The MacNaughton Bride (13 page)

Sile
tried to back away, but
Aislinn
had a hold of her
hand.
 
“No, Ma’am, I couldn’t drink
from a cup like that – “

Aislinn
brought the cup to the young woman’s lips.
 
“Don’t be ridiculous.
 
It’s just a cup.”

Sile
swallowed a little, then said, “A cup like that’s not for the likes of me,
Ma’am.”

With a small smile,
Aislinn
answered, “It’s not for the likes of me, either,
Sile
.
 
Believe
me.
 
Now hold this cup while I work
on your arm.”

She did as she was told,
pondering both the strange woman who was her new mistress and why she might
want kitchen scraps to help heal a servant’s burn.
 
Aislinn
lifted her dress and
ripped several strips of cloth from one of her petticoats.
 
Sile
opened
her mouth to protest, but decided not to.
 
It hadn’t gotten her anywhere so far.
 
She watched intently as her mistress cleaned the wound with
some water from her own private pitcher, then carefully spread some sort of
poultice or ointment directly onto the wound.
 
Sile
knew that the woman who was
helping her was doing her best not to hurt her, but she squealed and whimpered
occasionally anyway.

Chapter
7

Amazingly, Lady
MacNaughton
apologized the entire time she was dressing the
wound for the pain she knew she was causing, and whenever she looked up at the
other woman, there were tears in her eyes.
 
Sile
had never known anyone to sympathize
so with a servant.
 
It just wasn’t
done, in her experience, unless one was a lady’s maid or a valet.
 
The serving girls and scullery maids
didn’t as much attention or affection as was engendered by close contact with
the Lord or Lady they all served.
 
Not that they were treated badly – just the opposite.
 
Working for Lord
MacNaughton
and his brothers was considered a very prestigious post, no matter what the
capacity. They were given good food, warm shelter, and were treated better here
– less like slaves – than in a lot of other of the
gentrys
’ households.

But still, the new mistress
was going above and beyond the usual courtesies extended to the household
help.
 
After she’d dabbed on the
ointment as gently as possible, she put down a layer of skins, meat side down,
to cover the wound, then wrapped it again in her much cleaner petticoat strips.

Tying it in a nice bow,
Aislinn
said, “There.
 
Keep it clean and dry, and come back to me in two days and we’ll do this
again.
 
Bring skins and water with
you when you come.
 
Make a tea out
of this,” she pressed a small container of powder and bits into
Sile’s
hand, “when you can, and it’ll help ease the pain.”

Indeed, her arm was already
beginning to feel better.
 
“Thank
you, Ma’am,”
Sile
whispered through tears.
 
No one in her hard life had taken such
an interest in her, or cared so much that she was in pain.

Squeezing her eyelids tight
so that the tears wouldn’t fall,
Aislinn
whispered
back just as gutturally, “You’re welcome,
Sile
.
 
Now take this tray back to the
kitchen.
 
I’m not at all hungry,
and even if I was, I wouldn’t eat that for love nor money.”

Sile
grabbed up the train quickly, willing to do pretty much anything for this woman
who had cared for her so gently.
 
“Yes, Ma’am.”
 
She curtsied
and skittered towards the door where she paused for a second, staring at the
ground as she whispered, “Thank you, Ma’am.
 
I – I know I don’t have no right to say it, but I
don’t think it’s right that his Lordship has you all bottled up here.
 
If there’s anything I can do for you, I
will.
 
I’ll try to get your trays
for you as much as I can, so if there’s anything extra or special you want,
I’ll do my best to get it.”
 
It was
the longest speech
Sile
had ever made in her life,
but she meant every word.

The woman on the bed smiled
at her softly.
 
“You’re welcome,
Sile
.
 
And
thank you.”

Bowing and scraping all the
way,
Sile
left
Aislinn
alone in her room.

Sile
was as good as her word – either she or Jenny brought her trays from that
point on, but
Aislinn
was refusing to eat to protest
the poor quality of the food.
 
She
didn’t think the ingredients were necessarily bad, but the way they were
prepared was horrid.
 
Besides, she
thought that not eating might get her husband’s attention.
 
He seemed entirely prepared to ignore
her for the rest of their lives, but
Aislinn
wasn’t
interested in spending the rest of her life in this room.
 
She could see him sometimes, striding
off on business, those impossibly broad shoulders set, purpose in every stride.
 
Sometimes he was mounted, and that was
even more of a treat.
 
The man rode
like a centaur.
 
His horse was a
gorgeous black stallion who puffed and reared in the cold, but he kept his seat
as if it was his own idea to try to buck him off.

Aislinn
didn’t like that she took such enjoyment at just looking at the man – she
should have hated the very sight of him, stubborn, wrongheaded cur that he
was.
 
Didn’t even give her a chance
to defend herself before imprisoning her here, all alone and in disgrace, as
far as he was concerned.

Then an unexpected knock
came at the door.
 
Aislinn
put down her book and came to stand at the end of
her bed.
 
“Come in.”
 
It was too early for dinner and she’d
already sent the lunch plate back without her compliments. Jenny wouldn’t have
bothered to knock . . .
 
She
wondered who it was.
 
“Come in?”
she called out tentatively.

She was pleasantly
surprised to see his brother, Grant in the doorway.
 
He conspicuously left the door open, but came well into the
room, looking her over anxiously.
 
“I – I’ll understand it if you don’t want to see me.”

Aislinn
smiled hesitantly.
 
“Don’t be
silly,” she walked over and gave him a gentle hug.
 
“To what do I owe this honor?”

To his own horror, Grant
blushed.
 
“Well, I thought you
might be getting a little cabin fever.
 
Would you like to go for a walk?”
 
As if they were in a grand ballroom, he bowed and offered her his
arm.
 

Aislinn
chuckled for the first time in what seemed like ages.
 
“I do believe I would love to take a stroll with you, kind
Sir.”
 
She curtsied deeply back to
him, then they set off through the house, collecting amused and amazed stares
from everyone they encountered.
 
They met Burke on the way, and he gleefully abandoned the stuffy
paperwork his brother had set him to and assumed his own post on her other arm.

Sile
saw them going out the front door, and flitted up to the room to grab a shawl
for her Mistress, fussing about her like she was a stray chick.
 
The other servants were amazed to see
mousy
Sile
doing much of anything beyond that which
she was directly told to do, but
Sile
had become
devoted to the new mistress, despite the rumors that were flying about just why
the Master had locked her up.
 
No
one could say a word against the mistress within
Sile’s
hearing, or they’d see a side of her they never dreamed existed.

Aislinn
thanked
Sile
for the wrap, then set off again with
her
seethingly
masculine escort.
 
As they walked, they danced completely
around the elephant that had accompanied them.
 
They discussed the weather, the crops, the flora and fauna
of the area . . . everything but the situation between their brother and the
tiny woman on their arms.

Until Grant stopped dead in
his tracks and turned her to him, holding both of her hands in his.
 
“We – my brother and I –
just wanted to tell you that we don’t subscribe to the eldest’s opinion of you,
Madame.”

Those tears that were never
very far beneath the surface lately, it seemed, flooded her eyes and trickled
down her cheeks at his words.
 
They
believed in her innocence.
 
Her own
husband didn’t, but they did.
 
She
squeezed Grant’s fingers, whispering a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
 

Burke turned her back to
him, blushing furiously.
 
“We
believe in your – your innocence, Ma’am, even if our brother
doesn’t.
 
It’s as plain as can be,
and he’s that much an idiot for not seeing it, regardless of any evidence to
the contrary.”

Aislinn
didn’t know what to say or do, and she knew she was blushing at least as
brightly as they were.
 
“Thank you
both, so much,” she sniffled.
 
“And, please, call me
Aislinn
.”
 
She started walking again, staring at
the ground beneath her feet.
 
The
brothers caught up with her and fell into stride beside her.
 
“But don’t be too harsh on your
brother.
 
There was –
evidence against me, and he doesn’t really know me.”

The men nodded.
 
“But neither do we – but we
believe you.”

This conversation was very
strange, and they shouldn’t even have been having it.
 
But it was nice all the same to hear that someone was on her
side besides Jenny and
Sile
.
 
Aislinn
grabbed each of their hands.
 
“Thank you.
 
You’ll never
know how much this means to me.”

The threesome wandered
through town, making the introductions that
Kell
should have.
 
Despite the fact that
not every reception was glowing,
Aislinn
was
wonderful with everyone in town – exclaiming over their children and any
wares or services they offered.
 
It
was a thriving place, and she knew that that would have been due to her
husband’s hard work.
 
She also
offered advice to anyone who had a health problem, and by the end of their
rounds, several people had asked if she might see to some of their
ailments.
 
Because she wasn’t
allowed to leave her room without her escorts, she invited them to come to her
tomorrow.

Grant and Burke looked over
her head when she suggested this – entirely out of the kindness of her
heart, they were sure.
 
But finding
most of the town at his wife’s door wasn’t going to make
Kell
feel any better about her.

***

And it didn’t.
 
He tromped into the house at about
eleven the next day, just a half hour before he was to meet a business man up
from Edinburgh to discuss the price of some land he was looking at acquiring
near the boarders of their current lot.
 
But the sight that greeted his eyes made him blink furiously.
 
For some reason, there was a line of
townspeople – all of whom he recognized – men, women, and children,
in the great hall, and lined right up the stairs and as far as the eyes could
see.

“What’s going on here?” he
bellowed.
 

Suddenly, there was
silence, and the women in the line clutched their children a little closer.
 
Simon, the blacksmith, stood where he
was in line – not wanting to lose his spot – and answered as
politely
 
and succinctly as he
could, “We’re here to see your lady, Sir.”

Kell’s
eyes widened as he dismissed an evil thought that she was entertaining men in
her room.
 
There were only a few
men in line, anyway.
 
He took the
steps two at a time, watching the line wrap around the stairs, right down the
hall to her – his – their – room.
 
The closer he got to the door, the fewer towns folk and the
more household servants he saw.
 
“What are you all doing here?
 
Go back to work?”

“But, Sir – “ It was
his own valet, Pierre, the traitor, who was the next person in line to be seen,
apparently, “your wife issued the invitations herself for anyone who had a
health complaint to come see her and she would see what she could do about it.”

Some scullery maid he
barely recognized stepped forward with her arm outstretched at him.
 
Sile
, he
thought her name was.
 
“Yes,
Sir.
 
She’s a right good healer,
your sainted wife is.
 
She fixed up
my arm almost good as new, changing the dressing regular and making so sure not
to hurt me much in the process. And she gave me some willow bark tea, she did,
so as to ease off the pain when I can.”
 
As if suddenly realizing to whom she was speaking, she shrunk back into
line, mumbling.
 
“The woman’s an
angel.
 
Anyone can see that.”

Grunting angrily,
Kell
stalked past everyone and threw open the door, only to
reveal his wife, bending over old Mrs. Fitzgerald’s foot as she wrapped it with
some sort of ruffled material that looked like she’d ripped it from her under
things . . . it looked like a petticoat, and the closer he got, the more and
more it looked like just that.