Authors: J. Lee Coulter
Tarnished Honor (7 page)
“Do nae!”
He snapped.
She glanced at him, a bit startled at his tone of voice.
Swallowing
hard, she replaced the parchment that she had just retrieved. “I do nae understand, husband. Why would ye nae wish for my dowry?”
Connall could see that she was not going to forget the insult. He must tell her a reason. He held out his arms. “Come, my love, and sit with me. I would tell ye a truth that I had hoped to spare ye.”
As she settled into his lap he gathered his thoughts. This truth would be hard for her to hear but she left him no choice.
“Before I rode into Urquhart that day, I passed through the little crofter village a short distance from your gates. Twas a sore sight to see. The people were nae much more than skin and bones. There was a stench of death in the air. I followed the odor to a particular hut…tis where I found Amy.”
She gasped in horror as she realized what he implied. “She saw her mother die?”
“Twas worse than that I am afraid. I entered to find her sleeping betwixt her dead parents. They must have been dead for several days…the smell was rank.
” His eyes mis
t
ed at the memory. “I took her away immediately and had my men bury them. The villagers were nae up to the task. We gave them all we could spare but I fear that they all will soon be dead.”
“The poor lass. She must have been terrified when they did nae wake.” Tears flooded her eyes. “But what has that to do with my dowry?”
“Do ye still nae see? Your people are starving to death. Angus must have spent all of the gold…including your dowry…if the people go hungry. Mayhap he feared ye would take your complaint to the king. To ask for it now, even if he still has it, will nae aide those people
and quite possibly would put ye at risk. That I will nae allow! I warned him afore we departed that he best see to the villa
g
ers or he will be visited by the king’s Enforcer. Besides, wife, twill be a much better use of your coffers. Do you nae agree?”
Her husband amazed her with his thoughtfulness. He was correct, of course. Helping those people was a better use of the funds. They had no need of it. She stroked his strong jaw, as her tear-filled eyes glistened. “Aye husband
. Tis a noble thing ye have done. I can nae think of a better way to dispense it.”
“Ye be satisfied with my decision then?” Brighde no
d
ded. He grinned. “Then let us go to bed…the hour grows late and my body has plans for ye.” She giggled as he stood with her in his arms and strode to the bed.
* * *
“Blast this weather!” Stephen blew on his fingers to warm them looking ahead
dismally
. He recognized that they would all freeze to death
if he continued on with this madness.
They would have to return to Wick. They had been struggling through five-foot drifts for two days and yet they were still
five
days ride from Halkirk. He glanced back at his shivering men. Twould not do to confront Blacksword with sick warriors…or none at all. He shook his head in frustration as reason won the day.
“McGee!” He snarled. “Turn the men about
! We will return to Wick and wait out this God-forsaken weather in comfort.” He spun his steed about, plowing back through the drifts that were quickly rebuilding.
His captain breathed a sigh of relief. He prayed that the return trip would be easier. “Well men? Ye heard the laird. Turn about afore he changes his mind.” As one, they did an about-face to follow.
* * *
It took them a day and a half to return to the seaside port as the path they had blazed through the snow was blown over
once
again. Stephen’s disgruntled clansmen piled into the small inn, gathering close to the hearth to soak in the heat provided there.
He sat down heavily on a bench and breathed a sigh of relief. He had not been certain that they would make it back.
His eyes narrowed with anger. Twas Blacksword’s fault! If he had not stolen his intended bride this journey would not have been necessary.
The innkeeper appeared just then to see to his patrons. His portly body flitting from table to table like a bee gat
h
ering honey.
“Me laird
! I be a bit surprised ta see any aboot in weather like this. Ye look chilled ta the bone! Me wife has a fine pot o’ rabbit stew simmering in the kitchen. Would ye be wantin’ some ta warm yer insides?”
Stephen gave him a bleary-eyed look. He was exhaus
t
ed but hot food did sound good. He gave a curt nod. “Aye. Bring some for all my men…and ale. I will be needing a room, as well, till this storm passes.”
The innkeeper fidgeted for a moment
. All his rooms were filled by others caught by the snowfall. He dare not offend this laird, though. His beady brown eyes lit up as he rested on a solution. His daughter, Meghan, would have to give up her room. She could sleep on a pallet in her pa
r
ents’ chamber. With his mind settled, he bustled off to the kitchen.
Later, with
his clansmen’s
hunger sated, and much ale, they settled into an exhausted sleep.
Stephen stumbled to the tiny room that had been provided, chills wracking his body. Peeling off his damp clothing as he cursed the Earl, Brighde and the weather, he passed out across the small bed.
* * *
I
* * *
“Da! Da!
See the pretty gown Mama made for me?” Amy twirled around in a circle before Connall in the great hall. Smiling from ear to ear as she showed off her new a
t
tire.
His hand flew to his chest in mock amazement
as she performed before him.
“Is it really ye, Poppit? I thought a fairy princess had come to visit
us.”
She giggled with glee as she bounced about him.
S
queal
ing
with delight as he picked her up, twirling her around then giving her a big kiss on the cheek
,
Amy
leaned back peer
ing
in his face.
“I love ye, Da!” He was taken aback by her mood change, so solemn now. She hugged his neck tightly as he murmured in her ear.
“I love ye, as well, lass. Ye are my
wee
ray of su
n
shine.” His throat thickened as he realized how true that avowal was. She and Brighde had been with him
for a month and a half now. Her emaciated frame had begun to fill with pinked, healthy flesh. Her lack-luster hair sported a sheen of gold highlights atop the red and her bright cyan eyes sparkled with life. Connall realized that somehow, in the past few fortnights, both of them had subtly wormed their way into his affections.
Brighde had held back as she observed their intera
c
tion. Every day that passed reinforced her trust in this man she called ‘husband’. She knew that he had a good and n
o
ble heart.
Connall felt her eyes boring into him. His gaze strayed to where she stood in the archway. Their eyes met and locked, filled with desire and…something more. Mutual respect? Yes, that was part of it but not all.
His heart skipped a beat as it sped up in his broad chest. He wanted her…more so every day.
A deep voice murmured in his ear. Ýe are smitten with your Countess, Blacksword.”
He spun toward Robbie ready to deny it, then, bit by bit grinned. He was right! Connall was bewitched by her. She was ever in his thoughts these past days.
Could he be falling in love? And what if he was? Would it be a tragedy? He thought not.
“Twould appear that ye may be correct, Robbie,” he replied as he set Amy on her feet. “I am certain that I am smitten by this Fae Princess so, why nae her mama?”
Amy spread her blue skirt as she twirled about. “Do ye like my new gown, Sir Robbie? Mama made it just for me. Tis ever so pretty!” Her cherub face beamed up at the mountainous
highlander in pride.
Robbie bowed low, kissing her hand. “Aye, little mi
s
tress, tis wondrous indeed!”
She squealed with delight, clapping her hands as she bounced on her toes. “Did ye see Da? He kissed me! Now we be betrothed! I must tell Mama.” Amy skipped out of the hall in her excitement to find Brighde who had exited a few minutes before.
Connall glanced at Robbie’s astonished face. “B-but…b-b-but…all I did was kiss her hand.”
He gave him a stern, fatherly glare as he fought the laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Ye will nae trifle with my daughter’s affections! If she says ye are betrothed then…ye are betrothed!”
“B-but…b-b-but…I already have a wife! Ye ken this, Connall!” His panicked eyes shot to his laird.
“Then I suggest ye rid yourself of your current spouse or…figure a way out of this betrothal
without
hurting her tender heart.” Slapping him on the back heartily, he strode from the hall booming with laughter.
“Mama! Mama! I be betrothed!” Amy blurted out loudly as she entered the solar. She was so excited that she could not stand still. She gave Brighde a big squeeze in her exuberance. Brighde’s delicate brows arched in alarm. Surely, Connall was not planning her life already.
“Whatever are ye babbling about lass? Ye are too young to be betrothed.”
Amy pulled back as tears began filling her cyan eyes. She nodded slowly, her lips forming a pout.
“Uh-huh! I am wedding Sir Robbie! He kissed me!”
“Be reasonable, Amy. Ye can nae wed Robbie. He has a
—”
“An ailment!” Connall interrupted as he ventured into the solar. He gave his wife a warning look.
“He is ill?” Amy’s eyes rounded. “What is wrong with him?”
The laird’s face grew serious as he settled his gaze on the
wee lass
. “It is called ‘aging’, Poppit. He grows older every day. Why, by the time ye be old enough to wed, he will be too old for ye. I do hear that he has a handsome young son, though…if ye be interested.
”
Her thumb plopped into her mouth while she consi
d
ered her options. After a few moments of deep thought she bobbed her head vigorously. Puffing out her wee chest and straightening her spine, she replied. “I will nae make any promises but…I will meet him. Does he like puppies?”
Connall grinned at the fickleness of her emotions. “I do nae ken lass, but I will make inquiries if it suits ye.”
“Thank ye, Da. I best go tell Sir Robbie that our b
e
trothal is off.” She stalked from the chamber, determined to find her quarry.
Brighde and the laird had a good chuckle over the lass’ antics.
He squeezed her hand affectionately.
“Thank ye, wife, for playing along. I did nae wish to see her heart broke. Twas best to allow her to call off the wedding since she announced it.” Connall shook his head and laughed. “Ye should have seen poor Robbie’s face! It was priceless! She reduced him to a stuttering terrified mass!”
“Oh my! Ye make me pity his
poor
son if that be the case. What hope does a ten-year-old have against the force called “Amy”?” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she joined in the
fun
.
Grabbing her hand, the Earl pulled her from her seat. “Come, my love. This will be too good to miss.” They hu
r
ried out together in search of Amy’s victim, not wishing to miss any of the
amusement
.
* * *
She was late! Brighde shook her head in disbelief. She was never late…until now. Placing her hand on her flat stomach, she wondered if it were true. A gentle smile crossed her lips as she thought of having a child…Connall’s child. Will he be pleased?
Brighde silently chastised herself.
Of course he will be pleased!
He is wonderful with Amy. Why would he feel any different for his own bairn?
I will wait to be certain afore I tell him. I would nae wish to disappoint him. She hummed a long forgotten lullaby as she drifted absen
t
mindedly to her solar.
* * *
Blacksword swung his weapon in a high arch, and then brought it crashing forcefully on his opponent’s blade. Fe
r
gus staggered back
,
his hands st
inging
from the blow. He countered with his own attack, leaving himself open for a thrust to his heart. Connall stopped short from finishing the job.
They lowered their weapons then he instructed his squire on how to avoid being in that position.
“Fergus, every time ye raise your sword above your head ye leave yourself wide open to a death blow. Twould be better if ye spin around and let your momentum throw your opponent off-balance.” He glanced up hearing Amy’s giggles.
Giving her a stern look, he stalked towards his ward. “Tis too dangerous here for lasses. What ye be doing?”
“I be watching my betrothed, Da,” she retorted
pet
u
lantly
. “Where else would I be?”
A smile twitched his lips. “And who be your target this day?”
“Why, Fergus, of course. Did he nae tell ye? I told him just this morn!”
Connall glanced at Fergus,
who stood with
a sheepish expression on his face as he blushed red.
Ahh! At least she is setting her sights on somewhat younger men.
He grinned at him. F
r
owning, he turned back to his ward.
“Regardless, Poppit, the training yard is too dangerous for lasses. It is forbidden.”
She ground her toe in the snow soaked earth. “I am sorry. Are ye angry with me?”
Angry? How could he possibly be angry with such an adorable bairn? He shook his head.
“Nay, Poppit. I am nae angry…but do nae do it again or I shall be. Since ye are here I wish to give ye a gift.”
Her eyes widened as her excitement began to mount. “Really, Da? What is it…where is it?” Amy glanced about eagerly.
“Come. I will take ye to it.”
Connall swept her up in his arms as he headed for the stables.
“What is it? What is it?”
“Patience, lass. Ye shall see soon enough.” The laird covered her eyes with his free hand as they entered the dark building. The air was filled with the smells of oiled leather, hay and horse. Amy wriggled impatiently in his arms as he strode to the rear, finally stopping and removing his hand.
Amy rubbed her eyes as they adjusted to the dim light then spied a litter of puppies being watched over by their mother. “Puppies!” she squealed as she clapped her hands together. “They are mine?”
Connall laughed. “Ye can have one
puppy
, Poppit.
Ye must decide which one ye would have. When they grow up they will look like their mama and have long coats to brush. So choose wisely which of them ye would have. Ye will need to feed it and keep the tangles from its
fur
. Do ye think ye can handle such a responsibility?”
Amy nodded vigorously as she squirmed out of his arms to inspect the pups. Eight little fur balls attacked her enthusiastically, knocking her down in the straw. She laughed and giggled as they alternately took turns licking her face and hands.
The laird smiled at their antics as she carefully inspec
t
ed each one.
The litter belonged to his stable master, A
r
thur. He had been trading breeding with a man from a neighboring village to create a herding dog that was easily trained. This was his best litter to date. Collies is what he called them. Connall had to admit that they were beautiful to look at…he hoped they could herd sheep as well.
“This one wants me, Da! I will keep this one.
Thank ye, Da. I promise to take good care of it.
” Amy held up
a sable pup with a wide white collar and a thin blaze down its face. It licked her face lavishly.
Noting its sex, he asked, “And what will ye name her, lass?”
“I will call her ‘Fergus’,” she spoke in awe. “She r
e
minds me of him.”
Connall chuckled as he imagined his squire’s reaction to this bit of news. “Are ye certain ye do nae wish to give her a lass’ name?”
She shook her head adamantly! “Nay, Da. Her name is Fergus.”
With that said, she marched proudly from the st
a
bles with her prize in her arms.
The Earl followed close behind, arriving in the bailey in time to hear his squire being ribbed about
looking like the bitch pup. Fergus gave him a pleading look to no avail. He shrugged in response. Perhaps his ward will change the pup’s name as often as she switched suitors…twas Fergus’ only hope.
* * *
Stephen had been trapped at this inn for a sennight shy of a month. He had suffered for a fortnight with fever and a cough. This last sennight he spent regaining his strength as the snows melted away to little more than a memory.
Feeling more like his old self he called for his captain.
“McGee! Ready the men. I will nae delay one day more to retrieve my intended!”
His captain shook his head piteously as he left to gat
h
er the men. It was a fool’s errand. He knew this but you do not argue with your laird.
They left before the sun rose on the horizon.
Ross and his warriors made good time as they traveled westward t
o
ward Halkirk…in spite of the mire left behind from the snowmelt. On the sixth day, they were in sight of the castle
as they stayed just within the tree line.
A wicked smile crossed his lips as he contemplated his next move. How was he to reach her? He could say he was there for a visit…or just passing through, but he would never get her past the gates. No, that would not do.
“McGee! Send a man in peasant clothes within the walls to scout out a postern gate. We will set up camp a few leagues north of Halkirk and await his report.”
“Aye, my laird.” He glanced behind them at the men. There was one among them who could easily pass for an old beggar. “Liam, swap the packs from that palfrey to your mount,
and then
ride it to yonder castle. Scout out the walls for a postern gate or some other means of entry
…and leave your sword with us. Meet us north of here in two days’ time.”
