His Conquered Bride

by Sassa Daniels

  Chapter Twelve

  As the days passed, Alexander and Ailis fell into an easy routine. Alexander spent his time training with his men, getting to know the people who lived on their lands and working on making improvements to the castle’s outmoded defenses. Ailis, meanwhile, ensured the smooth running of the household and sparred with Edane, who had still not come to accept that she was no longer in charge.

  The passion between Ailis and her husband showed no signs of waning and at every opportunity, they stole time to be alone, without the prying eyes of the castle’s many inhabitants upon them. It was quite shameless, Ailis thought with a blush, the way Alexander would simply take what he wanted from her, whenever he wanted. Without warning, he would push her up against a wall, or bend her over a table and fuck her until she came apart in his arms.

  Wincing as her comb tangled in her unruly hair, she looked over to where Alexander was dressing for the day. She watched as he fastened his finest plaid with a silver clasp and tied a heavy leather belt around his waist. He looked as though he was going somewhere special and Ailis realized that he intended to show face at the market, so everyone would know who was in charge here now. Today was the day when people came from far and wide to peddle their wares in the township of Inverdonnell, so it was the ideal opportunity to signal that power had switched hands. Ailis had almost forgotten about the market as she was so busy preparing for the great feast to celebrate the union of the de Morays and MacDonnells.

  “You’re going to the market?” she asked Alexander. Ailis had always loved visiting the market. She enjoyed being among the crowds of people, visiting the street stalls and watching the entertainments.

  “Aye.”

  “It’ll be busy, no doubt.”

  Ailis grimaced as she finally managed to tug the comb through her hair. Alexander looked at her and simply nodded in response to her comment.

  “The market is such fun,” Ailis said, hoping that her husband would take the hint.

  “Aye, it’ll be a good one.”

  Ailis threw her comb across the room in exasperation, but Alexander didn’t even seem to notice. Damn the man! He was supposed to invite her to accompany him. Huffing loudly, she turned away.

  “Does something ail you, lass?” Alexander asked as he came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “No,” Ailis responded petulantly, “nothing ails me.”

  “So, it’s not that you would like to go to the market?”

  “No.” Ailis stubbornly refused to take the opening to ask him to bring her along.

  “Pity, I was about to invite you to come with me.” He started to walk toward the door. “But, if you’re not keen.”

  “But I am, my lord,” Ailis interrupted. Alexander stopped in his tracks, so she got up and ran to him. “I would like to come, if you’ll have me.”

  “Aye, lass. It would be an honor to have you by my side.”

  Hearing his words, Ailis practically bounced up and down with delight. Since Gregor abandoned the castle, she hadn’t been able to go to town. There hadn’t been enough men to spare some to accompany her. With this never-ending conflict between the Scottish and English kings bringing battle to the whole country, Niall had decreed that the land was not safe for a woman to travel alone.

  “May I bring Ruaridh?” she asked, thinking how much her wee brother would enjoy being in the thick of things. “There may be minstrels playing.”

  “Aye, lass, bring the lad as well.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Ailis stood on the tips of her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before running from the room to go and fetch Ruaridh. She was thrilled that Alexander had allowed her to bring her brother. It would be a chance to demonstrate the family unity their clan would expect to see. A cynical voice inside Ailis’ head wondered if that was Alexander’s real motivation behind inviting her and Ruaridh to go with him. She brushed off the thought, deciding that his reasons were unimportant. They were going to have fun, and that was all that mattered.

  * * *

  A sunny day with little prospect of rain brought people to market in Inverdonnell in droves. The small town’s market square was filled with craftsmen and merchants plying their trade and customers willing to spend what coin they had on cloth, livestock, ale, and more. The air was filled with the scent of food being cooked and although the drink was flowing freely, the atmosphere was good-natured. There was little rowdiness for the town sheriff’s men to deal with.

  Alexander watched approvingly as Ailis made her way through the crowds, greeting everyone with the same warmth whether they were a member of her own clan or not. Everybody seemed to know who she was and to respect her greatly. If she were a man, she would have made a popular ruler. Then again, if she were a man, the king would have ordered Alexander to kill her, not wed her and he would have done as commanded without hesitation.

  That he had been given no choice but to marry Ailis still chafed a little but, with each passing day, his resentment faded. She was a fine lass and Alexander had no doubt that together they would raise magnificent warrior sons to carry on his name and honor the de Moray legacy. There was still a lot of fire in Ailis—he was under no illusion that it had been extinguished—but he found that he enjoyed her occasional flashes of temper. Life would be incredibly dull if he’d been bound for eternity to a completely docile woman.

  “Look, the mummers are about to begin,” Ailis said enthusiastically.

  “Can we go and watch them?” Ruaridh’s little face lit up. “Please?”

  Alexander had no great love of the entertainments laid on by these traveling players. In fact, he was deeply suspicious of these bands of men who traveled unchecked back and forth across the border with England. For all he knew, there might be spies in their midst. Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the matching expressions of hope on the faces of his wife and her younger brother.

  “You go ahead,” he told them. “I’ll join you later.”

  Ailis smiled and grabbed Ruaridh’s hand. Together, they hurried off toward the edge of the square where the mummers had set up the wagon that would double as their stage. Alexander watched them go, making sure that two of his men were following at a discreet distance to ensure their welfare. He was quite sure that Ailis wouldn’t attempt to run from him again, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get herself into some bother if he didn’t have someone looking out for her at all times.

  Satisfied that his wife was in safe hands, he turned to follow the unmistakable scent of wild boar cooking on a spit. He had barely taken two steps before a light tap on the shoulder brought him to a halt. He turned, expecting to find that Ailis had run after him for some reason but, instead, he found Edith, one of the whores who followed the king’s army, standing there.

  “Edith,” he greeted her with surprise. The last he had heard of her, she’d been heading south with the army. He had no idea what had brought her to his territory, but unless she’d come here to cause trouble, he bore her no ill will.

  “My lord.” She curtsied awkwardly, and it was only as she moved that he noticed the rather large protrusion in her belly.

  “You are with child,” he observed, and a sinking feeling tugged at his gut. “I hope you are not about to suggest it’s mine.”

  Edith may have been one of his favorite whores, but he would not tolerate her trying to pin the blame for this on him. He had not touched her, or any other woman, since the king delivered the news to him that he was to marry Ailis.

  “No, my lord, but I wish it was,” Edith said with a sigh. “The father might be any of a dozen men.”

  A tear leaked from the corner of Edith’s eye and Alexander couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the lass. A whore with some soldier’s bastard in her belly was not going to be able to secure the favor of a man who would take care of her. It occurred to him for the first time, how unfair life could be for a woman like Edith.

  “Don’t worry, lass.” Alexander found him
self experiencing a new sensation—compassion. Before marrying Ailis, he would not have given a second thought to Edith’s plight but a little of his wife’s concern for others must be rubbing off on him because he knew he couldn’t simply ignore the problem, most likely created by one of his men. “There’s a great feast at the castle tomorrow night. Come along and I’ll see you’re taken care of.”

  “Oh, thank you, my lord,” Edith cried. She threw her arms around his neck and started to kiss the side of his face. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “No need for all that, woman,” Alexander said as he took her by the shoulders and moved her back an arm’s length from him. The last thing he needed was for anyone to witness such an enthusiastic display of affection. If word got back to Ailis, he doubted she would take the news of another woman hugging him in the street well. For some reason, the idea that she might be hurt by it bothered Alexander. He nodded to Edith to signal that their conversation was over, and quickly walked away. Tomorrow, he would find one of his men to take responsibility for Edith. He would do what he could for her, then get her as far from here as possible and Ailis would never need know that he’d been helping the woman who’d once been his favorite whore.

  * * *

  Ailis put her hands on Ruaridh’s shoulders to try to keep him from bouncing up and down. His excitement was palpable, and she felt a similar sense of anticipation coming from the crowd around her. It was so rare for people to have the chance to enjoy entertainments like this and the distraction from their daily toil was always greeted with enthusiasm. She knew that she was more fortunate than most. Living a life of wealth and privilege behind castle walls, she’d heard many talented musicians play and the finest bards had recited poetry in the Great Hall. Still, she enjoyed the mummers’ plays. It was fun to be spirited away to a make-believe world where brave knights slew dragons to win the hands of fair maidens.

  As the first of the performers appeared—a boy dressed as a comely young woman—the crowd roared its appreciation. Ailis looked over her shoulder in search of Alexander. He hadn’t seemed keen on the idea of watching the performers, but she didn’t want him to miss out. The mummers only traveled to this part of the country once or twice a year, on the busiest market days. Raising herself up on her tiptoes, she scanned the crowd for some sign of her husband. Eventually, she spotted him, off in the distance. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, and then fell as she saw a strange woman throwing her arms around him. An uncomfortable prickling of jealousy ran through her. Leaving Ruaridh to watch the show, she edged through the crowd for a better look at who Alexander was speaking to.

  When she got a bit closer, she could see that the woman Alexander was with was a pretty young blonde. She felt a strange sense of relief as she watched her husband walking away from the woman. That soon dissipated as Ailis spotted the obvious signs of the fair-haired woman’s pregnancy. She felt a cold chill sweep through her entire body. Could the child be Alexander’s? She realized he had been no saint before he married her, but still the thought that he might have bastard children littered throughout Scotland disappointed her.

  Knowing there was little she could do about the situation, Ailis turned and made her way back to where she’d left Ruaridh. She reached the front of the group of spectators who were enjoying the antics of the performers, but her brother was not where she’d left him. Ailis cursed under her breath. She should have known that the inquisitive little boy would not have been able to resist wandering off to explore.

  Calling his name seemed pointless against the noise the acting troupe were making and the roars of the crowd, but she yelled out anyway as she pushed through the gathered audience in search of her brother. Her heart raced as panic took hold of her. He was just a little boy and she’d left him alone amidst strangers because she was jealous about her husband’s interactions with some woman.

  Just as she was on the verge of hysteria, she spotted Ruaridh on the other side of the square. He was talking to some man she didn’t recognize, but he seemed to be in no immediate danger. In fact, the little wretch was laughing. Unsure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or box his ears, she hurried toward him.

  “Ruaridh MacDonnell!” she said in a stern voice.

  As her brother turned to her, the fair-haired man he was with leaned down and whispered something to him. Ruaridh nodded his head in response and Ailis felt a flicker of concern. What were they talking about that was so private?

  “Lady Ailis.” The stranger bowed politely, but the look in his eyes held a hint of disdain.

  “Who are you?” Ailis demanded.

  “Just a friend of the family, my lady,” he responded, before turning and quickly walking away.

  “Who was that man, Ruaridh?” Ailis asked as the stranger ducked down an alleyway.

  “Connor.”

  “I don’t believe I know him.” Her brow furrowed in suspicion. “What did he want?”

  Ruaridh shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the ground. Ailis knew her brother well enough to know when he was hiding something. She was about to demand to know what it was but the sound of a man clearing his throat distracted her. She turned to find Iain de Moray standing there. As usual, he wore a glowering expression on his face and Ailis had to suppress a shudder.

  “Is all well, sister?” he enquired, his lips curling in distaste as he addressed her in that affectionate manner.

  “Aye,” Ailis replied.

  “Who was that man?”

  “Just a stranger who wished to pay his respects,” Ailis responded.

  “Is that so?”

  Iain gave her a glare that would make the devil himself quake and Ailis knew he didn’t believe her. The truth of it was that she had no idea who the man was—he hadn’t looked familiar—but she doubted she would be able to convince her intimidating brother-in-law.

  “I know nothing about the man,” Ailis stated firmly.

  “You don’t know what his business here was?”

  “No.” Ailis shook her head for emphasis.

  “In that case, perhaps you should return to the entertainments.”

  It may have been worded as a suggestion, but there was no doubt in Ailis’ mind that he had issued a command. She didn’t like that one bit.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You came to watch the play, so I suggest you get your scrawny wee arse back over there and watch it.”

  Ailis gasped in shock, not so much at being spoken to in that manner, but at the contempt on Iain’s face.

  “I…”

  “Now, my lady.”

  She narrowed her eyes but made no protest as Iain took a firm grasp of her arm and steered her and Ruaridh back to watch the play. It seemed it was fine for Alexander to wander as he pleased and to speak to anyone he wished, but she was clearly not to be allowed the same freedom. It didn’t surprise her, but still she couldn’t help but grind her teeth in irritation as they walked back to stand with the rest of those gathered to watch the performance. As they stopped, Iain bent and spoke quietly so only she could hear.

  “If you were mine to deal with, I’d chain you to the bed until you gave me an heir and then ship your treacherous MacDonnell arse to a convent in France,” Iain said, his tone harsh. “Or perhaps I’d save myself the bother and slit that pretty little throat of yours right now.”

  “Well, I’m grateful I’m not yours to deal with,” Ailis hissed back at him. “Alexander would never…”

  “You have no idea what my brother would do,” Iain interrupted, “but mark my words, lady. If you cross him, you’ll soon find out.”

  Ailis felt a shudder go through her and was grateful that Iain had walked off, so he didn’t see how much he scared her. A man like that probably enjoyed terrorizing innocent women. She looked to her brother, who was too absorbed in watching the knight and the dragon prancing about in mock battle to realize anything was amiss. Wiping a tear from her eye, Ailis tried to focus on the spectacle in front of her. It was no use. Her mind was
racing as she tried to work out why Iain de Moray saw her as a threat. As she fought to contain the silent sobs that shook her shoulders, she wished she’d stayed at home today. She’d been so excited about coming to market and mingling with people, but that swine Iain had ruined it for her. She hoped he would leave to return to the king’s service soon because, as long as her brother-in-law was at Castle Donnell, she knew she would not rest easy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You look beautiful.”

  Ailis turned to Lady Margaret and smiled in response to the compliment. She had to admit that the seamstress whose services she’d so reluctantly accepted had created a very fine garment. Made of the dark green brocade with gold fleur-de-lis pattern that she’d picked out, the wide sleeves were trimmed with ermine. For the first time in her life, Ailis knew what it felt like to wear clothes fit for a lady of her station.

  “I am glad you talked me into having something special made, Maggie. These French styles are so pretty.”

  “It’s too low cut.” The comment, accompanied by a loud sniff of disapproval, came from Edane.

  Ailis looked down to where the gentle swell of her bosom peeped out above the rounded neckline and she decided that she really didn’t mind the cut being a little more daring than anything she’d worn before. Surely, as the laird’s wife, she should set the fashions, not follow them.

  “And as for your hair,” her sister-in-law continued, “how can you wear it like that? It’s indecent.”

  “My hair is covered.” Ailis wore a gauzy kerchief of the finest gold thread to cover her long black tresses. It was held in place by an ornate circlet of gold and although it might not be quite as elaborate as Edane’s headdress, Ailis thought it complemented her outfit well. Although Alexander preferred her to leave her hair uncovered, tonight was a formal occasion. The feast to celebrate their marriage was her first big test as lady of the household and she didn’t want to put a foot wrong. So, she decided to follow the convention that a married woman should cover her hair.