Once Forbidden

by TERRI BRISBIN

  This was a good sign to him. She trusted him. The ordeal of the next several days would be a bit easier now that he knew.

  "Faither Cleirach would hear yer confession, if ye so desired, before the vows."

  "I thank you for your consideration. I will think on it."

  He turned and looked at the babe, sleeping peacefully on the pallet next to her. "Ye should get some rest. We need to leave at first light if we want to be at Dunbarton by the evening."

  She looked as though she would argue with him or ask another question, but she stopped and nodded. He turned and wandered over to the table, purposely keeping his back to her to grant her some measure of privacy as she prepared to join her son on their bedding. Wrapping the remainders of the food tightly in cloth, he stored everything away for the night. He gathered his plaids and spread them out in front of the door and, seeing that Anice was settled, blew out the candle remaining alight.

  Soon, the sounds of the night filtered into the croft and Robert felt himself closer to sleep. Her voice broke into the quiet.

  "Why do you do this, Robert? Why saddle yourself with a wife who does not want to be one?"

  He clenched his teeth shut and fought not to let words pass his lips that would show him for the fool he'd been already this night. They were there, at the ready, the words, the declaration that would change everything that stood between them. He swallowed several times and then came up with a response he thought was suitable.

  "I have my reasons, Anice. Dinna be concerned about them now."

  Robert waited for her to question him. He almost wished it to see if the spirit he'd seen in her earlier was true. Part of the reason he did this was so that he would never have to look upon that expression of desperation and fear on her face again. If nothing else came of this exercise in madness, he would be pleased with the results of his gamble.

  Chapter 21

  She was once more a married woman. In spite of her promises to herself and her attempts to prevent it, she was now under the power of one man. She shivered and looked ahead at her husband, whose stallion led the way down the road to the village and keep of Dunbarton. Robert had helped her onto the saddle, then gained his own seat and taken off at a brisk trot; her pony could do nothing but follow along behind. She felt just as her mount must—out of control and out of sight.

  Robert said it would take a few hours to ride back to the village. Her bottom told her that it had been long enough without a break but she hesitated to call out to him. The easygoing disposition that he'd displayed to her while living in Dunnedin was gone and an irritable, grunting man had replaced him. She remembered similar complaints from women she knew who'd married, but never dreamed the transformation took such little time.

  Mayhap she did release a groan for he turned in the saddle and looked back at her, lifting his hand to block the sun's light while studying her without a word. Anice tried to smile demurely at him. She was not successful for he turned his horse and approached her slowly.

  "If ye can make it awhile longer, ye can take yer ease in the comforts of Duncan's keep."

  Rather than saying the rude words that perched on her tongue, she simply nodded to him.

  "Is the bairn well?" He brought his horse side by side with hers and peered into the carrier she'd fashioned once more to carry the babe without using her hands. For some reason, her skin tingled as he stared past her breasts and at her son. He began to reach inside the sling as if to touch his head and she leaned back and out of his reach. His gaze moved to hers in a questioning expression.

  "He sleeps now. 'Tis easier to manage him this way while traveling."

  "I did but seek to check him, no' to wake him." He directed his mount away from her and turned to lead her once more.

  "Robert," she called out softly to him.

  "'Tis well, Anice. We are both exhausted and out of sorts from the last few days. 'Twill be much easier for all of us when we reach the keep. Come." He motioned her to follow with a wave of his hand. She allowed her pony to trot along behind his the rest of the way without comment or complaint.

  Not much time had passed when the lush growth of the surrounding forests began to thin and the road widened to a size that would accommodate several horses riding side by side. The path climbed a rolling hill and then the village came into sight, like Dunnedin and not.

  A sense of excitement filled her even in her exhaustion because this was only the third village she'd visited in her lifetime. Once she'd thought and dreamed of traveling all over Scotland, to Edinburgh and David's court with Sandy since he was apparently high in the king's favor. David's capture and imprisonment in England had changed those dreams. In spite of her preparations and training in the customs and languages of the English and Scottish courts, Anice had never once stepped outside of Dunnedin since the day she entered it.

  As they drew closer, people called out greetings to Robert. Warriors raised their hands to him, workers nodded to him, and, she was bothered to notice, the women all offered exceptionally warm words of welcome. Observing him from a few paces behind, he unhesitatingly accepted them from one and all. Here was the man she remembered from Dunnedin, the one who had such an amiable manner and smile for everyone. Then, as if he realized she was there, he turned and drew her to his side.

  "Ye should be riding next to me, Anice. Come, the keep is just ahead." Robert nodded to the left and she turned to look.

  Dunbarton rose against the sky, larger than Struan's keep and darker in color as well. She stared as the structure grew as they approached. Robert controlled her pony so she could simply gawk at the size and splendor of it. They crossed over a stone bridge leading through a portcullis and into the main yard. Every manner of activity filled that place—people coming and going from the building, animals being herded, horses ridden and led. The sounds and sights had begun to overwhelm her when she heard Robert's name being shouted. Blinking to regain her control, she turned to see who called to him.

  A tall, hulking figure came from among the people towards them. His hair was completely white, but he did not look to be as old as Struan was. What she noticed most about him as he came closer was the terrible scar that slashed down the right side of his face and the look of kindness in his eyes as he returned her gaze.

  "Robert! Welcome back to Dunbarton! Is this Lady Anice with ye?" His eyes twinkled even as he asked his question and as his glance moved back and forth from Robert to her. She knew that the MacKillop recognized her. It had been over a year since she'd laid eyes on him, but she sensed that not only did he know exactly who she was, he also knew why she was there.

  Robert dismounted and gave the reins to a stableboy, who took control of them and led Dubh away. From the way the boy patted and spoke to the stallion, she saw they were old friends. But then, Robert had lived here for more than eight years, so this was more a home than Dunnedin to him.

  Robert did not wait for her to climb down. He lifted her from the pony's back and placed her on her feet. Luckily his hands did not leave hers right away, for she stumbled after so long a time in the saddle. As Robert steadied her, the babe let out a muffled shriek between them. A commotion nearby drew their attention.

  A short woman, shorter than Anice was herself, pushed her way through the crowd to the side of the huge man. Anice would not call this woman fat, but she did carry a comfortable layer of natural padding that gave her a very soft appearance.

  "Here now, husband. Did ye look at the puir lass? That bruise on her forehead needs tending and she looks nigh to fainting. And," she asked as she peered over at Robert, "did I hear a bairn's cry?"

  "Aye, Lady Margaret," Robert answered as he stepped back. "'Tis Lady Anice's son making himself known."

  Anice unwound some of the sling and exposed Craig's head with its tuft of bright red hair to them. Lady Margaret let out a cry.

  "Come, Duncan. Let us move inside where the mother and babe can rest." The lady did not wait for the laird to move at all—she simply wrapped her arm
around Anice's shoulders and pulled her away from Robert. Before she could be drawn away completely, Robert spoke.

  "My lord, my lady. Before they leave, may I make known to ye once again my wife, the Lady Anice MacNab?"

  Everyone within hearing distance stopped and stared without any measure of discretion at them. The laird and his lady exchanged glances and Anice saw the hint of a message passed between the two.

  "Lady Anice, welcome to my humble estate," the MacKillop said, bowing before her. "Is it true then? Have ye taken Robert as husband?"

  Anice curtsied even while she remained in Lady Margaret's grasp. "Aye, my lord, Robert and I exchanged vows this day. He is my husband now."

  Some tremor rumbled through the crowd and the clapping began and grew louder. Soon all around her were applauding and tears filled her eyes when she realized the meaning of it. Robert's clan of the last eight years, those whom he'd trained, and trained with, were expressing their approval of his marriage in their own way.

  She turned her head and found that Robert and the laird were now exchanging glances. The Lady Margaret tugged her along towards an archway off to one side. Looking to Robert, she saw him nod and smile at her, so she walked along, not resisting the guidance of the laird's wife.

  Soon she found herself ensconced in a huge wooden tub filled with fragrant steaming water. A young woman, hand-picked by Lady Margaret, came to the room and took Craig from her. The lady insisted that she give over his care for the night to the wet nurse. When Anice protested, she was assured of the competence and caring that he would receive. As the real exhaustion of the last days set in, she found the idea of bathing and sleeping very appealing.

  From then it was all a blur of activity around her and for her, as she was bathed, her hair washed, and clean clothes provided to her. Lady Margaret circled the room, calling out orders in a soft but firm voice until all of her needs had been seen to. Then as quickly and quietly as it all began, everyone left the room and she collapsed onto the cushiony mattress of the rope bed. It would feel heavenly to sleep on a real mattress instead of the hard pallet or unforgiving ground of the last several nights.

  Although a tray of food sat on a table next to the bed, she could not gather the strength needed to eat. So she climbed onto the bed and pulled the layers of warm blankets up to her neck. Within a few moments, she felt herself drifting off to sleep. Just before she could let go, a thought tickled at her mind. She tried to focus on what concerned her, but it was difficult to do so as she lay in her comfortable cocoon.

  It was something about how the MacKillop had asked about her marrying Robert. She had called him husband before the whole crowd; everyone had heard her words. Now why did that seem so significant? She would have to ask Robert when she saw him next.

  * ~ * ~ *

  "Poor dearling! To be dragged over hill and glen in that condition. Robbie, I thought I raised ye better than that." She may have been small, but the Lady Margaret packed a powerful punch. It landed in his stomach and he blew out sharply from the impact of it.

  "I dinna drag her! She ran away to me." How was it that women never listened to the important parts of the story and made up their own endings? "I brought her here—is that no' enough to make ye happy?"

  His foster mother muttered again as she walked to the other side of the solar where the wet nurse was just finishing feeding Anice's little piglet. Now Craig lay upright on the girl's shoulder, peering around the room as if he knew what went on there. Margaret adjusted the bairn's coverings for the tenth time and rubbed his head. He knew then and there that he had made the right decision in bringing Anice there. If he had doubted Duncan's cooperation, Margaret had more than assured that things would go well for them now.

  "Where have ye put her?" Robert asked. He looked at the laird for an answer, but Duncan shrugged and nodded at his wife, who was playing and cooing with the babe.

  "In yer room, of course," she answered in a singsong voice as though speaking to the babe. "Where else do ye think I would put yer wife, ye daft man?"

  He had not remembered her to be so insulting before he'd left for Dunnedin. He shook his head and looked to the laird for guidance. Another shrug was all the help he got from that one. Craig, however, was enjoying her voice and her antics and let out one of those laughs that began at his feet and shook his body. Something tightened within his chest as he listened to the two of them.

  "I need to wash up." It seemed that everyone else was being looked after but him.

  "The tub is set up in yer room," Lady Margaret answered without looking at him. All Duncan offered was another of his infuriating shrugs. "Anice was asleep before I left the room the first time. If ye have a care"—she cast him a warning glare—"she will stay asleep while ye bathe."

  Robert crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze at her. Duncan's silence in this was a puzzle. The laird knew exactly what he had done in asking Anice if Robert was husband to her. Robert knew it even as the words left Duncan's mouth. From the expression that passed between laird and lady, Margaret understood the significance of it as well, even if she was not privy to all the reasons.

  Even if the wedding before the priest of the old church was not upheld, something almost as old and respected would bind him and Anice together... for at least a year and a day. For in calling him husband and declaring it before the crowd, Anice and he were handfasted, by his words and hers. The laird and lady knew it. The crowd of old friends among the MacKillops knew it. He knew it.

  Anice apparently did not.

  * ~ * ~ *

  It must be a dream, she thought as she snuggled even deeper under the covers. She felt clean for the first time in days. A soft bed lay under her, caressing her in its warmth and comfort. Her son was being cared for while she rested. Robert was...? She could not remember where Robert was. She stretched and rolled to her side, moving the covers aside and repositioning herself. It was the sound of the water splashing that forced her eyes open.

  She'd found Robert, and, dear God in heaven!, he was getting a bath not four feet from where she lay. And he was naked. Not four feet from where she lay. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him so close and so... wet. Intimidated by his nearness and size, she gasped, inadvertently drawing his attention.

  Robert leaned back his head and groaned out loud. He shifted his body, drawing his long legs up to his chest. The tub that had been luxurious to her did not accommodate his much larger size and longer limbs.

  "Lady Margaret will have my head if she finds out I woke ye," he complained. Pounding his fist into the water, he groaned once more as water splashed everywhere around the tub.

  "You did not wake me, Robert. Truly. I was shifting and heard the water."

  She tried not to stare at him, but this was her first sight of him this undressed. The water made his skin glisten in the fire's light and she had the most absurd impulse to touch where the drops ran down from his shoulders and onto the wide expanse of his chest. His hair was slicked back and even the growth of many days on his face looked clean. Suddenly, the covers that had warmed her just minutes ago in sleep were too heavy and too many now and she wished she were alone so she could throw them back and cool off.

  "I will leave," he said, beginning to stand in the tub. Holding on to the sides, he pushed himself up and then stopped as if he finally realized she would see the rest of him.

  "Nay," she called out, afraid of what she might see if he stood now. She started to get out of the bed, but the glimpse of the sheer nightrail she wore stopped her. "Robert, I will turn over this way"—she turned away from him—"and you can finish your bath." She faked a yawn and patted her mouth at the end of it. "I am so very tired I will be back to sleep in no time at all."

  "Are ye certain I am no' disturbing ye?"

  "You are not," she answered as she turned to face the wall. She lay down and pulled the covers high up onto her shoulders. Even as hot as she was, she would not lower them until he was gone.

  He grunted in
that low tone she'd heard several times over the last days. Did that mean he would finish? Well, she was not turning back to find out what he was doing. She would stay in the bed until he was gone.

  "Ye will no' tell Lady Margaret, will ye?"

  She wanted to laugh, but his voice was filled with a kind of grudging respect for the wife of his laird. "Do you fear her?"

  "Oh, aye! She haes fists of rock and a tongue that will slash a man to bits."

  "Then I will protect you from her wrath," she said. He grunted once more and then began to splash around in the water, obviously finished his bath. She added another word to let him know that the realization of what they had done before the clan was sinking in.

  "Husband."

  Chapter 22

  She knew.

  He did not think her a fool, but he did think she had been too exhausted and overwhelmed to notice the words that Duncan invited her to say. Her words sealed their bargain and, although Struan and her father might seek annulment of the church ceremony, the handfasting bound them together for a year and a day. And it could only be broken by one of them. Now he could think of nothing to say to her in response to her call.

  He resumed his bath even as she lay under the covers listening. He smiled as he remembered the blush that crept up her neck and face when she looked at him sitting in the water next to her. Her mouth had dropped open and she looked at him with unashamed interest. Robert fought the urge to call her from under her tent of covers even now as he stood to climb out of the tub. She was treading a thin line between curiosity and terror now and he did not want the expression on her face to turn to fear at the sight of him naked. It would ruin his own esteem to see dread in her eyes as she looked upon him.