Rodrick the Bold

by Suzan Tisdale

  Stunned, Muriel looked into Rodrick’s eyes. “They lie,” she managed to murmur.

  From the pained expression in Rodrick’s eyes, she knew the truth at once.

  Rodrick felt as though he had been kicked in the gut. “Muriel,” he stammered. “Let me explain.”

  Her eyes were filled with horror as she took a step back. “Nay,” she exclaimed. “They lie!”

  He took her by her elbow and began to lead her toward her hut. “I will explain it to ye,” he told her. “But let us go to yer hut first.”

  She yanked her arm from his grasp. “Tell me now,” she said angrily. Standing her ground, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  Rodrick raked a hand through his hair as he tried staring her down. “’Tis a conversation best had alone.”

  “Why do those men think me brother a traitor?” she demanded.

  Rodrick thought back to Ian’s words of warning. Ye best tell her before someone else does. Oh, how he regretted his decision now, to keep the painful truth from Muriel. “Yer brother was a traitor,” he was trying to be calm and rational, but ’twas not easy, considering the look of murderous rage she was giving him.

  “Ye lie!” she cried. “How could ye rescue me if me brother was a traitor?” she asked. “Why did ye no’ just leave me to rot?”

  He wasn’t about to tell her about the haunting dreams he had suffered from weeks ago. Dreams that disappeared the same day he rescued her from Skye. “Because ’twas the right thing to do,” he told her.

  “The right—” she paused and shook her head. “I do no’ believe ye. No’ any of ye!” She spun around and ran toward her hut. Rodrick was right behind her.

  Muriel ran as fast as her legs would take her, but Rodrick was faster. Before she could slam the door in his face, he was rushing over the threshold. “Ye must calm yerself down and listen!” he shouted.

  Muriel scurried away and stood with her back pressed against the wall. “I will no’ calm down!” she yelled back.

  “Aye, ye will,” he told her as he stood just inches away. “Charles did betray this clan. Every last member.”

  Before she could scratch out his eyes, he grabbed her wrists and held them tightly. “But he did it fer ye!”

  Stunned, she looked up at him, awash in confusion and hurt. “What?”

  Rodrick took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Instead of comin’ to me, his friend, he sided with the Bowie chief. He did it fer ye, to try and earn enough coin to get ye released from Kathryn McCabe-MacDonald.”

  Her brow furrowed into a knot of confusion. “I do no’ understand.”

  “’Twas all a plot to take over the Mackintosh and McLaren clan. It was a plan a long while in the makin’.”

  Muriel shook her head in disbelief. “Why would Charles do such a thing?” she asked, unable to find a clear answer.

  Rodrick didn’t understand it either. “He did what he thought was best in order to get ye back.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at him for any signs at all that he was not speaking the truth. But there were none.

  How could Charles have done such a thing? “Why did ye no’ tell me this sooner?” she asked.

  He expelled a quick breath of frustration. “I did no’ want to cause ye any more pain.”

  How could she find fault in that? From the first time she had met him, he had done nothing but try to protect her, to keep her safe. But this? This secret? “Ye should have told me,” she said. “Now I understand the people here do no’ care that I be unwed and with child. They are upset because they think me brother a traitor.”

  “I be sorry, Muriel. I should have told ye sooner.”

  She studied him closely for a long moment. “I do no’ fault ye fer yer decision,” she told him truthfully. “I be tired now. I think ye should leave.”

  Although she was not angry with him, she was angry at this new turn of events. Thankfully, he did not argue with her. He bid her good night before quitting the hut.

  Muriel did not sleep well at all that night. Her mind was kept far too busy with the disturbing news about her brother. Charles had betrayed this clan. He had done it for her.

  Angrily, she tossed and turned most of the night. How could he have done such a thing? Why did he not go to Rodrick, who was supposedly his friend, and ask for his help? She supposed she would never have the answer to that burning question. She could live to be one hundred years old and never have an answer.

  But what of Rodrick and her plans to marry him?

  Everything the man did was motivated by his strong sense of honor. Of doing the right thing or protecting those in need.

  Aye, those were fine qualities. What woman wouldn’t want a man such as he?

  But what of the rest of the clan? Would they ever be able to trust her? Would they ever be able to look at her without thinking of Charles? Could she live the rest of her life amongst the people her brother had betrayed?

  It didn’t matter to them why he had betrayed them. The fact still was and would always remain the same: he had done the one unforgivable thing.

  And what of this child growing in her belly? What kind of life would she have, labeled the niece of a traitor? This babe’s future was already bleak at best. Add Charles’s actions to the mix and Muriel could see no hope at all for her future.

  Before dawn, Muriel came to a decision. A decision that would most certainly hurt Rodrick. But for the first time in weeks, she finally made a decision for her child.

  She needed to leave this clan.

  Chapter Nine

  Muriel’s only hope at a decent future lay in the hands of Aggie and Frederick Mackintosh. With a heavy heart, she went to them before the sun began to crest on the horizon and pleaded for their help. Frederick left the final decision up to his wife.

  “Are ye certain?” Aggie asked as they stood on the steps of the keep. “What about Rodrick?”

  In her heart, she believed Rodrick deserved a far better wife than she could ever be to him. It hurt to admit such, but Muriel felt ’twas best for all of them. “Ours is no’ a love match,” she said. “This be his home. I can no’ ask him to give up the life he has made for himself here.”

  It did not take long for Aggie to make her decision. “Verra well,” she said. “Ye may come with us.”

  Why it hurt to hear Aggie agree, she was uncertain. Mayhap she had grown accustomed to the idea of living here, with Rodrick as her husband. But she was thinking of him, of his future just as much as she was thinking of her babe.

  After a brief discussion on how she would actually get to the Carruthers’ holding, it was decided that Muriel would ride with one of Frederick’s men. She did not wish to ask Ian for a mount, feeling they had already done more for her than she deserved.

  Muriel hid and watched from the rear of the procession, as Aggie and Rose, Ian and Frederick, said goodbye to one another. She felt every bit a skulking coward for leaving like this, but she did not want to give either Rose or Rodrick the chance to talk her out of leaving.

  This, she believed, was the right decision for everyone concerned.

  ’Twas nearing midnight by the time Muriel and the rest of the band of Mackintoshes rode through the gates of the Carruthers keep. Her bottom was sore and her bones ached, but not nearly as much as her heart.

  For the entire sojourn North, she kept telling herself this was all for the best. Rodrick was better off without her. At least here, her babe stood a better chance at a brighter future. Still, she felt a tremendous loss and deep sorrow at leaving Rodrick.

  ’Twas difficult to see the keep and all its glory at this late hour. Muriel could only suppose it was a beautiful place and quite grand if the silhouette against the backdrop of the moon was any indication. Opulence or hovel, it mattered not to her. This was to be her last new beginning.

  They took a narrow set of stairs up and into the keep. Through a short and narrow portico of sorts, they were immediately met with three sets of sta
irs. One to her left, one to her right, and one straight ahead. She found it rather odd until Aggie explained it had been built more for defense than anything else.

  Quite generously, Aggie and Frederick gave her one of the smaller rooms on the third floor. ’Twas nicely if sparsely appointed. One small bed in the far corner, a table and two chairs were placed under a narrow window. A brazier burned low in the center of the room. A large trunk rested near the door. Beside it was a small table holding a basin and pitcher and a few washing cloths. Other than that, there was naught much to the space. She reckoned it truly didn’t matter.

  “On the morrow, we shall set ye to work in the kitchens,” Aggie said from her spot near the doorway. “Then we can discuss what lies ahead fer ye.”

  “I can no’ thank ye enough, Aggie,” Muriel said with a weak smile.

  Aggie embraced her warmly. “’Twill be good to have a friend here,” she replied.

  Muriel thought it odd she should say such a thing, but she was too tired to inquire as to why she’d said it.

  After Aggie left, Muriel slipped out of her gown and into the warm bed. After not sleeping much the night before, she was asleep almost at once.

  Rodrick was furious.

  Muriel had left before dawn, with Aggie and Frederick Mackintosh. She didn’t even say goodbye. She just left. Without explanation or warning.

  Rose had waited until noontime to tell him. Her excuse was that she sincerely felt Muriel needed time to digest what she had learned about her brother. “She is hurtin’,” Rose told him. “Mayhap she just needs a bit of time to sort things out in her head.”

  Rodrick glowered at her.

  “Think on it, Rodrick. She has had much happen to her in such a short amount of time. She be afraid, and now embarrassed over what Charles did.”

  His expression turned darker, yet he remained silent. His head was spinning with worry, frustration, and aye, anger.

  “Mayhap after a few days, she will come to her senses.”

  Rodrick raised a brow and shook his head in disgust.

  Rose studied him closely for a long moment before her eyes grew wide as if she had just discovered something. “Ye love her!”

  With his lips pursed together, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Please fergive me, m’lady, but that be none of yer concern.” ’Twas a fact he’d come to realize only recently. As yet, he was not willing to admit it to anyone, let alone Rose.

  Rose took a step back, her lips turning upward with a good measure of satisfaction. “Ye men be all the same,” she declared. “Ye can fall in love with a woman, but ye’d rather rot than admit it to anyone, least of all yerselves.”

  Aye, she had the right of it, but he would not agree openly with her assessment. For Rodrick, this was a deeply personal matter.

  “Let Ian ken I will be leavin’,” he told her as he turned to leave the gathering room.

  “Shall I tell him where ye be goin’?” Rose asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

  “To get me future wife,” he shot over his shoulder.

  I’ll no’ be comin’ back without her.

  Muriel slept late, thoroughly exhausted from the events of the past two days. Even though she had not eaten much the day before, it all still came up, leaving her feeling quite lightheaded and tired. But she knew she could not lay abed all the day long.

  Guiltily, she rushed to dress when she realized she had probably already missed the morning meal. What will Aggie think of me? She cursed under her breath. “It be a fine way to start yer first day here,” she muttered as she slipped her feet into her slippers. “They will think ye naught but a lay-about.”

  She splashed cold water on her face, ran her fingers through her hair and hurried out of the room.

  Last night, before she fell asleep, she had promised herself she would awake feeling much better about being here. She would also set aside any guilt she felt at leaving Rodrick the way she had.

  “It be a new day,” she said as she descended the stairs. No matter how hard she tried to put a smile on her face and hope in her tone, it didn’t work. She still felt miserable.

  When she came to the second floor, she was met by a rather hard looking woman of mayhap fifty years of age. Silver hair braided around her scalp framed a face that mayhap at one time could be considered pretty. Her stern expression, however, did little to make Muriel feel at home.

  “Sleep the day away where ye come from?” the woman asked.

  Taken aback, Muriel tried to apologize, but the woman would have none of it.

  “Ye may be one of the new mistress’s friends, lassie, but ye’ll still be expected to work. I will no’ be trottin’ up and down the stairs waitin’ on ye hand and foot, no I will no’.”

  Muriel didn’t know if she should feel angry or afraid. She went with the former. “Excuse me,” she said, doing her best to affect a stern tone of her own. “But who are ye?”

  “Ye may call me Mrs. MacFaddon,” she said with a scowl. “Now, off below stairs with ye. The new mistress says ye are to be workin’ in the kitchens. The day be half gone now as it is.”

  Without so much as a good day, lass, the woman hurried down the hallway.

  A sense of dread fell over Muriel’s shoulders. Silently, she prayed the rest of the people here were not as hard as Mrs. MacFaddon.

  Muriel rushed down the steps and landed in the small portico. ’Twas as dark and forbidding a place during the day as it was at night. If her memory served correctly, the center door would lead her to the gathering room. Hopefully, there would still be someone about who could direct her to either Aggie or the kitchens.

  The door was heavy and groaned loudly when she pulled it open.

  The first thing she thought when she stepped inside was, Poor Aggie! The place was dark and dreary, nothing at all like Aggie, who was always bright and cheerful.

  The second thing she thought, when she caught sight of the lone figure who turned around to face her was run!

  Rodrick was standing in front of the cold hearth.

  And he did not look at all happy.

  Nay, not one bit happy.

  What she could make of his expression in the dim light — all dark and furious looking — set her fingers to trembling.

  Before she could turn around and run, the door behind her closed with a soft thud. Suddenly, she found she was unable to speak. Mayhap that was best, considering the look of murderous rage staring back at her.

  A heartbeat later, he was thundering towards her. He did not stop until her back was pressed against the heavy wooden door.

  Blood rushed in her ears as her heart beat heavily against her breast. She wasn’t afraid of him, at least not afraid in the sense that he was going to bring her any physical harm. But she was afraid nonetheless.

  Without permission or warning, he bent low and kissed her full on the lips.

  ‘Twasn’t at all the kind of kiss Fergus had slobbered her with.

  Nay, ’twas a soft and gentle kiss that said a thousand different and terrifying things all at once. Not terrifying as in impending doom or fear of attack, but terrifying in how it made her feel. ’Twas a gentle, sweet kiss filled with warmth, adoration, and a few things best left unspoken, at least for now. It surprised her that she was not appalled by it, or sickened, or horrified.

  A moment later, Rodrick took one small step back. “Gather yer things,” he said, still glowering and looking more than just a bit perturbed. “We be leavin’ at once.”

  His words returned her to her good senses. Pulling her shoulders back, she said rather defiantly, “Nay,” she gulped once. “I do no’ believe I will.”

  Rodrick’s scowled darkened. His words were clipped and his tone stern. “Yes. Ye. Will.”

  “Let me explain to ye why I left,” she began, her tone curt and direct in an attempt to match his.

  “I ken exactly why ye left,” he told her. “Ye worry people will look at ye with scorn and malice for what yer brother did.”

  A
bit surprised, she said, “Aye, that is part of it.”

  “Ye also believe I deserve better than ye.”

  Silently, she cursed Aggie or Frederick for betraying her confidence. Somehow, one of them had told either Rose or Rodrick the why of her leaving. “Then ye can understand why I can no’ come back with ye.”

  “Nay, I do no’.” He said, still looking angry.

  Muriel rolled her eyes in dismay. “I do no’ ken how much clearer I can be. I can no’ live amongst people who will think me a traitor because of me brother’s actions.”

  “They will only think ye a traitor or coward if ye leave like this,” he said. “If ye come back with me, ye will be showin’ them ye are neither of those things.”

  While he did in fact make perfectly good sense, she was not sure she was up to the task.

  “And I want ye to come back,” he told her.

  She knew there was more he wanted to say, but coward that she was, she did not feel brave enough yet to hear it.

  “If ye do no’ agree to come back with me, then I shall stay here until ye change yer mind.” The hard angles of his jaw were set. His blue eyes were filled with a determination that was unmistakable. No wonder he was considered such a fierce warrior.

  An unfamiliar sensation, akin to a flutter of butterflies, grew in her chest. “I can no’ ask ye to give up everythin’ ye have worked so hard to build.” She knew he had searched for years to find a place where he felt at home.

  “Then come back with me.”

  Never in her life had she met someone as determined as Rodrick. His countenance left no question that he would in fact remain here, giving up everything he had worked so hard for.

  Muriel growled, let out a frustrated breath, and threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “Verra well,” she told him. “But I return under protest.”

  Looking victorious, he smiled and raised a brow. “And what is it exactly that ye be protestin’?”

  “I do no’ think the clan will ever accept me,” she told him.