MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter (14 page)

Aishlinn held her breath and tried to convince herself that her tears were the result of being weary and travel worn and not from the longing of missing Moirra and her mother.
 
All that she needed was a nap and a hot meal and she’d be able to control her emotions much better afterwards.

“Och! Lass!” Bree whispered sweetly.
 
“Ya be safe now.”
 
Bree gave her a slight hug around her shoulders.
  
“And ye must be quite tired from yer journey.”

“Yes I am. But I’m afraid all I’ve done these past days is sleep.”

“Who could blame ya?” Bree said paying particular attention to a rather large knot of hair.
 
“Ye’ll no’ have to worry about the English while yer here, lass. Angus will see to it that ye’re safe, as will Duncan and the men.”

“When will I meet Angus?”
 
Aishlinn asked unable to suppress a yawn.

“Och! It will be at least a month.
 
He was called to the high north for talks, just a day or two after Duncan left in search of the reivers.”

Reivers? Aishlinn did not know what the young girl spoke of.
 
“What reivers?” she asked.

“The reivers that took the cattle.
 
Thirty head of cattle they took in the dead of night.
 
That’s why Duncan and the others were in the lowlands, to find the reivers that took ’em,” Bree said.
 

Aishlinn felt ashamed knowing that Duncan and his men had given up a search for the cattle that were meant to feed their people. Visions of starving men, women and children leapt into her mind. “Why would they do that?” she thought out loud.

“Do what, lass?” Bree asked finally winning the battle with the knot of hair.
 

Aishlinn sighed heavily.
 
“Why would they give up the search for the cattle to help me? You’re people will go hungry because of it!”
 

“Och! Don’t be silly, lass!” Bree patted her on her shoulders.
 
“Our people will no’ go hungry. We’ve been blessed with more than most and we’ve plenty more cattle to feed us!”

Although relieved to know the clan would not go hungry, she still felt quite guilty.
 
These men had given up the search for their cattle and had taken great risks to bring her here.
 
She worried that she would never be able to repay them for their kindness.

“All done!”
 
Bree happily announced before standing.
 
“Now ya get yerself into bed and I will look in on ya later.”
 
She smiled sweetly before leaving Aishlinn alone.

For as long she could remember, she had always slept upon a pallet, even after moving into Castle Firth for the servants’ rooms had no beds.
 
The bed at Aric and Rebecca’s had been quite nice but she had only slept in it to heal her battered body.

Peasants and scullery maids were not meant to enjoy such luxuries. If she began to sleep in a bed now, it would be the same as telling a lie; she’d be pretending she was something she wasn’t.
      

She could not deny that it looked to be a magnificent bed but she also could not deny her true station in life. Wrapping the linen tightly around herself, she chose instead to sleep on the floor by the fire. Yawning again, she tucked her head into the crook of her arm and within moments fell asleep.

******

While Duncan bathed, his thoughts turned to Aishlinn, who he knew at that moment to be completely naked, soaking in a warm bath of her own in the room right next to his.
 
He was quite shocked by the mental image that came to his mind and gave himself a good chastisement for it.
 
The lass was far too young, and had gone through far too much to have a big lumbering Highlander chasing her about!

He lathered up his face and shaved off the nearly month old beard that had sprouted upon his face.
 
His mind continued to wander to thoughts of Aishlinn and he knew not from where those thoughts came.
 
He nicked his face several times while shaving, unable to concentrate at the task at hand.

Blotting up the tiny droplets of blood, he cursed himself repeatedly.
 
Mayhap it was the long journey or his gratitude towards her for killing the earl that affected his mind and led it to images he should not have.

The bath had left him feeling refreshed and invigorated.
 
He donned a clean tunic and plaid before pulling on his leather boots. There had still been no word of Findley, Richard or Tall Gowan and he hoped they would be returning soon.
 
Word that the English had fallen for the trick of sending back the riderless horse would indeed be welcome news.

He assumed Manghus was now happily at home with his wife and regaling her with the story of their recent adventure.
 
Rowan had by now partaken of a warm bath and was more likely than not seeking out the friendship and comfort of any available young lass.

Standing near the fireplace he wished that Angus were here now to seek his counsel on the matter of Aishlinn.
 
Learning earlier from Rowan that Angus had been called to talks in the far north and that it would be at least a month before he would return did not help the matter. With Angus gone, Duncan was left as acting chief.

Rowan had also informed him that Isobel was off helping Brown Robert’s wife deliver her first bairn, therefore he could not seek her counsel. Customarily he would have sought out Angus’ advisors, but unfortunately they were all with Angus.
 
If only he knew for certain what the English were doing he would feel much better about the entire situation.
 

Duncan ran his hands through his damp hair and began to pace.
 
If he were to ever become chief of his clan, he would need a team of advisors of his own.
 
Half the men he would have chosen for that position were busy at the moment, scouting the territory for English soldiers who could at this very moment be ready to descend upon his castle in search of Aishlinn.
 
He would not allow that to happen.

Curious feelings had begun to creep into his chest as he thought of her.
 
He felt quite protective of her as well as beholden, for she had killed the man who had murdered his family. But there was something more. ‘Twas a
something
that he could not quite put his finger on.
 
Taking a deep breath, he decided to seek out Rowan and a few other good men he felt he could trust. Together they would make a plan of action in case the English attacked.
 
But first, he should check on his guest.

Aishlinn’s room was next to his own, just a few steps away.
 
He knocked quietly but heard no reply.
 
Had Bree still been in the room she undoubtedly would have bid him to enter.
 
He knocked again and still received no response.
 
Had she taken ill he wondered? Or had she fallen getting out of the tub and now lay unconscious upon the floor?

Quietly he opened the door and peered inside.
 
He found her curled up like a kitten in front of the fireplace. The poor thing had been so exhausted from her recent trials and journey that she had fallen asleep by the fire.

Duncan entered the room quietly and crouched beside her. There was a hidden beauty to the lass, and not one simply masked by bruises and welts.
 
Aishlinn’s beauty ran deeper than skin.
 
For reasons he could not explain he felt drawn to her in a way he had never experienced before. He wanted to know her better, to learn all he could of her.
 
He was also anxious to see what her face looked like when it was free of the marks left behind by a cruel and evil man.
  
She looked so peaceful -- nearly angelic as she slept on the floor by the fire.
 
He resisted the urge to reach out to touch her cheek.

For days she had been sleeping on the cold ground. She’d not complained once of being cold, even when her teeth chattered and her body shivered.
 
There had also been no complaints about the pain he knew she must have suffered.
 
He could not leave her to sleep here on the cold hard floor even if she were by a warm fire.
 
Gently he reached his hands under her tiny frame and scooped her into his arms.

She had been sound asleep when she suddenly felt her body being lifted into the air.
 
She let out a loud gasp before she realized Duncan was lifting her into his arms.

“Haud yer wheest, lass!” he smiled.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.
 
“Put me down, Duncan!” She had no idea what he wanted or why he was here.

“Lass, ya fell asleep on the floor. I was merely putting ya in yer bed so ya could rest more comfortably,” he told her.
 
“Ye’ve spent enough time of late sleeping upon the cold hard ground.”
 
He remembered how cold she had been that morning, chilled to the bone with her teeth chattering.

“I’m used to sleeping on a pallet, Duncan,” she protested.
 

Duncan wondered then if she was afraid of the bed after what the earl had done.
 
Silently he sent a slew of blasphemies down to the bastard in hell. Mayhap a bed brought back too many painful and frightening memories.
 
“Lass, the bed will no’ hurt ye,” he whispered trying to reassure her.

“I know that!” she said indignantly and let out and exasperated sigh. She knew he would not leave her alone about it. “I’m
used
to sleeping upon a pallet.” She hoped she would not be forced to explain it further.

So that was it.
 
The lass had never slept in a bed before.
  
She was probably embarrassed and wanted not to admit it aloud.
 
He decided to take a softer approach.

“Now, lass. What happens when ya find a nice young lad to marry? Do ya expect yer husband to be sleepin’ upon a pallet or in a nice warm bed with ye?”
 

She went red with embarrassment. She knew that more likely than not she would never marry. And if she did it would be no business of Duncan’s where she and her husband might sleep! She began to protest when she suddenly noticed his smooth face. He had shaved his beard and he looked even more handsome without it. “You shaved your beard,” she said.
   

“Aye, I did,” he said as he began carrying her towards the bed.
 
“I find the lasses complain far less when I kiss ‘em with a smooth face!” he said with a smile and a wink.

A momentary sensation of sadness, blended with a tint of jealousy, ran over her skin.
 
Other women, women far more beautiful and buxom than she, would be given the honor of those kisses.
 
She cursed herself for thinking such things.

As he stood holding her beside the bed she noticed an odd expression had come to his face.
 
“Are you going to put me down?”

For an uncomfortably long moment, he did not move.
 
His eyes seemed to be glued to hers. With a slight nod of his head he said aye before he carefully laid her upon the bed.

It was as she had thought it would be, soft, warm, and quite luxurious. Taking a deep breath, she caught the faint scent of thrushes and lavender, as the bed seemed to wrap around and hug her tenderly. ‘Twas an exquisite feeling of comfort, warmth and safety. ‘Twas nearly as good as having Duncan’s arms wrapped around her.
 
Not quite as good, but close enough.
 

“Now,” Duncan said.
 
“Be that better than the cold floor?”
 

Aishlinn closed her eyes as he drew the blankets around her “Aye,” she whispered softly.
 

He brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead and wished he could crawl into the bed with her.
 
He cursed himself for thinking it.
 
“Good rest to ye, Aishlinn,” he said and quickly left the room.