by Ceri Bladen
“Yer home.” He waved his hand around. “One that I will expect ye tae keep clean.”
“As ye other wife did,” she added sarcastically, her exhaustion from the last day catching up with her.
“Ye watch that tongue of yers, otherwise ye’ll be getting a split lip tae match yer bruised cheek.” He moved into the room and pushed the pots off a chair which stood by a fragile looking table. “Sit.” He motioned towards the chair. “We will discuss what is expected of ye, in here—” a smile stretched his lips, “—and in the bed.”
After listening to Ethan’s many demands—even her brothers now appeared reasonable—she watched as he made his way to the end of the room to sleep. Luckily, he hadn’t asked her to join him—but then she did have a list of things he expected her to do before retiring. Aileana stood, glancing at the breid caol—the head dress—Ethan had thrown at her earlier. She’d be expected to wear it now she was married, her red hair no longer allowed to flow free. If only she’d had time to marry Kameron, she wouldn’t been in this mess—forced to marry someone she didn’t even know. She moved away from the table, and the reminder of her status, and started her chores.
Hours later, Aileana wiped her hands in her apron. It was grossly stained—an old one of Ethan’s wife—but it protected her clothes from the dirty water from the pots she had just washed, and as he reminded her, she came with no possessions.
She resisted a yawn. It was late. Only one tiny candle was a light—Ethan had told her he wasn’t wasting precious candles on her—but she had finished the pots and was happy for the first time today. She had to stifle a laugh—when was cleaning pots the best thing to happen to her?
Aileana glanced at the small stack of peat next to the pitiful fire and wondered whether to throw caution to the wind and add some on to burn. She bit her lip. Although Ethan had retired into bed long ago, he was bound to notice a missing sod, so she decided not to. Knowing she needed to get sleep, she decided to find a surface to sleep on, as Ethan had failed to tell her where to rest her head, and she certainly wasn’t getting in his bed.
Happy with a small palate and a couple of holey woollen blankets, she took off her apron, placing it over a chair. She wasn’t concerned the chair was dirty, the apron was too but she would use it to lay her clean clothes on. She removed her casaquin—day jacket—skirt and petticoat. When Aileana removed her stays, she caught sight of her clean white shift. The air knocked out of her. Tears fell down her face and reality hit her full-force, once again. These new clothes were gifts from Kameron, given to her only yesterday. She felt for a chair with her hand and sat, desperately sad, and let herself cry.
“What yer greetin’ at? Yer making enough noise tae wake the deid,” said Ethan, rubbing what grey hair he had left on his head.
Aileana jumped up, clutching her hands her chest. “Sorry, I… um…” she watched him wave his hand before his gaze narrowed in on her. Little did she know the dim flame of the fire outlined her figure in the thin shift.
Ethan rubbed his short, white beard as his gaze lingered. He straightened his stooped shoulders as much as he could. “Come tae bed, wife.”
“I… I am,” said Aileana, pointing to the bed she’d made. “I’m sorry, I won’t disturb ye again.”
He let out a snort. “Ye misunderstand me, wife. Come tae our bed.”
“Nae, I…” She made the mistake of looking away. Aileana was shocked how fast the fragile looking man could move. Within no time, he’d grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. He used his other hand to painfully keep her body against his. She averted her face, not wanting him to reach her lips, so he proceeded to plant wet, slobbery kisses along her jaw. “Stop, Ethan,” she pleaded. Although she protested, he didn’t stop, only crushed her more tightly against him. “Please.”
He stopped his kissing long enough to mumble. “I’m yer husband in the eyes of the law, ye have no choice, wife.” He removed his arm from around her back so quickly, she stumbled towards the hearth. Quick as a flash, he reached out for her shift, tearing it.
“Stop!” Aileana pleaded, trying to fix the material to hide her exposed breast. His eyes zeroed in before she had a chance and he licked his thin lips.
“I will nae stop, ye are my wife, and if ye dinnae want me tae skelp yer behind, come here.”
She glared at the tall, thin man, who was stronger than he looked. By rights she had no choice what he did with her body, but if they consummated the marriage, there would be no getting out of it. Without her brothers’ glares and threats, she had a chance to stop the madness. “I’ve laid with Laird Kameron MacMahon,” she screamed, desperate to stop the assault. She would rather die at the end of a sword than have his body lie on her.
Ethan stepped back, revulsion on his old weathered face. “What?” he boomed, surprising loud.
“I belong tae Laird Kameron MacMahon and I might be carrying his bairn in my belly.” She placed her hand on her stomach for affect.
“Ye gies me the boke,” he said, turning his head away from her.
Aileana wanted to say that he made her sick too, but wisely kept quiet. She waited in the heavy silence for him to make his move—whatever that was—but he kept quiet. Only when she felt a chill find her body did he look at her again.
“I ne’er wanted tae marry ye, ‘twas ye pa’s orders.” He shrugged. “But I did, and I’ll have nae wife of mine shaming me. Yer tae stay inside, not speak tae anyone, until ye have yer monthly courses—” he raised his eyebrow, “then ye have no choice. Then ye get all of this.” Her stomach churned when he grabbed his groin. “Now, go awa’ an’ bile yer heid. I dinnae want tae be seein’ ye.”
Only when he left to walk back to his box bed, did she release the breath she had been holding.
It was no good, Aileana couldn’t sleep. She was chilled to the bone and the woollen blanket she’d found ended up being scratchier than a scrubbing brush next to her skin. She turned towards the slatted wall and closed her eyes and tried to ignore the cold seeping in the gaps. It took her a long time to drift off.
Kameron crept into the small cottage, bending to get through the door way. Luckily for him and his men, the old accountant didn’t have animals to spook. There was mud on the floor, not planks, so their footsteps were muffled. He’d just have to watch not to trip on the furniture scattered around.
He glanced around the dark room. It stank. He was disgraced at the filth the man lived in. and to think he was expecting Aileana to live in it too. He searched for her, spotting her when the white of her shift caught the moonlight.
Kameron walked over and looked down, towering above her sleeping form. His stomach clenched. “Why dae I seem tae be always rescuing ye, mo ghradh?” he muttered, before nodding to Angus, whose dirk was pointed at Ethan’s neck. He kneeled down. “Aileana?” he said softly. “Aileana? Wake up, mo ghradh.” He watched as she opened her eyes, and a brilliant smile swept over her face, until her memory caught up. A frown appeared, and she sat up quickly, looking towards the area of Ethan.
“Sshh, yer all right, mo ghradh
.” He put his gloved hands on her shoulders and turned her to look at him. “I’ve come for ye.”
“Oh, Kameron,” she said, running her palms down his jaw before pulling his face forward to kiss him.
“Och, now, mo ghradh. If ye keep that up, we’ll be staying here longer,” he chuckled before he noticed the gap in her shift. His smile disappeared, and his voice hardened. “Did he harm ye in any way, mo ghradh?”
She shook her head. “Nae, I didnae give him the chance. I told him that I belonged tae ye.”
“Now, they’re words kind tae me soul, mo ghradh.” He drew her into his powerful arms. “Ye get dressed while I give Ethan a message for ye brothers. Then let’s get ye home. I need ye tae be my wife before I have tae rescue ye again.”
His words felt perfectly right, and his arms were where she belonged. “Aye, my love. Let’s go home.”
The End
Note from
Author
I hope you enjoyed, ‘Highlanders: Secrets’. If you have time, I would appreciate a review on Amazon, Goodreads or any other reading platform you use—it will help get my book seen. Thank you.
https://bit.ly/2zBmtvM
If you enjoy my ‘easy-to-read’ style, please take a look at my other historical romances, sold on Amazon. Details of the titles are at the front of this book
And so, it begins…
Chapter 1
Year of 865 – Dunwich Fortress, East Angles.
High upon a tower of her Dunwich fortress, Rosfrith squinted against the sun, while she looked into the distance. Stretched up on tiptoes, she took a deep breath to steady herself and attempted to control her breathing, fast from her run from the seashore. Suddenly, she sobered and bit her bottom lip. Should I have mentioned my haste to the guards, instead of rushing past to get a better view? After a little thought, she shook her head. Unfortunately for the people living in and around her home in East Angles, Rosfrith’s two and ten winters hadn’t made her wise to life.
Eager to watch the goings-on down at the shore, she leaned as far as she could over the ledge, excitement making her forget the danger of falling. A smile spread on her lips. She was right, there were ships landing. Ones she’d never seen before. They were huge wooden vessels with oars sticking out of both sides, and large sails. Brightly coloured flags flapped in the offshore breeze, but she was too far away to distinguish the black raven that decorated them.
A shout from below her vantage point, and the ringing of a bell, drew her gaze from the sea. Rosfrith looked down and saw people hastily gathering items. They were pulling children and livestock from the villages to the fortress. Those who had already arrived were heading for the main hall. She wasn’t naïve. She knew the bell signalled a problem, but for reasons unknown to her, she stayed where she was. Ignoring what she knew she should do, Rosfrith glanced back towards the boats, too interested in them. If she squinted enough, she could observe figures getting off the vessels, the sunshine reflecting off what she assumed were helmets. Abruptly, she backed away from the wall. Helmets meant armour. A worried frown touched her forehead.
“Mistress Rosfrith?”
Rosfrith turned towards the angry voice. “I’m here.” She watched her maid, Edith, come through the opening. Rosfrith’s brow puckered. It was unusual for Edith to be angry with her—frustrated at her antics, yes. But angry?
“Come.” Edith waved her hand indicating for Rosfrith to take it. While she waited, Edith took a second to search for her breath. “We must go quickly.” She stepped forward to grab the girl’s hand.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Rosfrith asked before she spun her head back to observe the advancing party of men from the boats. “Oh,” she whispered. In the excitement of seeing something unusual, she hadn’t stopped to assess the danger they might be in. It wasn’t because she was silly, it was because she hadn’t needed to before. Her home had never been under threat.
“Quick, Mistress. We must hide you.”
“Is Papa and my brother back?” Rosfrith tried to quell her fear when she saw worry replace the anger on Edith’s face.
“No, they are still somewhere in Northumbria. Safe,” she added under her breath
Rosfrith could feel Edith’s anger towards the men in the inflexion of her voice, but something told her she didn’t have time to ask why. She stepped forward and gripped Edith’s hand. “Mother and my sister?”
“Waiting for you in the hall. Come, we have wasted enough time.”
After a couple of steps, Rosfrith stopped, pulling Edith to a halt. “Please be honest with me, for I am old enough. Who is coming?” Noticing Edith pale, Rosfrith didn’t feel mature anymore, but she said nothing.
“Oh, Mistress, you shouldn’t be asking me such things.”
“But I need to know so I might be of use,” she said sullenly.
“You’ll be of better use if you hide, my girl.”
Rosfrith noticed Edith glance over her shoulder. She could now hear distant screams, but Rosfrith stood firm, determined to know why she was concerned.
Edith huffed and then tugged on Rosfrith’s hand. “The Vikings.”
Vikings: Taken – book 1 of the Great Heathen Army series. Available only from Amazon.
