The Hellion and the Highlander (21 page)

Averill let her thoughts die there. The smell was gone and the floor clean. The rest could wait for another day.

Turning, she continued to the kitchens, pushing through the door, only to pause at the sight of a gaggle of men and women gathered around talking noisily.

“Oh, me lady!” Morag rushed over the moment she spotted her in the door. “Is there somethin’ yer needin’? Would ye like yer sup now? ’Tis well past the dinner hour. Everyone else has eaten, and I asked the laird should I bring ye a tray. He said no to trouble mesel’ to bring it above stairs, he’d send ye below for a break were ye hungry and sit with Domnall a bit himsel’, but when ye didna come below, I thought mayhap ye’d fallen asleep and he hadna the heart to wake ye.”

Averill blinked at the rush of words and managed a smile. “Aye. Nay. I came for—” She shook her head and tried again. “Who are all these people?”

“They are the first of the servants to return,” Morag said with a smile as she glanced over the chattering crowd. Bess was among them, but none of them, not even she, had noticed Averill’s arrival.

“Oh.” Averill peered over the crowd curiously, then asked, “Why are they all in here?”

“Oh, well, they’ve been askin’ about ye and the laird, and we’ve been reassurin’ them all’d be well, and they should stay.”

“And bribing them with Lily’s pastries, I see,” she said with amusement, as Lily set a tray of the delicious treats on the counter and people crowded in to get some.

“We’ve put some away fer ye and Domnall,” Morag assured her, then added on a sigh, “If he wakes to eat them.”

“Oh.” Recalled to her reason for being there, she assured her, “He is awake. I came to fetch him food.”

“Oh!” Morag positively beamed. “Awake and hungry. That’s a good sign.”

“Aye,” Averill agreed. It was a very good sign. The man would be up and about in no time.

“I shall fix him a tray, then fix another and put it on the table fer you for when ye return,” she said, bustling around and gathering meat and cheese and bread for Domnall. But suddenly she paused to glance at her, and asked, “Or would ye rather ha’e it in yer room? ’Twould be no trouble to run it up if yer weary from tendin’ Domnall.”

When Averill hesitated, tempted by the offer, she nodded and went back to work saying, “I shall run it up fer ye.”

“Thank you, Morag,” she said with real gratitude. “I appreciate the trouble.”

“I tol’ ye, ’tis no trouble,” Morag assured her, then finished her task and presented her with Domnall’s tray. “I’ll bring yer own tray up in a jiffy.”

“Thank you,” Averill repeated, and moved to the door, only to thank the woman again when she appeared at her side to open it for her.

After the noise in the kitchen, the great hall seemed sadly silent, and Averill glanced around wondering why they were not out here talking,
but then her gaze fell on the only two benches at the trestle tables that remained intact and realized there was nowhere for them to sit. Besides, while some of them had returned, they were probably leery of Brodie and his father drinking and coming down to cause a ruckus. She suspected it would be a while before any of them was comfortable enough to relax in the great hall again. Perhaps once Brodie was straightened out or banished, Averill thought as she mounted the stairs.

The men were talking quietly but fell silent when she entered. Suspecting they would wait for her to leave before continuing their conversation, she merely carried the tray over to set on the table beside Domnall and turned quietly to leave.

Her gaze slid up the hall to the rooms at the opposite end, and she listened for a moment, reassured when all she heard was silence. Hoping Kade’s father and brother were sleeping and would not cause trouble tonight and scare off those servants who had returned today, Averill made her way to the room she shared with Kade and slid inside.

She was tired enough that she’d forgotten to grab one of the torches in the hall to light a candle, but a lit one sat on the chest by the door. She peered down at it with surprise, then whirled around when a rustle sounded behind her.

Averill stiffened, eyes going wide when she saw the man moving toward her.

“Br-Brodie!” Averill gasped with surprise, and instinctively began to back away when he started forward. “I-I…W-what are y-you d-doing here?”

“I came to see me brother’s new bride,” he growled, following her. “And to ask ye why ye’ve been poisonin’ me.”

Eyes widening with alarm, Averill glanced sharply to the door, but she’d already backed too far away for it to be a useful escape. Her next thought was to scream for Kade, and she opened her mouth to do so, but before even a peep of sound could leave her lips, Averill found Brodie’s hand covering her mouth. His body immediately followed, pressing against hers as he forced her to continue backward, steering her toward the bed.

“I thought someone might be messin’ with the whiskey when it started me barfin’ every time I drank it,” Brodie told her grimly, as they moved, “but I didna ken fer sure until tonight. Tonight, after I ate, I was feelin’ much better, and used the secret passages to sneak out o’ the keep and down to the inn fer a nip o’ whiskey. And diya ken what happened?”

When she merely stared at him wide-eyed over his hand, he gave her a little shake. “Diya ken what happened?”

Averill quickly shook her head.

“Nothin’,” he said silkily. “I didna toss up me meal all o’er the inn. I didna e’en feel a tetch queasy. I felt fine as rain. So I had another one, and sat to ponder who here at Stewart would want to make us all ill? And diya ken what?”

Averill quickly shook her head to prevent him shaking her again.

“I recalled ’twas always you bringin’ the whiskey. Smilin’ sweetly and offerin’ it like some heaven-sent angel, all the while cautionin’ me about how me body may no’ be able to stand it anymore, and ’twas the drink makin’ us sick.” He shook her furiously. “But ’twas ye, wasna it?”

Averill swallowed, not sure how to answer that one. Did she shake her head and possibly infuriate him by lying, or did she nod and definitely infuriate him? Either way, the result wouldn’t be good, so Averill merely stared at him, wishing she’d
shrieked for Kade the moment she realized Brodie was in the room.

“Wasna it?” he repeated, full of fury. Brodie shook her so hard then that Averill saw stars, and for the first time, feared he meant to kill her.

Closing her eyes, she nodded.

“I kenned it, ye murderin’ bitch,” he spat, and threw her away like so much filth.

Averill gasped in panic as she felt herself falling, then grunted with surprise when she landed hard on the bed at an angle with one leg on and one leg off. She opened her mouth then to cry out for Kade, but Brodie was on her at once, knocking the wind from her and slamming one of his beefy fists into her head.

Groaning, Averill closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to get past the pain and fight off the darkness trying to claim her. If she lost consciousness now, she knew she was dead.

“I’m gonna kill ye,” Brodie growled into her ear as he dragged her skirts up. “But first, I’m goin’ have a little fun.”

Panic ripping through her, Averill jerked her knee up. She caught him square in the bollocks. Brodie immediately reared upward, gasping for breath, and she suspected he was the one seeing stars now, then Morag suddenly appeared behind him, swinging an empty tray over head. Her face was a mask of fury as she brought it down, and she slammed it onto his skull with all the might of
a woman who had worked hard every day of her life and the rage of a mother whose daughter had been done wrong.

It did not take two hits this time. Brodie’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped on Averill, out cold.

Morag immediately dropped the tray and began to drag at the unconscious man, trying to pull him off and free her.

“Me lady?” she gasped with her effort. “Are ye all right?”

“Aye,” Averill said weakly, and raised her hands to help shift the man off her. They ended up rolling him into the middle of the bed, then Averill quickly scooted off the bed to stand. Morag steadied her with a hand on her elbow when she staggered a bit in her rush, peered at her with concern, then turned to look down at Brodie.

“He was always a bad seed, that one,” she said grimly. “E’en as a lad. He ran around here, bullyin’ everyone and gropin’ the lasses.”

Averill sighed. “Aye, well, I suspect he will not be a problem after tomorrow. Kade said he would talk to him, and did he not stop drinking, he would ban him from Stewart. I suspect Brodie will choose the banning.”

“I suspect Laird Kade willna give him the choice once he sees yer face,” Morag said grimly. “The bastard’ll be lucky if he’s only banned then. And once the laird learns he planned to rape and
kill ye…” She shook her head. “I’d guess he’s no’ long for this world.”

Averill grimaced. She had no liking for Brodie, but would not wish Kade to have to live with having killed his own brother over her.

“Mayhap we should keep this incident to ourselves,” she suggested quietly.

“What?” Morag asked with amazement, then immediately began to shake her head. “Nay, me lady. He—”

“Was drunk and had a right to his anger. I
have
been dosing his whiskey,” she pointed out.

“Oh, me lady. Doona do it,” she said with sad disappointment.

“What?” Averill asked with surprise.

“Yer givin’ him excuses like his own mother did. ’Twas ne’er that he was a bad child, ’twas that his da was a bad influence, or he was missin’ Kade, Maighread said when he was younger, then when he was older, ’twas no’ that he was an evil man, but that the drink had a hold o’ him.” Morag shook her head. “And now ye, too, will give him that excuse?” she asked with disappointment. “After what he tried to do to ye?”

“I—” Averill began, then paused helplessly to peer at the man.

“Has yer husband ever been angered at ye yet?” Morag asked quietly.

“Aye,” Averill murmured, recalling his reaction when he’d caught her dosing the whiskey. He’d
been furious because she had gone near his father and brother, and she’d been scared of that fury she’d seen in him.

“Did he lay a hand on ye in anger?” Morag asked.

Averill shook her head. He hadn’t harmed a hair on her head.

“Just so. Kade is a good man, and good men doona take out their anger on others,” she said firmly, then scowled toward Brodie, and added, “and that one is no’ a good man. Doona give him excuses. Tell yer husband what he did. Or I will,” she added grimly and turned to leave the room.

Averill stared after her, noting the spilled drink and food on the floor by the door. Morag had obviously just dumped everything the tray had held to use it as a weapon when she’d entered to see Brodie attacking Averill.

A grunt from the bed made Averill glance warily that way, but Brodie was still unconscious. However, she wasn’t taking the chance that he would wake up. Averill ignored the mess, moved to the door, grabbed the candle, and stepped out to pull the door closed.

She had to talk to Kade, Averill thought, then stilled as Bess came rushing up.

“What happened? Morag just passed me on the stairs looking like thunder. Did she—?” The maid paused abruptly, as she reached Averill and saw her properly. “My lady! Your face!”

“Shush,” Averill murmured, and caught her
arm to urge her up the hall. She led her past Will’s room and urged her into the one between that and Domnall’s. Closing the door softly behind her, she glanced around and sighed, then said, “We need to prepare this room for sleeping.”

“Who’s sleeping here?” Bess asked with a frown. “And what happened to your face? It looks like someone hit you.”

“That would be because someone hit me,” Averill said dryly.

“What?” Bess’s eyes widened in horror. “Not your husband?”

“Nay. Of course not,” Averill assured her, setting the candle down and beginning to strip the bed of the old linens still on it. With a bit of cleaning and dusting, the room would do fine for one night, she thought, then admitted, “’Twas Brodie. He surprised me in my room. He had worked out that I have been dosing the whiskey.”

“I
knew
that would come to trouble,” Bess said grimly, moving around the bed to help her.

“Aye, well, it worked well enough for Gawain and his father,” Averill pointed out. “And the two of them not drinking is better than all of them being stuck in a keg of whiskey the rest of their lives.”

Bess just shook her head. “Your husband will knock him silly when he sees the bruise on your eye. ’Twas bad enough when he was beating on the servants, but now he’s starting on you? Bah!” She shook her head.

“Aye, well…” Averill sighed and shook her head.

“You never said who we are making the bed up for,” Bess pointed out, as they finished stripping it.

“For Kade and me.”

Bess straightened with surprise. “What the devil is wrong with the room you have?”

“Brodie is lying in there unconscious.”

Her eyes widened, but she set her shoulders, and said, “Well, we’ll move the blackguard. We’ll have the men take him and toss him back in his room, or the moat for all I care. There’s no need to—”

“I would rather Kade not know Brodie is in there. I would rather he not get the chance to deal with him until the morn, when he has had a chance to get over the worst of his anger,” Averill explained, sighing at the thought of Kade’s anger when she told him what had happened.

“I see,” Bess said dryly. “And how do you plan to explain why the two of you are not sleeping in your own bed tonight?”

“I shall tell him that Morag spilled the tray of food she’d brought up for me, and the bed is no longer fit for sleeping in, at least for tonight.”

Bess nodded. “Lie you mean.”

“’Tis not a lie,” Averill said at once. “Morag did spill the tray…on the floor,” she acknowledged, “but she did spill it, and the bed is not fit for us to sleep in with Brodie there.”

Bess snorted. “More of your trickiness. I swear you never showed this tendency at Mortagne.”

“I was not married at Mortagne,” Averill muttered, then straightened. “We will need fresh linens and furs and—” She paused abruptly.

“What is it?” Bess asked, eyes narrowing.

“My linens are all in our room, and we will need the furs from there,” she admitted unhappily, not eager to get anywhere near Brodie again.

Bess sighed. “Would it not be easier just to tell your husband—”

“Nay,” Averill interrupted firmly, then sighed. “I shall go fetch them. You wait here.”

“As if I would,” Bess muttered, following on her heals.

Brodie was still dead to the world when they slipped into the room. Relieved, Bess and Averill scampered about, collecting linens, and clothes for her and Kade to don in the morning and carried them to the room they were to use that night. They then went to Brodie’s room to fetch the furs on his bed. Averill had hoped they could use those and not bother with the ones Brodie was lying on, but one whiff of them killed that hope. Kade would know at once that something was amiss did she try to make him sleep under the odiferous furs.

Sending up a silent prayer that they could manage it without waking Brodie, Averill led the way back to the room. They took Brodie’s furs with them, set them on the floor by the bed, then quickly and carefully rolled Brodie about to get the furs out from under him. Much to their relief,
he didn’t wake up. Averill then quickly threw his own furs over him on the bed, and they scampered away with the good ones.

Afraid Kade would head to bed before they could finish, they made the bed in record time and threw the fresh furs on. Bess then helped her prepare for bed before rushing off to fetch Kade.

Averill paced the room briefly as she awaited his arrival, practicing what she would say, then whirled to face the door when it opened.

“Bess said ye wished to speak—” Kade began, but then paused abruptly and closed the door when he realized she was wearing naught but a thin nightgown.

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes traveling her length in the flimsy gown. She wanted to raise a hand to cover her face, but forced herself not to. Averill was far enough away from the lone candle in the room that she knew she stood mostly in shadow, and he couldn’t see her well enough to make out the bruise there. That was deliberate. Averill wanted to tell him what had happened before he saw what Brodie had done. She was sure it would soften the blow. At least she hoped it would.

“What’re ye doing in here dressed like that?” Kade asked finally, his voice a low growl as he started forward.

“I am ready for b-bed.” Averill paused to bite her lip as she noted the slight stammer, then forged on, “W-we are sl-sleeping here t-tonight.”

Kade’s eyes had narrowed at her stuttering, and he slowed his approach as he asked suspiciously, “What was wrong with the other room?”

“M-Morag spilled a tr-tray of food she br-brought for me, and the bed is not fit—”

The words died on her lips as he suddenly closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms for a kiss. It was a deep and sweet kiss that left her sighing.

“’Tis all right,” Kade murmured, breaking the kiss to nuzzle her ear. “Accidents happen. I’m no’ angry about it…so stop yer stammerin’.”

“Aye, husband,” Averill breathed, tilting her head to the side to give him better access.

“We can sleep here tonight, I’m sure the bed’ll be dry for tomorrow,” he continued, his hands roaming over her back.

“Aye,” Averill moaned as the fingers of one hand found her breast and began to fondle it through the thin cloth. And then, recalling that she still had to speak to him, she gave her head a shake to clear her thoughts and covered the hand at her breast to still it as she blurted, “B-Brodie figured out I have been d-dosing the whiskey.”

Kade stilled at once and slowly lifted his head to peer down into her shadowed face.

“He went down to the village to drink, and when the whiskey there stayed down, he put it all together. He th-thought I was trying to k-kill him and was very angry,” Averill said quickly.

Kade released her at once and turned to head for
the door. “I shall go talk to ’im. I should ha’e done so ere this anyway.”

“You cannot,” Averill said quickly, giving chase and catching at his arm to stop him. “He is unconscious. Morag hit him over the head with the food tray.”