The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (20 page)

He saw the uncertainty in her face, and the puzzlement.

“Robert’s your kinsman, Beth, and you’re the MacGregor chieftain’s wife. And a woman. He’s a stupid wee loon wi’ no morals and no respect for the rules of hospitality. If I go in there, I’ve nae doubt his pride’ll make him challenge me and force me to fight him. I’ve nae wish to become involved in another blood feud between the clans. He canna challenge you, and Morag’ll no’ be so embarrassed at ye finding them as she would be if I did. Can ye do it? I’ll be outside in case he does get nasty, though I canna believe even he’d be that stupid.”

She gathered herself, trying to think of the right words to say at a moment’s notice, then abandoned the effort. She would deal with events as they unfolded.

“Yes,” she said, because he was right and she really had no choice. “I can do it.” She hesitated for a moment, then slipped silently in through the door of the stable, which the lovers had left ajar.

In the barn Angus had given up trying to learn the new dance, and had noted the absence of Morag and Robert. He was just turning towards the door when he was accosted by a young black-haired woman.

“Will ye dance wi’ me?” she said, laying her hand on his arm.

He hesitated, searching for an excuse that would not sound rude.

“I’m a wee bit…” he began.

“Only I havena a partner, and you’re an awfu’ bonny dancer. I’ve been watching ye. I’d be honoured,” she said, persisting, and taking a firm grip on his sleeve.

He could not refuse the MacDonald girl without causing offence, and Angus was at all times aware of the proprieties. He swallowed his frustration and smiled down at her.

“The honour will be mine,” he said gallantly, leading her to the floor as the fiddler struck up a reel. Kenneth, who had moved forward in his seat, leaned back again, watching the dancers with lazy interest.

The stable was lit only by a single lantern, but Beth saw the couple immediately, because they were lying directly beneath it, Robert half on top of Morag, his hands busy around her bodice, his silver hair falling over his face.

“I’m no’ so sure…” she was saying as Beth stepped silently towards them.

“Come on,” he cajoled, slightly breathlessly. “It’s fun. I love you, I’ve tellt ye that. And there’s nae harm in it.”

“You’re wrong, Robert,” said Beth loudly and clearly.

The couple exploded apart. Beth noted with relief that while Robert had clearly made some headway in the area of Morag’s breasts, one of which she was hastily tucking back into her dress, her skirts were undisturbed.

“There’s a whole lot of harm in it. I suggest you tidy yourselves up and go back to the barn now. Separately,” Beth advised.

For a moment she thought it would be that easy. Then the initial shock of discovery left Robert’s face and was replaced by rebellion.

“She’s willing,” he said. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Not yet,” agreed Beth. “But you’re well on the way to it. She’s barely fourteen.”

“I’m a woman!” said Morag indignantly, emboldened by her lover’s attitude. “Have been these last two months!”

“Well, you need to act like one, then,” said Beth. “Womanhood brings responsibilities, as I’m sure your mother’s told you.”

“We werena doing anything wrong,” Robert said sullenly.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Beth. “Then you can just go and do nothing wrong back in the barn, in public.”

“I dinna have tae listen to you,” persisted Robert. “Ye’ve no authority over me.”

“You’re right, I haven’t,” said Beth, to his surprise. “Shall I go and get the chieftain, then? He does have the authority. You’re on his land, abusing his hospitality and trying to ruin his clanswoman.”

Morag blanched.

“Ye wouldna do that, we’re kin,” said Robert with the smug confidence of the spoiled youngest child whose previous indiscretions have always been covered by his family.

“We are. But you’re forgetting something. The MacGregor is my husband, and I owe my first allegiance to him and his clan. And as your kinswoman, your action here is bringing disgrace on me, to say nothing of the rest of the MacDonalds. Now if you want me to, I’ll call the chieftain and we’ll make it official. Likely you’ll be flogged, if you’re lucky. Alex has a nasty temper on him, and it’ll not be improved by him being dragged from his wedding celebrations to pass judgement on one who ought to know better. And after that you’ll have your great-aunt to deal with. Are you willing to go through all that for a quick tumble in the hay? Unless you’re serious about the girl. You said you love her. Do you intend to marry her, then?”

Morag looked at him, clearly expecting him to say he did. She had a lot to learn, Beth thought sadly, seeing her look of distress at Robert’s horrified expression.

“It was just a wee bit of fun, that’s all. We’ve no’ done anything to give cause for marriage,” he said sulkily.

“No you haven’t. And because I’m your cousin, and I’ve no wish to cause my grandmother distress, or tarnish Morag’s good name, if you go back now, we’ll say no more about the matter. But you’d better not abuse my clan’s hospitality again, Robert, for I’ll give you no second chances.”

He stood, reluctantly, brushing the hay from his kilt, then reached out a hand to Morag, clearly intending to escort her back and make a defiant entrance into the barn. Angus would crucify him, if Duncan’s judgement was right.

“No thank you,” said Morag, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes blurred with tears. “I’d as soon ye didna speak to me again.”

He glared at Beth for a moment, then he spun away, kilt swirling out around his legs, and strode out of the barn.

The dance finished, Angus escorted Isobel, as he now knew she was called, back to her seat and made his escape before she could find another reason to detain him. He was almost at the door when he was arrested by a pull on his kilt as he strode past a group of the older folk. So desperate was he now to find out what Morag and Robert were doing, that he pretended he hadn’t noticed and tried to march on. The resultant deathgrip on his attire nearly disrobed him. He stopped and looked down into the delicate face of Beth’s grandmother. The tiny fragile hand held onto his kilt like a limpet.

“Angus,” she said pleasantly. “I’m afraid I need to go to the privy. Would you be so kind as to escort me? It’s a wee bit embarrassing, but as we’re kin now I kent ye wouldna mind. And ye’re a braw laddie. If I stumble, ye’ll have nae trouble catching me, I’m thinking.”

Angus now most definitely smelt a rat. This old lady who had just been demonstrating the steps of a remarkably vigorous dance, had no more need of being assisted to the small shed out the back than he did. And she did not seem the sort to be embarrassed by something as natural as going to the toilet, having joined in lustily with ‘Geld him lasses, geld him,’ and then led the chorus of the extremely bawdy song Angus had taught Sir Horace Mann’s clerks several months ago in Florence. He looked around. Alex was in one corner with several other men, all much the worse for drink, trying to balance his sword on his nose. Duncan was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Beth.

Praying that they had gone where he was trying to, and that they would stop Robert and Morag before any harm was done, he gave his arm to the suddenly frail old lady, assisting her to rise. He would deal with the wee yellow-haired shite later, if he’d dishonoured Morag.

“I’m sorry, Morag,” said Beth when Robert had left.

“Dinna be sorry,” replied Morag, sniffing loudly and valiantly attempting to fight back the tears. “I should be thanking you. He tellt me he loved me. He tellt me he just wanted to be alone wi’ me for a wee while. He tellt me I was beautiful.” A tear trickled slowly down her cheek.

Beth knelt down beside her in the hay.

“You are beautiful, Morag,” she said softly. It was not true. The girl was pretty enough, but no more than that. But now was not the time for fine distinctions.

“No, I’m not,” said Morag sadly. “I’m daft in the heid, that’s what I am, tae believe him.”

“You’re not daft, Morag, you’re young is all,” said Beth. “You’ve got to learn that a man’ll tell you anything if it’ll get you to lift your skirts for him. It takes time to fall in love with someone, more than two days, anyway. You’re not in love with him, are you?”

“Not any more I’m no’, the bastard,” she replied with feeling, wiping her eyes on her skirt. “He made me feel awfu’ good, though. Sort of special and warm inside. How d’ye ken the difference? How d’ye ken if he’s the right one?”

Beth sighed. She had no idea. She had fallen in love with a spoilt brat who’d threatened to cut her fingers off, and married a man she didn’t like who had turned out to be the love of her life.

“It’s not easy,” she said after a minute. “You need to take the time to get to know him, to feel that you can relax with him, tell him anything, trust him. Men can be very convincing though, when they’re aroused. But if a man really cares for you he’ll not try to take your virginity before you’re married. Or rather, he might try, because sex is a powerful urge, you understand. But if you say no he won’t try to make you.”

“He would have, would he no’?” said Morag, starting to recover now.

“Yes, I think so, if I hadn’t found you. I’m not saying he didn’t like you, Morag, and he certainly desired you. But he should have respected you too, and he wasn’t doing that.”

“No, you’re right, he wasna,” she said. “Oh God, I don’t think I’m ever going to find the right man!”

Beth suppressed a smile. Life is very serious when you’re fourteen.

“There are lots of nice young men in the clan. Give it time, Morag, you’ve only been a woman for two months. You’re very young to be marrying.”

“My ma was fourteen when she married Da,” Morag pointed out. “And she’d known him for years before. I dinna ken anyone worth marrying!”

“What about Angus? He seems to like you,” Beth said without thinking, then wished she hadn’t.

“Angus?” said Morag, snorting. “Angus still thinks of me as a wee bairn. He’s more likely to duck me in the loch than invite me to the stables.”

Beth could not dispute this, knowing Angus.

“Do you like him, though? Can you tell him anything, and do you feel relaxed around him?”

“Well, aye,” said Morag, reassessing the relationship before Beth’s eyes. “Or at least I could. But since he’s come back this time he’s been different. Sort of stiff, a wee bit formal like. I dinna think he likes me any more.”

Beth could have gone into the likely reasons why Angus would be suddenly awkward around Morag, but realised that her life would not be worth living if she did and Angus got to find out. Better the girl find it out for herself.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she said instead, standing. “But I am sure of one thing. If you stay away much longer you’ll be missed. Are you ready to go back yet?”

Morag accepted Beth’s hand and stood. Her eyes were still a bit pink, but that could be put down to the drink, if anyone noticed.

“Aye,” she said. “I am. And I’ll no’ forget this night in a hurry.”

When Robert emerged from the stables Duncan shrank back into the shadows so as not to be observed. He watched the boy walk across the clearing, then, only feet from the barn, change his mind and veer away, heading instead for the lochside, his steps slowing as he went. A bare ten seconds after he’d disappeared into the trees Angus appeared, heading purposefully for the stables. Duncan moved forward to meet him halfway across the clearing. Behind Angus, Kenneth emerged from the barn, started to run, saw Duncan and stopped.

“It’s over,” said Duncan as he reached Angus. “There’s nae harm done.”

“No’ yet,” said Angus, “But there will be when I get my hands on the wee shit.” He moved to pass Duncan, who grabbed him by the arm.

“He’s no’ there,” he said. “Beth’s dealt wi’ it. Robert’s gone and Beth’s comforting Morag. Ye’ll do nothing but harm if ye play the avenging angel now.”

“Ye let Beth deal wi’ it?” Angus said.

“Aye, she’s fully capable, as ye well know. I didna want the wee gomerel to challenge me.”

“Did ye no’?” replied Angus hotly. “Well, I’d be delighted if he challenged me. Where is he?”

“He’s away off to the loch tae think things through. He didna hurt her, Angus. There’s nae cause for a fuss.”

“He tried to rape her, did he no’?” cried the young man, losing his temper. “He enticed her there and then he tried to rape her, and ye say there’s nae cause for a fuss?”

“She went there of her own free will, and he tried to seduce her. Beth got to them in time. It…”

“Christ, Duncan, ye’re going soft,” spat Angus contemptuously. “He’s sullied the clan and disrespected a wee lassie and ye’re willing tae let it pass? Well I’m not!”

Duncan’s fists clenched at his side, and he only refrained from hitting his younger brother by reminding himself that this display of temper was inspired by his fondness for Morag. Angus spun away in the direction of the trees, then stopped suddenly, arrested in his pursuit of Robert by Kenneth, who had approached unheard and now wrapped his arms around the young man, pinioning him. Angus froze.

“Let me go,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let me go, Kenneth, or I’ll kill ye when ye do.”

“Hear your brother out first,” said Kenneth softly, “and then ye can do as ye wish an’ I’ll no’ stop ye.”

There was no point in struggling and losing his dignity. No one man could match Kenneth’s strength. No two men could.

“Right then,” Angus said, glaring at his brother. “Say your piece, and then let me go. I’ll no’ kill the bastard, if that’s what’s worrying ye. I’ll just make him wish I had.”

Now he had a captive audience, Duncan realised he had no idea how to calm Angus. He thought for a moment. Morag. She was his weak spot.

“He didna rape her, Angus. He didna seduce her either. They did no more than have a wee kiss and a cuddle before Beth disturbed them. Morag was already changing her mind. Likely she’s had too much wine and let herself be sweet talked. Ye ken all about sweet talk, Angus, ye’re a master of it.”

“Aye, I am,” agreed Angus. “But I’d no’ use it to try to dishonour a bairn!”