MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter (10 page)

Aishlinn’s face burned red as a jolt of fear rushed up from her belly.
 
For a moment she worried they might expect her to ‘be ready’.
 
Then she remembered her plain, homely face and felt better.
 
She was too plain to be wanted by any man, let alone one of these braw Highlanders.
 
For the first time in her life she felt glad for being ugly.

When she asked if they were quite done laughing, it only brought forth more of it.
 
They may be brave and honorable warriors, but she suspected they were more hellion than anything else.
 
She waited patiently for the laughter to cease.
 
“Do you have more questions of me?”

Rowan stepped close to her, the smile gone from his face, replaced with a look of concern.
 
“Lass, why did they cut yer hair?” he asked.
 
“Ya told Mary it was a punishment.
 
What could ya have done so terrible as to deserve that?”

Shamed, her hand went to her hair as she tried to smooth it.
 
She imagined she must look a fright to them and did not blame them for their curiosity.
 
Oh, how she wished they had cut it for some untold brazen act she had committed. Alas, she had no exciting or adventurous story to tell.

Duncan made a mental note to admonish Rowan later for his blatant disrespect at having asked the question.
 
Though he was as curious as the rest of them as to why she had been punished in such a manner, he still felt it an insensitive question.
  

“For burning the evening meal,” she told them quietly.
 
“Twas about this time last year. I had been working in the fields all the day, plowing them to ready for the spring planting. I put a stew on the fire and fell asleep.
 
They were angry the stew had boiled dry and was ruined.”

She left out the part of how she had been awakened by a strong slap to her face that had knocked her clean from her chair.
 
It was Horace, her oldest brother who had slapped her awake. He cursed at her for quite sometime before the other two had grabbed her and slammed her face into the table, whilst Horace grabbed her long braid and cut it.
 
Later he had fastened the braid to the tail of one of their plow horses. He had derived great pleasure from being so cruel.
 
She had cried nearly nonstop for days after. Finally, she had convinced herself that plain girls didn’t need long locks and it would eventually grow back.
  

“I canna imagine doing such a thing to a sister.” Rowan said. Hatred and disgust flickered across his face. Similar expressions could be seen on the faces of the other men as well.

“I canna believe they made her work the fields like a man!” Aric huffed.
 
“Tis an atrocity is what it is.” The others nodded their heads in agreement.
 
“We don’t treat our women that way here lassie, ya can be assured of it!”
 
With his massive arms crossed over an even larger chest, Aishlinn felt relieved to know he was on her side.
 
“We’d rather be hung by our shorthairs than to let such a thing happen!”
 
Duncan shot look of warning at Aric that said to watch his language in front of the lady before them.

While she thought it admirable that they were appalled at how her family had treated her, there were reasons for their behavior. Aishlinn had not realized she had been talking out loud.
 
“What were the reasons for treating ya in such a manner?”
 
Duncan asked.
 
She could not tell if he was appalled or bilious for his expression could have explained either condition.
    

She flushed again, humiliated and ashamed. Perhaps she could pretend to be in pain, or needing rest and bid them to leave. She knew there was no sense in prolonging the inevitable for eventually they would figure it out. It was probably best to warn them now. “You think my face looks frightful now?” she said quietly.
 
“Wait until the bruises fade and the swelling leaves it.”
 
She twisted the edge of her coverlet between trembling fingers.
 
“My stepfather taught me to work in the fields, to build things, and to hunt, knowing I would never be blessed with a husband. You see, even without the bruises and cuts, I be a quite plain and ugly young woman.”

Loud protests filled the room as if she had just insulted the King of Scotland. Duncan shot to his feet, his face marked with anger and disbelief, unable to speak. Aric however, had readily found his voice. “What father would tell a lass such a thing?” he demanded. ‘Twas a good thing Broc already lay dead in the ground, for Aishlinn was certain these men would seek him out and kill him for such an injustice.
 
While noble, she thought, it was highly unnecessary.

Rebecca rushed in, her brow creased, and ready to yell at the men for yelling in the direct vicinity of her patient.
 
When Aric relayed what Aishlinn had told them, Rebecca flew into a rage of her own.
 
The profanities -- some in the English but many in the Gaelic -- which Rebecca slung in the direction of Aishlinn’s dead stepfather, were enough to make most grown men blush.
 

The men in this room were apparently unfazed by such talk coming from a woman.
  
Secretly, Aishlinn wished she had just an ounce of Rebecca’s tenacity.
 
Perhaps if she had known some of the words Rebecca knew, she could have used them as weapons against her brothers. Maybe then, they wouldn’t have mistreated her or cut her hair.
 
They would have been downright fearful of her.

Taken aback by the spectacle, Aishlinn lay still and bewildered in the bed.
 
Tears threatened and she was not certain what to make of the outrage before her.
     

The look on Duncan’s face said enough. He was utterly appalled by what she had just told them.
 
He crouched on one knee before her and took her hand in his.
 
“Lass, such a thing is not true. Yer stepfather be an evil whoreson of a man to have told ye such a such lies!”
 

“Duncan, really.
 
You needn’t be so kind. He did it only to protect me,” she told him.
 
Really, such a fuss they were making and over what? The truth of the plainness of one young woman?
 

Duncan shook his head.
 
“Protect ya from what, lass?” He simply could not fathom it.

“He knew I be plain and would never find a husband to take care of me, Duncan,” she said bluntly. Aishlinn had had her entire life to get used to the face that would garner her no husband or bairns.
 
Once her face healed and these men had time to get used to it, then they would understand.
 
“Isn’t that what fathers do? Protect their children?”

“Aye,” Aric said, stepping to her side.
 
“A father protects his children from all manner of evil, lass.”
 
He told her.
 
“But a father
never
tells his daughter such lies!”
 

“Even if it be the truth Aric?” Aishlinn gritted. She was growing weary of the topic. “Certainly a good father would always be truthful with his children, even if the truth hurt.”

Aric pursed his lips together.
 
“If ye be ugly and plain, then I be King David!”
 
His scowl deepened and he looked quite menacing.

Duncan squeezed her hand again.
 
“Tis the truth, lass.
 
Ya be no’ plain nor ugly.”
 

Aishlinn quietly searched for a memory or a time in her life when Broc or her brothers had said anything to the contrary.
 
She could find none.
 
Her entire life and everything she knew had been built around the premise that she was not only
plain
but
ugly
as well. Now here she was, surrounded by complete strangers who were insisting none of it was true. Although she would have loved to believe them, her heart insisted they were only being kind.
   

 
While everyone else in the room was lost in their own conversation regarding the outlandish and cruel behavior bestowed upon their new charge, Duncan’s focus remained on Aishlinn.
 
When a tear trailed down her cheek, he quietly suggested they take their conversation elsewhere and allow the lass to rest.
 
After the last wish of a good sleep was made, and the curtain closed, Duncan remained at her side.

Crouching beside her, he lightly brushed a loose bit of hair from her forehead with his fingertips.
 
A surge of something quite unfamiliar rushed through Aishlinn, and she knew not what to make of it.

“I ken ya be frightened, lass.” he told her.
 
His voice was soft and reassuring.
  
“I ken we must appear to be a strange lot to ye, all big and loud and speakin’ our minds. Och! We may stretch the truth a wee bit on occasion, but when it comes down to the very important things in life, we never lie.”
 
Duncan knew that her current predicament could not be an easy one.
 
He could only hope that someday she would realize he was being truthful with her.
 
“When we make a pledge or a promise, we keep it ‘til our dyin’ breath.
 
When we swore to protect ya and yer honor, we meant it.”
 
Smoothing her hair he smiled at her.
  
“And when I tell ya that ye be no’ plain, ya can believe that I tell no lie.”
 
He squeezed her hand again, smiled and left the room.

While Duncan had been speaking, Aishlinn had been holding her breath. But the moment he stepped behind the curtain, she released it and with it came more than a decade’s worth of tears.

Duncan came to her, as promised, before the sun had risen.
 
He gently touched Aishlinn’s shoulder and she awoke startled and frightened.
 
“Haud yer wheest, lass!” he whispered.

When she tried to stand, she found her legs wobbly and weak. They were not going to cooperate with her this day.
 
She was tempted to use some of the words she had heard Rebecca using last night.
 
Perhaps if she cursed her legs enough, she could scare them into functioning properly.

Duncan helped her to her feet and waited patiently for her to get her bearings.
 
Rebecca soon joined them to help her out of the nightdress and into the trews and tunic.
 
Duncan had been proper by leaving the women alone while Aishlinn dressed, but returned the moment Rebecca was done with tying the laces on the trews.
 
She helped to put woolens over Aishlinn’s feet before handing the lass over to Duncan.

As Duncan carried her out of doors, the cold morning air brought chill bumps to Aishlinn’s skin.
 
Stars dotted the clear night sky and a sliver of a moon hung high in the east.
 
It would be hours before the sun would be up.

Duncan handed Aishlinn to Manghus while he mounted his horse.
 
Aric had one hand on the bridle of Duncan’s mount, his other resting on the shoulder of his wife. Rebecca had packed food for their journey to Castle Gregor as well as an extra blanket with which to keep Aishlinn warm.

“I’ve put fresh bandages and more salve in the bundle for ye.” Rebecca told Rowan as she handed the bundle up to him.
 
“Keep the wounds clean. Change them at mid-day, then at night and she should be well.”
 

“Thank ye, Rebecca.” Rowan told her as he tied the bundle to the back of his saddle.
 
“Yer a good woman.
 
Too bad yer already married!”
 

Rebecca shushed him.
 
“Ye’ll no’ want Aric to hear ya say that!” She gave him a smile as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.
 
They had all been friends for many years and she knew Rowan meant nothing by it.
 

Aishlinn thanked both Aric and Rebecca.
 
“I fear I’ll never be able to repay your kindness,” she told them. Rebecca reached up and squeezed her hand.
 
“Tis nothin’, lass. Return the favor by showing kindness to another when they need it.”
 
Aishlinn felt a twinge in her heart.
 
Growing up she had been kept away from most people and had never been afforded the opportunity to make friends.
 
Rebecca had been the first person that Aishlinn could consider as such, though their time together had been short.
 
She could only hope that they would have the opportunity to meet again someday, and hopefully under far better circumstances.

“Remember,” Aric said to Duncan, “tell Angus that Caelen offers our support against the English should ye need it.
 
We’ll be at Gregor in a fortnight, maybe two, to meet with him and his council.”
 

 
Duncan nodded his head as Manghus lifted Aishlinn up to him. He wrapped a plaid around Aishlinn, then the blanket from Rebecca, tucking both securely under her chin. “I be sure Angus will appreciate yer support.” Duncan said to Aric.
 
“Express me gratitude to Caelen for us.”
    

“I will.” Aric said as he handed the reins to Duncan.
 
“Keep the lassie safe.”
 
Aric gave a soft slap to the horse’s rump.
 
“God speed.”
 

 
As the horses began to trot down the road towards Dunshire, Duncan gently laid Aishlinn’s head upon his chest.
 
“I still promise ya a hot bath and a warm bed when we get to Castle Gregor, lass.”
 

Duncan’s chest was warm and made her feel safe and protected.
 
As she lay against him, she thought of how these men had behaved towards her. They fussed over and guarded her as if she was as precious as gold.
 
And for reasons she could not fathom, they had sworn their unyielding allegiance.
 
It was difficult to understand
why
these men were so intent on protecting her. As her eyelids grew heavier and her body warmer, she decided the reasons why did not matter. Far too tired to think further on it, let alone to will her mouth to speak, she promised to swear her own allegiance to them very soon.
 
For now, all she could do was snuggle into Duncan’s chest and sleep.

******

The sun had risen long before Aishlinn woke again. She lifted her head to catch a glimpse of where they might be, the movement bringing a twinge of pain in her ribs that she would not admit to and her bladder begged for relief.
 
Not wanting to be a burden or appear weak in the eyes of Duncan or his men, she remained quiet and hoped that they would soon stop for a rest.

Duncan bade her good morning with a smile; his blue eyes twinkled in the morning light.
 
Aishlinn yawned as she tried to stretch her weary muscles. ‘Twas not an easy task when one is atop someone’s lap and on a horse no less. Perhaps they would stop soon and once dismounted, she could stand, stretch and move her muscles a bit and find a good tree. Or a rock.
 
Or a bush.
 
Anything behind which to hide so she might give some relief to her bladder.

They rode in silence for a while longer.
 
Aishlinn tried to gain a more comfortable position; one that would take some of the pressure off her bladder that was threatening to empty its contents upon Duncan’s lap.
 
After a while longer, she decided she could no longer remain quiet on the matter. “Duncan, I do need to stop for a moment.”
 

“Are ya in pain lass?” he asked with much concern in his voice.

“Aye,” she told him.
 

Duncan immediately pulled rein and brought his horse to an abrupt stop. Rowan and Manghus pulled up beside them. “What be the matter, Lass?” Duncan asked, very concerned for her.
 
He began to wonder if they’d left Aric’s too soon and were pushing her too hard.

Aishlinn squirmed as she tried to right herself, praying that the Lord would allow her to hold herself a bit longer, at least until she could get behind a tree.
 
“Duncan, I really must get down straight away.”
 
The urgency in her voice told them what they needed to know. Duncan handed her to Rowan who sat her upon the ground.
 
She cursed under her breath when her legs nearly gave out.
 
Duncan dismounted and waited to see if she could walk on her own.
 
When she continued to teeter, holding on to Rowan with one hand and the horse with the other, Duncan sighed.
 
He scooped her up and headed toward a tree with Rowan following behind them.

“I can walk, Duncan,” she said with an irritated sigh. She was frustrated that her body wasn’t healing as quickly as she would have liked.

“Aye, I’m sure ya can, lass,” he told her before setting her down.
 
Holding on to the tree for dear life, she prayed that they would both go away.
 
She would pee down her own leg before she’d allow either of them to help her with such a delicate matter. A great breath of relief escaped her when they stepped away to give her some privacy.

After several long minutes, and only because she had to struggle with the blasted trews, she finally hobbled from behind the tree.
 
She appeared delightfully relieved and was smiling.
   
Duncan stifled a chuckle as he looked down at her.
 
The lass’ head barely reached the middle of his chest, her hair was mussed and the clothes hung so loosely upon her, that she had the appearance of a child playing dress up.

Whilst she had been otherwise detained, Duncan and Rowan had spread a plaid on the ground and opened the bundle Rebecca had given them.
 
Her smile disappeared in the blink of an eye when she caught sight of the items spread out on the plaid.
 
There was no way to change the dressings on her wounds without removing the tunic.
 
She went red from head to toe at the thought.

“We need to change yer bandages, lass.” Duncan told her as he slid an arm around her waist to lead her to the plaid.
 
Roots grew instantly in her feet and refused to proceed forward.

There had been many times in her life where she had wished she’d been born a lad and this was one of those moments.
 
If she had been born the opposite sex, she would have been better suited to work in the fields and hauling rocks.
 
There would have been no braid to cut and no trading her for sheep.
 
There would have been no beatings or attempt at rape.
 
And if she were a man right this very moment, she wouldn’t be trembling with embarrassment and fear at the prospect of baring her back to anyone.

Duncan could see the nervousness in her eyes.
 
“What be the matter, lass?” he asked.

What be that matter?
Where Aishlinn came from, young ladies did not bear their skin to men they were not married to! Well, a harlot or a bar wench might, but Aishlinn was neither of those things.

Thinking she might be worried that they would not be as gentle as Rebecca had been, Duncan attempted to sooth her worries.
 
“Lass, I promise we’ll do our best to be gentle and not harm ye.”

The only harm she was worried about at the moment was to her reputation.
 
What if word got out that she had removed her clothing in front of a man?
 
Two men to be exact! “You’ll be seeing my back,” she whispered.
 

Rowan coughed lightly and turned his back to her while Duncan let loose with an exasperated sigh.
 
“Aye, lass, we will be needin’ to see yer back fer that’s where yer cuts are.”
  
He could understand the lass’s reluctance but now was not the time to stand on proper social protocol.
 
“If we dunna change yer bandages, they could grow infected.”
 
He hoped she would listen to reason.
 

While the thought of infection did not please her, perhaps it would be worth the risk.
 
“But what would people think?” she asked as her knees began to knock together.
 

Duncan threw back his head and laughed heartily.
 
Aishlinn’s eyes blazed with anger.
 
He was a man, a blasted fool, who could not appreciate the fallout of a sullied reputation.
 
“I am glad, Laird McEwan, that I’m able to bring such amusement to you,” she gritted her teeth at him.
 
She noticed Rowan had remained with his back turned and his body shook with laughter.
 
“And you as well Laird Graham.”
 
They could both take a leap from the nearest cliff as far as she was concerned.
 
Men set the rules in this world, and then laughed at you when you followed them.
   

“Lass, there be no one here but us,” Duncan said through smiling lips.
 
“Yer reputation will remain in tact.”
 
He shook his head as his laughter began to subside.

Rowan had managed to take a deep breath and turned back to them.
 
He was doing his best to remain composed as well as thoughtful.
 
“Lass, we really
must
change the bandages.
 
We’ll only be lookin’ after ye like a brother would towards a sister who is ill or injured.”

Her own brothers would have poured salt into her wounds and laughed while she cried in pain.
 
Neither Rowan nor Duncan appeared to be anything like her brothers.
 
Aishlinn knew they meant well and she began to relax a bit towards the idea.
 
She couldn’t very well change her own bandages.
 
And as long as they behaved as a good brother might, then perhaps she would be able to suffer through the embarrassment.