by Tessa Murran
‘You didn’t mind my bastardy just now when you were using me. I was good enough for you then.’
‘And you are good enough for me now, and always, Ravenna.’
‘You are nothing but a hypocrite, Cormac.’
‘Stop this, I didn’t mean for us to quarrel. This is foolishness.’ He took hold of her arm.
‘Get your hands off me and don’t come anywhere near me tonight or I swear I will hurt you.’ She shook herself free of him and walked away. Her words were brim full of tears she was holding back.
What the hell was wrong with him? To pull her away from dancing, drag her into the darkness and push her up against a wall, to take her roughly, like a whore. Shame took him. No matter how hard she may seem, Ravenna had soft feelings buried deep. Aye, she had gone with him willingly enough, as hungry for it as him he thought, but perhaps he had been too caught up in ale and lust to see her reluctance. Maybe she was right. He was the big, mindless brute Ravenna first believed him to be.
Now his words, carelessly spoken, had hurt someone he had started to care for. There was a wound at the very centre of Ravenna, because of her bastardy, and he had just ripped it open.
***
When Ravenna got to her chamber, she paced up and down. It was not anger that took her, but humiliation. Why had she gone with Cormac into the dark? She was no fool, she had known what he wanted from the moment he took her hand. There had been every chance to reject him, and she had not, instead, she had let him use her and humiliate her as a worthless bastard, a whore, a woman who meant nothing.
Was there ever a bigger fool? She had imagined them carried away by passion during that rough coupling in that dark corner, and she felt no shame at it. There was something she longed to share with him, words that yearned to be spoken. Something had bloomed within her breast this night, something she had not felt for years, since Brandan.
Brandan. He was dead because of Cormac, cut down without a second thought. How could she have set that aside for a few stolen moments of pleasure? What a fool to imagine a future with a Buchanan. She hated herself for it, almost as much as she hated Cormac for being strong and manly, someone she wanted to cling to in an uncertain, dangerous world, now, more than ever.
Cormac’s true feelings had been revealed this night, and it didn’t matter what hope she had allowed herself, he despised her as a bastard, and she was what she had always been, unwanted, unloved and shamed.
Cormac did not come to their bed that night, which just confirmed her worst suspicions. So Ravenna hardened her heart to him while resentment burrowed into her mind, driving out soft feelings and foolish hopes.
Chapter Seventeen
Ravenna hurried through the dew-soaked grass, retracing her steps from the river - her furtive, traitorous steps. Once more, she had delivered a message to the thug as she liked to call him. Shame dogged every step she took back to Beharra.
Now that the soil had grown warmer, carpets of bluebells had unfurled their little purple heads under the trees. Fairy flowers, her mother had called them, and she would always think of them that way.
Her mother, Mariam, had been soft and dark and kind or, at least, that was how Ravenna remembered her. She’d had none of the hard edges of Baodan, and yet she had stubbornly resisted being owned by him, or so people had told her. A tenant’s daughter, poor but fair, Mariam had fallen for Baodan’s charming manners and good breeding, no doubt he had flattered her into his bed. Once he had her in his grasp, he would not let go, and when he got her with child, Baodan thought he had a hold on her forever. But by then, she had begun to see him for what he really was, and by the time she died, having defied his command to live at Mauldsmyre as his mistress, in plain sight of his long-suffering wife, she had all but washed her hands of him.
One winter, coughing her lungs to shreds, Mariam had taken Ravenna to Mauldsmyre and thrown her at the feet of her father, begging that Baodan granted her one last wish and take his daughter in. It cost her all her pride and the few weeks she had left of her life, but she had done it so that Ravenna would not starve.
She often wondered at her father’s decision to take care of her. She imagined that he must have loved her mother and that he clung on to a part of her through her daughter. As she grew up, Ravenna came to think that, instead, he had hated her mother for defying him and his keeping her close was just a means of punishing the mother through the child.
Either way, it seemed to Ravenna that having a child, something you loved more than yourself, just made you a slave to its father, giving him even more power over you, more than lust or love could ever grant.
There was something she suspected but was now sure of, something she must say to Cormac, and she had to do it soon. Hope unfurled in her, like a bluebell flower. Could this change things for the better, make him care for her a little more? Would it make him proud of her and not ashamed of her parentage? Would she become just a little bit more worthy in his eyes?
***
Cormac stood in the great hall, warming his hands before the fire. The days were getting warmer, and now the ferocious spring storms and Highland snows were long gone, an English army could push north, towards Stirling Castle. The Bruce would need him soon, he was sure of it.
These last few weeks at Beharra, he had begun to find a kind of peace, but he could not allow himself to grow too comfortable. He would be off again soon, fighting, and he was worried about leaving his family behind. Ramsay would have to stay and oversee his interests now his father was gone. It did not seem protection enough in such dangerous times.
Perhaps Morna’s marriage could be hastened, and she could be safely installed in Alisdair’s strong keep, with his men at arms to her back. And Ravenna? What was to be done with her? She did not seem to need or welcome protection, that one. Her fierce independence was something he admired and despaired of.
She had given him the cold shoulder since the night before and had gone off at dawn without a word to him. For his slip of the tongue, he deserved it, but surely he could be forgiven eventually? When she returned, he would swallow his pride and beg forgiveness, and then he would do what he wanted with beautiful, stirring Ravenna. His mind cast back to the flames and that passionate coupling in the darkness. If he had to humble himself to get back in her good graces, it was more than worth it.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see her standing there. It always struck him, that fierce beauty she had, and how the sight of her thrilled him. It had been this way from the first moment he saw her, walking white-faced towards him as an unwanted bride. Now there was a strange expression on her face.
Cormac decided flattery was called for.
‘Ravenna, you look very well today. Your cheeks are glowing, what have you been up to?’
‘I’ve been for a long walk. It’s warm today. I wanted to enjoy the sunshine,’ she said.
‘Don’t stray too far. I need you close to the keep.’
‘To keep an eye on me?’
‘To protect you,’ he said gently. ‘These are dangerous times, and I don’t like you out of my sight.’ His tone was commanding and a little harsh, but he couldn’t help it. ‘Lyall has gone at the behest of Black Douglas, to join with him in shoring up support for Robert’s cause.’
‘What does that mean for the Clan?’
‘It means our King expects an English attack very soon, and it means Lyall will be in danger. Black Douglas is a reckless man who will risk everything for his King, including my brother’s neck.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’s not your fault, just one more thing I have pressing on me, that’s all.’
‘Cormac, there is something I would speak to you about.’
‘Aye, and I know what it is. If I spoke out of turn last night, I beg your forgiveness and I…’
‘Never mind that now.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Cormac, I am with child.’ She blurted out the words and smiled proudly, waiting for his joy, but he could not giv
e it. Instead, he turned back to the fire to hide his dismay.
‘I’ve suspected it for some time, Cormac, but I wanted to be sure you see, before I told you.’ She was soft and eager, like a child expecting a reward for good behaviour.
Cormac tried to calm down. Something tore at his heart as it all came back to him, the cries of pain, the blood, the desperate sadness of his wife’s death in childbirth. Now a new child was coming, a new danger. It was not Ravenna’s fault, but he had no time to absorb the shock of it. She needed him to be proud and happy, and he could not be. How could he explain his weakness to her, his failure? He would never find the words.
‘How far along?’ he said evenly.
‘Three months, maybe. I think it must have happened when we were first wed. I am not sure when it will come, exactly, but already my stomach is getting a little rounded. Are you not surprised?’ Ravenna’s voice was getting small with disappointment.
‘A fat belly is a natural consequence of our lying together, why should I be surprised.’
‘You don’t seem pleased, Cormac.’
He tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out. He could almost feel Ravenna’s grey eyes piercing his back and the anger taking her.
‘You could at least look at me,’ she said, with a sob in her voice. ‘Aren’t you happy at all? Isn’t this want all men want, a child, an heir to carry on their name?’
‘What do you want me to say, Ravenna?’
‘Something, anything, that makes me think you care.’
‘I do care, but there is a long way to go between planting a seed and harvesting a crop. The child is not here in the world yet, when it is, I will have something to say about it.’
He turned to look at Ravenna, and her face was hard. She bit her lip and then retaliated.
‘Now I am in a delicate state, you should sleep elsewhere.’
‘What?’ he barked.
‘As I am with child, I thought we would have a stop to all that, lying together, I mean.’
‘I can be gentle with you, Ravenna.’
‘No, you can’t. You do not know how. I have done my duty by you and…’
‘Duty is it? It didn’t seem like a duty when you called out my name and clung on to me.’
‘Whatever I did, it is over now, so you should just find another to salve your lust. It’s not as if you ever really wanted me so now I ask that you give me some respite from your attentions.’
‘You will not bar me from your bed, woman and there’ll be no other, for you or for me. Do I make myself heard?’
Cormac stormed out of the hall with the sting of rejection, bitter in his heart. It was all as it was before, and it would end just as badly.
***
A storm was rolling in over the mountains. Ravenna shivered. She had been walking for hours. She could not bear to be in the keep a minute longer and had rushed out, almost as soon as Cormac left her. In a blur of tears, Ravenna had set off up the hill, towards the road north out of Beharra. She was shaking with anger and hurt. She could scarce believe it. All her hopes had come crashing down.
On and on she went, doggedly moving to stop her thoughts from overwhelming her. Summer had clothed the lower slopes of the mountains in gold, as gorse bushes burst into life and spread their flowers to the sun. It was glorious, but it seemed nature was mocking her.
She couldn’t bear it any more, always being afraid, on edge, waiting for the axe to fall. Brief moments of joy in Cormac’s arms immediately snuffed out by guilt. How could she ever have thought that lying with the man who had killed her first love would bring happiness? And yet, Ravenna did not want to send messages to undermine him anymore. In fact, she had been on the brink of confessing all, sure he would forgive her, with a bairn coming. But now, in the face of his indifference, she could not tell him.
His anger at her being with child had been so shocking that she could not quite believe it.
It was dark grey on the horizon now, lit with a brief flash of lightning, here and there. It suited her mood, which was very black indeed. She put her hand to her stomach and wondered at the child inside. What kind of a father would Cormac be, a harsh one most likely? Why should her child suffer that? He didn’t want his child to be half low-born, half-Gowan, half a bastard’s spawn.
The rain started to fall, running down her face along with her tears. She hated to cry, she hated that Cormac had made her cry. Soon, she was soaked, as there was little cover on the road leading north, and the wind gusted the rain straight at her, blowing her tunic out sideways and making it cling, wet and muddy, to her legs. Her hands felt like ice and worse, she felt utterly hopeless with no idea what she was doing, or where she was going. Cormac had hurt her today, so very badly, she thought she was losing her mind.
Pausing for breath, Ravenna put her hand to her stomach. Something fluttered within. She stopped dead. There it was again, a strange feeling, like nothing she had ever felt before. In her mind’s eye, she imagined her child stretching out a tiny, white hand, reaching for its mother. Ravenna gasped at the wonder of it.
She looked north, across the wet moors, and south, back down the road she had travelled. Then Ravenna started to walk back towards Beharra. By the time she was halfway there, she was soaked and exhausted. Through the mist and the rain, a huge, dark horse came thundering towards her. She braced herself for the new storm about to break.
Cormac brought the horse to a skidding halt and threw himself off in a fury. For a moment, she thought he might strike her. Instead, he took hold of her arm in a vice-like grip.
‘What are you doing? Trying to kill yourself and the bairn? I’ve had men out for hours looking for you. Were you trying to run away from me?’
‘I thought about it, but then I realised that I have nowhere else to go.’
‘You could take a chill and die.’
‘Don’t pretend to care.’
‘You’re coming with me,’ he snarled.
‘No.’
‘Ravenna get on that horse or so help me…’
He dragged her by the forearm, triggering black Gowan rage as she twisted and turned to free herself.
‘I will get home by myself.’
‘You are exhausted, swallow your pride and get on the horse.’
‘No, I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody, and I don’t want your pity.’
‘Take my protection instead then.’
‘What protection?’
‘If my words were cruel, I beg forgiveness, but think on the bairn.’
‘Why, Cormac? You will not. I think you are a cold, heartless monster.’
‘That’s because you don’t know me or what my life has been,’ he shouted over the wind, making her flinch. ‘Now for the last time, Ravenna, get on that horse.’
She did as she was told, and they set off, his arm around her like an iron bar, trapping her against him. By the time they rode into the yard at Beharra, a mist had descended from the mountains, and there was a rumble of thunder all around them. Cormac dismounted and pulled her off the horse and inside the keep, dragging her up to their chamber.
He thrust her before the fire and handed her a cup of ale. It was strong, and burned in her belly, like her anger. He took the mug from her hand and started to tear her clothes off her body. The rough, urgent way he did it frightened her.
‘Stop it.’
Cormac put his face in hers, and it was wild with anger. ‘No, I will not.’
In moments she was naked, and Cormac had fetched a blanket and rubbed her dry briskly, like a horse that has been ridden too hard. Then he dragged her into bed and flung himself in next to her, so that her bottom was against his belly. He threw his arm and his leg around her. She dare not move, for fear of arousing his anger, or something worse
After an age of silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire, he spoke.
‘I am not sorry you are with child Ravenna, but I cannot be joyful either, not yet.
‘Why?’
<
br /> ‘When it is safe into the world and you safe with it, I will rejoice. But for now, you must be satisfied with this explanation and not ask me about it, for I find it hard to speak of. Agreed?’
‘Aye, if you like.’
Ravenna lay rigid with misery and, after a while, the heat of his body drove the chill from hers and exhaustion overwhelmed her. As sleep came, she thought she felt his hand move downwards and cradle the swell of her belly, but then she was probably just dreaming it.
***
The next morning Cormac did not rouse her, so she slept in very late. The sun was well up in the sky by the time she went out to find him. With mounting dismay she searched for him all over Beharra, only to find Ramsay in the granary, taking account of the stores. He gleefully told her that Cormac had left for Alisdair’s keep that very morning and that he would most likely be gone for several days. So, he’d gone without so much as a word goodbye. Ramsay seemed to realise this fact and was in a particularly poisonous mood.
‘Perhaps he is hastening along the girl’s marriage, much good it’ll do us, or her. Winter was our defence, but summer and dry roads will bring an English army north, as soon as may be, it’s inevitable, like pox in a whorehouse,’ he snarled.
Ravenna heard a rat scuttle in the shadows, thinking that Ramsay reminded her of such a creature, always poking around where he was not wanted, sly, venal, greasy.
‘Cormac seeks to protect Morna from what will happen if Scotland loses that battle,’ she said.
‘Aye, for he does not see what we see.’
‘And what is that, Ramsay?’
‘Marriage is no protection against anything, is it?’ he snarled and strode off.
So, Cormac had gone alone on the road north, slipping out of the keep quietly. That was dangerous, he would be vulnerable without his men. He should not have done it.
Ravenna weighed up the right and the wrong of her situation all day, in an agony of indecision. Her anger at Cormac twisted her inside, and dark thoughts filled her head. In the end, it was no kind of choice really, her mind was made up, even though it went against all her best instincts. She set off for the river, with a scrap of parchment in her pocket.
