Grant had left to escort Lyall, which kept Duncan busy running the keep. Since the last week was uneventful in the area of the unexpected or unexplained, most of the village inhabitants went back to their normal routines. They become lackadaisical in their pursuit of strangers. Even Arbella’s guards were slacking.
Anticipation of spending time with Duncan caused her face to flush and her heart to race. Twisting her hands in the folds of her skirts, she paced. The air in the room was stifling. She needed to get out. Her boots clicked against the floor as she hurried to the door. Cracking it just a sliver, she glanced out into the hallway. It was empty. Not only her guard, but everyone else was missing.
Arbella waited. It was time for the mid-day meal, and Duncan had yet to arrive. Tamara had left earlier in the day on a visit to see her family. The maid had assumed Duncan would be coming for Arbella since this was their last official day to get to know one another before the wedding nuptials.
Arbella’s mind wandered to food. Was there any coming? A dozen times she peeked out into the hallway, and still it was empty. With a brisk step she walked down the hall, facing an eerie silence. When the balcony surrounding the main hall was reached, there was not a single soul moving about. The door Duncan had repaired stood wide open and made a creaking noise as it moved with the breeze. As the wind drifted into the room, so too did a curious odor. A smell, which for any villager, was the embodiment of fear — smoke!
Arbella hiked up her skirts as she ran down the stairs, barely keeping herself upright in her haste. Outside the keep doors, black smoke could be seen clouding up the sky. The field of purple heather in front of the keep walls was disintegrating before her eyes. Duncan, Boyd, and Filib, as well as a slew of villagers, were on the front lines, trying to stop the flames from reaching the keep and the villager’s homes. Some beat the fire, others dug ditches, and still others worked carrying water. All together they worked to save their little piece of land.
Women gathered around the pond that was situated outside the walls, with every available pot, pan, or container that would hold water. She wedged herself into the water line and helped to shift the full containers to the next person. Young children waited at the end, carrying empty containers back to the front to be used once more.
As Arbella passed bucket after bucket of water, she noticed Tamara in the line as well. Her hair was plastered to her head with sweat and her dress hung limply on her youthful form.
Any other day a light drizzle of rain would be covering these Scottish hills, but today a fire raged, and the rain clouds refused to open. Arbella rubbed a sleeve backward across her forehead, leaving a black streak of ash and soot.
All day long, the villagers fought side by side as the raging fire threatened to take their homes and turn them to dust. Arbella prayed God would help her new family. And just when all seemed lost, as flames licked at the base of the outside walls, a downpour set in upon them. The rain extinguished the flame.
All the Sinclair keep inhabitants dropped their containers and danced around, jumping for joy. Everyone hugged each other with wild abandonment. Congratulations went around like would have occurred after a wedding or after a birth. Until that moment Arbella hadn’t realized how exhausted she was. An empty spot against the wall was sought. She sank to the ground. The rain continued to pelt her as she bent her knees and pulled them into her body, resting her head upon them while she offered a prayer of thanks.
The prayer finished, and she looked up in time to see Duncan coming toward the keep. The hairs on his forearms were singed, and every scrap of clothing he wore was covered in soot and ash. The whites of his eyes peered out from an otherwise blackened visage. Every few steps he stopped to thank men, women, and children for their efforts. Words of encouragement that all would be well were spoken.
With a brisk pace, Duncan walked to the well inside the walls. A woman waited there. She drew a bucket of water and handed Duncan a full ladle of the refreshing liquid. Finished drinking, he handed the ladle back and received a piece of cloth. He wiped his face. For a reward the lass received one of Duncan’s devastatingly handsome smiles.
“Thank ye, lass.”
The young girl smiled back, her cheeks rosy from his attention. “Aye, my laird,” the girl said.
Arbella could sense the jealous feelings igniting within.
****
The rain increased from a steady downpour to a deluge as Duncan noticed the huddled figure next to the keep wall. Approaching the individual, it was clear the person was a female. The lass must have been one who assisted in the water line. She appeared to be in a complete state of utter exhaustion. Duncan turned his head, looking for a family member who might be able to assist the poor lass to her home for a much-needed rest.
As he drew closer, he noticed a few things: a familiar set of pointed-toed boots, a familiar blue dress, a familiar set of hands, arms, neck, and finally familiar brown eyes, shining out from a black-stained face. Arbella looked almost as bad as he felt.
Down on his haunches, Duncan bent in front of her. With a quick change of mind, he scooted beside her, leaning back against the keep wall. Rain continued to pour down upon them. They had little protection in their current location. The rain pelted Arbella in the head, running down her face, causing the soot and ash to run. It ran down stained cheeks, continuing along the side of her neck, and into the front of her dress. Duncan’s own frame was soaked even before he’d sat beside her. With his head leaned back in a restful pose, his eyelids closed.
When they opened, Arbella was staring at him. He longed to marry her. His arms ached to carry her upstairs to their room, strip her from the wet clothes, and make passionate love to her, warming both of them to their very souls.
“Duncan, are you all right?”
He shook his head to clear the wayward thoughts. “Aye. And ye?”
“What happened?”
“A storm with lightning caused the field to catch fire. If not for the rain, I don’t know if we could have stopped the flames.”
The rain fell in a steady sheet upon the charred ground. Duncan spoke loudly to be heard over the sound. “We should get ye inside before ye catch yer death of the ague.”
Arbella’s eyebrow rose as she sent Duncan an expression of seriousness. Ignoring what he’d said, she asked, “Has the priest arrived yet?”
Duncan wouldn’t have known the location of the priest under most circumstances, but since he’d been looking for the man to arrive any day now, he had spotted the man entering the gates. The priest had noticed the fire and the predicament of the village, thrown off his coat, and stepped into the fray, helping in any capacity possible. Duncan knew the priest was at this moment helping the people who had suffered minor injuries during the fire. So he answered, “Aye, he has arrived.”
The gaze sent his way carried a heat that pierced the soul. The words spoken caused delight. “I wish to marry now.”
He chuckled as he lifted his hand like a cup. A palm full of water was caught in mere seconds. The water poured through his open fingers as a strand of Arbella’s soggy hair hanging limply around her face was lifted and examined. Noticing how her mud-spattered gown hung to her curvy frame, he began, “Arbella—”
“Duncan.” Her hand rose to stop the excuses. “I’m cold. It’s a cold that goes bone deep, and it’s going to take more than a hot fire, a warm bath, and some warm covers to pull me through. I believe your warmth would go a long way in assisting me. Also, I came this close…” she made a pinching sign with her fingers “…to losing you today, and I would prefer to have you as husband before I lost you.”
The lass looked lost and vulnerable sitting on the rain-soaked ground, begging to get married. Before Duncan knew what he was doing, he said, “I will find the priest.”
“Good.”
“Where do ye wish to have the ceremony?”
“Right here.”
One eyebrow lifted in question. “Here? But it’s rainin’ here.”
&n
bsp; Arbella repeated, “Here is good.”
Duncan shrugged mumbling to himself that he would never understand women. With one shove, he pushed up from the ground and headed to find the priest.
****
While Duncan was retrieving the priest, Arbella tried every way possible to get up from the sitting position. With one hand she pushed against the wall behind her. Then she pushed against the ground. When this didn’t work, she positioned herself onto all fours and attempted to push up that way. Her legs slid out from underneath her, and she wound up with a face full of mud. Rolling over onto her back, she used her palms to reach a sitting position. Now covered in mud from head to toe, she no doubt resembled a mud monster. When all hope seemed lost, and there were no other things to try, a hand magically appeared in front of her face.
“Need assistance, my lady?”
Arbella gazed up. One streak of light came through the dark clouds, creating a halo around her rescuer. “Oh, Boyd, could you help me up? Duncan went to retrieve the priest so we could get married, and I’m afraid I’m stuck.”
“Get married? Now?” questioned Boyd. His head shook in confusion. He wedged his feet in a spread position, gaining stability before pulling Arbella off the rain-slickened ground. When ready, he reached down to grasp her and pull her up. His hands went under her arms while she struggled to get her knees underneath her. With a grunt, she pushed up and stood on one foot. Now all there was to do was the same with the other side. But as pushed off the other knee, her foot slipped out and hit Boyd’s, causing him to lose his own footing. When he came down he landed directly on top of her, his lips inches from her own.
“Boyd, I can’t breathe.”
“Pardon, my lady.” His hands were placed flat on the ground on either side of her head as he attempted to push himself up, but it was no use. His hand slipped, and his head fell forward, landing with force upon her cheekbone, causing her to cry out in pain.
Before Boyd could apologize, he was grasped by the scruff of the neck and hauled backward. He was placed on unsteady feet for just a moment before being sent sailing across the yard when a fist connected with his face.
Duncan yelled, “How many times do I have to tell ye to stop being familiar with Arbella!”
Duncan’s face was red with anger as he spoke, “Get up, lass.”
Arbella lay flat on her back like a stuck turtle. “I can’t get up. Boyd was trying to help me, but he slipped and fell.”
“Oh,” said Duncan. He never glanced at Boyd while adding, “Well, I don’t feel bad, because if he hadn’t been familiar with ye before, then I wouldn’t have assumed he was being familiar with ye now.”
“Duncan, stop worrying about that and get me up from here. Otherwise I’ll be forced to get married right here in this very spot.”
“Well, ye did say ye wanted to marry here.” Duncan chortled. “Lass, if ye looked at yerself, ye would never marry this day.”
“I know it’s bad. But I believe part of the wedding vows are ‘for better or worse’.”
“Aye, they are.” Duncan reached forward, grasped Arbella just as Boyd had done a few moments ago. With legs spread and good bracing, he was able to get Arbella on her feet. “Don’t move,” he said, while attempting to steady them both.
They stopped shifting, and Arbella saw the priest assisting a battered Boyd. “Maybe we should have the priest come here and marry us. Then after the ceremony we can crawl on our hands and knees until we reach the keep.”
Duncan studied his bride-to-be. A strand of her wet muddy hair clung to her face. “Arbella, if we marry like this, ye will never forgive me.”
Arbella laughed. “So you don’t believe this would be a good story to tell the children?”
“If ye see yerself after the wedding, and ye look like this, I won’t live long enough to give ye any children.”
“All right.” She laughed. “I give up on the idea of marrying and spending the afternoon wrapped in your arms getting warm. Just get me inside so I can order a bath drawn.”
Duncan’s head lowered. “Yer wish is my command.”
As they went to move toward the keep doors, the mud refused to comply with Duncan’s intentions or with Arbella’s wishes, and their feet flew out from under them. They landed in a tangled pile of arms and legs. Boyd, who had recovered, was standing several feet away with his arms crossed in a relaxed position while his belly shook with laughter. Duncan glared at Boyd from his humble position.
Boyd glared back, rubbing an aching jaw. “Serves ye right.”
As Boyd’s legs carried him away, Duncan called out, “Come help us, ye lout.”
“Nay, I think not.”
“Ye better get over here, or ye will pay for it later.”
“I have tried to help yer lady once already, and ye almost broke my jaw. What more can ye do to me?”
“Do ye really wish to find out?”
Arbella rubbed at her aching bum. The skirt of her dress was fast becoming a problem. As Duncan and Boyd argued over who was going to assist them, Arbella took matters into her own hands. Sitting upon her backside, she grasped a handful of skirt and jerked. The dress ripped about an inch above the knees. Next she proceeded to flip over onto her knees and started wiggling back and forth like a babe in training. With great effort she was able to get a crawl started toward the stairs of the keep. The rain continued to pelt her backside as she made a slow and steady ascent up the small incline to the keep doors. The first wooden step was reached. Arbella turned to sit upon it with her knees scrunched in front of her.
Pride with the progress kept her from noting the villagers’ shocked expressions. Even Duncan stared at her incredulously. Arbella couldn’t understand why everyone was staring. Maybe they were happy with her success in reaching the stairs, or maybe they had been following her progress and were recording it for their future use.
These thoughts went no further as a cool breeze wafted around her bum. Realization hit. When the dress had ripped in the front, it must have ripped a little further in the back. At this moment the villagers were getting an eyeful of tattered hose, ragged petticoats, and dirty drawers. Cheeks red with embarrassment, she kicked off muddy slippers, stood up, twirled around, and flew through the keep doors, slipping and sliding all the way to her private rooms.
****
Duncan didn’t know what to think of Arbella’s display. What he did know was he had to protect her reputation. An intimidating glare was directed toward the gawking spectators. All the people who had caught a glimpse of Arbella’s secret unmentionables immediately forgot what they had seen and went about their normal business.
All except one, of course. “What a sight!”
Duncan groaned. “Boyd, the lass is struggling as it is. Can ye not see fit to forget this happened? If ye don’t, ye might find ye’ll have more than yer jaw hurtin’.”
Since Duncan remained in a sitting position in a slippery pile of mud, Boyd thought it safe to verbally torture him. “Aye, I will never mention it to the young lass, for I have no desire to distress her, but ye are a different story. It does me young ticker well to mention how delectable Arbella is and—”
Boyd never finished, for Duncan came off the ground in a flash and descended on him like lightning. First he knocked the wind out of Boyd, then he used his fists to pummel his cousin’s face. Boyd was laughing so hard he wasn’t even fighting back. Once the laughter left his system, Boyd managed to roll over on top of Duncan and pay him back.
After they were spent, Boyd rolled off, both of them breathing heavy. “We are going to be a sight for yer wedding.”
Duncan groaned and covered his eyes with a mud-covered arm.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lyall left her father’s lifeless body in the study and went back to her old rooms. She expected the midwife to be waiting there to tell her the whereabouts of the child, but the old hag was nowhere to be found.
Fatigued from travel, delivery, and her father’s disposal, she drew
the gown over her head and threw it into the roaring fire. This day, too many people had bled on her. As the flames licked the material, she lay down on the bed and fell into a deep exhausted sleep.
****
While Lyall rested, the inhabitants of the Burns’s keep were busy. The servants who had been there for a while were in a frenzy. Work to get the keep in a certain condition was underway. At the same time, the Sinclair men paced around the keep’s yard, waiting for word from Lyall.
Before the journey began, they had all heard Cainneach’s widow say she planned to send them home before she herself was ready. Bryce had been elected unofficially to speak with Grant about this possibility.
“Grant, should we stay or can we leave?”
“Nay, we must wait for a word from Lyall.”
“But she told Duncan we could leave after we deposited her at the keep.”
“Even so, I am sure Duncan meant for us to wait for her to return with us.”
Bryce muttered, “I canna imagine why.”
“What was that ye say?”
“Grant, ye know as well as I, Lyall is a thorn in Duncan’s side. He would love for the woman to never return to the Sinclair keep, and we both know it.”
“That is not for us to decide. Whatever Lyall’s faults, she is a Sinclair, and we are charged with protecting the Sinclairs. So we will stay here until she is ready to leave.”
Bryce kicked at the ground. Gazing upward, he said, “The men are tired of being here.”
“We have only been here one afternoon. How can they already be tired?” Bryce scratched his day-old beard. The young cousin shaved every day because he liked the ladies to see his youthful and handsome face. Perhaps their pace on the journey had messed with his routine?
“The men were kinda hoping we could make it back to Aberdeen before dark set in.”
By God's Grace Page 14
