An English Bride in Scotland

by Lynsay Sands

  She didn't comment and simply continued down the stairs as Marach rushed to meet them.

  "I thought ye wanted a bath?" he asked with a frown.

  "She's wanting confessing first," Gilly said for her.

  "Now?" Marach asked with a frown. "But I've just told the maids to fetch ye a bath."

  "Perfect," Annabel said lightly as she headed across the great hall. "First a clean soul and then a clean body. Will that not be nice?"

  Marach muttered something under his breath about the vagaries of women, but fell into step beside Gilly at her heels and followed.

  "Lady MacKay," the priest greeted her with obvious surprise when Annabel led the men into the chapel moments later. If he was surprised at her returning, she was a little surprised at being called Lady MacKay. It was a new title and he was the first to address her so, but she decided she liked it. "Good morn again, Father . . ." Annabel paused uncertainly, realizing with some shame that she did not even know the priest's name. She hadn't even managed to make it to mass until that morning. The abbess would have fits if she heard about that.

  "Gibson," the priest said helpfully.

  "Gibson." Annabel smiled widely at the man. "You are English?"

  "Aye." He nodded. "Fortunately the MacKays do not hold that against me."

  Annabel grinned at the light words, and then said, "I have come for confession."

  "Of course," the man said, immediately becoming solemn and serious.

  "Thank you," Annabel said and then turned to eye Marach and Gilly with arched eyebrows.

  The men hesitated, glanced at each other and then backed away to give her some semblance of privacy, but Annabel simply scowled at them. They moved a couple more feet back, and then all the way to the door when she simply continued to glare at them.

  "Can you hear me?" Annabel asked solemnly.

  When both men nodded, Annabel turned to Father Gibson and said with regret, "I guess I shall have to bypass confession for now, Father. I apologize. But thank you for--"

  "Oh, no, no, no," he interrupted and started toward the men, waving them away. "Come now. Off with you. Lady MacKay deserves some privacy for her confession. You shall have to wait outside."

  "But we're no' to leave her alone, Father," Marach protested, even as he backed to the door. "She was attacked yesterday in the woods and we're to--"

  "Well, no one is going to attack her here. She is perfectly safe in the chapel. You can wait outside until she comes out," Father Gibson insisted.

  "But--" Gilly tried.

  "Out," the priest repeated, and the two men backed reluctantly out into the hall.

  "We'll be right outside this door," Gilly said.

  "Yes, yes," Father Gibson said impatiently and then closed the door in his face. Turning, he smiled at her with satisfaction and walked back, saying, "There. We are all set now. Would you like to--"

  "I am sorry, Father, but I really do not have a confession," Annabel interrupted quietly, taking his arm to urge him as far away from the door as she could. Pausing then, she frowned and said, "Although I suppose I should confess that I lied about confessing."

  "What?" Father Gibson said with bewilderment.

  Annabel patted his arm and explained, "You see, I am chatelaine now."

  "Aye, of course you are, my lady," he agreed.

  "And part of my responsibilities is to oversee the spinner, weaver and embroiderer here. Only there are none."

  "Aye, I know," Father Gibson said sadly, peering down at his somewhat frayed vestments. " 'Twas a sad day indeed when we lost Miriam and her brood."

  Annabel nodded solemnly, but inside she was smiling. The man had just told her how to get him to agree with her plan. "Well, the good news is that I hope to replace them all, and the better news is that I understand there is a woman in the village who is excellent with a needle."

  "Is there?" he asked with interest.

  "Aye, and I was hoping to slip down to the village and have a word with her, to convince her to come work in the castle. It would be the first step in setting things to right in the matter of clothing here. The first step toward being able to have you made some fine new vestments."

  "Oh, that would be lovely. It has been such a trial this last year."

  "Aye," Annabel agreed, and then heaved out a little sigh and said, "Sadly, my husband has told Gilly and Marach not to let me out of the keep because of a couple trifling little incidents the past two days."

  "Oh yes, I did hear about the attacks, my lady." Father Gibson patted her arm and shook his head. "I was not prying, of course, but did wonder why you had not yet attended mass since arriving and so I asked around and was most distressed to hear about the attacks on your person."

  "Aye, it was most unfortunate that I was forced to miss mass," Annabel murmured, thankful that whoever had told him the tales had somehow made it sound as if she'd missed mass both days because of the attacks when the truth was she'd slept through the first and had been cleaning up dog dung during the second. Neither was a very good excuse to miss mass and she should be ashamed of herself, especially when she'd spent the better part of her life in an abbey where they held seven services a day starting at two o'clock in the morning. Honestly, it had been hard to get anything done when they were constantly forced to stop for this service or that one. Annabel had always been glad to help out in the stables because of that. You simply couldn't leave an ailing animal to attend service and she'd missed several over the years thanks to that excuse.

  "Just as distressing is the fact that those attacks have now made my husband overly cautious to the point that it is interfering with my ability to go to the village and convince this woman to come work for us," Annabel said sadly.

  "Oh, aye, that is distressing," Father Gibson said unhappily. "Very unfortunate indeed."

  "Aye." Annabel nodded. "Then you will help me?"

  Father Gibson blinked with confusion, and then frowned. "Help you with what exactly, my lady?"

  "Well, nothing really," she said with a smile. "You need only stand here and say nothing while I slip away to the stables, fetch my mare and ride out to the village."

  "Oh," he said, still frowning, and then his expression filled with realization. "Oh! You mean to let the men think you are in here confessing and--Oh nay, I could not possibly."

  "Oh, but Father, they would never know," Annabel assured him.

  "What if something befell you? What if you were attacked again? Nay, I could not possibly be a party to putting you in harm's way." He shook his head firmly.

  "I would ride quickly, and Jasper will accompany me," Annabel argued, the words drawing the priest's attention to the dog at her feet.

  He scowled as if just having noticed the animal was in his chapel, and then turned his attention to her and said firmly, "My lady, you presently have two very unattractive bruises on your face from your previous encounters with your attacker. I will not risk being responsible for a third. The next one might kill you."

  Annabel tapped one foot with exasperation as she thought, and then peered at him consideringly. "What if you only waited until I fetched my mare and started out of the stables with her, and then went to tell Gilly and Marach?" When he started to shake his head, she rushed on, "They would hurry after me and I would be sure to allow them to catch up enough that I was in their line of sight all the way to the village. That way I could speak with the woman and be safe at the same time."

  Father Gibson frowned, but at least he was no longer shaking his head.

  "Your fine, new, rich vestments would be the first thing I ordered done," she wheedled. "Even before I had gowns made for myself and surely you have heard I arrived without anything but the gown on my back."

  "Aye. Ross confessed that he was so eager to get you away from your horrid parents that he did not even allow you time to pack your things," Father Gibson murmured.

  "Did he?" Annabel asked. She hadn't realized that was the reason he'd rushed her away from Waverly. Giorsal had said
Ross had seen her welts and thought her parents beat her. Apparently, that was why he'd rushed her off so abruptly. The man was just such a surprise at times. Truly, he showed her more care and concern than anyone previously in her life. She was so lucky to--

  "Very well," Father Gibson said suddenly. "I shall watch you to the stables. But the moment you come out with your horse I am fetching Gilly and Marach and telling them you slipped out while my back was turned and when I looked about for you, I spotted you on horseback in the bailey."

  "Thank you," Annabel said, squeezing his hands.

  Father Gibson grunted unhappily, and frowned as he walked her to the chapel door leading into the bailey. He caught her arm there and muttered, "Just promise me you shall wait for the men before riding far."

  "I promise," she assured him.

  "And keep them within sight all the way there," he added.

  "Aye." She squeezed his hands again. " 'Twill be all right. I promise."

  "I will pray for you," Father Gibson announced.

  Recognizing the doubt entering his expression, Annabel simply nodded and slipped out of the chapel, afraid if she waited any longer or said anything else, he would change his mind. She crossed to the stables at a dead run. She was a bit surprised that she made it without being stopped or hearing shouts or the sound of running feet behind her. Even so, she didn't slow but ran straight to the stall holding her mare before even glancing around to see who was about. She was a bit shocked not to have the stable master rushing her way to try to thwart her plan, but the man was nowhere in evidence. In fact, no one was. The stables were empty.

  Glad for this good luck, Annabel quickly opened the stall and led her mare out. She glanced around then, relieved when she spotted a stool near the back of the stables. Leading her horse to it, Annabel used it to mount her mare, then clucked her tongue against her cheek and urged the animal to move.

  Annabel glanced toward the chapel door as she rode out of the stables. She was just in time to see Father Gibson whirl away and hurry out of sight. Off to warn Marach and Gilly, she knew, and turned her mare toward the barbican and drawbridge, urging her to a run.

  The moment she was across the drawbridge, Annabel brought her mare down to a trot, though, and spent as much time looking behind her as ahead. She would move slowly until she spotted the men coming after her, partially because she'd promised Father Gibson she would and preferred not to break a promise. The other reason, however, was that the man had scared her with his worries for her well-being. He was right. She had been lucky so far . . . and she might not be so lucky the next time. Annabel had no desire to sustain another injury or die just to gain an embroiderer.

  "I TOLD YE, lad, I've no interest in being clan chief," Fingal said firmly for the fourth time. "I'm an old man. I'm content with me life as it is now without the stress and troubles of being clan chief." "Yer age did no' seem to bother ye when ye tried to make a claim fer the title four years ago," Ross reminded him quietly.

  "Aye, well four years is a long time at me age," Fingal said dryly. "The clan needs a strong young warrior to lead it, and I'm no' young anymore. Hell, I wasn't young even four years ago, but every year that passes, me sight wanes a little more and I've more aches and pains to complain about." He shook his head with disgust and then added, " 'Sides, like I told ye after ye killed Derek, I only stepped forward because the whelp was trying to claim ye were too young fer the position." Disgust covered his features. "As if his being four years older made much difference. He may ha'e been four years older in age, but he was still a lad in every other way. Worse yet, he was a coward, ambushin' ye like he did and then sitting back waiting on his supporters to kill ye." He spat on the ground to show his distaste with the tactics, and then continued, "Nay, Ainsley, Eoghann and I had no real interest in the title. We just drank too much one night and decided to muddy the waters by making a claim to it. We were every one o' us happy to step down when ye settled the matter with Derek."

  Ross sighed. He believed the blacksmith, but wished he didn't. It would have made things much easier if he were the man behind the attacks on Annabel. He could have resolved the matter right now. However, it looked like he still had work to do.

  "Go talk to yer Uncle Eoghann," Fingal suggested. "He'll tell ye the same thing I just did. Too much drink and affront at the whelp's arrogance were the only reasons we stepped up."

  Ross nodded and turned to leave the man's hut, but paused abruptly in the doorway when a horse and rider charged past.

  "Annabel?" he muttered, staring with amazement and then glancing to the dog that now streaked past after her. Jasper.

  "Yer wife, Annabel?" Fingal asked stepping up beside him. Staring after the woman and the horse he commented, "She's a fine rider."

  "Nay, she's not," Ross said with a frown. "At least I didn't think she was."

  "Well, ye thought wrong, lad," Fingal said with amusement as they watched her jump the mare over a tree stump and bring the beast to a shuddering halt in front of a hut. The stop was so abrupt, the mare reared to achieve it, but Annabel stayed in the saddle. Or not a saddle, Ross realized; she kept her seat on the bare back of the beast.

  "Looks like she's going to see Effie," Fingal commented as they watched Annabel slide from the mare's back and hurry to the door of the hut with Jasper on her heels.

  Ross grunted and then turned his head to the left as the sound of pounding hooves drew his gaze to Gilly and Marach charging through the village now in hot pursuit. Scowling, he stepped out into the lane and lifted his hand. The two men immediately slowed and had to rein in nearly as sharply as Annabel to avoid running him down. He couldn't help noticing they did it with a little less finesse than his wife, nearly colliding with each other when their horses reared in protest.

  "She tricked us," Gilly blurted before he could say anything. The man sounded highly offended. "She said she wanted to confess and then slipped out o' the chapel and snuck off."

  "How did she sneak off when ye were no' to leave her side?" Ross asked silkily.

  "Well, the priest made us leave the chapel for her confession, didn't he?" Gilly said helplessly. "Made us wait outside the door in the hall, and then she slipped out the door to the bailey."

  Ross arched an eyebrow and then turned to Marach to see what he had to say for himself.

  The man grimaced and shrugged, his voice admiring when he said, "She's damned clever."

  "Aye, she is," Gilly agreed with some admiration of his own. "And she rides a hell of a lot better than we thought too."

  Marach nodded. "I do no' think e'en you could ha'e got more speed out o' her horse than she did on the way here, m'laird. And brave?" He shook his head. "She set the mare to jumping over things e'en I would no' have dared to jump did we no' have to do it just to keep her in sight." His gaze slid to the mare now nibbling grass in front of the hut and he shook his head again. "Looks like she's getting to speak to the sewing woman after all."

  "The sewing woman?" Ross asked from between gritted teeth. His anger had built with every word out of Gilly and Marach's mouths. He didn't know what angered him more, the fact that his men had failed so spectacularly at keeping Annabel in the keep, the risks she'd taken to get here, or his men's admiration of her for accomplishing it. He wanted to throttle all three of them just then.

  "Effie's a damned fine hand with the sewing needle," Fingal murmured helpfully behind him.

  "Aye, a sewing woman, that's what she said," Gilly told him, not having heard Fingal, his voice had been so low. "M'lady said as how she wanted to talk to a woman in the village about working at the castle sewing or some such thing," Gilly explained and then added quickly, "We told her right then as to how ye said she wasn't to leave the keep . . . and we were firm on the matter. Weren't we?" he asked, glancing to Marach.

  "Firm," Marach agreed, nodding solemnly and then frowned and added. "Then she hurried up to yer bedchamber and locked us out. We told her we were to stay with her at all times, but she said as how she wa
s sure that didn't include while she was bathing."

  "Nay, it doesn't," Ross said succinctly.

  "I suspected as much," Marach said and Ross was sure he didn't imagine the hint of disappointment in the man's voice at this news. Nor did he imagine the disappointment that flashed across Gilly's face. It seemed his men had gone from moaning over the fact that he was marrying an Englishwoman to admiring her and hoping to get a peek at her in the bath. He didn't really blame them--Annabel was beautiful, but he'd be damned if they were going to see just how beautiful.

  "Go back to the castle," Ross said grimly.

  The men exchanged a glance and then Gilly asked, "Are ye sure ye don't want us to wait for yer lady wife? We could see her back and--"

  "Home!" Ross snapped.

  "Aye, m'laird," they murmured together and turned their horses back the way they'd come.

  Ross scowled after them until he became aware of Fingal chuckling behind him. Turning, he glowered at the man. "What is so funny?"

  "Nothing," Fingal said, shaking his head, but then blurted, "It seems to me I remember a situation not dissimilar to this involving yer sister some time back . . . or mayhap it was yer mother," he added thoughtfully, and then shrugged. "Anyway, one o' them was no' supposed to leave the keep for some reason or other, yet came racing down into the village with MacKay men hot on her trail." He pursed his lips and then commented, "That was a sight to see too."

  "Dear God, I've married a lass just like me sister," Ross muttered, closing his eyes at the horror of it all.

  "Or yer mother," Fingal offered helpfully and then burst out in a full belly laugh. Ross did not laugh with him.

  Chapter 11

  "Well, that is fine," Annabel said, beaming with relief at Effie. She could hardly believe it had been so easy. After all the trouble she'd had of late, she'd expected to have to plead and offer the woman the moon and stars to get her to agree to work in the castle. But in the end, Effie had been happy to accept the offer.

  "I can start tomorrow, if ye like," Effie said, beaming as well.

  "Oh, that would be marvelous," Annabel assured her, getting to her feet and patting her leg for Jasper to follow.

  "I'll come up first thing then," Effie announced, sounding happy at the prospect.