MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter (16 page)

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Duncan had tried that day to speak with Aishlinn. But when he entered her room, he found that she was asleep.
 
It had been like that for days now and he was beginning to wonder if her injuries weren’t worse than he realized.

The following day he decided he would try again. If he found she was still sleeping he would send for the healers.
 
He was quite surprised to hear Bree’s cheerful voice bid him entry when he knocked upon Aishlinn’s door.
 

He was also surprised to find Aishlinn awake. But he was even more surprised to find a very beautiful lass sitting near the open windows -- one whose bright smile was enough to light even the darkest of nights.
 

Aishlinn sat with a shawl draped around her shoulders while Bree ran a comb through her golden blonde hair. Duncan wished for a brief moment to be the comb so that he might have a chance to feel her smooth, silky tresses. As he cursed his wicked thoughts, he promised himself he would attend two masses this week as well as confession and beg the Lord to forgive him these wicked thoughts.
 

Nearly gone were the bruises and he could see clearly that she did in fact have a most beautiful face.
 
She had magnificent features -- an angular jaw and a perfectly proportioned nose.
 
Her lips were full and pink and he imagined they would taste as sweet as honey if he were to kiss them.
 
She had a long slender neck and dainty ears that he would not mind at all brushing his fingers against until he brought chill bumps to her creamy skin.
 
By the time he got his sinful thoughts back in control, he was up to mass every day for the next sixty years and confession twice daily through eternity.

His thoughts had turned to Aishlinn’s stepfather and the fine manner in which he managed to convince the lass that she had no beauty. Only a truly evil son of a whore would do such a thing. Duncan had not realized his face held a deep scowl until Bree brought it to his attention.

“What be the matter, Duncan?” Bree asked.
 
“Ye look angry.”

Duncan shook away the thoughts along with the scowl.
 
“Sorry lasses!
 
I was thinking of something else.” He came into the room and stood near Aishlinn.
 
“I am glad to see ya awake. How be ya this day, Aishlinn?”

“So much better, thank you, Laird McEwan.” Her smile was sweet and appreciative.

Duncan chuckled as he reached out to put a hand upon her shoulder and he felt his own skin begin to sizzle when he touched her.
 
He withdrew it quickly.
 
“Ye may call me Duncan, lass,” he told her, doing his best not to appear as addle-headed as he felt.
 
There was a reason why he was here and it took him a moment to remember it.
 
“Bree, I’ve need to speak to Aishlinn privately,” he said, never taking his eyes from Aishlinn’s.
 

“I’ll come back soon, Aishlinn.”
 
Bree assured her before leaving the room.

Duncan pulled the stool from the fireplace and sat in front of Aishlinn so that he could read her face while he questioned her.
 
Unease began to build in his stomach for he truly did not want to cause her any discomfort.
 
But it was important that he have as many details as possible.

“Aishlinn, I’ve questions I need to ask ye,” he told her.
 
“I’ll need ya to answer them honestly.”

Puzzled by his statement, her brow creased.
 
She had been completely honest with him from the start and had only held back the most embarrassing of moments.
 
“Aye, I will, as I have done since we first met, m’laird.”

Duncan nodded his head and he crossed his arms over his chest.
 
“Tell me about the night ya stabbed the earl.”
 

Aishlinn could live her entire life ten times over and it would not be enough time to forget that night.
 
Memories of what had happened and what
almost happened,
would be forever burned into her soul. They would more likely than not, haunt her all the rest of her days.
 
She took a deep breath before answering him. “I stabbed him.”

“Aye, I ken that, lass.
 
Tell me what happened
before
ye stabbed him.”
 
Duncan needed to make sense of why the English had not yet stormed his castle.

“All of it?” she asked, hoping he would at least allow her the decency to leave out the most painful and embarrassing parts.
 

“Aye, lass. All of it.”

Collecting her nerve through another deep breath she began again.
  
“I was asleep in my room when Baltair, one of the guards, came to me.
 
He said the earl wanted to see me in his chambers immediately.”
 
A shudder came over her at remembering the sad look upon Baltair’s face. “He took me to the earl’s room.”
 

“Ye were asleep? Was it late at night then?”

She thought it odd to ask what time it might have been.
 
“Yes.
 
It was long after the evening meal had been cleared and the kitchen put back into order.”

“Did ye know
why
the earl asked for ye?”
 
Duncan asked.

“Fairly certain.” Her stomach felt heavy, as if she had swallowed a bucketful of rocks.
 
“The earl had a reputation about him.”
 
She cast her eyes to the floor.
 
“But I truly hoped it would be for another reason. Though I could not think of one.”

He gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. It wasn’t any easier for him to ask for the details of that night than it was for her to give them.
 
The only comfort he had was in his firm belief that the earl now burned in hell.

A long moment passed before Aishlinn could lift her eyes to him again.
 
“I would
not
bed him,” she said firmly.
 
“That is why he hit me.
 
Again and again and again he hit me.
 
Every time I told him ‘nay’, he would slap me. When I lay on the floor he kicked me.
 
When I still said nay, he beat me about my back and legs with his belt.”
 
Her back and legs began to ache at the memory and caused her to shift uncomfortably in her chair.
 
She swallowed hard to keep the tears from coming, deciding she had cried far too many tears of late.

“I have never been with a man
that
way and I was not going to do such a thing with the likes of him!”
 
Her voice was beginning to grow angry.
 
“I swore that I would die first before I let him do such a thing.
 
But when he pulled the dagger out and held it to my throat, I could no longer fight.
 
I hurt so badly, Duncan.
 
I could barely see and it was painful to breathe.”

The tears she had tried valiantly to hold back finally escaped. They travelled down her cheeks and fell from her chin.
 
“I have never been more frightened in my life, Duncan.
 
He cut my dress and pulled it from me.”
 
More tears fell.
 
“He stank of wine and onions and he had not bathed.
 
He was forcing himself upon me, tearing at my shift.”
 
The rocks in her stomach had turned to boulders.

Duncan’s scowl deepened as she recounted what had happened.
 
He swore that had she not killed the earl he would have an army of men swarming Firth at this very moment.
 
“I’m sorry, Aishlinn.” He couldn’t find the right words to express what he truly thought at the moment.
 

Using the end of her shawl she wiped the tears from her face.
 
“He was grabbing at me, pulling my shift up.
 
That’s when I saw the dagger.”

Duncan raised a curious brow.
 
Was there a possibility that she had stabbed him before he had time to rape her?

“I could not let him do that which he wanted, Duncan. He was so angry and I feared that when he was finished, because I had put up such a fight, he would kill me.
 
So I picked up the dagger and I plunged it into his back.
 
He had been biting me and would not let go, so I pulled the dagger out and stabbed him again.”
 
She was far too embarrassed to tell him exactly where the earl’s teeth had been when she stabbed him.
 
It was far too vulgar a thing to say out loud.

The anguish in her eyes was more than he could stand.
 
He stood and pulled her into his arms while her body shook from crying.
 
Duncan felt helpless and angry. Helpless because that was often how he felt when in the presence of a crying lass, and angry because he could not take the pain from her heart or the memories from her mind.

“I’m sorry to make ya relive it, lass.
 
There are many questions that have gone unanswered.” He smoothed his hands over her hair.

He let her cry it out for a while before finally setting her back upon the chair. “Lass, how did ye escape Castle Firth?”

“Baltair helped me. After I stabbed the earl, I crawled from under him and fled the room.
 
There was a guard in the hallway, but he was asleep. I think from too much ale.
 
When I came to the bottom of the stairs, Baltair took hold of me.
 
He led me through secret corridors and to a horse.
 
He told me he was sorry for taking me to the earl.
 
Said he had a daughter my age.” She wiped her face again.

“He’s the one that told me to come to the Highlands.
 
He said the Highlanders would help me.
 
I wanted to flee to London because I felt it was bigger and would be easier to hide. But Baltair said nay, go to Scotland.”

Duncan felt a sense of hope come to him then.
 
If this Baltair was truly remorseful for taking Aishlinn to the earl, and then to help her escape, there was a possibility he lied to keep the English from looking for her. He felt he would owe a lifetime of debt and gratitude to the man.

“Aishlinn,” he said, “the scouts have returned, lass.”

“Are they well?” she asked with much concern in her voice. “They’ve not been injured have they?” While she had not had the opportunity to get to know those men who had gone in search of the English, she still felt a great sense of gratitude towards them.
 

Her next thought was that the English had followed them and were now waiting outside the castle walls for her head. “Are the English here?”

Duncan held his hands up to stop her.
 
“Lass, the men are well. No one has been injured and the English are
no’
here.”
 

He smiled as she sank into the chair relieved with his news.
 
“Tis why I had to ask ya of that night, lass.
 
Tall Gowan, Findley and Richard scouted all the territory. It seems the English do no’ look for ye.”
 
He let the news sink in.
 

“I believe we may owe it to Baltair that we do no’ have a swarm of English soldiers ready to ram the walls for ya,” Duncan said with a smile.
 
“How well did ya know the man?” he asked.

“Only by his name.
 
We never spent much time together. I only saw him when he came to the kitchens for a meal.”
 
Her brow creased, as she thought of it further.
 
Why
had
Baltair risked his own life to save hers?

Duncan had no idea why Baltair had helped Aishlinn and he doubted he would ever learn the reason. “Now,” Duncan said slapping his hands upon his knees before standing.
 
“I’ve work to see to,” he told her.
 
“I am glad that ye’re doing well, Aishlinn.”