jumped to her feet and took his hands in hers. “Och! Rognall! Ye m-made me verra happy this d-day! Thank ye!”
The frustration he felt melted away and he smiled. “Thank y
e, mistress. I ken me mum and sisters will cherish the handkerchiefs all of their days.”
While Rognall and Aggie made plans for him to write the names down for her, Peter approached the trio. He came to find out what Rognall had done to deserve a hug from their mistress. Rose happily explained the matter to him.
He raised a curious brow. “Can I see them?” he asked.
Aggie handed him the current piece she was working on. Peter held it up in front of his face and inspected it carefully. After some time, he looked at Aggie. “And ye’ll sew a lass’s name into it if we want?”
“Aye,” Aggie smiled at him. “If ye write it d-down proper so I c-can copy it, aye, I can.”
Robert nodded his head in understanding. “I do no’ have sisters, and me mum died in childbed,” he informed her. “But me grandminny raised me. I reckon she might be likin’ one too,” he said before quickly adding, “I mean, if ye be willin’ to mistress. Same price as ye gave Rognall?”
Aggie beamed. “Aye, three silvers.”
The deal was made. Within a week’s time, Aggie would have the handkerchiefs completed and ready for the men to send to their respective family members. While Aggie was perfectly willing to wait until she had finished them, Rose was not so inclined. She insisted on half the money now and the remainder upon completion. The request seemed reasonable to both men. They each dug into their sporrans and handed over the coins to Aggie before returning to their posts as her personal guards.
Aggie held the shiny coins in her palm and stared at them. “I c-canna remember the last t-time I had me own coin!” she exclaimed breathlessly to Rose. It had been a very long time indeed.
“What do ye think ye’ll do with yer new found wealth?” Rose asked as she returned to her seat.
Aggie thought on it for a long moment. There was a good deal she could do with a merk and three silvers. An idea struck her then. “Rose, do ye think this be enough to get me mum’s things back from Clair?” she asked as she sat back down.
Rose clucked her tongue and shook her head. “If Clair was any kind of decent human bein’, then ye’d no’ have to buy those things back. Seein’ how she’s no’ any kind of decent human bein’, I doubt a shillin’ and three is enough. But it wouldna hurt to ask.”
Aggie would gladly give Clair all her coin and whatever else she could dream up in order to get her mum’s necklace and comb back. Somehow, she doubted that Clair would accept anything less than Aggie’s still beating heart on a silver platter.
BEFORE THE WEEK was out, nearly all of Frederick’s men had come to Aggie with a request for monogrammed handkerchiefs. As with Rognall and Peter, the men swore themselves to secrecy and promised they would not tell Frederick. Even though she believed Frederick would not care about the selling of the handkerchiefs, she did worry what he would think or expect her to do with the money.
Not only did she feel as rich as a queen, she felt quite confident that she would have enough coin to buy back those precious items. Aggie was fully prepared to give the woman up to half of what she was earning with the handkerchiefs.
She wouldn’t go so far as to give all her money to Clair. Nay, she wanted to give at least half of it to Frederick to help stock their winter stores, or whatever else he might need it for. It was the least she could do for all he had given her. And he had given her much more than pretty gowns, veils and slippers. He’d given her life back to her.
She didn’t relish the thought of keeping secrets from him, but justified it as more a surprise than something as dark as the other secrets she was keeping to herself. Not quite ready yet to put all of her trust in her husband’s hands, there were things she simply could not yet share with him. Aggie doubted she would ever be able to.
From dawn to dusk, Aggie sewed until her eyes felt crossed and her fingers hurt, but she did not complain. In the end it would all be worth it. She wasn’t sure which excited her the most; getting her mum’s things back or giving her husband what she felt was a substantial amount of coin.
Twenty-Five
ROSE WAS IN a fine mood, even if it were a rainy afternoon. She had a good deal to be happy about. Her best friend was happier than she could ever remember seeing her and Ian was beginning to show signs of promise. Though he was a decidedly handsome man, the kind of man she tried to avoid, he was beginning to prove he might not be the ne’er-do-well she had previously thought.
For starters, he did not speak as though she were a less than intelligent being. At all times, he was respectful, never tried to steal a kiss or pinch her bottom as some men did. As she descended the stairs, it suddenly dawned on her that since Ian’s arrival, the McLaren men had been keeping their distance from her. She could not recall the last time any of them tried to grab her as she walked past, or pulled her into a lap for a disgusting kiss, as if she were no better than a common whore. She wondered if Ian had anything to do with the sudden turnaround in the McLaren men’s behavior?
On her way to the kitchens to ask for tea to be sent up to Aggie’s room for their afternoon sewing session, she passed by Donnel, George and Mortagh. They were huddled together in the semi-dark hallway. Rose knew that when the three of them were together no good usually came of it.
Pretending to ignore them, she rounded the corner, then took a few steps away before turning back to listen. Normally, the men would have made no effort at concealing any dishonest or cruel thing they might be contemplating. Today, however, they spoke in hushed tones making eavesdropping a bit difficult, but not impossible. A few important words did carry along the narrow corridor. Enough so that Rose’s blood ran cold and her heart began to race.
What she heard would destroy Aggie. Lifting her skirts, she raced to find Ian.
ROSE HAD SOON found both Ian and Findal. Before she was even finished telling them all that she had heard, Findal left to find Ailrig and Frederick.
“Are ye certain ye heard them correctly?” Ian asked.
“Aye! I am,” she told him. “Ye dunna understand, Ian. This will kill Aggie!”
Ian did not doubt how this news would effect his sister-in-law. “Rose, go to Aggie now, explain to her what ye heard. I’ll help Findal find Frederick and Ailrig.”
Rose nodded, wiped an errant tear from her cheek and hurried off to Aggie’s room. What she had to tell her was mayhap the most difficult thing she’d ever have to do. She could only pray that Frederick and Ian would somehow be able to put a stop to the plans Mermadak had already put into place.
As quickly as she could, she made her way to Aggie’s room, knocked once and entered without waiting for permission. Aggie was sitting at Frederick’s desk reading. She smiled when she saw Rose enter. “Och! Be it time fer more sewin’?” Aggie said playfully.
Rose quickly shut the door and rushed to Aggie’s side. “Aggie,” Rose said, her voice cracking.
“What be wrong, Rose?” Aggie asked. She grew instantly worried, for Rose was as pale as a sheet and her eyes were filled with tears. She stood and put her hands on Rose’s arms. “Rose?”
Rose took a deep breath and began to explain what she had heard. The blood drained from Aggie’s face and her legs nearly gave out. She sat back down, her mind racing, her heart shattering into countless pieces.
“He c-canna d-do this,” Aggie said breathlessly.
Rose tried to offer some comfort to her friend. “Many lads are sent to foster.” She stopped. She couldn’t convince her own heart that Mermadak had made the decision with good intentions.
“I be so sorry, Aggie. But do no’ worry, I be certain Frederick will do what he can to stop it.”
A heavy fog of uncertainty began to cloud Aggie’s mind. Nay, nay, nay! He canna send him away. He canna send Ailrig…. Under no circumstance would she allow Ailrig to be sent away and especially not to the Bowies. “Rose, p-please, find Ailrig and k-keep him in yer room fer now, please!”
“But Ian and Findal—” she began before Aggie stopped her.
“Nay, please, Rose! Find Ailrig. Do n-no�
�� give him to anyone. Ye k-ken where to hide him. Please, Rose, go now!”
Knowing it would do no good to argue, Rose nodded and headed out the door.
FREDERICK STOOD BEFORE his hysterical wife, attempting to offer her words of comfort. “Aggie, wheest now,” he said as he tried to hold her. She turned away, her sobs nearly uncontrollable. “Aggie, many young lads are sent to foster.”
“Ye d-dunna understand. D-da d-doesna do this fer Ailrig’s b-benefit. He d-does it to hurt m-me. Illegitimate b-boys are n-no’ sent to foster!” she cried. Her stutter grew more pronounced the more upset she became.
Although he had been trying to comfort her, he knew she was correct. She had nearly stolen the words he’d given to Ian and Findal before coming to see to her. Mermadak wasn’t doing this to help Ailrig. He was doing it to hurt Aggie. And chances were it was his way of getting to Frederick in the process.
“Aggie,” Frederick said as he took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please, do no’ cry.”
Aggie spun around, looking hurt and angry. “He c-canna send him t-to the Bowie, F-Frederick! He c-canna d-do that! P-please, I b-beg ye, do n-no’ allow him to g-go there!”
Frederick wasn’t sure what he could do to stop it. Mermadak was still chief of the clan. Ailrig was technically Mermadak’s responsibility, even though the man had never done anything to help the boy. “So is it just that ye don’t want him goin’ to the Bowie, or ye don’t want him goin’ at all?” Frederick asked.
Tears streamed down Aggie’s face. “I d-do no’ want him g-goin’ at all, but m-most of all, to the B-bowie. Ye d-dunna understand, Frederick, he c-canna g-go there!”
The Bowie Clan was a disreputable lot. They were known for not keeping their word, stole more cattle than most clans owned, and they were not to be trusted. Frederick could well understand why Aggie wouldn’t want Ailrig to foster under a clan filled with men such as the Bowies. But something told him there was more to it than just that.
Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series Page 26
