A Gentle Feuding

by Johanna Lindsey

  Sheena hadn’t seen William’s tall frame because her back was to him, but he moved to stand beside her father. “You wanted a reason, Dugald. Now you have it.”

  Sheena looked from her father’s stern face to William’s accusing expression. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you deny you were in the courtyard late last night?” Dugald asked silkily.

  “I couldna sleep, Father, so I went for a walk. Where is the harm in that?”

  “An easy excuse,” William replied, his tone deliberately dry.

  “And what was your excuse for being there, cousin?” Her eyes shot sparks at him. “You were up and about at the same time. You failed to mention that.”

  “I dinna need an excuse.” He glowered at her. “ ‘Twas no’ I who wanted The MacKinnion gone. You’ve already admitted that you did.”

  Sheena gasped, his intention clear. “So you think I let him go?”

  “Either you or your brother did,” William said sharply.

  Outraged, Sheena demanded, “How dare you accuse Niall? He was forbidden to go near the dungeon, and he wouldna have disobeyed.”

  “She’s right,” Dugald said gravely. “The lad is no’ in question.”

  “But I am?” Sheena turned to her father, incredulous. That he could even consider such a thing!

  When he didn’t answer, Sheena began to panic. His silence accused her. But how could he?

  Others had gathered around to hear the exchange, and Sheena could see herself being condemned. Even her betrothed had appeared, looking thoroughly appalled. How dare he? And why had her father not accused him?

  Sheena’s temper had ignited. She pointed at her betrothed. “I want to know why I am accused ‘afore him? He had more reason than I!”

  Alasdair’s gray eyes stabbed Sheena with their sudden intensity. “I’ll no’ answer that charge,” he said stiffly. “Nor will I marry a wench who turns on her betrothed and betrays her own family, as well!”

  As he stalked from the hall, Margaret screeched, “He’s broken the betrothal! ‘Tis certain she planned this!”

  The faintest satisfaction reflected in Sheena’s darkly glowing eyes, but her father mistook it and growled, “Is that true, Sheena?”

  She stiffened. “I didna want to marry him, as you well know, but I wouldna go to such lengths to prevent it. Now tell me why you’ve let him go without questioning him about this?”

  “With such an important prisoner below, do you think I’d let an ally of his roam about freely?” Dugald’s reply was sharp. “MacDonough’s room was watched, and I am assured he didna leave it once all night.”

  That left only her with reason enough to free the Highlander‑her and Niall. But Niall wasn’t suspected, and she would keep it that way. He had done it for her. She wouldn’t let him suffer for that. She thanked heaven he was not there, for he would have spoken up. It hurt that her father was so quick to believe her guilty.

  “Have you done this thing, Sheena?”

  “ ‘Tis too late to be asking me that, Father,” she said, her voice choked. “You’ve already found me guilty. I see it in your eyes. How can you believe this of me?”

  “There, she canna deny it,” William said quickly. “She deserves hanging for the traitor she is.” He was thinking fast, knowing he mustn’t give Dugald time to consider.

  “I’ll no’ be hanging my daughter for something she did in desperation,” Dugald growled. “She thought she was to marry The MacKinnion, and since I didna tell her so, only you could have told her.

  You’re as much to blame as she is, so I’ll thank you to stay out of this from here on.”

  William had the sense to remain silent.

  “You canna mean to just forget this, Father!” cried Margaret. “You’ve always favored her over the rest of us, and look how she’s repaid you.”

  “That’s enough, lassie.”

  “Nay! I’ll have my say,” Margaret insisted. “I’ll no’ have my wedding delayed more because of her. You’ve made me wait because you didna want to shame her, but now she’s shamed us all. Her betrothal’s broken, and no other man will ever have her, for if she’ll betray her own family, she’ll betray her husband. She canna be trusted ever again.”

  “You’ll have your wedding as planned, Margaret,” Dugald said in a tired, saddened voice. Perhaps he knew he’d been too hasty in blaming Sheena. But it was too late to reconsider.

  “She’ll be leaving Tower Esk,” he said, resigned.

  Sheena stared at her father, disbelieving and horrified. Banishment? To be sent away from her home and family?

  “Dinna look at me like that, Sheena,” Dugald said in a ragged voice. “ ‘Tis no more than you deserve.”

  “Where am I to go?” she asked, her throat constricting.

  “You’ll go to your aunt in Aberdeen. A nunnery’s a good place for you to contemplate the wrong you’ve done your family. To your room, now. You’ll stay there until tomorrow, when you’ll be taken north.”

  Sheena ran from the hall, refusing to let anyone see her tears. Fortunately, no one followed, and she dried her eyes before she reached Niall’s door. He was still asleep, and she stood quietly for a moment, trying to compose her thoughts before she woke him.

  At last she sat on the bed and said, “Niall, you have to wake and listen to me ‘afore someone comes.”

  The seriousness in her voice alerted him, and he sat right up. He took in her expression, and, all at once, he knew what was wrong.

  “The alarm’s been given?” he began. “They know he’s gone?”

  “Aye, they know,” she said miserably.

  He mistook her tone for disapproval and blurted, “I had to do it, Sheenal The MacKinnion said he’d beat you and rape you and make you suffer all your life if he was forced to marry you!”

  “My God!” Sheena gasped. It was worse than she had known.

  “You see, I had to let him go, for he wouldna listen to reason. He was furious, and no mistake. He said you dinna force a MacKinnion against his will and no’ suffer for it. It didna matter to him that you were no’ to blame. He swore he’d make you suffer and suf­fer, Sheena.”

  “Then I’m doubly grateful to you, Niall,” Sheena said, her voice soft.

  “Grateful? You’re no’ angry?”

  “I knew you did it for me. ‘Tis thankful I am, and no mistake. And you’re no’ to feel bad when I tell you . . . I’ve accepted the blame.”

  “You? But The MacDonough‑“

  “He was watched, Niall,” Sheena explained. “They know he didna do it, and William managed to make our father blame me.”

  “But Sheena‑“

  She held up her hand. “Listen to me. I’ve come out of this better than you think. The MacDonough broke the betrothal, so I dinna have to marry him. And thanks to you, I’ll no’ be given to The MacKin­nion.” She grinned. She really was better off than she had been. “I’m being sent away as punishment, Niall, but to Aunt Erminia in Aberdeen. ‘Tis not so bad. I’d rather that than marry!”

  “You’ll become a nun?” he gasped.

  “Father didna say that, so dinna worry. And I havena seen our aunt for years. ‘Twill be a pleasant change, and I’ll no’ have to worry about a husband being forced on me, at least not for a while. Truly, Niall, I’m no’ unhappy.”

  “But you’ll come back?”

  “Father was very angry, so I canna say. But even if I am forced to become a nun, I think I would prefer that to a loveless marriage.”

  “You dinna mean that, Sheena.”

  “Yes, I do. Our parents didna love each other, Ni­all. You never saw them together, but I remember well enough. Without love, I’d rather never marry.”

  “I’ll talk to Father.”

  “You willna!” she said sharply. “If I stay here, he’ll only find another man for me. I’m going, Niall, and you’re no’ to try and prevent it. And you’re never to confess what you did, you understand? You promise me?”

  He nodded, but relucta
ntly. This was not the way it was supposed to come out. But he no longer had any control over events. Everything had been de­cided. He had acted on impulse, because of his love for his sister. But the outcome was not his to deter­mine after all.

  “I’ll come and visit you soon,” he said.

  “If Father lets you, I’ll be glad of it.” She smiled.

  Suddenly Niall threw his arms around her, tears coursing down his face. “Och, Sheena, I’m so sorry’!’

  “Hush now, m’dear. This is no’ your fault. And you’re no’ to fret for me. I’ll be fine in Aberdeen. I’ve never been so far north ‘afore. I’m actually looking forward to going. ‘Tis better Father and I part, at least for a while. I couldna live here with him now.”

  Chapter 9

  IN the weeks that followed, Sheena was often to remember that last intimate talk with Niall. Aberdeen, nearly fifty miles from home, was like a foreign land. It was crowded and filthy, and you couldn’t walk through the town without fear of having someone’s chamber pot or garbage dumped on your head. But it was a thriving market center, and exciting, with a crowded harbor and every kind of craftsman working in the town.

  Sheena spent her first days exploring, but soon gave that up. Oh, the sights were grand‑the abbeys, the university, all the shops‑but there were too many Highlanders. They were easy enough to spot, their legs bare between plaid and boots. Lowlanders wore tights or combinations of hose and puffed breeches. Lowlander peasants wore trousers.

  If the intimidating Highlanders were not enough to make her shun the town, there was a continual stream of beggars accosting her on every corner. Aberdeen was overrun with poor people, poor seeking work or professional beggars.

  Every morning Sheena left her aunt’s austere rooms at the nunnery and walked to the poorhouse, a stone building in a terrible state of ruin. Given over as a house of charity, it was a few blocks from the nunnery. The house had been intended as a resting place for weary travelers, where they could get a hot meal and a clean bed for a night or two while looking for work. But it had deteriorated into a slum for beggars and vagrants. A small house, it contained only ten beds. The rule of one or two nights’ stay only still applied, and there were always new faces at the door.

  Sheena’s aunt was not obliged to go there every day, but she never failed. A priest lived there, seeing to the distribution of meals, but he was too old for all the work the place required. Those who slept there were asked to wash their bedding and clean their eating utensils for the next guest, but the rule was never obeyed, and only the nuns’ daily care kept the place from becoming a pesthole.

  When Sheena saw how tired her Aunt Erminia was, she insisted on helping. Her aunt’s day usually consisted of spending the morning at the poorhouse washing and cleaning, then working at the hospital for several hours, then returning to the poorhouse before going home.

  Sheena was appalled. All that work, and Aunt Erminia was nearing fifty! There was no reason she couldn’t help at the poorhouse and make her aunt’sday that much shorter.

  It worked out well. Sheena was young and energetic and could do the work in half the time it took Aunt Erminia. The poorhouse was empty by the time she got there every day, so no one bothered her. She and her aunt were able to spend afternoons in the quiet of the nunnery, talking or sewing together. If Sheena missed her home and the activities she was accustomed to, she didn’t show it yet. She did achingly miss her brother, however. There was no one young and lively at the nunnery, and she felt so alone.

  After a month, Sheena had not heard from home, from Niall or her father. She had repaired the jerkins and plaids of the poor, learned countless new stitches from her aunt, and refurbished and mended her own wardrobe . . . and was deathly sick of sewing. She wanted to ride, hunt, and swim before the first snows. She needed adventure, or at least some mischief, and, oh, how she missed Niall!

  For the first time, Niall would be raiding. Autumn was the traditional time for lifting, as the stealing of livestock was termed. Whatever the Fergussons lifted that year would be kept, not sold, for they had lost too much to the MacKinnions to be able to sell any.

  The morning in late September when Sheena pulled her cart of bedding along to the river was dismally gloomy. Not just the usual Scottish gloom, either, but a full mass of dark clouds that signaled a storm. She worried about her wash. She was in the habit of hanging the bedding by the river to dry in the brisk breeze, rather than at the parish yard, where surrounding buildings blocked the wind. If it rained, the wash would have to be hung inside the poorhouse, and it would take all day to dry.

  That had happened before, so Sheena had been there in the late afternoon when the poorhouse started to fill. She didn’t want to be there again, to see the thin, sunken faces, the ragged, filthy clothes. She hoped it wouldn’t rain.

  She hurried, rubbing her hands raw before she was finished. Her poor hands. How white and smooth they’d once been. Now they were red and sore and cracked.

  “Need some help, lassie?”

  Sheena gasped and turned around quickly. She had not heard the young man on his horse approach, for the wind was whipping hard. It flapped his plaid around him and played havoc with her green skirt.

  He was a Highlander, his plaid very close to her own colors. He was young, too, about her age. There was something about his face that put her at ease. True, it was a very handsome face, but that wasn’t the reason. There was just something about him.

  “ ‘Tis kind of you to offer.” Sheena grinned, amused. “But I canna imagine a Highland warrior doing the poorhouse wash.”

  “You’re a beggar?” He was shocked, and the sur­prise in his voice made her laugh outright. “Of course I am. Do you think I’d be washing this bed­ding unless I had to?”

  “But . . . you dinna look like a beggar.”

  “Well, I’m new at this. I mean, I have only re­cently fallen on hard times.”

  “You’ve no family?”

  “Och, but you’re full of questions, and you’re wast­ing my time, you are.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes twinkled.

  It had been so long since she had spoken to anyone near her age, and a handsome man at that. How she wanted him to stay. But, of course, he wouldn’t.

  “ ‘Twill rain soon, and I’ll have a wet wash,” she sighed.

  She bent to wring out the last sheet and hang it with the rest on the trees by the river’s edge. When she turned around again, he was right behind her, having left his horse. He was much taller than she was, and she had to look up to see his face.

  “You’re so pretty‑a rare beauty,” he said, wonder in his voice. “I saw you passing the cattle yard.”

  “And decided to follow me?”

  “Aye.”

  “Is that a habit of yours then, following girls?” Sheena bantered.

  But he remained serious. “‘Can I kiss you, lass?”

  The sudden request shocked her. “I’ll box your ears,” she replied tartly.

  He laughed, relaxing a little. “You’re a saucy wench. ‘Tis plain to see you’ve no man to answer to.”

  “And you’re much too bold for my liking,” she re­turned, uneasy now. His eyes were devouring her, no longer simply appreciative.

  She tried to move past him, but he put out his arms to stop her. “You’ll no’ be running off when I’ve only just found you. You may be a vision, but I won’t let you dissolve.”

  His arms were stretched wide, and Sheena sus­pected he would grab her if she dared move. She didn’t like this one bit. He was young, but he was big. And a Highlander, too.

  “What is it you want then?” She glared at him.

  “You’re much too bonny to be begging for your keep. I’d like to be your man and take care of you.”

  By then, Sheena was completely unnerved. But wasn’t it just like a Highlander to be insanely impul­sive?

  “You’ve no’ much sense, lad,” she scoffed. “You’re barely more than a boy yourself, so how can you take care of me?�
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  He scowled, and Sheena had a glimpse of the man he would be one day, fierce and temperamental. She shouldn’t have laughed, she realized too late. Highlanders didn’t take lightly to being ridiculed, and this one was very proud.

  “I shouldna have asked you, lass,” he said stiffly, but she felt no less on guard.

  “I’m glad you understand that.”

  “Nay. I should have done what my brother would do.”

  Sheena felt her heart constrict at the ominous tone.

  “He’d have taken you . . . and so shall I.”

  His hand gripped her arm, and Sheena screamed. She was lifted in his arms, screaming. Neither her screaming nor her struggles bothered him at all. There was even a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  The Highlander wasted no time. She was thrown atop his horse, and he was behind her in an instant, his arms circling her so she couldn’t move. His arms bound her firmly in front of him as the horse charged into the shallow river, crossing to the south side. Sheena’s boots and long skirt were soaked, but she wasn’t thinking of anything except how distraught her aunt would be. What would she make of Sheena’s disappearance? She would send word home, of course. Poor Niall. Would he think she had run away? And her father? He had denied her his protection, and this had happened because of his decision. He would be so upset! She could find nothing soothing in that thought, however.

  “Where are you taking me?” Sheena shouted over the wind.

  “To my home.”

  “For how long?”

  “Why, forever.”

  Absurd! The Highlander couldn’t just keep her like a stray dog. Was he insane? Keep her forever? Nonsense! It was just boasting. She would find her way back to Aberdeen, or her family would find her. The Highlander couldn’t get away with this. He couldn’t.

  Chapter 10

  THEY had traveled less than a mile when the rain descended, finally, in a fury. The storm felt ominous to Sheena, as if it portended her destiny. As one mile turned into many, that thought haunted her.