Aggie sat down on the edge of the bed. “Muriel, I do understand. I ken how the fear can take over yer life. I ken how it hurts. There were many times I wished I could just die. Just close me eyes and never wake up. But God did no’ answer those prayers.”
“That is all I want right now,” Muriel admitted. “To die. To walk away, find a quiet place, and let death come fer me.”
Aggie’s knowing smile said she knew all too well that feeling.
Muriel’s next thought was of Ailrig. “How can ye love Ailrig as ye do?” Muriel asked.
“Because he be mine. Half of him is me. I could no more give him up than I could fly,” she said as she patted Muriel’s hand. “’Tis true, I did worry he would be more like his father than me, but either by God’s good grace or the way I raised him, he is nothin’ at all like the man who raped me.”
Muriel never thought of it that way, that half this babe was made of her own blood.
“Ailrig does no’ ken that I be his mother by blood. Fredrick adopted him after we were married. I do no’ think I shall ever tell Ailrig the truth of it, fer I do no’ want him to worry that he might turn out like the man who sired him.”
“I will no’ ever say a word,” Muriel promised.
Aggie smiled and thanked her for keeping that confidence. “Fredrick has done much to help me. ’Twas through his love and kindness that I was able to stop bein’ afraid, stop holdin’ me head in shame, and to stop me stutterin’.”
Muriel’s brow creased. “Ye stutter?”
“No’ anymore,” Aggie said with a smile. “But it used to be so bad, I did no’ speak fer many years.”
Muriel thought that an awful thing but said nothing.
“Fredrick helped me find me voice,” Aggie said as her lips curved into a warm smile.
Muriel wiped her tears on her sleeve. “Rodrick asked me to marry him,” she told her.
Aggie lifted a pretty brow. “And that is what upset ye so?”
“Aye,” Muriel whispered.
Aggie nodded her head as if she understood. “Ours was an arranged marriage of sorts, Fredrick’s and mine. We did no’ love each other at first.”
Muriel stared in wide-eyed curiosity. “’Twas no’ a love match?”
Aggie giggled. “The furthest thing from a love match,” she said. “’Twas months before we even consummated our marriage.”
Truth be told that was also a fear of Muriel’s. How could she give herself freely to Rodrick? Or any man for that matter?
“Fer ten long years after I was raped, I lived in constant fear, ye ken. The fear was always with me. Fear he would come back and do it again. Fear he would learn Ailrig was his and would take him from me. Fear that me da would find out and force a marriage betwixt us.” Her smile faded with thinking of those possibilities. “But something happened months after I married Fredrick. He showed me I no longer had to be afraid, ye see. And I finally decided that I had given far too many years to me rapist. I decided that I was no’ going to give him any more of meself than what he took — and he took everything.”
“Fredrick never insisted or demanded more?” Muriel asked.
“Nay, he did no’. He knew, ye ken, about what had happened to me. Fredrick be more than just a kind man, ye see. He be honorable and patient. Even if we had never joined as a man and wife do, he would still love me, and he would still be a good father to Ailrig.”
Honorable. In her heart she knew Rodrick was an honorable man. But could he be as patient with her as Fredrick had been with Aggie?
Sensing what she was thinking, Aggie smiled warmly. “I think Rodrick be a good man, Muriel. But the only way ye’ll ken if he would wait until ye are ready is to ask.”
Muriel felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. “I think I hurt him too much,” she said. “I screamed at him and told him nay, that I could no’ marry him or any other man.”
“I think Rodrick will understand. But ye must talk to him. If he is the kind of man I think he is, then he will.”
Muriel was filled with doubt on that matter.
Her thoughts soon turned to her babe. Aggie was right in that half this babe was her own. Could she ignore the other half that helped make it?
“God has a plan fer ye, Muriel. I do no’ ken what that plan be, but I do believe everythin’ will turn out as it is meant to. Ye simply have to open yer heart to all that could be and no’ dwell on what has been.”
The more Rodrick thought on the matter, the angrier he became. He was not angry with himself or even with Muriel. Nay, he was angry with Fergus MacDonald.
He’d stayed by the stream for a long while, pacing and thinking.
Muriel had not been upset because he had proposed. She was upset because of what Fergus had done to her. ’Twas all still too raw and fresh in her mind. Roderick had been a fool for asking so soon. Had he thought it out more clearly, he would have waited to ask for Muriel’s hand. Such as after he killed Fergus MacDonald and brought his head in a basket and presented it to her. Mayhap then she would realize she never had to fear the man again, nor would she have to fear Rodrick.
Rodrick was not a man to mince words or to flower them to help break a fall so to speak. Nay, they did not call him Rodrick the Bold for those reasons. He was Rodrick the Bold because he was as fierce on the battlefield as he was off it.
But he wanted her to want him. Not so much in the physical sense, but more in her heart. With a deep need he couldn’t understand let alone try to explain, he wanted Muriel to be as fond of him as he was of her.
Without a doubt, he knew he had to apologize to Muriel. He could count on one hand the number of times he had apologized in his lifetime. And he’d still have five fingers left.
Still, he raised his head high, put his shoulders back and headed to Muriel’s hut. First he would apologize for his proposal. Then he would make her a promise: he’d bring Fergus MacDonald’s head to her either in a basket or on a pike. The choice was hers.
He rapped gently on the door and held his breath. As soon as she opened the door, his heart fluttered in his chest. ’Twas more than just his deep seeded need to help her, to make her feel safe. He truly liked the young woman. He also thought her quite beautiful, even though her eyes were red from crying.
Thankfully, she did not slam the door in his face. Nay, she did something quite odd considering the state she had been in an hour before. She smiled, a bright, beautiful smile and looked quite relieved to see him. “Rodrick,” she said as she let him in.
Surprised, he could only stare at her in muted silence. What had caused this turn around in behavior?
She sat down at the little table and offered him a seat. “I be sorry for how I reacted earlier. I do no’ want ye to think that I could no’ marry ye in particular,” she told him.
That was good to hear, and he told her so. “I, too, wish to apologize,” he said. “I think mayhap me proposal was too soon. I did no’ mean to hurt ye.”
“Ye did no’ hurt me,” she replied softly. “But I ken that I hurt ye. And fer that, I be truly sorry.”
Aye, her initial response had stung. But after he had thought about it, he could not fault her for her reaction. “I can assure ye, me feelin’s are quite intact,” he said.
They sat in silence for a time while Muriel puzzled over just how to broach the one thing weighing heavily on her mind. After Aggie left, Muriel had plenty to think about. God has a plan fer ye, Aggie had insisted. But just what that plan was, Muriel had no earthly idea. However, she was now quite willing to consider the possibility that she might not be meant to live all the rest of her days alone, terrified, and consumed with guilt.
“Rodrick, I have to ask ye a question. One that I find a bit embarrassin’.”
Curious, he raised and brow and said, “Lass, ye can ask me anythin’. I will no’ make light or fun of ye.”
He watched as she took in a breath, her gaze turning to the table. “If we were to marry,” she began in a soft whisper, “I do no’ k
en when, or if ever, I could be a true wife to ye.”
There was no doubt to what she was referring. Rodrick had thought about that long and hard before he had proposed to her. “More than anything, I want a wife, a family,” he told her honestly. “I want to be a good husband to ye, Muriel. And a good da to yer babe. As fer the rest of it, well, that can wait until ye be ready.”
“But what if I am never ready?” she asked.
Then I would have failed in me duty to always make ye feel safe, protected, and important, he said to himself. ’Twas his firm belief that once she was no longer afraid or ashamed of what had happened, she would be able to come to him as his wife. “I would be willin’ to wait.”
After a long moment, she lifted her gaze and looked him in the eye. “But what if I am never ready?”
Rodrick could not resist smiling. “Then I would have lived a good long life, with a wife, a child to call me own, and I would die a happy man.” ’Twas nothing short of the truth.
She was deeply touched by his sincerity. The genuineness in his words and tone meant much more than she could ever put to words. It even sent a fluttering sensation through her heart. Muriel studied him closely for a long moment. “If ye be certain of that, then aye, Rodrick, I will marry ye.”
Chapter Seven
With the agreement that they would wait a few weeks to marry— or as long as it took Muriel to grow more comfortable with the idea — they settled into an odd courtship of sorts. ’Twas by no stretch of the imagination a romantic endeavor they were on. Nay, ’twas more of a situation where two like-minded people took the time to get to know one another.
Muriel began to come out of her own shell as well as her hut far more often. During the day, whilst Rodrick trained with Ian and the other men, Muriel would go to the keep to help Rose and Aggie. Most days they worked alongside the other clanswomen, helping to prepare meals for the men who were working daily on the keep or for those who trained. Other days, they worked at sewing and mending or gathering rushes, or tending the gardens.
Now that Muriel was more open-minded about the prospect of keeping her babe, the two women brought their children around her far more frequently.
Little Ada was a beautiful, cherubic babe, with round cheeks, deep blue eyes, and curly red hair. There was no mistaking who her father was, for she had his coloring, but Aggie’s beauty. She toddled around the keep, usually in pursuit of her older brother, Ailrig.
Then there was Rose’s babe, John. ’Twas difficult to tell yet who he resembled most; his mother or his father. He had blonde hair and big blue eyes. His disposition was such that Muriel believed he was more like his mother than his father, for he was a sweet, content babe. She was certain Ian either did not like her or trust her much, if the scowls and piercing looks were a gauge of such things.
When the weather allowed, the women would take the babes out of doors for fresh air and sunshine. They would not walk far from the protective walls of the keep, at least not without an armed escort. Muriel had known that Rose had been kidnapped not long ago by Rutger Bowie. Rose spoke very little of her time as his prisoner, and Muriel did not want to push the matter by asking too many questions.
The people of the clan were beginning to take notice of her. Most of the women folk were polite and even kind. There were only a small number who looked at her with scorn. Muriel had to assume it was because she was with child and unwed.
While she did find it embarrassing to be in her current predicament, her attitude had begun to improve. When those dark moments reared, she would go to her hut for some quiet reflection. There, she would remind herself that this babe might not be of her own choosing, but it could still be considered a blessing. Silently, she prayed for a girl child with the belief that the risk of it turning out like the man who sired her would be cut dramatically. If she had a boy, Muriel felt she might not end up as lucky as Aggie had with Ailrig.
At night, Rodrick would come for her to escort her to the evening meal. While many of the clans people ate in their own cottages, many invited guests supped with Ian and Rose. On any given night, there were at least thirty people dining in the keep.
After the meal, she and Rodrick would take a long walk together. Some nights they would take several trips around the walls and talk until the midnight hour. Other nights, when the rain was too much, they would sit in Muriel’s hut and talk for hours.
Muriel truly began to like Rodrick, not just for the kindness he had shown her, but for his sense of humor as well. There were times he made her laugh until her sides hurt. When she mentioned that to Rose and Aggie, they thought she was jesting. “I’ve never thought of Rodrick as humorous,” Rose admitted. “Stern, aye, but never humorous.”
Her spirits and mood had changed dramatically over the weeks. Muriel no longer prayed for a quick and timely death. Neither did she feel so totally lost and alone. Rose, Aggie, and Rodrick had become more than just friends. They were family.
After her third week amongst the clan, Aggie announced that they would be returning to their own home. They had been gone long enough, according to her husband, Fredrick. Aggie, however, was not as thrilled to be returning as he. “I still do no’ feel at home there,” she admitted. They were sitting under a tall elm tree as they watched Ailrig and the other children play. John was asleep in Rose’s arms, and ’twas all Aggie could do to keep Ada from running after them.
“But it be a grand keep,” Rose said. “I would think ‘twould be a nice change over where we grew up.”
“Did ye no’ grow up here?” Muriel asked as she lay on her back looking up at the blue sky poking through the trees.
Rose and Aggie giggled in unison. “Nay,” Rose replied. “The original McLaren keep is a mile or two away from here.”
“Why did ye move here?” Muriel asked, squinting her eyes against the sunlight.
“Because me father burned the original keep to the ground,” Aggie replied bluntly.
They now had Muriel’s full attention. She rolled onto her side and looked at them skeptically. “Ye jest.”
“Nay, she does no’ jest,” Rose told her. “’Tis true.”
“Why on earth would he do such a thing?” Muriel asked.
“Because he was a mad man,” Rose said.
“And because he did no’ want me to have it.”
Muriel listened as Rose and Aggie told the story of how Mermadak McLaren was not Aggie’s blood father. Of how Aggie’s mother had been in love with Douglas Carruthers but remained with Mermadak for Aggie’s sake. Muriel was dumbfounded to learn that Aggie not only had one keep, but two. Aggie had inherited the McLaren keep as well as her grandmother Genean Carrruthers’ keep a three-day ride north and east of here.
Muriel was about to ask why Aggie did not want to return when Ailrig came up to them. He looked deflated.
“What be the matter?” Aggie asked him as he sat down beside her.
“I want to go fishin’,” he said. “But none of the other lads want to go with me.”
“Mayhap yer da will take ye later,” Aggie told him with an encouraging smile.
“Nay,” Ailrig replied. “He be busy with Ian.”
Muriel felt truly sorry for the little boy. “Ailrig, would ye take me fishin’?” she asked. “Though I must tell ye, it has been many a year since I have done such.”
Ailrig raised a brow dubiously. “Ye want to go fishin’?” he asked skeptically.
“Why no’?” she said. ’Twas a gloriously beautiful day, with plenty of sunshine and clear skies. “Unless ye do no’ want to go fishin’ with a girl?” she said, feigning seriousness.
He thought it a rather odd thing to ask. “I fish with anyone who wants to go,” he said. “Man or woman, girl or boy.”
Aggie interjected with a protest. “Ye do no’ need to take him, Muriel. This boy would fish from sun-up until after sunset if we’d let him.”
Muriel got to her feet and stretched her back. “Nay, I do no mind,” she said. “I think I would li
ke to impress Rodrick by catching at least a dozen fish.”
Ailrig laughed heartily at her declaration. “I wager that would impress him,” he said. “I ken fer certain it would impress me.”
In less than a half an hour, Ailrig and Muriel were sitting by the babbling stream with their strings in the water. Rose and Aggie had taken the other children back to the keep, leaving just the two of them alone.
Ailrig was munching on a hunk of bread, propped up on one elbow with his legs outstretched. Muriel was watching the boy out of the corner of her eye. “Why do ye like fishin’ so much?” she asked him in a hushed tone.
The boy shrugged his shoulders before answering. “The quiet, I reckon,” he replied. “And I like bein’ out of doors.”
It seemed a good enough answer for Muriel. They sat quietly for a long while, simply enjoying the solitude and stillness.
“It also gives a man time to think,” Ailrig said, adding to his earlier response.
Muriel stifled the urge to laugh at him. He seemed so serious and so adult like. “And what would a lad of yer age need to ponder on?” she asked.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Ye’d be surprised.”
She thought it a rather intriguing answer. “Such as?”
Another shrug of his shoulders was all she received. She was about to ask for further clarification when a fish tugged at his line. With an expertise she thought defied his age, he soon had the fish out of the water, freed from the tiny hook, and placed in the wicker basket. And moments later he had tossed his line back into the water.
Once he was happy with where his line was, he stretched out along the bank, with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. The more Muriel studied him, the more she began to think he was quite old for such a young boy. Shouldn’t he be playing with other children? Mayhap playing with wooden swords and pretending to defend the keep from marauders?
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