“Nay,” said Wallace, and then he frowned at Eric. “Murray? Ye have the look of a MacMillan. Aye, and there is a fine lot of seducers in that clan.”
“He is Sir Eric Murray,” Bethia said, but the men refused to allow her to distract their attention from Eric again.
Eric smiled faintly as all three men looked at him. He found it interesting that Wallace thought he was a MacMillan. That gave him hope that the meeting he would soon have with his mother’s kinsmen might not go as badly as he had feared. It had to go better than this one, he mused with an inner sigh.
He knew what would happen now. They were going to demand he do what was right by Bethia. This was not how he had wanted it to happen, but there would be no stopping it. Somehow he was going to have to make Bethia understand that, although her kinsmen were forcing them before a priest, he had no objection to being there.
“Are ye wed, lad?” demanded Bowen.
“Nay,” replied Eric.
“Betrothed?”
“Nay.”
“Weel, ye are now. Ye are betrothed to the lass and ye will be wedding her verra soon.”
“Nay!” Bethia protested, chilled by the thought of Eric being forced to marry her.
“Dinnae be a fool, child. Ye are a weelborn lass and ye were a virgin.”
“Nay, I wasnae.” She scowled when Bowen gave her a mildly disgusted look and then looked at Eric, one dark brow raised in silent query.
“Aye, she was,” Eric quietly answered the unspoken question.
“Eric!” Bethia could not understand why he was being so complacent.
“I cannae let ye blacken your name, can I?”
Once marriage was demanded and Eric had agreed, Bethia could say nothing to get the men to change their minds and just let Eric go. Bethia soon found herself mostly ignored as their things were packed and they all left the inn. Worse, her clansmen very neatly kept her separated from Eric so that she could not even talk to him. It was going to be hard to find a way to free him if she was not even allowed to speak to him.
The ride to Dunnbea did little to lift her spirits. She and James were set behind Wallace while Bowen and Peter flanked Eric. All anyone would allow her to talk about was the trouble with William. Bethia found some comfort in the fact that her clansmen believed her talk of murder and threats without hesitation. She wished they would be so accommodating when she tried to talk them out of dragging Eric before a priest.
As they rode through the gates of Dunnbea, Bethia found her thoughts and concerns pulled away from Eric for the first time since their rude awakening at the inn. Now she would confront her parents. She was suddenly uneasy, not certain that they would believe James was in danger. As she was hurried off to her room so that she could clean herself and James up before seeing her parents, she also dreaded what they would have to say about Eric.
“What a bonny wee laddie,” her maid Grizel said as the young woman hurried into Bethia’s bedchamber and gazed at James, who lay on the bed playing with his toes.
As she tugged off her gown and began to wash up, Bethia eyed her maid. Grizel and she had known each other for nearly ten years. They were almost friends. Bethia suspected that, if her parents and Sorcha had not kept the woman rushing around from dawn to late at night, she and Grizel could actually have been very good friends. There simply had not been time to really get close. The slightly plump, brown-haired woman was only a few years older than her and had but recently married Peter. If Peter loved her, Grizel had to be the good, kindhearted woman she appeared to be, and Bethia wondered if there might be some help to be had there.
“Oh, nay. Nay, I willnae do it,” Grizel said, looking at Bethia over James curls with wary brown eyes as she hugged the baby.
“I havenae asked ye anything yet,” said Bethia.
“I ken it, but my Peter warned me. He said that if ye start staring at me, steady and hard, and there is a considering look on your face, I should just say nay and keep saying it. He said ye are at your most dangerous when ye are considering something.”
Bethia wondered if she had time before meeting with her parents to go and smack Peter. “Where have they put Sir Eric Murray?”
“Weel, they took him in to meet with your parents for a wee bit and then put him up in the east tower.”
“And locked him in, nay doubt.”
“Aye. Oh, lass, that is one fine looking mon.”
“He is, but his bonny looks arenae going to get him out of that tower, are they?”
Grizel put James down and hurried over to help Bethia into a clean gown. “Nay, and neither are ye.”
“Grizel, they are forcing that mon to marry me.”
“And so he should after bedding ye and dinnae try to deny that he did, for my Peter told me how they found ye.”
“Ye did a lot of talking ere ye rushed in here.”
“Peter can talk verra fast and he told me most of it as I ran here. That mon had to ken that this could happen when he seduced you.” Once Bethia was dressed, Grizel moved to clean up James. “Ye are a lady and were a virgin. Honor demands he wed ye.”
“Mayhap I dinnae want a husband who was forced by honor to wed me.”
“Considering what the two of ye were doing at that inn, I would say there is a wee bit more atween ye than honor. Dinnae look so sad, Bethia. He isnae yelling, isnae angry at all. Fact is, he was most pleasant. Went to the tower chatting most amiably with Bowen and Wallace. He didnae look at all like a mon being forced to do something he doesnae want to do.”
Eric’s friendly complacency had troubled Bethia a little. The few times she had looked his way as they had ridden to Dunnbea, he had seemed relaxed, had even smiled at her. She was not sure how a man forced to marry would act, but she did not think Eric was behaving quite as one would expect. She wished she could talk to him, find out what he was thinking. Bethia had the sinking feeling she was not going to have a chance to say one word with him until they were already securely married.
“Weel, since ye dinnae seem ready to help me—”
“Not in this. Ye have been seduced. The mon must do right and wed ye. Come, Bethia, he is a fine-looking mon and ye have had no other offered for a husband. If all had been as it should have with you, a husband would have been chosen for you. Take this one, for believe me, ye are probably getting a far better one than your parents would have chosen. He is fair, young, and ye obviously like how he warms your bed. I dinnae believe your parents would have e’er willingly wed ye off to any mon.”
“Why?” Bethia asked, thinking the same, but unable to understand.
“Ye do all their work for them. Ye are verra useful. I am nay the only one who thinks they planned to keep ye here to see to all their needs and run this keep. Here is your chance to get away from them, to have a husband and some bairns of your own. Take it, lass.”
“A sensible lass would, wouldnae she? A sensible lass wouldnae be hoping the mon would have asked her to be his wife because he cared for her and accept honor and vows said as good enough. And a sensible lass wouldnae worry about wedding a mon that the lasses chase after like hounds after a hare.” She smiled faintly when Grizel laughed. “Weel, it doesnae matter, truly, for ’tis clear that neither I nor Eric will be given much choice.”
“Nay, lass. None. Shall we take this laddie down to meet your parents?”
“Aye, ’tis best to get such confrontations o’er with as fast as possible.”
Bethia fought to grasp some confidence and calm as she walked to the great hall, where her parents waited, but the moment she stepped inside and saw them, she lost what little she had gained. Grizel marched over to her parents to hand Lady Drummond her grandson and Bethia reluctantly followed.
She stood unnoticed as her father and mother studied James as if he was some strange object, then handed the baby right back to Grizel. Bethia inwardly frowned, for there had been little sign of delight over the child and only one or two cool remarks about how James looked a little like Sorcha. It appeared
, for the moment, that poor little James was not going to be smothered in appreciation just because he was part of the much adored Sorcha. The thought that the child might find himself treated as she and Wallace had been chilled Bethia to the bone, but she was not sure what she could do about it.
Then her parents turned their matching green eyes on her and Bethia had to crush the sudden urge to run. She felt like a scared, unhappy child and she hated it. Not only had she left Dunnbea but she had bedded down with a man. She had given them a great deal they could berate her with, and Bethia had the sick feeling that this scold was going to make all the past ones look insignificant.
“So ye took it upon yourself to bring the child away from its home,” Lord Drummond said, slowly drumming his plump fingers against the arm of his heavy oak chair.
“Did Wallace nay tell ye the danger James was in?” Bethia asked.
“He told us that ye believe the lad was in danger, but ye have always had too fanciful a mind.”
“This was nay fancy, Father. The food they brought us was poisoned. It killed James’s puppy. Nay, this is no game,” Bethia said forcefully even though her heart was pounding with fear. She had never stood up to her parents before, but the need to protect James gave her the strength. “William Drummond wants the lad dead and I am certain that he killed Sorcha and Robert.”
“Of course he shall be made to pay for the death of our daughter, if what ye believe is true.”
But nay for trying to kill James, Bethia thought and inwardly shook her head. Bowen and Wallace believed her. They would help her keep James safe even if her parents refused to accept her tale. And whether Eric wanted to be or not, soon he would be bound to the family. He also believed her, had been at her side as they had fled from William and his men. She did not need her parents to understand or believe her.
“Whatever danger ye think there might be doesnae excuse your behavior,” Lady Drummond said, clasping her plump hands in her lap. “Did ye nay think of the shame ye would bring us ere ye decided to play the whore?”
“I do hope this young mon was the only one ye bedded down with,” her father said.
For a moment, Bethia just stared at them. She could not think of one thing she had ever done that would make them think that, the moment she broke free of the walls of Dunnbea, she would be tossing her skirts up for any and every man. Bethia began to wonder if they knew her at all. Then she tried to soothe her hurt feelings by telling herself that they were just shocked and angry, that they did not really mean all they said. Making excuses for them was an old trick, but it was not working as well as it always had before, and Bethia wondered what had changed.
“I was wrong to lie down with Sir Eric, but he is the only mon I have e’er been with.”
“Weel, after tomorrow ye will be his problem,” her mother snapped. “If ye have taken up whorish ways, he will have to beat them out of you.”
“Did ye give no thought to us at all?” demanded her father. “Ye have work to do here, yet now ye must leave us with no one to take your place. I cannae believe we have raised such an inconsiderate child. But then ye have always done as ye pleased, havenae ye?”
“Nay like your sister, God rest her blessed soul,” her mother added, sniffing loudly. “Nay, our Sorcha kenned how to make her parents happy and proud. But she is dead and yet ye are still here. I shall ne’er understand how God could take our angel and leave ye here. It—”
Whatever her mother had been about to say was lost, for James suddenly began to scream. Bethia immediately took the child from Grizel and hugged him, rubbing her hand over his back to soothe him. When James quieted, leaning heavily on her shoulder and sucking on his fingers, Bethia noticed that he was scowling at Grizel. She glanced toward the maid and decided that Grizel looked far too innocent. It was unusual for James to suddenly start yelling and Bethia began to think Grizel had somehow prompted it. Holding James close, she looked back at her parents and caught them looking at James in mild distaste and confusion.
“Are ye sure he is Sorcha’s child?” Lord Drummond asked. “I cannae recall our wee angel making such a horrible noise.”
“This is Sorcha’s son,” Bethia replied. “He can be sensitive. ’Twas probably the anger in the room that started him wailing,” she murmured and kissed the top of James’s head to hide her face in case the lie she had just told was visible there.
“Weel, she did send us word that she had borne Robert a son, so we must believe ye, must we not?”
“Ye wouldnae try to foist some by-blow of yours off as Sorcha’s bairn, would ye?” her mother asked, squinting at James as if she sought some clue in the child.
Bethia could not believe her own mother could say such a thing to her. She had always wondered why her parents had not rushed off to visit with their new grandson. Now she knew. They simply were not interested. It was probably even worse than that if they were so willing to mark James as her bastard just because he was not as perfect as his mother.
“This is Sorcha’s son, and if I must, I will drag every person at Dunncraig before ye to testify to the fact.”
“There is no need to speak so sharply to your mother,” her father said in a cold voice. “Enough talk about the bairn. Ye will be wed on the morrow. I have sent Peter to fetch a priest. He will hear your confession, and let us pray that he can give ye absolution for all your sins, and then he will marry ye to Sir Eric Murray.”
Bethia feigned a curtsy, and even though she had not been formally dismissed, she hurried out of the great hall, Grizel close behind her. She prayed that she would not have to face her parents again. Her insides churned with a mixture of hurt and fury. Of all the things she had envisioned them saying, she had never once imagined such a cold disregard for James.
“I thought they would love him as they loved his mother,” she said quietly as she entered her bedchamber and set James on the bed.
“Aye, I rather thought the same,” Grizel agreed as she sat down next to the baby and watched Bethia pace her room. “He is such a bonny child and sweet.”
“Except when someone pinches him,” Bethia murmured, glancing at Grizel and smiling faintly when the woman blushed. “Ye must cuddle him now so that he forgets it or thinks ye didnae do it apurpose.”
Picking the child up and holding him on her lap, Grizel sighed. “I wanted her to shut her mouth.”
“She did. It hurt to hear it, but I wasnae surprised that she wished it was me buried at Dunncraig and nay Sorcha. Howbeit, I must set aside such hurts and set my mind to the care of this lad.” She stepped over to the bed and lightly ruffled James’s curls. “I will raise him and I will protect him.”
“What of the mon ye are about to marry? Will he be willing to take on a bairn as weel as a wife?”
“I may nay ken how Eric feels about being dragged before a priest, but I have no doubt at all that he will accept the charge of James without hesitation. He loves the boy,” she murmured and tried not to feel jealous. “Aye, we will be a family. I just pray to God that I have the strength and wit to make it a good and loving one.”
Eric looked up from the meal he was finishing when Bowen entered the tower room. He leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine, watching closely as the big man shut the door and leaned against it. The look on the man’s rough face told Eric he had not come just to see that he was comfortable in his prison. He had been expecting the man, however. Bowen was more family to Bethia than either of the plump, coldhearted people he had met upon his arrival at Dunnbea.
“Do ye want the lass?” Bowen asked abruptly, his brown eyes narrowing as he closely studied Eric.
“I would have thought that was obvious,” Eric drawled.
“I mean for a wife, ye rogue.”
“I am to be wed to her tomorrow.”
Bowen grimaced and dragged his fingers through his long dark hair. “Aye, that is the plan.”
“Are ye here to offer me another choice?”
“I have kenned the lass since she was l
ittle more than a bairn staggering with her first steps. Ye met her parents. Cold bastards who saw only the bonny Sorcha. Little Bethia was naught to them but an annoying shadow that occasionally crossed their path. The much loved Sorcha didnae treat her any better. Me, Wallace, and Peter talked this o’er and we dinnae want her going to a mon who, once the heat has cooled in his blood, will treat her nay better. At least she kens the way of it here and has made a place for herself.”
Eric smiled faintly. “And so ye will let me go if ye dinnae think I can care for her as she needs to be cared for.”
“Aye.”
“I will marry Bethia. She is mine. I wish I could have had time to make her believe that I want her, but I shall have to deal with that after the vows are said and nay before.”
“Do ye love the lass?”
“I am nay sure what I feel. Running from men trying to kill her and the bairn didnae give me much time to puzzle o’er my feelings. All I ken is that she is mine. The first time I held her, I kenned that I would ne’er allow her to leave me. I kenned the bond in my heart, my mind, my soul. When she became my lover, she sealed her fate. She just doesnae ken it yet,” he added with a slow smile, pleased when Bowen grinned back with perfect male understanding.
Chapter Nine
“He will be here in but a moment, lass,” said Bowen.
“I suppose it would take a wee bit of time to remove the chains,” she muttered, scowling at the people gathered in the hall, then at Bowen when he grinned.
“Lass, ye bedded down with the mon.”
“That doesnae mean I wish to have him for a husband. Mayhap I just thought he was bonny and decided it was time to take a lover.”
“Aye, and I am about to retire to a monestary.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I ken ye too weel, lass. Ye may nay wish to say it aloud but ye had to love that lad ere ye would bed him. He is a good lad and he will make ye a fine husband.”
Highland Promise Page 10
