The Great Scottish Devil (12 page)

Callum Campbell, a wiry, balding man about half the size of Angus grinned. “Me wife will make her feel like our own daughter. Right, Sarahbeth?”

Sarabeth beamed, staring lovingly at the packet of coins Angus had given them in partial payment. “Aye, Callum. Fer these coins and the promise of more, Annabel will become me beloved daughter.”

“Until ye deliver her to me.” His demand drew their full attention. “If ye dinna deliver her to me within two weeks, I will send men fer ye. Ye willna like them, trust me on that.”

Fortunately he’d run across a greedy pair of traders. People who would probably sell their own flesh and blood for the sum he’d promised them. They barely acknowledged his threat. “We will be here in two weeks time.”

Angus walked back to his horse, mounted and rode off to the nearest village. Fury seethed inside him. His offer to marry her refused by Annabel Henderson. Dismissed by The Great Scottish Devil. Escorted from Urquhart land by armed men who had been anxious for an excuse to kill him. They would all pay, especially the fair Annabel and the almighty Brodie Durward.

* * *

Even though it was only mid-morn, the late August day had proven to be sweltering hot. A clear blue sky offered no relief from the sun beating down on all gathered in the upper bailey. Annabel was sweating something awful beneath the chainmail hauberk Douglas had insisted she wear over her shirt. And her feet were hurting in the too-big boots Tavis had loaned her, claiming she couldn’t slide around the dirt ground in her slippers.

“Watch yer stomach, lass!” Douglas yelled in warning as Tavis lunged at her with his wooden sword.

She dodged away in the nick of time, grinning. It pleased her that after already being jabbed at least a dozen times, she’d finally missed one. She lunged back and managed to almost hit him this time. “I am getting closer. Soon, you devil of a foe, I will cut you.” Her giggle ruined the seriousness of the decree.

He rolled his eyes and his mouth twitched at her foolishness.

A crowd of soldiers more interested in watching this training session than in their own work out stood in a ring around them. Villagers passing through the castle’s grounds had stopped to watch as well. And Annabel was fairly certain there weren’t many servants left inside the keep. The amount of interest they’d drawn had surprised her, until she realized this was the most entertainment these people had had in a long time. There had been such sadness and uncertainty here ever since Brodie had returned here without his memories and something of a broken man. They needed a bit of fun. She didn’t care that it came at her expense. What bruises she got would be worth it.

“I’ll have yer wagon and all its wares,” Tavis demanded, lunging at her once more.

Several in the crowd booed and hissed, others cheered him on. Again, it pleased her to provide them all this distraction. She easily sidestepped Tavis’ attack and attempted to spin about—as she’d seen him do—to offer a counterattack. Her boots slid and she went down with a hard Thud! on her tender bottom.

Now the crowd laughed, a few taunted her good-heartedly.

Tavis made the mistake of offering her a hand to get up. She gave him a devilish look and pulled him down beside her. She scrambled atop him and pulled her sheathed dagger from her boot and held it to his neck. “I will slit your throat before I let you have my wagon and its wares.”

The crowd grew silent but she barely noticed it in the fun she was having at besting Tavis. Then she sensed trouble behind her, real trouble. In the next instant, a muscled forearm reached to grab her dagger and throw it aside. That same arm swept around her body and tugged her off a wide-eyed Tavis.

Annabel hung in the air, her feet at least a foot off the ground. Her heart raced, but not in fear. She recognized the muscled body holding her. She knew the familiar scent of the man.

“If there be
two
attackers, lass, ye’d be dead by now,” Brodie stated grimly.

Silence continued around them, uncertainly. She refused to allow him to spoil the mood, the fun all had enjoyed until he showed up to ruin it. She wriggled in his hold, kicked back at his shin and made him growl. “Put me down, you big oaf.”

“Big oaf?” he questioned in shock. “Ye dare to kick yer laird?”

Finally squirming free, she faced him, grinning in challenge. “I thought you were a second attacker. As such, I would fight you however I could. Kicking your shin.” She hesitated, glancing down his body. “Or kicking…” She didn’t finish, but enjoyed the way his eyes widened.

Then, surprising them all—maybe even himself—Brodie threw back his head and laughed. A rusty sound, but filled with amusement. And the others began laughing as well; although some cautiously watched him to be sure it was all right.

After a minute, when he’d regained his composure and breath, Brodie looked at her. “Yer da teach ye that, Anna? Aboot where to kick a mon?”

She bobbed her head. Her throat suddenly clogged with emotion. Her father hadn’t taught her how to use a knife or a sword, although she’d secretly taught herself a little bit. But he had taught her how to hit a man, or where to kick a man in order to defend herself in some manner.

Brodie must have sensed her distress for he began waving the others to go on their way. He stood in front of her, not touching her, but she felt his tender gaze as if it were a touch. “I do no’ like the idea of ye needing to defend yerself, but I am no’ a fool. There could come a time when ye might have to do so. Especially with what that note ye found said.”

“I try not to think about it.” She shivered in unease. “But I do.”

“As do I.”

They locked gazes for several long, awkward seconds. “You know I must leave here, soon. I have already stayed longer than I should have.”

His forehead furrowed. “I willna discuss it.”

She heaved a sigh, wanting to shake the stubborn man. “I do not belong here. Agatha does not want me here. And you do not need another problem in your already complicated life.”

His shoulders slumped and she hated seeing the sadness in his tired eyes. She hated knowing the turmoil she caused him. His feelings for her were strong, nearly as strong as hers were for him. But there was no future for them being together. He knew it, too, and it was causing him great pain. She couldn’t stand that.

“There is an older man in the village that would travel with me at least to my next stop. Abram Munro. He has clansmen not far from here that he would like to see.”

“Abram Munro must be as old as dirt!” Brodie protested. “He can barely walk. He is all but blind, can hardly hear. Nay! Ye canna leave Urquhart with him. I forbid it.”

Disgusted, Annabel turned to pick up her discarded dagger and practice sword. She noticed how a number of people not far from them had looked worriedly at her after Brodie’s outburst. She smiled at them in reassurance before facing him once again.

“We will talk no more about it this day. You have laird’s business to deal with and I am going into the village for a while.” She needed to get away from him, as much as he would allow.

“The matter is settled.”

She pinned him with her most determined glare. “Nay, it is not.”

Annabel walked away, feeling the heat of his anger on her back. Lately she’d begun wondering if she shouldn’t just leave one night when he was sleeping. She was friendly enough with his men that surely she could talk the guard of whatever night to let her leave. She was getting desperate.

* * *

“Both of ye, go to yer bedchambers!” Brodie gritted out, glowering furiously from Annabel to Agatha. They stood nose-to-nose in front of the fireplace, arguing at the top of their lungs about cleaning the great hall. He’d been up in his solar dealing with the last of the serf’s problems when Sir Douglas had come to him in frustration. He first had tried to separate the two women and had no success. Brodie had finally reached the limits of his patience with them.

Agatha turned on him, looking irate with pieces of rushes clinging to her intricately braided hair. Her eyes flashed with fire. She pointed at Annabel, her finger shaking in her anger. “She…”

“I do
no’
want to hear it, Lady Stonewall. Everyone in this hall has already heard enough of the two of ye arguing. Go. To. Yer. Bedchamber!” He grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the stairs. “Now!”

She stopped to toss him a look that promised she would give him hell for such treatment. He glared right back and she hurried away, grumbling under her breath. He didn’t care. He would be warming her bottom in a short amount of time.

Holding on to the last of his nearly gone patience, he faced Annabel. She was breathing hard in her anger, sported a pink handprint on the side of her face, which infuriated him. Agatha would pay for that as well. Then he noticed the pieces of rushes clutched in Annabel’s hand and knew she’d been the one to throw them at Agatha.

He scowled at her and she dropped them. “Ye will wait fer me in yer chamber.”

Her chin went up. “She…” But she slammed her mouth shut and marched in clear annoyance toward the stairs.

Brodie stood there watching her storm away, drawing in steadying breaths. The day had started out in frustration and would end in more frustration. Mayhap he should simply ride away from Urquhart and leave all of the problems for Sir Douglas to deal with.

Sir Douglas chose that moment to walk up and hand him a mug of ale. “I thought ye might need this, before ye deal with yer women.”

His women?
Aye, they were. Two women were too much fer any mon to be responsible for.
He accepted the mug and chugged the ale down. Handing the mug back, he saw the sympathy in his friend’s gaze. “They be driving me crazy.” Then he walked slowly up the stairs.

He knocked once and opened the door to Agatha’s chamber. She stood by the window in the sparsely furnished room. Her face was pale and her eyes wary.

“You mean to…” She couldn’t say the words, fidgeted with the sides of her gown.

“Mean to spank ye, aye.” Brodie shut the door behind him and walked to her. “Ye’ve been asking fer this almost from the day ye got here.”

“I do not want…” She stood rigidly by the stone wall.

Knowing it was best not to make her worry over this, he took her hand and pulled her with him to the side of her bed. As her eyes widened and mirrored distress, he sat down and tugged her over his lap. She struggled before managing to plant her hands on the floor. As soon as she did, he tossed her skirt and chemise over her back.

“Nay!” she squawked, sounding mortified. She immediately wriggled to get free. ”’Tis no’ proper!”

He refused to let her up, clutched her against him. “We are to be married, my lady. I will see much more than yer bare bottom.”

She whimpered and continued her struggles. “A husband should not treat his wife in such a horrible manner.”

His stomach clenched at the talk of their getting married. Even if it was true, he still dreaded it. “A husband is responsible fer his wife. He protects her, guides her, and sometimes must discipline her as well. Many men do this, particularly here in the Highlands.”

“But I am English!” she protested. “English lords do not—”

“Ye be wrong aboot that, Lady Stonewall. Me own brother-in-law is an English lord. He disciplines me sister Maggie, as he should.”

Brodie was tired of talking about the matter and determined to get this over with. He tucked her closer again. “Ye need to learn that all spankings are best received on the bare.”

He didn’t waste any more time. He held her in place with his left arm. Then he proceeded to smack one quivering buttock after the other, back and forth, firmly but not as hard as he could.

She cried out from the fist swat, quickly squirming for all she was worth, which irritated him. “Ye best learn to take yer punishment better than this.” He smacked her again, harder. “I am going easy on ye, since this is yer first spanking.”

“Easy?” she gasped. “It hurts so much!” She bucked and kicked wildly.

Grinding his teeth, he went right on spanking, longer and harder than he’d planned. His hand was sore by the time she gave in and lay limply over his lap. Her bottom was bright red and heat flamed off of it. He set her none too gently on her feet. She immediately began rubbing her bottom, sobbed, and danced wildly around.

He shook his head and walked to the door, stopping to look back. “Ye better learn to no’ fight yer earned discipline, or ye’re in fer some rough punishments.” He sighed in resignation. “Now I must go deal with Annabel.”

“I hope she suffers every bit as much if not more,” Agatha called after him as he closed the bedroom door.

Annabel sat nervously on the side of her bed. She’d heard Agatha’s spanking…at least she’d heard Agatha crying out. Since she hadn’t actually heard the swats applied to her bottom, she knew Brodie hadn’t been as harsh as he could have been. The other woman just was very dramatic, mayhap not used to being spanked.

Annabel’s buttocks clenched and unclenched. Sadly, she
was
familiar with being spanked.

As he’d done at Agatha’s door, Brodie gave one sharp rap and opened the door to Annabel’s chamber. He looked frustrated more than angry now. She knew that she’d acted inappropriately down in the hall with so many servants and soldiers around. Agatha just got on her nerves too easily. And she’d been irritated with Brodie after their confrontation earlier, so she’d not held in her anger. She did not want to be taken over his knee and spanked, but her tender heart ached for the man who was dealing with far more than he should have to.
She
being one of his biggest problems.

Knowing she would get punished no matter how much she wished not to, she accepted it. But she also knew that she needed to limit their closeness. She would have to endure feeling his hand connecting with her bottom. She did not have to endure being taken over his lap and held there.

He closed the door and met her gaze. She could see the irritation in his eyes, the determination. “Ye know I must do this, Anna. I canna allow such misbehavior. If ye two must fight—which I do no’ like, do no’ do it in front of others.”