Lynsay Sands

by An English Bride in Scotland

  “Should I not—?” Annabel began uncertainly.

  “Aye, ye should,” he assured her, opening his eyes. Then Ross kissed her again even as his free hand dropped to tug his plaid out of the way, leaving her free to touch him without the obstruction. Annabel hesitated, but then closed her fingers around the hard flesh, marveling at how silky it felt: hard but soft all at once.

  “Damn,” Ross muttered, breaking their kiss again.

  Annabel glanced to him with concern when he brushed her fingers away, afraid she’d done something wrong, but then he moved closer and glanced down to frown. She glanced down as well, just in time to see that the window ledge was too high for what he’d intended, and then he was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her toward the bed. They were halfway there when a knock sounded at the door.

  “Go away Seonag,” Ross called out, continuing forward.

  “ ’Tis no’ Seonag, brother.”

  Ross cursed and paused with indecision.

  “I cornered Seonag in the kitchens and she told me of Annabel’s wardrobe problems,” Giorsal said through the door. “I’ve come to help. That way you and Bean can discuss how best to keep her safe in future.”

  Ross bowed his head with a defeated sigh and set Annabel on her feet, muttering apologetically, “I know me sister. She’ll no’ go away.”

  Annabel merely nodded and quickly tucked her breasts back in the gown as far as they would go. When she finished and glanced up, he was peering with regret at the orbs swelling over the neckline.

  “Are ye going to open the door or shall I just walk in?” Giorsal called out with exasperation.

  “I’ll get it,” Ross said, catching her arm when Annabel started around him. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then used his hold on her arm to urge her in the direction of the chair she’d been seated in when he entered, before heading for the door.

  Annabel was seated in her chair, the mending back in hand and held high to hide her neckline by the time Ross opened the door.

  “Well, and sure ye took yer time letting me in,” Giorsal said dryly to her brother as she breezed into the room.

  “Count yerself lucky I opened it at all,” Ross muttered with irritation, stepping out into the hall in her place.

  “Ah, but then ye had no choice, did ye?” Giorsal asked with a grin. “Ye ken I’d just ha’e come in anyway.”

  “Aye, I ken,” Ross said dryly, glanced past her to nod at Annabel. He then pulled the door closed, leaving them alone.

  “Well,” Giorsal said gaily, crossing the room to Annabel. “Let us see this wardrobe tragedy that has ye stuck up here.”

  Annabel hesitated, but then lowered the mending in her hand.

  Giorsal’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Aye. I can see the problem.” She grinned suddenly and added, “Though I somehow do no’ think the men would think it so much a tragedy as good fortune sent their way.”

  Annabel blushed at the words and felt her mouth crack into a smile.

  “And it explains me brother’s misshapened plaid when he opened the door,” Giorsal teased as she dropped into the chair across from her. “I gather I interrupted his efforts to soothe ye? No doubt yer grateful I saved ye from the big brute.”

  Annabel’s eyes widened at the suggestion and she said earnestly, “Nay, he is a kind and gentle husband. I—”

  “Whist, Annie, I’m teasin’ ye,” Giorsal interrupted with amusement. “Ye ha’e to laugh at life’s trials. It makes them lighter to carry.”

  “I suppose,” Annabel said, relaxing, but then thought that might be true. Life’s trials had weighed heavily at the abbey, where laughter had been frowned on. The abbess had seemed to disapprove of anything enjoyable, as if she thought that serving God meant you should be miserable. Annabel didn’t think that was the case. Surely God had not made man to suffer and be miserable? Surely, he would want his children happy, just as mortal parents wanted happiness for their own offspring?

  Well, most mortal parents, she corrected herself, thinking of her own. Her mother had seemed more concerned with avoiding scandal than Annabel’s happiness. She had certainly been more resentful of what Kate’s choice had meant to her and father than whether Kate was all right.

  “So, what are we doing?” Giorsal said, interrupting her thoughts. “Are we making panels for the gown so it better covers yer breasts?”

  “Aye,” Annabel said dragging her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “The gown was too long, so Seonag and I cut the hem off. We are making panels with that and then must insert them and rehem the gown at the new length.”

  “Well, with the three of us working we can have it done in no time,” Giorsal said brightly, picking up the other half of the removed hem that was to be used to make the second panel. “Which reminds me, Seonag was going to put together a tray with drinks and pastries for us and then she will join us.” Pausing, she wrinkled her nose and admitted, “I do miss Cook’s pastries. Honestly, much as I love me husband, does he no’ find us a better cook, I think I may have to love him from here.”

  Annabel chuckled at the claim. She knew the woman didn’t mean it, but assured her, “You are welcome here anytime.”

  “Thank ye. I like ye too,” Giorsal said with a grin, and then admitted, “I was no’ sure I would, yer being English and all. But I do. Me brother got lucky when our fathers contracted this marriage.”

  Annabel’s smile faded a little at that, and she turned her head down to her work, muttering, “I fear he may not agree with that in time.”

  “Why?” Giorsal asked with surprise. “Yer pretty and smart and funny.”

  Annabel smiled wryly and, thinking of the incident where she’d run about blindly in the clearing with her gown tangled around her head, said, “Even when I do not mean to be.”

  Giorsal smiled faintly, but then said seriously, “Ye seem to lack a wee bit o’ confidence though.” She tilted her head. “Were yer parents no’ encouraging when ye were growing up? Mine were, but I ken Bean’s were no’ and while he seems to have weathered it well, his little sister suffers some want in the area of confidence.”

  “Well, since my parents did not raise me after seven, I fear the lack must be my own,” Annabel said wryly.

  “What do ye mean?” Giorsal asked with surprise. “Who raised ye from seven on?”

  Annabel stilled with alarm as she realized what she’d unthinkingly revealed.

  “Annie?” Giorsal asked insistently. When Annabel continued to stare blindly at the cloth in her hand, she murmured thoughtfully, “Ross did no’ mention yer parents no’ raisin’ ye. From what he said, they’re still living. Though he did no’ seem to like them. Did they neglect ye and leave it to the servants to raise ye?”

  Annabel frowned at the suggestion and reluctantly raised her head. She didn’t want to vilify her parents to save her secret, but …

  “What is it?” Giorsal asked, noting her expression. “Ye can tell me. I promise I’ll no’ tell Ross if ye do no’ want me to.” When Annabel still hesitated, she added, “Ross said there were welts and scars on yer back from whippings. I ken they beat ye.”

  “Oh, nay,” Annabel said with dismay. She had forgotten all about the marks on her back. She was used to the discomfort they caused and hadn’t considered that he might have seen them and jumped to the conclusion that her parents had caused them.

  “Nay, what?” Giorsal asked.

  Annabel sighed and then said, “Those were not from my parents. They never beat or whipped me.” She paused briefly, but didn’t see any way around telling the truth. “Giorsal, I was sent to the abbey at seven as an oblate and lived there right up until the day I married Ross.”

  Giorsal stared at her blankly for a moment and then said slowly, “Is an oblate no’ a girl meant to become a nun when she’s considered old enough to take the vows?”

  Annabel nodded and it seemed to confuse Giorsal.

  “But how could yer parents send ye there to be a nun when ye were to m
arry me brother?”

  Annabel grimaced. It seemed she had to tell the whole tale.

  “SO YER THINKING to set a guard on her at all times until ye find out if it’s your uncle or Fingal behind these attacks?” Bean asked. “Even in the keep?”

  “Aye,” Ross said firmly. “He may ha’e only attacked when she was outside the walls ere this, but I’ll no’ take chances with her safety. He might strike within the walls next when he realizes she will no’ be out where he can get to her.”

  “Yer no’ going to let her go beyond the bailey?” Bean asked with surprise.

  “I’ll no’ be letting her leave the keep until we settle this thing,” Ross announced.

  “Hmmm,” Bean said dubiously.

  “Hmm what?” Ross asked with a frown.

  Bean shook his head. “I’m thinking that’ll no’ go over well at all.”

  “Why?” he asked with surprise.

  “Well, I do no’ ken Annabel well, but I ken Giorsal would never put up with a guard on her at all times,” Bean said dryly. “Hell, she would no’ even put up with it for a day. As for restricting her to the keep … I can no’ see her liking being a prisoner in her own home.”

  Ross relaxed and waved that away. “Annabel is no’ Giorsal. ’Tis for her safety. She will be fine with it. ’Sides, she will be busy running the keep and my servants. There is no reason fer her to be out in the bailey.”

  “We will see,” Bean said looking amused.

  Ross felt doubt claim him briefly, but then scowled and pushed the doubt away. Annabel was a sensible woman, wasn’t she? Surely she would see the sense of taking precautions.

  “WHAT A HORRID old bitch!”

  Annabel gasped at that proclamation from Giorsal and lowered her sewing to glance worriedly to Seonag, only to see the maid nod solemnly.

  “Aye. A nasty old bitch,” she agreed, continuing to stitch the hem she was working on. “ ’Tis a wonder ye turned out so sweet tempered after being raised by a nasty old cow like that abbess.”

  Annabel sat back and peered from one woman to the other with wide eyes. This was not the response she’d expected when she’d confessed that her clumsiness and constant failures at the abbey were the reasons for her whippings. Or that it was also why she had still not been allowed to take the veil, so had been available to marry Ross when Kate had run off with her lover.

  “Well, that settles it then,” Giorsal said with satisfaction.

  Annabel hesitated, but then asked uncertainly, “What does it settle? And what exactly is it that is settling it?”

  “Ye were destined to marry Ross,” Giorsal said as if that should be plain as day.

  “I was?” Annabel asked dubiously, not sure how her being inept would lead to that conclusion.

  “Aye. ’Tis why ye never fit in at the abbey,” Giorsal explained. “ ’Twas so ye’d no’ take the veil. Ye were no’ meant to be a nun, Annabel. Ye were meant to be Lady MacKay.”

  “Aye.” Seonag nodded as if it were as obvious as could be to her as well.

  Annabel simply stared at the two women for a moment, and then shook her head. “But do you not see? I was not to marry Ross. Kate was. She is the one who was truly contracted to marry him.”

  Giorsal snorted at that. “Nay, he was to marry you, no’ Kate.”

  “But the contract—”

  “Oh, devil take the contract,” Giorsal waved it away as unimportant. “Ross is a good man, he deserves a good wife like you, not a light-skirt who runs off with the first cock that crows.”

  When Annabel made a strangled sound at this description, Giorsal slapped herself in the forehead, and then said quickly. “I’m sorry, I should no’ call yer sister a light-skirt. I just mean that—”

  “Nay, ’tis all right,” Annabel waved away her apology. She understood how Giorsal felt. She loved her brother and wanted the best for him, and the best was not a woman who would ignore a binding contract, go against her parents and run off to live in sin with another man. Annabel also understood that she hadn’t meant to offend her with the words. But what Giorsal didn’t seem to understand was that she was not a much better prospect, though for different reasons.

  Taking a breath, she considered her words and then admitted, “But do you not see? I am not much better. I was not trained to be a wife and lady of a large castle like MacKay while at the abbey. I illuminated texts and worked in the stables.”

  Giorsal waved that away as unimportant. “Ye can learn all ye need to ken easily enough. In fact, ye’re partway there already.”

  “I do not see how,” Annabel admitted, almost afraid to hope the woman was right.

  “Well, if ye were illuminating texts at the abbey, ye ken how to read and write,” Giorsal pointed out.

  “Aye,” Annabel acknowledged.

  “Then ye can help school the pages,” she pointed out.

  “What pages?” Annabel asked with confusion.

  “Well there are none at MacKay at the moment because there was no lady of the keep to train them. Now there is. You.” She smiled brightly. “They need to be trained in music, dancing, riding, hunting, reading and writing and arithmetic. O’ course, Ross will take care of the hunting, but ye can manage the rest.”

  “I fear I have never danced, and I am not trained with any musical instrument,” Annabel admitted unhappily.

  Giorsal shrugged. “Ye can hire a teacher for those and learn yerself. And ye should be a fair hand at the writing, reading and arithmetic.”

  “Aye,” Annabel agreed, brightening. “And I am a fine rider too.”

  “Er …” Seonag said, and then paused abruptly.

  “What?” Annabel asked.

  The maid hesitated, but then set down her sewing with a sigh and admitted, “I overheard the men talking on yer riding skills, me lady, and they seemed to think they were no’ so fine. They said ye bounced about on the mare’s back like a sack o’ turnips.”

  Annabel winced and then explained, “We were not supposed to ride the horses at the abbey. I used to volunteer to walk them out to the far pasture, and as soon as I was out of sight, would mount up and ride them bareback. Sometimes I would slip out at night to ride too, but I couldn’t risk anyone hearing so took them bareback then as well. I have never ridden sidesaddle.” She pursed her lips and then said, “Those are a horrid contraption.”

  “Aye,” Giorsal agreed with distaste. “I prefer astride too, and bareback is even better.”

  Annabel grinned, both surprised and pleased to find they had this in common.

  “She’ll do fine with riding,” Giorsal assured Seonag. “We must tell Ross to get rid o’ the sidesaddle. He should not fuss too much about it,” she added, and grinned at Annabel as she said, “Fortunately, he had me fer a sister and I broke him in on things like that fer ye.”

  “Aye, that’s truth,” Seonag announced.

  Annabel chuckled along with Giorsal at the dry comment from the maid, but then Annabel’s laughter faded. “Aye, but I am sure there is much more to being chatelaine than training pages and I know not what that is.”

  “The rest is easy enough too,” Giorsal assured her. “Ye must oversee the servants; Cook and his staff, the housemaids, spinners, weavers, embroiderers and—” She paused suddenly and glanced to Seonag with a frown. “Speaking o’ which, why are we doing this? The embroiderers would have made short work of it.” Clucking, she added, “And the weavers could have produced new material for a new gown for Annie rather than her having to wear Mother’s old clothes.”

  Annabel glanced to Seonag, interested in hearing the answer herself. She hadn’t realized castles had spinners, weavers and embroiderers. They’d had women at the abbey set to each task, but she had left Waverly as a child and hadn’t returned for long enough as an adult to know if they were in Waverly Castle. Certainly, she hadn’t seen or heard of them here at MacKay.

  “Derek’s mother was the head spinner,” Seonag said solemnly. “And her sisters and nieces made up the weavers an
d embroiderers.”

  “Oh, aye, I forgot,” Giorsal said on a sigh, and then explained to Annabel. “Derek was our cousin. When Father died, he rose up and tried to wrest the title of clan chieftain from Ross. He even ambushed him and his men one night, intending to kill him and take the title, but instead, Ross killed him.”

  “And the women?” Annabel asked with a frown. “Surely Ross did not banish them for what your cousin did?” It would explain why there were no spinners, weavers or embroiderers here, but it also seemed unfair, and not something she hoped her husband would do. Much to her relief Giorsal shook her head vehemently.

  “O’ course not. Ross would ne’er blame anyone fer someone else’s actions. He told them he held no ill will toward them because o’ Derek’s actions and that they were welcome to stay.”

  “But Derek’s mother, Miriam, hated Ross fer killing her boy,” Seonag put in. “She spat in his face, she did. Then she packed her goods and left. The rest followed.”

  “Ross could ha’e ordered them to stay, as clan chief, but he let them go,” Giorsal added.

  “Aye, and we’ve no’ seen nor heard from them since.”

  “Hmmm,” Annabel murmured, wondering where they’d gone.

  “So, I suppose finding new spinners, weavers and embroiderers falls on yer shoulders now too,” Giorsal said apologetically.

  “Aye,” Annabel muttered, wondering how the devil she was to do that. For that matter, how exactly was she to oversee the others? Did she hover over each servant ensuring they did it right? And if they were doing it wrong, what was she expected to do?

  “Seonag and I’ll help ye sort it all out,” Giorsal said reassuringly. “I shall tell ye what I can now, and visit often to see how ye’re getting along, and Seonag’s been here a long time. She kens what’s what. She can help a great deal when I’m no’ here.”

  “Aye,” Seonag agreed at once. “I’ll help ye. It’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you,” Annabel said sincerely and smiled the first true and relaxed smile she’d enjoyed since reaching MacKay. She no longer felt alone in this. She had allies.