Devil of the Highlands (5 page)

"Gawd, Mildrede, 'tis horrible stuff," she complained with a shudder as she lowered the mug.

Mildrede turned from the gowns she was sorting through to shake her head. " 'Tis not. You should barely be able to taste it."

It was what the woman always said to get her to drink her medicine, and Evelinde gave her usual disbelieving snort, then plugged her nose and downed the rest of it.

"Do I have to eat the dregs?" she asked reluctantly when she recovered from downing the last of it and found the bottom of the mug full of small bits of crushed leaves and twigs.

"What?" Mildrede was suddenly at her side, snatching the mug from her. She peered at the contents, and then cursed and whirled to Alice. "What did you put in here, girl!"

Evelinde felt trepidation rise up along her spine at the panic in the woman's voice.

"I—the one you said to. With the x," the hapless Alice gasped, following Mildrede when she rushed to snatch up her medicinal bag and dump its contents on the bed.

"Which one did you use?" she asked.

"That one." The girl picked up a small pouch.

"Nay!" Mildrede gasped in horror.

"Is it wrong? You said the one with the x on it," Alice cried with distress.

"That is not an x, 'tis a cross," Mildrede snapped. She glanced down into the mug with a frown, and asked,

"How much did you put in?"

"I—You said just a little," Alice answered evasively.

"Aye, I did, but this pouch was full and is now half-empty."

"Well, it tipped a bit as I was pouring it in," the girl said apologetically.

"Dear God," Mildrede breathed.

"What is it, Mildrede?" Evelinde asked, alarmed when her voice came out terribly slurred. She tried to gather the linen around herself to stand and cross the room, but found her hands incapable of holding the cloth. The material simply slipped through her fingers like sand. "What—?"

" 'Tis all right," the maid said reassuringly as she headed back toward her, though the worry in her voice detracted somewhat from the words. " 'Twill not kill you. Twill just—" Mildrede broke off and rushed forward to catch her as Evelinde began to slide out of the seat.

"Did ye na tell that maid to hurry? What is taking so long?"

Cullen managed not to grimace at Tavis's complaint. His cousin had never been a patient man, but at that moment he was in full agreement with him. He'd sent the maid up to fetch his bride more than an hour past and Evelinde still had not appeared.

"Ye doona think she doesna wish to marry ye and fled, do ye?" Tavis said fretfully. "Yer reputation as the Devil of Donnachaidh may have scared her off. Maybe we should check the stables and be sure her mare is still here."

Cullen frowned at the suggestion. From what Evelinde had said in the clearing, he already knew his reputation as the Devil of Donnachaidh had preceded him. Still, he didn't think she was afraid of him. In fact, after their tryst in the clearing, he would expect she'd be less afraid of him and even looking forward to the marriage bed. He certainly was.

"Nay," he said finally. "There's no reason for her to run."

"Women don't need a reason," Fergus said dryly from his other side. " 'Sides, I wouldna be so sure. She could be mad. She certainly didna seem all that right in the head, riding about the meadow waving a flag as she was."

" 'Twas her gown," Cullen snapped.

"What the devil was she doing waving it around as she was?" Fergus muttered.

"It looked wet to me," Tavis said, when Cullen didn't trouble himself to explain. "She was probably trying to dry it."

A round of relieved murmurs sounded from the other men. Cullen knew they'd feared their new lady would be mad since discovering she was the lass from the meadow.

"How did she get herself all bruised?" Gillie asked suddenly.

"No doubt she took a spill from her mount," Fergus surmised when Cullen remained silent. "That's what happens when ye act foolish and doona ride proper. Hopefully, the lass has learned her lesson."

Cullen didn't comment. His gaze had moved to the top of the stairs in hopes of seeing his betrothed appear, but the stair head was still empty.

"I am glad we are na staying here tonight," Gillie commented, drawing his attention again. "Her stepmother is a horrible woman."

"Aye," Tavis muttered, and Cullen noted his gaze shifting along the table to where Edda d'Aumesbery was talking with Father Saunders. His cousin shook his head with incomprehension, and added, "I doona understand the woman at all. From what she said while we awaited yer return, she obviously believes all those tales about the Devil of Donnachaidh."

"Aye," Gillie muttered. "And yet she doesna seem the least afeared of ye."

"Nay, she's too pleased at the prospect of her stepdaughter marrying our laird and being miserable," Fergus commented with disgust. "She sees our laird as an ally because of it and hasna the sense to be afraid."

Tavis blew out a silent whistle at the suggestion, then nudged Cullen. "If that's the case, I suspect the woman has made the lass's life miserable as can be until now."

"Aye," Cullen grunted, his gaze shifting to the Englishwoman. She was a vile creature. It hadn't taken him more than a glimpse of Edda's obvious pleasure at Evelinde's state when they returned to the keep to realize getting the lass away from here as quickly as possible was the best thing he could do for her. His opinion hadn't changed in the time he'd waited below. Edda had spent the interval spewing out insult after insult about her absent stepdaughter and telling him what a trial the girl had been to her.

The woman kept insisting Cullen would have to beat her into shape. She seemed to think he should take a stick to Evelinde morning, noon, and night to ensure good behavior… but the more she talked, the more he felt like taking a stick to Edda. Cullen didn't think the woman had dared to raise a hand to Evelinde herself, but he had no doubt that Tavis was right, and the bitch had made Evelinde's life here as miserable as she could since Lord d'Aumesbery's death. It had been a relief when Father Saunders arrived, and they'd been able to break away from the nasty cow and move farther along the table to confer. It had saved him from strangling his betrothed's stepmother… probably not the best memory for Evelinde to have of their wedding day.

Cullen's gaze slid back to the top of the stairs again, and he wondered where his bride was. He was eager to get her out of this cursed castle.

"Well," Edda d'Aumesbery suddenly stood. "Evelinde is obviously taking her time. I shall have to go chivvy her along, else we shall, no doubt, be left here awaiting her pleasure all afternoon." She turned a gaze full of happy anticipation to Cullen. "I do hope you can take the girl in hand and teach her to be more prompt and obedient. I fear her father spoiled her horribly, and she needs a strong hand."

Cullen ground his teeth but simply stood, and announced, "I shall go up."

The catlike smile that immediately claimed the woman's face rubbed his nerves raw. He had no doubt she was anticipating his taking his fists to the lass for her dallying. Cullen had never raised a hand to a woman in his life. He'd have liked to at the moment, however. He wanted to slap that smug smile off Edda's face. Mouth tightening, he strode to the stairs and bounded up. He could not get out of this castle quick enough.

Cullen reached the top of the stairs just as a maid slid out of one of the doors and hurried up the hall toward him. Her steps slowed, and her eyes grew wide with alarm when she spot ed him.

"Where is Evelinde's room?" he growled, impatient with her fear. Truly, a little caution around strangers was healthy, but the servant's open terror was insulting. Still, he supposed he brought it on himself by letting everyone think the worst.

When the girl turned and gestured silently back to the room she'd just left, Cullen nodded and moved swiftly to it. He didn't knock. He pushed open the door, stepped in, and opened his mouth to demand to know what was taking so long, only to have his jaw sag. There were two women in the room with his bride—her lady's maid and another younger maid. Neither had noted his arrival. They were too busy dragging a naked Evelinde across the floor with her arms pulled over their shoulders. She hung limp between them, head sagging forward and legs—apparently unable to hold her weight—dragging behind.

Cullen slammed the door closed to get their attention, and the women paused at once and peered his way. All except his bride, who simply continued to sag between them.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" he snapped, crossing the room to the trio. The maids immediately began to back away, dragging Evelinde with them.

The younger woman simply shook her head frantically in response to his question. It was the older one, the one he believed was Evelinde's maid, who explained, "I told Alice to put some tonic in Evelinde's mead. It was to help soothe her sore muscles."

"Oh, aye, her muscles are soothed," Cullen snapped, lifting Evelinde's head to see she was conscious, but dazed and seemed incapable of holding up her own head. He gently eased her head back to rest against her chest again and glowered at the maid. "If I'm ever ill, doona even think to treat me."

"Alice gave her the wrong medicinal," Mildrede snapped. "And too much."

Cullen just pursed his lips doubtfully, his gaze sliding back to his bride. "How long will it take to pass?"

Mildrede hesitated, considering the matter, then shook her head, and admitted, "I am not sure. A while."

"But it'll na harm her?" he asked.

Mildrede shook her head.

"Can she speak?"

"Aye." The word was little more than a slur from his bride's bent head.

Cullen nodded, then scooped Evelinde away into his arms. "Then we can be wed."

"Just a minute!" Mildrede squawked, as he turned to head to the door. "You can not take her like that. She is naked!"

Cullen paused to look down at the woman in his arms. He'd been so upset and worried by her state he'd quite managed to forget she was naked. He had to wonder how that was possible as he peered at her now, his gaze traveling over her breasts, down her stomach to the golden thatch of hair nestled at the apex of her thighs, and finally over her shapely legs.

"Come, set her on the bed, and we will dress her," Mildrede said.

Cullen scowled at the peremptory order, but laid Evelinde on the bed. He looked down at his bride as Mildrede sent the younger maid to fetch a chemise and gown.

"She took a bad tumble. Those are some nasty bruises she's carrying," the maid said with a sad shake of the head.

"Aye," Cullen agreed, his eyes traveling over lovely, milky white skin, interrupted by several black bruises.

"She looks like a cow."

Mildrede turned a horrified gaze on him at the comment, but he was more concerned by the choked sound that came from his bride. He really hadn't meant it as an insult, but it seemed the women were taking it so.

"I just meant the coloring," Cullen muttered, wondering why he was bothering to explain himself.

Mildrede shook her head and turned to take the shift from the younger maid when she rushed back with it.

She immediately began to try to put it on the lass, but Evelinde was unable to help at all, and it was obvious it was not an easy job. The two women had to hold her in a sitting position, raise her arms, and maneuver the chemise onto her at the same time. Even with the younger maid trying to help, Mildrede was struggling with the task.

An irritated sound slipping from his lips, Cullen moved around the bed to help. He was holding her upright with her hands in the air for Mildrede to work the chemise onto her when a knock sounded. The younger maid was just hovering nervously by the side of the bed, so she was the one who went to answer it.

"This will teach me to trust anyone else to mess with my medicinals," the maid muttered as she finished getting the chemise over one hand and turned her attention to the other.

Cullen's only response was a grunt as he shifted his hand about, first down the arm, then back up as Mildrede worked that hand through the sleeve.

"God's teeth! With all that bruising on her lily-white skin she looks like a cow," Tavis said, appearing at his side.

"That's what I said," Cullen agreed, feeling vindicated. He wasn't at all surprised his cousin had managed to talk his way around the maid. However, when Evelinde made a groaning sound, her head flopping against her chest with distress, it suddenly occurred to him that his cousin was staring at his betrothed's lily-white skin, mottled or not. It mattered little that in the normal course of events, Tavis, as well as all the rest of the men, would have got an eyeful during the bedding ceremony. This was not the bedding ceremony, and there probably wouldn't be one. There was absolutely nothing normal about this wedding so far.

"Turn around," he snapped. "What are ye doing here anyway?"

A grin tugging at his lips, Tavis did as ordered, and explained, "Ye've taken so long, Edda was threatening to come up and check on ye, so. I said I'd come." He glanced back toward the bed, and asked, "What's the matter with her?"

"They drugged her," Cullen said dryly.

"It was an accident," Mildrede protested. "Alice got my tonics mixed up."

Tavis raised his eyebrows, but simply asked, "Can the wedding go ahead?"

"Aye," Cullen said firmly. "We just need to get her dressed."

Tavis nodded. "Diya need me help?"

Cullen hesitated, then shook his head. "Nay. Jest guard the door and keep that bitch stepmother of hers out of here."

"Aye."

The moment he moved away, Cullen turned his full attention to getting Evelinde dressed. Mildrede now had the shift on her arms and over her head and was tugging it down over her upper torso.

"Can you lift her up?" the .maid asked.

Cullen lifted Evelinde by her hands so her bottom was off the bed, and the maid quickly tugged the chemise down to cover her.

They were working to get the gown on her when the next knock came. Cullen glanced back to see Tavis positioned beside the door, inside the room. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the whole process, but straightened and turned to answer the knock.

Cullen spotted Fergus on the other side when it opened and shook his head with disgust as he turned back to what he was doing. Edda was obviously eager to find out what was happening. At this rate, every one of his men would be in the room ere they got Evelinde dressed.

"Nay. You will consummate the marriage now. I will not have you take Evelinde from here, change your mind, and return her to have the marriage annulled later. This marriage will not be undone," Edda insisted firmly.

If Evelinde's head were not already hanging down, it would be now at the insinuation that Cullen would soon find her lacking. Her wedding day was turning out to be one of the most humiliating of her life to date. She was battered, bruised, apparently resembled a cow, and completely incapable of supporting herself.

Once they'd dressed her, Cullen had been forced to carry her below, then hold her upright by pressing her to his side with one arm around her waist and his other hand holding her head up so she could see the priest. When she'd had to say her vows, they'd come out as little more than a grunt because her mouth wouldn't move properly. The priest had been upset and reluctant to accept it as a vow, and Cullen had begun to lose patience with the man. Fortunately, Mildrede had saved the holy man by pointing out that Evelinde could nod. When the priest had looked at her, Evelinde had done so, though it was more like a flop than a nod. She had very little control over her muscles.