Devil of the Highlands (4 page)

Hiding the disgust she felt, Evelinde forced her face to remain solemn and emotionless and paused before her.

She wasn't surprised when Edda ignored her altogether and instead turned a wide, approving smile on Cullen.

"Laird Donnachaidh," Edda greeted. "I see you have met our Evelinde. I do hope you are pleased with the betrothal."

"Aye," Cullen grunted, and Evelinde noted the way his eyes shifted to his men in question. Each met his gaze in turn and some silent message seemed to pass between them. Evelinde couldn't read what the message was but suspected it had something to do with Edda.

"Good, good." Her stepmother smiled widely, then quickly tempered the smile to hide her teeth and slid her arm through his to turn him toward the door to the keep. "I should tell you I am the one who chose you to marry our Evelinde, and I admire a man who begins as he means to go on. You need not spare the girl. Beat her as often as you wish. She is healthy and strong and can withstand much. In fact, she is so strong I often wonder if there is not peasant stock somewhere in her ancestry." She ended the little insult with a laugh that faded uncertainly as she tried to lead Cullen to the door of the keep only to find he didn't move.

"Yer priest," Cullen growled when she turned a confused expression up to his face.

Her eyebrows rose. "Father Saunders?"

"Fetch him. We wed and we leave."

"So soon? I—You—" Edda paused, then, apparently deciding she liked the idea of ridding herself of Evelinde so quickly, her wide smile returned. "I shall send for him at once."

Cullen gave a curt nod, caught Evelinde by the arm, and urged her past Edda to enter the keep.

Evelinde bit her lip on the protest that she couldn't possibly be ready to go so quickly. Instead, she tried to think how she could manage to get all her things packed and ready to go in such a short time. The idea of leaving d'Aumesbery was both a painful prospect and a pleasure to contemplate. There were many here she would miss. She had grown up with these people and was now leaving them behind. The idea of being free of Edda, however, was a pleasant one, Evelinde thought, as Cullen left her at the bottom of the stairs and she started up them.

It wasn't until she started up those steps that she realized how much of a problem her injuries were going to be. While walking raised aches and complaints, lifting her legs to mount the stairs made her suck in her breath as pain shot from hip to knee. Oh yes, traveling was going to be most unpleasant, she thought with a sigh.

Gritting her teeth, Evelinde forced herself to ignore the pain and continue upward, telling herself it would pass. A day or two and she would be fine. It was just bruising and stiffness setting in now. She could handle the pain until her body mended. But she knew it would only grow worse over the next hour or so. The thought of having to rush about packing was not a pleasant one, but the thought of riding after the ceremony was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Her room was empty when she entered. Evelinde put off changing for now and began to pack, working as quickly as she could. She hadn't grown much since she was sixteen years old and had always taken care with her gowns, so while Edda had refused to allow her even one new dress since her father's death, Evelinde still had many clothes from while he'd still lived. They were all somewhat old and faded, perhaps, and a little frayed here and there, but still wearable. She was slowly folding away one such gown in her chest when her chamber door burst open and Mildrede rushed in.

"Oh, my lady! Mac told me—Dear God in heaven," the maid breathed, coming to an abrupt halt when Evelinde straightened and turned to face her.

It was only then Evelinde recalled her bedraggled and bruised state. Wishing she'd taken a moment to change as Cullen had ordered, she quickly assured her, "Cullen did not do this."

"Nay, that Devil you're supposed to marry did," Mildrede said grimly.

"No, I—"

"Mac told me everything. Never fear, we have a plan," she assured her, hurrying forward. "We shall run away. 'Tis not far to the Abbey. We can—"

"Cullen is the Devil," Evelinde interrupted, stepping back as the woman reached for her, then realized that hadn't come out right. "I mean, he is not really the Devil. But—Cullen is Lord Donnachaidh," she said finally, exasperated with herself. "And he did not do this. I fell in the river."

"Oh, aye." Mildrede paused before her, open disbelief on her face. "And falling in the river ripped your bodice wide open, did it?"

"Nay," she admitted. "Cullen did that."

Mildrede nodded and grabbed her by the arm. "We are fleeing. Mac is preparing three horses as we speak."

"Nay," Evelinde cried, tugging at her arm, but her maid was determined to save her and held fast. "He did not mean to rip the gown, he was just trying to get it off… of him," she added quickly, when Mildrede clucked with disgust.

That brought her to a halt. Turning back with wide horrified eyes, she asked, "He is one of those? He was wanting to wear your dress?"

"Nay," Evelinde gasped, shocked at the very idea. Really, she couldn't imagine Cullen or any other man wanting to don a dress. "It was on his head."

That explanation did not soothe Mildrede. If anything, it seemed to be exactly what she'd expected.

"The randy Devil!" she said with disgust, beginning to tug her forward once more. "Forcing his way under yer skirt on first meeting you! And the two of you not even wed yet!"

"Mildrede!" Evelinde cried with exasperation. " 'Tis not what you think! Pray, stop and let me explain. This is all just a muddle. He really did not hurt me."

"You can explain on the way to the stables. 'Tis—" Her voice died as she opened the door only to find herself confronted with several servants bearing a tub and pails of water.

"The Dev—Lord Donnachaidh ordered a hot bath for you, my lady," one of the men at the front of the tub announced. "He said we were to make it as hot as you could stand. 'Twould soothe your aches and pains from your fall."

"See." Evelinde tugged her arm from Mildrede's grasp and moved a couple of steps away just to be sure she didn't grab it again. "I told you I fell."

Mildrede hesitated, then instructed the men to set the tub by the fire, before moving closer to Evelinde. "So he did not strike you? Not one of those bruises you are sporting are from his fists?"

"Nay. 'Twas the fall in the river that bruised me, though I think he thinks I fell from my horse as he did,"

Evelinde assured her in a whisper, her gaze moving nervously to the men now emptying pail after pail of steaming water into the tub. She didn't wish them to hear and possibly report to Edda. Drawing Mildrede to the far corner of the room, she quickly whispered the string of events that had led to her returning in the state she was in.

"So his head was not under your skirt?" Mildrede said slowly, once Evelinde had finished. "He did not touch you in that way at all?"

"Well…" Evelinde blushed and avoided her gaze. Then seeing the suspicion on the woman's face, she sighed and admitted, "He kissed me."

Mildrede stared at her silently and quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

Evelinde hesitated, but knew if she didn't convince her maid all would be well, Mildrede and Mac would risk themselves to try to make her escape, and she really had no desire to escape the marriage at this point. In fact, she was beginning to feel the first bit of hope for her future she'd had in a long time. She would be the mistress of her own home, without Edda there to make life miserable, and truly, she was beginning to have hope she might deal acceptably well with Cullen.

"He has really been quite kind," Evelinde assured her in a low and solemn voice. "And I feel no fear with him. He has kind eyes and"—she took a deep breath, and admitted—"I enjoyed his kisses… Very much," she added when Mildrede hesitated, still looking uncertain. "Besides, look how thoughtful he was in ordering a bath for me to ease my aches," she pointed out, and shook her head. "He is not what his reputation claims him to be, Mildrede, any more than Edda is the sweet, biddable, and adoring stepmother everyone at court thinks she is."

A slow sigh slid from the maid's lips, then she glanced to the men as they finished their work. She watched them leave the room before turning back to Evelinde to suggest, "Get you into the tub. I shall nip down to the stables to reassure Mac all is well… for now. Howbeit, do you change your mind, we can still—"

"I will not change my mind," Evelinde assured her, and was quite positive she wouldn't. She then cautioned,

"Make sure no one is near when you tell Mac the truth of what happened. I would not have Edda learn any of this before the wedding takes place."

"Nay. The old cow would probably find some way to break the betrothal and force you to marry another,"

the maid muttered, confirming Evelinde's own thoughts on the matter. "Shall I help you with your gown?"

Evelinde opened her mouth to refuse the offer, but then hesitated. It wasn't just her leg stiffening up as time passed. She had noticed her arm was beginning to ache as she'd packed, and suspected between that and her bruised ribs, undressing would not be the easy task it normally was.

"Aye. Thank you," she murmured.

Mildrede nodded and set to work, removing the gown quickly. She pronounced it beyond repair and tossed it in a corner, then helped remove Evelinde's chemise, tsking with concern as the bruises she bore were revealed.

"You cannot ride like this, my lady," Mildrede said with a frown as she urged her into the tub. "You will be in horrible pain."

"I hope the bath will help," Evelinde said quietly, wincing as the hot water seemed to scorch her skin. She was panting from the heat by the time she lowered herself fully into the tub, but it soon became more bearable, and it did start to ease her aches and pains almost right away.

"Can you not ask him to remain a day or two to allow you to heal? If he is as kind as you claim, surely he would allow it?"

Evelinde bit her lip, but then shook her head. "He has already seen them and yet desires to leave at once. He must have his reasons. Besides, what is a little pain beside the pleasure of escaping Edda?" she asked dryly.

Mildrede smiled reluctantly at the words and sighed. "I shall put a little tonic in your mead for you to drink.

Twill make it more bearable."

"Thank you. I would appreciate that," Evelinde admitted.

Mildrede nodded and turned away. "I shall bring the mead and tonic back when I return from speaking to Mac. You just relax and soak."

Evelinde nodded silently, her eyes closing as she allowed the water to work its magic.

She must have fallen asleep in the hot water, for the next thing Evelinde knew, Mildrede was back, three maids on her heels and the water she reclined in was now tepid.

"Father Saunders is here, and your betrothed wants you below for the wedding at once," her maid squawked in a panic. She tossed her bag of medicinals on the chest by the bed, then hurried to the tub, where Evelinde was forcing herself to sit up. "Come. We have to wash your hair and get you dressed."

"How long have I been soaking?" Evelinde asked blearily as she noted her fingers and toes were wrinkled from the water.

Mildrede took a moment to bark at the other three maids to get packing, then answered, "Quite a while. It took me longer than I intended to convince Mac all was well, then Edda demanded I do first one thing and another for her."

The maid shook her head with disgust as she picked up a pail and splashed it over Evelinde's head to dampen her hair. "I will not be sorry to see the back of that woman."

Evelinde murmured an agreement and closed her eyes as Mildrede began to wash her hair with scented soap.

She heard the door open again and blinked her eyes open, risking getting the soap in her eyes, to see a maid hurry in, a mug in hand.

"I brought the mead, Mildrede," the woman said, hurrying toward them.

"Put a little of my tonic in it, Alice," Mildrede ordered. She nodded toward the chest by the bed. " 'Tis in my medicinal bag on the chest. A smaller leather pouch with an x scratched into it."

The maid did as instructed, and Evelinde closed her eyes again as Mildrede grabbed up a pail to rinse her hair.

"I am sure I will be fine without the tonic, Mildrede," she said once the maid finished pouring out the first pail of water.

"The tonic will help. 'Tis better to be safe than sorry," she assured her, pouring another pail over her head.

Evelinde didn't bother to protest further. She supposed it couldn't hurt.

"There. Up you come. We have to dry your hair and dress you." Mildrede wrapped a linen around her when Evelinde stood, then held her hand to brace her as she stepped out of the tub. She urged her to a chair by the fire."Alice, where is the—Oh good," Mildrede muttered as the maid rushed over with the doctored mead.

Handing it to Evelinde, she said, "Sit there and drink your tonic while I figure out what you should wear."

Evelinde accepted the mug with a smile of thanks for Alice, then lifted it to her nose and sniffed. That was enough to tell her this was going to be one of those tonics that caused more pain going down than it eased. She considered refusing to drink it, but rather than argue with Mildrede, she plugged her nose and tipped the mug to her lips. No amount of nose holding could cover the foul taste of this brew, however, and Evelinde nearly gagged on the pungent liquid the moment it hit her tongue.