Timeless Tales of Honor

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Ye were asleep? Was it late at night then?”

  She thought it odd to ask what time it might have been. “Yes. It was long after the evening meal had been cleared and the kitchen put back into order.”

  “Did ye know why the earl asked for ye?” Duncan asked.

  “Fairly certain.” Her stomach felt heavy, as if she had swallowed a bucketful of rocks. “The earl had a reputation about him.” She cast her eyes to the floor. “But I truly hoped it would be for another reason. Though I could not think of one.”

  He gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. It wasn’t any easier for him to ask for the details of that night than it was for her to give them. The only comfort he had was in his firm belief that the earl now burned in hell.

  A long moment passed before Aishlinn could lift her eyes to him again. “I would not bed him,” she said firmly. “That is why he hit me. Again and again and again he hit me. Every time I told him ‘nay’, he would slap me. When I lay on the floor he kicked me. When I still said nay, he beat me about my back and legs with his belt.” Her back and legs began to ache at the memory and caused her to shift uncomfortably in her chair. She swallowed hard to keep the tears from coming, deciding she had cried far too many tears of late.

  “I have never been with a man that way and I was not going to do such a thing with the likes of him!” Her voice was beginning to grow angry. “I swore that I would die first before I let him do such a thing. But when he pulled the dagger out and held it to my throat, I could no longer fight. I hurt so badly, Duncan. I could barely see and it was painful to breathe.”

  The tears she had tried valiantly to hold back finally escaped. They traveled down her cheeks and fell from her chin. “I have never been more frightened in my life, Duncan. He cut my dress and pulled it from me.” More tears fell. “He stank of wine and onions and he had not bathed. He was forcing himself upon me, tearing at my shift.” The rocks in her stomach had turned to boulders.

  Duncan’s scowl deepened as she recounted what had happened. He swore that had she not killed the earl he would have an army of men swarming Firth at this very moment. “I’m sorry, Aishlinn.” He couldn’t find the right words to express what he truly thought at the moment.

  Using the end of her shawl she wiped the tears from her face. “He was grabbing at me, pulling my shift up. That’s when I saw the dagger.”

  Duncan raised a curious brow. Was there a possibility that she had stabbed him before he had time to rape her?

  “I could not let him do that which he wanted, Duncan. He was so angry and I feared that when he was finished, because I had put up such a fight, he would kill me. So I picked up the dagger and I plunged it into his back. He had been biting me and would not let go, so I pulled the dagger out and stabbed him again.” She was far too embarrassed to tell him exactly where the earl’s teeth had been when she stabbed him. It was far too vulgar a thing to say out loud.

  The anguish in her eyes was more than he could stand. He stood and pulled her into his arms while her body shook from crying. Duncan felt helpless and angry. Helpless because that was often how he felt when in the presence of a crying lass, and angry because he could not take the pain from her heart or the memories from her mind.

  “I’m sorry to make ye relive it, lass. There are many questions that have gone unanswered.” He smoothed his hands over her hair.

  He let her cry it out for a while before finally setting her back upon the chair. “Lass, how did ye escape Castle Firth?”

  “Baltair helped me. After I stabbed the earl, I crawled from under him and fled the room. There was a guard in the hallway, but he was asleep. I think from too much ale. When I came to the bottom of the stairs, Baltair took hold of me. He led me through secret corridors and to a horse. He told me he was sorry for taking me to the earl. Said he had a daughter my age.” She wiped her face again.

  “He’s the one that told me to come to the Highlands. He said the Highlanders would help me. I wanted to flee to London because I felt it was bigger and would be easier to hide. But Baltair said nay, go to Scotland.”

  Duncan felt a sense of hope come to him then. If this Baltair was truly remorseful for taking Aishlinn to the earl, and then to help her escape, there was a possibility he lied to keep the English from looking for her. He felt he would owe a lifetime of debt and gratitude to the man.

  “Aishlinn,” he said, “the scouts have returned, lass.”

  “Are they well?” she asked with much concern in her voice. “They’ve not been injured have they?” While she had not had the opportunity to get to know those men who had gone in search of the English, she still felt a great sense of gratitude towards them.

  Her next thought was that the English had followed them and were now waiting outside the castle walls for her head. “Are the English here?”

  Duncan held his hands up to stop her. “Lass, the men are well. No one has been injured and the English are no’ here.”

  He smiled as she sank into the chair relieved with his news. “’Tis why I had to ask ye of that night, lass. Gowan, Tall Thomas, Findley and Richard scouted all the territory. It seems the English do no’ look for ye.” He let the news sink in.

  “I believe we may owe it to Baltair that we do no’ have a swarm of English soldiers ready to ram the walls for ye,” Duncan said with a smile. “How well did ye know the man?” he asked.

  “Only by his name. We never spent much time together. I only saw him when he came to the kitchens for a meal.” Her brow creased, as she thought of it further. Why had Baltair risked his own life to save hers?

  Duncan had no idea why Baltair had helped Aishlinn and he doubted he would ever learn the reason. “Now,” Duncan said slapping his hands upon his knees before standing. “I’ve work to see to,” he told her. “I am glad that ye’re doing well, Aishlinn.”

  Aishlinn stood and from the expression on her face, he could tell there was something on her mind. “What is it, lass?” he asked.

  “What of me now?” she said quietly. “If the English are not looking for me, what shall I do? Where do I go?” She felt completely lost. Terrified of the English soldiers all these many days, she had made no plans for her future other than surviving it.

  Duncan smiled. “This is yer home lass, at least as far as I am concerned. We’ll no’ worry over anythin’ else until Angus returns. For now, I wish ye to consider this,” he said spreading his arms out wide, “yer home.”

  He suppressed the urge to pull her into his arms again.

  “Thank you Duncan,” she whispered softly. “Shall I move to the maids chambers?” she asked him, “I’m ready to begin earning my keep.”

  Duncan needed no time to think on it. “Ye are a guest in this castle until Angus says otherwise. When he returns, he’ll decide what tasks to give to ye. For now, ye’ll stay here, in this room.”

  Had he admitted to it, which he would not do unless under direct threat of death, he enjoyed knowing she was but a few steps from his own room.

  When he had seen her face for the first time, free of the bruises, his heart had skipped a beat or two or ten. For the life of him he could not figure out where these blasted thoughts were coming from. He did not like the idea of her moving below stairs and sleeping in the solar with the other women. He liked the idea of having her near.

  “Aishlinn, will ye sit with me at the evening meal this night?” The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them. Although he would very much enjoy having her sitting next to him at the evening meal, he was not sure if he would be able to keep his hands to himself.

  “In the gathering room? With everyone?” she asked. She had never attended an evening meal as a guest before. A servant she was and nothing more. Her meals were always eaten in the kitchens, never with the powerful or privileged.

  Duncan laughed at her. “Of course, in the gatherin’ room with everyone,” he said. She was a perplexing thing.

  Aishlinn attempted to speak, stopped and tried again
with no success. She searched for a way to word her question without appearing daft. “As a guest?” she asked him.

  “Aye. As my guest.” He was puzzled by her question. “What be the matter lass?” he asked her.

  She blew out the deep breath she had been holding. “Please do not think me ungrateful Duncan, for you know that I truly am,” she began. “But I’ve never been a guest to an evening meal. I’m a servant, a scullery maid. I’m not used to such things.” A wave of red came to her skin and Duncan found that he rather liked the fact that she was painfully innocent.

  “And?” he said, as he crossed his arms over his chest and silently cursed the English. The manner in which they treated the poor was shameful.

  Her skin grew more crimson as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve no clothes!” she blurted out. “I have the shift Bree has given me and nothing else. I know not what happened to my dress, the one I was wearing when you found me. Do you have it? Please say you do so that I can mend it before the evening meal!”

  More embarrassment came to her when she saw his scowl deepen as his eyes turned to black slits. She took the scowl to mean that her worn and tattered dress was not the proper thing to wear for such an occasion. She felt her heart fall to her toes.

  “I’m sorry Duncan,” she said, staring at her bare feet that instantly reminded her that she did not even own a pair of shoes. “I’ll eat in the kitchens. It would probably be more proper for me to do so anyway.”

  She cursed her own heart for allowing it to let her think for even the briefest of moments that she was worthy of dining in the gathering room as a guest.

  Damn! She had a way of pulling at his heart! She’d lived a life he could not imagine and had been through one hellish ordeal the past weeks. Duncan knew all too well how she must be feeling at the moment. When he had come here as a boy, he had been in the same predicament. Not a damn thing to her name. Not even a stitch of clothing to call her own.

  He pulled her chin up with his fingertips, forcing her to look at him. He had to tamp down the lust that shot up in his belly when he looked into those deep green eyes.

  “Lass, yer dress was too ruined to be saved and it was thrown away.” He could see a fire begin to form in her eyes as she began to protest. “Ye’ve a new life here, Aishlinn. One I’m sure will take some gettin’ used to. I’ll see to it that ye have a suitable dress to wear. And I’ll no’ have ye argue that ye’ll no’ go.”

  Aishlinn began to protest but stopped when the scowl came back to his face. She was prepared to absolutely insist that she knew her true station in life and it did not involve grand meals in the gathering room.

  “I’ll no’ hear anymore on the matter,” he told her firmly. ’Twas then that her deep green eyes, brimming with tears, melted his heart like butter left in the sun. “’Twould be my great honor and privilege to have ye sit with me this night, Aishlinn.”

  She could only nod her head, for his blue eyes were quite penetrating. And the way her skin felt, as if it were on fire, was the most peculiar sensation she had ever felt. She supposed it would do her no good to argue. But tomorrow she would insist that things be put to normal, with her below stairs where she belonged.

  “I’ll send Bree in to help ye, lass,” he said before turning and leaving the room. For the life of her she could not figure out why her legs shook and her heart skipped several beats as she watched him leave.

  * * *

  Bree returned to Aishlinn’s room as she had promised, her arms heavy with many dresses. She laid them upon the bed and began to hold each one up, twisting her lips, studying each one closely.

  “These are some of Bridget’s old dresses,” she said, tossing aside a beautiful red gown. “Bridget is me older sister, well one of my foster sisters. Mum and dad have helped to raise many. She’s married now and has a bairn. Bridgett lives in Ireland -- she married an Irishman! I ken she’ll not mind ye wearing them!” She was prattling on so quickly that Aishlinn was having a difficult time keeping up and wondered from where on earth this girl drew her energy!

  Aishlinn came to stand beside the bed and looked at the dresses. They were indeed fine and magnificent gowns of all colors and styles. Bree cried with glee when she found the one she’d been searching for.

  “’Tis the one ye should wear!” she said as she pulled a spectacular deep purple gown from the pile. Made of very expensive silk with fine gold braiding around the collar and the sleeves, Aishlinn thought it far too grand and she could not imagine wearing it.

  Holding up the dress next to Aishlinn, Bree said, “Aye, this is definitely the one. It brings out the green of yer eyes!” Bree was far more excited about the notion than Aishlinn happened to be.

  “I could not wear something so fine Bree!” Aishlinn protested. “Perhaps you have something a little more plain?” Plain girls, she thought to herself, do not wear such things and only the well-to-do and royalty wore silk! Peasants were relegated to wool or linen.

  “Don’t be silly lass! Of course ye can wear it. Ye must wear it!” she smiled brightly. “The lads will be tripping over their tongues when they catch site of ye in this!” she giggled.

  Back and forth they went with Bree insisting she wear the gown and Aishlinn insisting she shouldn’t. Bree finally gave up and with a heavy sigh laid the dress upon the bed and walked out of the room. Aishlinn sank onto the stool relieved that Bree was gone. She hoped that she would return with a dress more fitting of Aishlinn’s standing in life.

  Moments later Aishlinn looked up to find Duncan standing in the doorway. “What’s this I hear about ye no’ wantin’ to wear a beautiful gown?” He was smiling. Aishlinn was trying to catch her breath as she sat frozen on the stool. His smile had effect on her that she could not understand.

  Duncan walked to the bed, picked up the purple gown and examined it closely. “Is the dress no’ to yer likin’?” he asked.

  “Nay! It’s a fine dress. I’ve never seen one more beautiful,” she told him.

  “Then what be the problem?” he asked as he walked towards her. Aishlinn stood, wishing she could run and hide, but he was blocking the door. Why must he have that infernal smile upon his face?

  When she did not answer, he walked closer to her. “Why will ye no’ wear it?”

  Aishlinn swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “It is a fine dress.”

  “Aye, that it is.” He took another step closer as Aishlinn took another back.

  “It is a fine dress.” She knew not what else to say at the moment. There was something about his smile that made her insides feel as though she had cat o’mountains wrestling inside it. It apparently had an effect on her mouth as well, for she was unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence that would make any sense.

  “Ya said that.” He was still smiling and continued to step towards her. Soon, she felt the wall against her back; she was trapped.

  “Duncan,” she managed to whisper. Her mouth had gone completely dry.

  “Aye?” he said as he cocked an eyebrow. He stood so close that she could feel his warm breath upon her face.

  While she rather enjoyed having him so near, there was a large part of her that wished he wasn’t. His deep blue eyes and smile made it nearly impossible to breathe. “I’d not be deserving of wearing such a fine gown.”

  His brow furrowed. “What do ye mean no’ deservin’?”

  “I’m not meant to wear such grand things, Duncan.” She took a very deep breath. “I’m a plain girl and I would look silly wearing such a thing.”

  His scowl deepened. “Ye be far from plain lass. And I’ll no’ have ye saying yer plain again.”

  The lass had no idea just how beautiful she truly was. He cursed the fool that had convinced her otherwise. His voice and stance softened when he saw the fearful look in her eyes. “I think ye’d look beautiful in such a gown.”

  Aishlinn shook her head. She knew he was just being kind and meant not what he was saying. She began to protest f
urther when he came so close to her that he was close enough to kiss. She pushed the thought away as far as she could. It was a ridiculous notion.

  “It would make me very happy to see ye in it,” he told her as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Would ye wear it for me, lass?”

  His voice was as smooth as the silk dress he wanted her to wear. “I believe it would also make the chief’s daughter happy as well.”

  She could not think with him this close. What had he said? “Chief’s daughter?” She hadn’t a clue what he spoke of.

  “Bree. She be the chief’s daughter,” he told her.

  “She’s the chief’s daughter?” Aishlinn repeated before it finally sunk in. “Bree is the chief’s daughter?” She was shocked to hear it. Never in the past days had Bree mentioned who her father was.

  “Aye, that she is.” He had not moved and his smile had grown brighter. He put his hand on the wall over her head as he stared down at her.

  She wanted to crawl away. As far as Aishlinn could tell, the chief and his family were the equivalent of English royalty! And she had allowed the chief’s daughter to see her unclothed and had even allowed her to wash her hair, to feed her and help her to the privy! Aishlinn felt humiliated and embarrassed.

  “What be the matter, lass?” Duncan asked, still holding that wry smile upon those full lips.

  “She helped me to bathe!” His blank stare told her he did not comprehend the significance of the matter. “She’s the chief’s daughter and she helped me to bathe! She combed my hair! She brought me meals! I should be the one tending to her!” She felt like such a fool.

  “And if she be the chief’s daughter and your sister, that makes you the chief’s son!”

  “Aye, it does. He be my foster father. I’m one among many the man has helped to raise.”

  Aishlinn was horrified and embarrassed. She had nearly kissed the chief’s son! Foster or not, it would have been a most terrible temptation to succumb to.