by B. J. Scott
“I know you jest, Mairi, and meant no disrespect. But I have to agree with you for the most part,” Laurel said, smiling.
Mairi made a few tucks in the gown, then measured the length. “Are you sure this is what you wish to wear on the day you wed? Even with some mending, it will be too large and far from flattering.”
“Nay, this wasna my first choice. I had hoped to wear my mother’s gown, but since that is no longer possible, it is Deirdre’s wish that I wear hers.” The bitter words caught in her throat. She’d never forgive her cousin for ruining her treasured possession.
“Have you seen Isla today?” Laurel was afraid to ask, but had to know if Deirdre followed through with her punishment.
Mairi dropped her gaze. “I guess you dinna hear the news. Isla received a flogging earlier this afternoon. The mistress dinna explain why, but made it clear that she had gone against her wishes and meant to show anyone who dared defy her that she’d not tolerate disobedience.”
Laurel’s heart plummeted. “How badly was she hurt?” she asked on a strangled breath. “Please, tell me.”
“She received ten lashes. Poor thing passed out after the second one. But the mistress insisted on the full number she’d decreed.” Mairi shook her head. “She forced the rest of the servants to watch. It was horrible.”
Laurel sat hard on the end of her pallet. She fisted her hands in the covers, while doing her best to tamp down the anger twisting her gut. She hated Deirdre and couldn’t wait until she could finally confront her, see her arrested, and put an end to her reign of terror.
“What of Angus? Has he been released from the pit?”
“Not that I’ve heard. As far as I know, he is still a prisoner. The mistress has no heart. Even her husband fears her.”
“Is that so?” Deirdre stomped into the chamber. “I sent you to mend a gown, not to discuss my marital relationship behind my back. Mayhap you would like a taste of what Isla got today.”
“Oh no, m’lady. I meant no disrespect.” Mairi dropped to her knees before Deirdre.
“She has done nothing to deserve the lash.” Laurel stood and faced her cousin.
“She has a loose tongue in need of silencing.”
“You came in halfway through the conversation and only heard a small part. Mairi is a loyal maid, and if anything, she was defending you. I was the one who spoke out of turn against you. She was merely repeating what I said.” She moved to where the maid knelt, then helped her to stand. “So if you must direct your anger at anyone, do so at me.” She lifted her chin in defiance.
Mairi continued to stare at the ground as she wound a stray strand of her hair around her finger.
After taking a moment, Deirdre asked. “Have you finished taking your measurements?”
“A—aye, m’lady,” Mairi replied, her voice trembling.
“Then take the gown and be off with you. See to the alteration, then return to your duties.” Deirdre pointed to the door. “Leave while I am feeling generous.”
Laurel was not sure her cousin knew the meaning of the word, but refrained from commenting.
Mairi nodded, then waited for Laurel to remove the garment. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Laurel smiled, handed Mairi the dress, then patted her forearm. “No harm done. I’ll see you after.”
“Leave!” Deirdre marched to the door, then threw it open.
The servant curtsied. “If there is nothing else, m’lady.”
“Get out, now,” Deirdre growled, then slammed the door behind her. She faced Laurel, a sneer twisting her features. “The servants are none of your affair. They are mine to discipline as I see fit.”
“Anything that has to do with any member of Clan MacClay is my concern,” Laurel countered. “I care deeply about each and every one of them.”
“You best mind your tongue or I’ll—” Deirdre began.
Pushed to the limit, Laurel glared at her cousin. “You’ll what? Lock me in my chamber? Have me starved or beaten? See me betrothed to your pathetic excuse for a son, condemned to a loveless, marriage? You forget, you have already done all of those things and many more, not only to me, but to my friends or anyone who dares to stand up to you.” Laurel stiffened. “I’m surprised you dinna have another cup of mead that you wish to force down my throat. You will . . .” Laurel stopped mid-sentence, fearing she’d already said too much.
Deirdre’s expression darkened as she took a menacing step forward. “How dare you speak to me in that tone? You’ve become awfully bold these last few days. For someone who until now has shown no sign of a backbone, to behave in such a disrespectful way prompts me to think there is something afoot.”
Laurel took a deep breath before she responded. “How could there be anything afoot? Since the day my father died, you have kept a tight rein on me.”
Deirdre didn’t respond.
Laurel continued. She had nothing to lose at this point. “You’ve selected when and to whom I’m allowed to speak, and have decided when it would be beneficial for me to be seen in public. You stuck me in this dreadful chamber, away from all I knew and loved, but were clever enough to fool the clan into thinking all was well.”
Her cousin glared. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll temper your tongue.”
“I’m tired of remaining silent. One mistake I’ve made and it is time I rectified it.”
“You haven’t the gumption to do anything of the sort. Just like your mother,” Deirdre replied, then laughed.
Laurel balled her fists and stood toe-to-toe with Deirdre. She’d come too far to back down now. “I am proud to be like my mother. What you saw as a helpless lass, afraid to stand up for herself, was a devoted daughter, keeping a promise made on her father’s deathbed, a vow that I would honor you and Murray. That is the reason I have never shown you any resistance or challenged your authority.”
“Excuses with no merit,” Deirdre hissed. “Your father made Murray your guardian. A responsibility he doesna take lightly. It is up to us to see you are raised properly.”
“If my father had any idea of the deplorable way you’d treat me and the servants, he’d never have made the request.”
Tears burned her eyes, but Laurel refused to let them fall. “You have forbidden me to tell the truth for so long, lest you punish me or those I loved, that I am not sure what fact is anymore.” She sat on the end of her pallet. “So for you to think there is anything afoot, would be foolish, if not impossible.”
To Laurel’s surprise, Deirdre stared back at her, with her mouth gaping open, a look of utter surprise on her face.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Deirdre spoke. “I will send Mairi back for a final fitting after the evening meal. I will have Andrew bring you a tray. See that you eat everything, then retire early. The guests have already started to arrive for the wedding and the priest will be here before noon. By this time tomorrow, you and Allan will be wed. We will discuss this little outburst at that time.” She turned and stormed out.
Laurel’s stomach sank. What had she done? The angst caused by her cousin’s failure to react left her feeling even more uncertain of her fate than ever.
Chapter 16
Laurel shot up with a start, awakened by a loud crack of thunder. The sound of the wind howling through the parapets and stark flashes of lightning illuminating her chamber caused her to shudder. A befitting start to what could be the worst day of her life—a day spawned from the bowels of the netherworld.
She rose, padded to the window, then peered through the sheet of torrential rain pelting the stone walls of the castle. Dread twisted her belly. This blast of Scottish weather would surely slow Blair’s journey. If it hadn’t put a halt to it altogether.
Laurel closed the shutters, then began to pace. If Blair failed to return, she’d be
forced to go through with the wedding. Wishing she’d fled when she had the chance, life in a priory was starting to look appealing.
“Nay,” she said aloud, then shook her head. There was no point in second-guessing her decisions. But hope was quickly fading, and she needed to figure out a way to prevent the nuptials from taking place.
Speaking to Allan again was the only option that came to mind. He’d had some time to think since their last encounter, and she prayed he had a change of heart. The question was, how to arrange a discrete meeting without his mother finding out.
“Lady Laurel, are you awake? I’ve brought you something to break your fast.”
Mairi’s arrival could not have been timelier. Laurel raced to the door. “Aye. Come in.”
The maid entered, carrying a tray laden with food and a tankard of what Laurel assumed contained more tainted mead. Deirdre’s gown was slung over her arm. “You look much brighter today. Are you feeling better? The cook made some of your favorite foods,” she prattled on cheerfully.
“Please place the tray on the table, Mairi. I have a boon to ask of you.”
“If within my power, I’d be happy to do your bidding,” the maid replied. “But first, you should try to eat.”
“There is no time to waste. I must speak with Lord Allan before the ceremony.”
“Och, it is bad luck for a groom to see his bride on the morning of their wedding,” Mairi cautioned.
Laurel grasped the maid by the shoulders. “I care not about silly superstitions. In a few hours, I am marrying a man I canna stand. How could fate possibly be crueler? Besides, I suspect he is no happier about the prospects of our union than I am.” She released her and stepped back. “I would ask you to fetch him, but dinna want you to risk Deirdre’s wrath.”
“The mistress will be furious if she finds out.”
“Aye. But if you were to leave the door unlocked, I could seek him myself. I will take full responsibility. Will you do as I ask?”
Mairi remained silent for a moment, then lunged forward, throwing her arms around Laurel. “If it will save you from a life of misery with Lord Allan, I will do whatever you wish. Damn the consequences.”
Laurel issued a sigh of relief. While the chances were slim to none that Allan would stand up to his mother, she had to try. “You’ll leave the door unlocked?”
Mairi nodded. “What about the gown?”
“I’ll try it on now.” Laurel slipped the garment over her head, then glanced at her reflection in a polished metal looking glass. She cringed at the sight. “I look like a wanton whore.” She tugged at the low-cut bodice, in an attempt to cover the exposed swell of her breasts.
“I did my best. Unfortunately, I canna perform miracles. No amount of tucks or pins will make it fit properly.”
“I know you dinna have much to work with. But I do have an idea.” She moved to her wooden chest in the corner of the room, then opened it. On top lay a length of MacClay plaid.
Mairi leaned over her shoulder. “What have you there?”
She lifted the black and gold fabric, then clutched it to her chest. “My mother wove this for my da near the end of the war for Scotland’s independence. He wore it intae battle on more than one occasion and took great care to bring it home without any holes.” After securing a portion of it around her waist, she tossed the remainder across her breasts, then over her shoulder. “Does it help?” She turned to face Mairi.
“While the clan colors dinna match the purple tunic verra well, the sash does preserve your modesty,” the maid said as she tugged at the fabric.
“It will have to do. If we’ve finished here, I must find Lord Allan.” She opened the door and peered into the hall. “Do you have any idea where Deirdre might be right now?”
“She was in the great hall breaking her fast when last I saw her. I did overhear her telling one of the servants that she wanted a bathing tub brought to her chamber right after she’d finished her meal. She loves to soak in lavender oil so my guess is she will be busy of a while.”
“Good. I’d hate to run into her before I have a chance to speak with her son. Did he join her for the morning meal?”
“He was leaving the hall when his mam arrived. Several of the guests were there, and she tried to get him to stay. But he made his excuses. He told her he was going to his solar to prepare for the wedding. You know how he loves to primp. He is vainer than most women.” Mairi covered her mouth and giggled.
“Aye, my betrothed is an arrogant, pompous arse. Did the guests not wonder about my whereabouts? They must have thought it odd that I had yet to make an appearance.”
“Aye, they did ask, but the mistress said you had been feeling poorly for a few days, thought it might be something you ate, or pre-wedding nerves. According to her, you chose to take your meals in your chamber and to remain in seclusion until after the nuptials.”
“Leave it to my cousin to come up with a reason for my absence that people wouldna question.” She shook her head in disgust, then peeked into the hall. “There is no one around so best I go now. Pray Allan agrees to hear me out.”
“I will, m’lady. Shall I wait for you here?”
“Aye. And, Mairi, thank you again for helping me.” She hugged her friend, then made her way down the hallway.
Getting from the north tower to Allan’s room on the south side of the castle unnoticed proved easier than she expected. Those servants she encountered were too busy with Deirdre’s long list of wedding preparations to pay her any mind. She arrived at his chamber and drew in a slow deep breath for courage before she knocked.
“Come in, Paul, and make haste. I have been waiting for you to bring my ale for almost an hour,” he said.
Laurel pushed the door open. Greeted by a rush of warm, fragrant air, she stepped inside. “I’m not your manservant.”
Freshly bathed, shaved, and with every cropped auburn hair in place, her betrothed stood before her. Looking every bit the gentleman, he wore a pair of tan trews, matching stockings, polished black leather boots, a stiff saffron tunic, and a strip of gold silk around his waist. Known for his love of fine clothes and ornate jewels, many speculated he cared more about appearances than anything else, including women.
He spun around to face her. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to speak to you before the wedding.”
“About what?”
“I’d hoped that after our discussion at dinner the other evening, you might have given what I said about us not being a suitable match some thought. It isna too late to call off the ceremony.”
“I told you my answer then, so we have nothing to discuss,” he snapped, then studied her for a moment. He crinkled his nose as if smelling a most unpleasant odor. “What on earth are you wearing?”
She smoothed her hands down the front of her garment. “The gown your mother selected. Apparently she wore it the day she married your da and demanded I wear it today.”
His thin, tawny brows knit together, making his sharp angular features even less attractive. She hadn’t noticed until now how much he resembled his mother.
“It looks hideous. I insist you return to your chamber at once and remove the rag.” He pointed to the sash of MacClay plaid.
“This may not be the elegant attire to which you’ve become accustomed, but I had no choice. And the plaid stays. I wasna blessed with a full bosom, and refuse to flaunt what I do have for everyone to see. I also don it as a tribute to my parents and our clan.”
“It matters not if you are plain or fair, buxom or built like a lad. We will be married in name only if I have any say. My mother might have selected my bride, but canna dictate with whom I consort beneath the pelts.”
Somehow, Laurel found some solace in his statement. Bedding her cousin was the last thing she wanted. “And you a
re fine with being bound to a woman you dinna love? What about bairns? Most men want an heir, and as clan chief, it will be expected.”
“I dinna believe in love. Nor do I have a desire to bring any snivelling, squalling babes into the world,” he replied coldly. “However, if an heir becomes necessary, there are ways to accomplish the task that doesna require me to take you intae my bed.”
Laurel brought a hand to her throat and swallowed against the rising bile. A myriad of deplorable possibilities flooded her mind, causing her stomach to roil.
