by Allie Borne
Andrew was horrified. How could she think thus? “I thought ye ken all of that other mush. O’ course that is how I feel, or I would not have asked ye.”
“You are a callow lad,” Mary grumbled, pulling the bedding from beneath Andrew’s knee and straightening it. “I should have known better than to fall for a man not much older than myself. You know nothing about women that I might wish you to and too much about what I might not.”
“Tis perfectly normal for a man my age to have knowledge of a woman’s body. Tis no’ the same for a man as it is for a woman.”
“And just how did you get that knowledge? Some woman had to lose her reputation and marriageability by lying with you.”
“Oh, nay, I would ne’er lie with a gentlewoman. They were servants.”
“Ha!” Mary scoffed again, angrily rolling up the bedding.
Too late, Andrew realized what he had said. Mary had been living as little better than a servant. She was, after all, a penniless paid companion.
“What I meant was that there are less restrictions on women of the lower class. They have no’ to worry about producing any heirs and therefore have more freedom to...act on their desires.”
“And did you go to confession the next day?” Mary murmured spitefully.
The rib dug. “I do confess my sins. And, aye, I visited confession when I was able,” Sir Andrew defended, then changed tactics. “As soon as we arrive at Sir Daniel’s estate, ye will do the same.
“What? What have I to confess?”
“Let me see....lust, stubbornness, fornication, pride, spite, jealousy-”
“Jealous? Of whom have I been jealous?” Mary nearly spat at Andrew. She was as angry as a riled up viper and ready to strike.
“Why of all the women I have pleasured, of course. Tis evident in the way ye are behaving.”
“P-please! I feel sorry for them, is all. You willingly demeaned them, with no thought to the repercussions. For all you know, you have a child running about out there, barely clothed and fed. I have half a mind to track down the poor chits and ensure that your misdeeds did not result in any consequences.”
“Ye only care because the child would be my child. Admit it, ye are head over heels in love with me,” Andrew fairly crowed in delight.
Mary smiled wickedly, retorting, “I would sooner fall in love with a horse’s a-” but she was cut off by the sound of returning horse’s hooves. Quickly, she began dragging out the two bed rolls.
Andrew followed suit with her trunk. As he slid the trunk beside her, Andrew whispered, “This conversation is no’ over and ye are most certainly going to confession.”
Mary rolled her eyes and walked over to the next tent. Luckily, Andrew became engaged in discussing the leads that Arthur and Aiden had found, so he decided to break down her tent, rather than to follow her into this one. As she roughly threw Arthur’s personals into his bag, her ire began to cool. Mary smiled at the fact that Andrew had said, he had felt, “All of that other mush.”
She knew deep down that he was smitten with her. She also knew that if she did not set up the expectation for their relationship from the beginning, she could expect little romance once they were married. Then, the issue of religion remained. Sir Andrew took for granted that she would convert to Catholicism. Mary was not so sure. She would need some time to think and pray about it.
Mary needed to feel certain that her parents, and God, were behind such a decision. Well, really her parents, Mary thought. God, she reassured herself, loved all of his children and would appreciate any efforts she made to worship him. How might her parents feel, if they were alive today?
Before she knew it, the tent was packed. Reluctantly, she pulled the items from the space and walked toward Aiden to take over the washing of the plates. Aiden had kicked dirt on the fire and placed all the dishes in a pile outside the fire ring. Mary stacked them neatly and carried them to the stream below.
The cool brook caressed her hands as she filled the two pots with water to soak. Scrubbing the plates helped rid her of the last remnants of irritation and she began to hum. Among her humming and scrubbing, Mary heard a rustling. Careful not to startle, she hummed softer, listening. Coming from her left, now, she was certain someone was approaching stealthily.
Luckily for Mary, she had excellent peripheral vision. No one was going to get past her without being seen. A flash of green. It was the witch! Mary adjusted her stance into more of a squatting position. She would be ready for her this time. The moment The Impostor lunged, Mary flew to the side. The witch fell into the water with a splash.
In a wink, Mary was on top of her, grabbing her right wrist and banging the cutting knife out of her hand. The woman screeched in vexation. Mary saw red. The red of her own blood running down stream, the red henna of the witch’s hair, as it trailed out about the screeching harpy.
A pounding of boots alerted Mary to the fact that the men were coming. “Bring me some soap!” Mary called out. Arthur and Andrew stomped into the water and grabbed the witch roughly, holding her hands down. Aiden returned, coming with the soap. Assuming he knew what she needed, Aiden wet the soap, then grasped Mary’s hand to clean her wound.
Mary looked down, intrigued. It seemed that the knife had managed to cut across her palm as she had grabbed for the witch’s wrist. Mary allowed Aiden to wash and bind the wound. “Soon I will look like an Egyptian mummy,” she mused, feeling the matching swatch of linen about her throat.
“Thank you, Aiden. Actually, I had something else in mind for the soap. Gentleman? If you would be so kind as to hold this impostor back down into the water, I would like to wash her hair.”
Sir Andrew and Arthur looked at Mary as if she had lost her mind. “Humor me,” she insisted.
The men complied. They pushed the cursing baggage back into the stream. Mary ignored the insistent pulsing in her palm as she took the soap from Aiden. Mary rubbed the lye soap into a lather and scrubbed the henna tendrils. The red quickly washed away down stream.
“That’s better,” Mary announced as they sat the soaked woman upright to ring out her hair. “Now she is a brown-haired witch. And, as everyone knows, Merianne Warren is a red head.”
“I believe we were certain she was no’ Merianne by the time she placed a knife to yer throat,” Arthur shook his head, unimpressed.
“Aye, but her hair was driving me mad. Twas wash out the henna or cut it off.”
“Shall we head out?” Andrew suggested. “We still have another two day’s ride to reach the Warren estate.”
“Aye,” Mary replied wearily. “Let us get this done.”
The party headed out. Determined, this time, that the woman would not cause them any more trouble.
~ ~ ~
A longer more sleepless night, Bryan could not recall. He had watched his wife’s slumber, the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lashes lay against them, the smell of her skin. He willingly submitted to the torture. Just before dawn, exhaustion won out and Bryan began to fall asleep, only to be wakened by a light fluttering across his abdomen.
Growling, Bryan grasped his wife’s hand and pushed it from him. Again, Merianne ran her hand across his abdomen. Less hesitantly this time, she cupped his manhood.
“If ye do no’ wish to be ravished, I suggest you remove yer hand immediately,” Redland warned.
Merianne giggled nervously. “You said that you had some ideas...”
Bryan rolled over to peer at his wife. “Ye said that ye were afraid of getting hurt.”
“I am. But you said there were ways.”
“Why have ye changed your mind?”
“I have no’. Last night I was tired. Tis morning. I am not tired.”
“Well, I am,” Bryan returned.
“Oh,” Merianne responded. Turning away in embarrassment.
“Meri,” Bryan laughed, “ye should know that a mon is ne’er too tired for bed play. Come here.”
Merianne giggled and rolled back on her good arm, to face
her husband. Bryan cupped her face and kissed her soundly. Eagerly, he caressed her breasts and ran his hands down her sides. Bryan grasped her hips and moaned. His desire for her was a dangerous thing.
Carefully, Bryan caressed her thighs and the space between them. Tenderly, he prepared her for love making, entering and withdrawing his fingers from her ever moistening core. Bryan pulled her atop of him, glorying in the feel of her hair about his face, the look of her perky breasts just out of reach.
Gently, he sheathed himself within her welcoming warmth, waiting for her to adjust to him and take the lead. When her hips rocked encouragingly, Bryan grasped their firm curves and moved her along his shaft. Ever quickening in pace, the two moved closer and closer to that heated peak. Merianne called out, in a shattering spasm about him. She collapsed atop his chest and Redland’s seed released within her.
They lay like that, together for several moments. Until Bryan shifted and Merianne gasped in pain. “I do not ken how to go about moving,” Merianne admitted.
“I will carry ye to the changing room and we shall wash up there.”
Redland stood, arms about his wife and moved to a spot where he could grab a towel. There, he washed them both, infinitely grateful that his wife had taken pity on him. “Are ye verra sorry?” Redland asked when Merianne winced from being set down.
“Nay, are you?” Merianne asked, searching her husband’s face for reassurance.
Redland laughed. “Why would I be sorry? Ye are the one in pain.”
“Only from removing my night rail. I would rather sleep naked from here on out, if you do not mind.”
“Woman, there is nothing I would like more.” Redland pulled Mary towards him and kissed her again.
“I am tired already,” Mary sighed, breaking the kiss. “I think, for now, we will have to save bed play for the morning.”
“Ye are already leading me around by the...nose, fairy. I will be reduced to a blithering idiot with ye as wife.”
“All married men feel that way, Bryan. You shall get used to it,” Merianne laughed with her eyes. “Do not worry, I am perfectly capable of making decisions for you, should you lose your faculties.”
“Oh, I am sure ye would like that. Nevertheless, as long as I still contain an ounce of sense, I will remain the master of this keep. Get dressed, ye can join me for breakfast.”
Groaning, Merianne allowed Bryan to help her slip on a comfortable brown gown and pin up her hair.
Breakfast was mostly enjoyable. A few of the less friendly sorts whispered behind their hands while casting furtive looks at Merianne, but most soon stopped when Redland glared them down.
Redland decided to make an official announcement, rather than allowing the rumor mill to turn. Clanking his cup against the table he stood. “As many of you know, my wife and I met with the Cumyn council yesterday. It seems that my wife is the closest living kin of the Cumyn Lairds. They have asked that our second son be trained as their laird. As this agreement means peace between the clans, as well as an improved station for the Murray's, we have agreed.
“This means that we will be hosting Cumyns as our guests and some of us may be visiting them as well. I expect that the Cumyns will be treated graciously. We will no’ blame the many for the actions of a few. Any of ye who have kin in the clan and wish to visit, may send word to yer relatives.
“My wife will be visiting soon. If ye wish to ride with her, let her know and we will arrange to bring ye as well. If we are blessed with a second son, he will be a Murray and a Cumyn. He will be included in both families and no’ made to feel an outsider here. Is that clear?”
After a moment, a chorus of “Ayes” rang out around the table.
“I am depending on all of ye to raise my children to be excellent lords and ladies. When a second heir is born, he will be raised to love the Murrays and work in conjunction with his older brother, so that this region will be a stronghold for all who live here. Please see the wisdom in this plan. Look past the shortsighted reign of Sir Phillip and into a future where all of our people will flourish by working together.
“We will have challenges enough without having to worry about the safety of our borders. I will demand a pledge of fealty to this plan. I have decided that we will hold a competition.”
A stronger, more excited motley of shouts and whistles rose from the table. “The Murrays and Cumyns will all be invited to participate in all the highland events. We will show sportsmanship and we will graciously dominate the competition.”
Bryan sat and finished eating his porridge with gusto. “Nothing like a tournament to satiate the masses,” Merianne whispered in her husband’s ear.
“Nothing like a competition to bring men together. Ye should know by now, fairy wife, that men communicate with their bodies and no’ their mouths.”
“Oh, I would so love it if you would communicate with your mouth,” Merianne whispered back, almost not embarrassed that she had been so brazen.
Bryan choked on his porridge, and turned to Merianne, grinning wolfishly. “Ye should no’ say things to me that ye do no’ intend to act upon immediately, dear wife. As a man, I lack restraint. Ye should ken that.”
“Oh, I do. As a woman, tis my duty to teach you restraint. I have promised you the morning. That does not mean I cannot discuss our options before then.”
Bryan looked his wife up and down. She still had not lost the flush to her cheeks from love making. “I will be heading out to the practice field for sword play. If I cannot play swords with thee, I will quit the keep. Rest up, Dear, ye will need it.”
Merianne giggled as her husband stood and threw his napkin upon the table. She admired the lines of his calf and thigh muscles as he strode from the hall. She was enjoying her role as temptress. Heaven help her when her shoulder healed.
~ ~ ~
The rest of the trip continued uneventfully. The men took shifts watching ‘the witch.' They were convinced that she was just that. What other woman had such undying murderous intent? What other woman could escape as easily as she had?
Mary slept alone. As proud as the men were that she had overpowered the witch, they did not trust her to sit up and keep watch.
By the end of the second day, Mary was grateful. A full day of riding and her hand ached terribly. She was trying not to use it but that became difficult. It had opened up twice and although the cut was not deep enough to necessitate stitches, Mary was certain it would leave a scar.
As the familiar landscape of her childhood home came into view, Mary rejoiced. She had not realized how much she missed the manor and the staff. She ached to embrace Henley and kiss Sir Daniel’s whiskered cheek.
Sir Daniel met the travel-worn company at the entrance to his home. “My, you have had a rough journey, have you not? And who is this you bring? She is tied up?” Sir Andrew dismounted and came to shake the hand of his sister-in-law’s uncle.
“I am Sir Andrew Murray, your niece's brother-in-law. We have come for your aid, Sir.” Andrew explained the entire story, wowing Sir Daniel with the many twists and turns of the tale.
“Of course that is not my niece and of course Mary is Merianne’s companion. I will contact the magistrate immediately to fetch this woman and see to her incarceration. If she is not slated for a work house, they will surely hang her.”
Arthur nodded, well satisfied with the result of their journey. “Now,” continued Sir Daniel, “I have seen to it that you all have a guest bedroom and a bath drawn. Please, allow me to conduct you upstairs so that you may rest and recuperate.”
A bath had never before looked so good to Mary. Martha, the head house keeper, was so delighted to see her and to get a bit of gossip, that she stayed to assist her. Mary felt like royalty. She opened up to Martha, telling her of all of her trials and how she felt for Sir Andrew.
“Why, he’s your knight in shining armor, if a bit backwards when it comes to talking with women. You’ll polish him up right nice, though. Haven’t you made it big for yourself?”
“I am not so certain, Martha,” Mary continued. “He wishes me to convert to Catholicism. I do not ken if my parents would approve.”
“Yer parents are dead, Dearie. Seems to me they are long past caring about life’s frivolities. They’re in heaven, livin’ it up.”
Mary laughed at the image of her mother and father, dancing as they had at her cousin’s wedding, but more joyously, in the presence of God. “Perhaps thou art right, Martha. But what about what I believe? What about how my children are raised?”
“What about it? You have been a practicing Catholic, if not a believer, for years. Would it bother you to have your children raised so?”
“It would bother me to raise children that might perpetuate the separation between Catholics and Protestants. I do not like that all Christians can not live of one accord.”
“Then you will teach them that. You will tell them of your upbringing and you will teach them to love their Grandfather, God rest his soul. Children learn to love and hate, Chickabiddy; you ken that. If they can be taught to hate, why can’t they be taught to love?”
Mary smiled at that. “Of course, you are right. Still, I would prefer that Sir Andrew be willing to marry me, whatever my faith.”
“Does not the Bible teach us the folly of two faiths within a household? It has undone many a man. He is afraid, child, that your Protestant beliefs will affect his judgements. All men are swayed by their wives. Can you blame him that he wishes to come to an agreement about religion before you marry?”
“I suppose not. But I will not marry him unless he admits that he loves me. I deserve that, at least.” Martha chuckled and wrapped Mary up in thick fleece.
“Come, let me help you into your night rail and tuck you into bed. You need your rest. I will come tomorrow and help with your hair. You need to leave that hand be for a few days.
Mary sighed and snuggled into the feather tick. “Thank you,” Mary grinned. “I have missed thee, Martha. However hast thou passed the time since Merianne and I left?”
