Reckless by Hannah Howell
11
A soft, long groan escaped Ailis as she sat up. Her first concern was for how sore she was and how she had gotten that way. Then her memory flooded in through sleep’s lingering haze, and she cursed. She was back at Leargan. Tossed up in the saddle in front of Malcolm, she had been able to do no more than cling to the saddle as they raced to the safety of the MacFarlane keep. Her fear for the condition of her child had increased with every mile, and so she had made little complaint when Malcolm took her to her old bedchamber. A good rest was not only welcome but needed. Ailis refused to let fear, brutality, or intimidation put her child at risk. If she had to harden her heart to everything, she would.
There was a heavy rap at the door, and she was not surprised when Jaime entered with a tray of food and drink. Once Donald had decided that the man was no threat, then Jaime had become a useful servant again. She studied her friend closely as he set the tray on her lap, then carefully sat on the edge of the bed. It was only bread, cheese, and cider, but she welcomed it.
“We are in grave trouble, arena we, Jaime?” she asked as she slowly ate.
“Aye.” He sighed and stared at his lightly interwoven fingers. “They mean to kill His Lairdship, MacDubh.”
“When?” Her appetite faltered, but she doggedly continued to eat, for her child needed the sustenance.
“Today. I am to bring ye to the hanging tree as soon as ye are done with your meal.”
“They intend to hang him—immediately? No bargains? No ransoming?”
“Nay, but they willna let him die so easily.”
“Hanging isna an easy way to die.”
“True, but ‘tis made all the harder if they plan to whip ye near to death first. As Sir Donald says, MacDubh willna be so bonny soon.”
That was more than Ailis could bear. She nudged the tray aside and slumped back against her pillows. They were going to make her witness their hate as they inflicted it upon Alexander. They were going to make her see his pain. That was clearly to be a part of her punishment, a punishment she was sure to feel for the rest of her life.
“Jaime, I canna bear that! ‘Twill be a torture for me. I will feel every stroke of the lash.”
“Aye, because ye love the man.”
Ailis shrugged and sighed. “Aye, I suppose I do.”
“Suppose?”
“Well, ‘tisna something I wished to think about very much. Alexander meant to use me against Donald, and now Donald means to use Alexander against me. I had hoped to avoid the pain such things would, and will, bring me, I have badly failed in that. Now I fear I might fail in protecting the bairn I am carrying.”
Jaime shook his head as he took the tray and set it on a small table by the bed. “Ye are a strong lassie. Any bairn ye carry will be a strong one. Aye, and MacDubh is strong. Ye will survive and so will your bairn.”
“ ‘Twould be better if we could all survive this.”
“One canna hope for too much. The bairn is the one to pray for.”
“Sometimes ye are wise, my friend. I must go now, aye?”
“Aye.” He walked to the window and turned his back to her, staring down into the bailey of Leargan. “They will come to get ye if ye take too long.”
“I ken it. ‘Twould be best if I could go on my own, show a wee bit of dignity.”
Ailis got out of bed and found one of her old gowns folded neatly at the end of her bed. She quickly donned the soft brown undertunic over the linen chemise she had donned before going to sleep. A widow’s weeds was what she needed, but Donald would never allow that. So she would have to dress in the blue and brown gown and try not to show any emotion. She would not allow Donald to savor her pain. As she finished dressing, she also decided that she must find some way to let Alexander know that she had no willing part in his pain. He might not believe it, but she would feel better if she gave him that message.
“We can go now,” she murmured and gave Jaime a sad smile when he turned to look at her. “Let us hurry so that they have no right to drag us where they please.”
He linked his arm with hers, and they started on their way out to the bailey. Ailis knew she was clutching Jaime’s muscular arm so tightly it probably pinched him, but he made no complaint, and she desperately needed his strength. A great ordeal faced her, and she desperately wished to pass it successfully. If she did, Donald’s victory would be dimmed.
A young maid handed her her cloak, and Jaime helped her put it on before they stepped outside of the keep. The cold still hit her squarely as she walked across the bailey. Donald had waited almost too long to spring a trap. Winter would have a firm grip upon the land very soon. She saw the small knot of people on the small hillock beyond the walls of Leargan and could see by the way they stood that they felt the cold, too. She briefly wished that the biting winds would sweep them all away.
The way everyone watched her as she walked toward the hillock made her painfully aware of how she must look, how she walked, and what her expression must be. It was going to be difficult to hide her fear or pain if so many people were going to study her so closely. She needed a little less scrutiny.
When she saw Alexander, she faltered slightly, but Jaime’s firm grip on her helped her disguise it. Alexander was spread-eagled between two posts. Despite the cold, he had been stripped down to his braies. It was obvious that Donald wanted Alexander to be humiliated before he was murdered.
Her uncle Colin stood beside the MacCordys as if he were the leader. Ailis suddenly realized that he was not, that he had lost his power the moment he had betrothed her to Donald MacCordy. The MacCordy clan ruled at Leargan. Her uncle was simply too blind to see it. Ailis was sure that the MacCordys would never allow another heir to survive. For a sly, treacherous man, Colin MacFarlane had picked his allies with a fatal blindness.
“I dinna suppose there is much chance of rescue,” she said to Jaime.
“Nay, I wouldna think so. ‘Tis why they feel so confident about doing this here, outside the walls of Leargan.” Jaime shook his head. “Sir Barra wouldna have become worried until we were hours late in returning. Then he would send someone to the village to try and discover what had happened.”
“And by then it would be dark, too dark to act. However, someone may have gone to report to Barra soon after we left. Angus was still alive.”
“Nay! I saw him cut down. He was on the ground and bleeding.”
“He was, but he also winked at me. He was alive and mayhaps could get to Rathmor. Also, Malcolm told me that he left Red Ian alive, only just knocked him down and tied him up.”
Jaime frowned and lowered his voice as they neared the MacCordys. “They could get back to Rathmor if Angus survived his wounds and Red Ian wasna killed after Malcolm left. Ah, but then they must try to plan something.”
“Still, it could be possible.”
“It could be, but I wouldna place much of my hopes in it, lass. Look to yourself and to the bairn ye carry.”
Ailis nodded even as Donald silently ordered her to stand beside Malcolm glaring at her as he pointed his stubby finger in the direction he wanted her to go. She wondered why she was being shepherded to Malcolm as much as she was. It appeared to be Donald’s solution to controlling his own anger—he kept her out of his reach and designated Malcolm as her guard. Malcolm would have the freedom to act against Donald himself, to restrain his cousin. That such a precaution was being taken pleased her, but the fact that it was needed aggravated her fear of Donald.
“Is this necessary?” she muttered as she stood beside Malcolm and stared at Alexander, whose face was no longer so bonny, but bruised and swollen from a heavy beating.
Malcolm looked down at her, studied her pale, taut features, and wondered how much she could endure of what was to come. “It has always been Donald’s way to try and make smaller each and every thing he fears. This includes people.”
“Ye openly confess that Donald fears Alexander?” She glanced at him, unable to hide her surprise.
“Aye, he always has. And he truly hates MacDubh for the man’s fair face and skill with the lasses.”
“Jealousy.”
“Aye, jealousy. Your pretty lover undoubtedly stirs it in many a man. Donald intends to steal that beauty ere he kills the man.”
“And ye can stand here and condone this?” She could not stop her condemnation despite the voice of common sense, which warned her not to insult the man who was protecting her.
“Spoken like one who has land and coin of her own. I have only what my kinsmen choose to give me. And I could stoop to remind ye that I have already even risked that meager income by protecting ye.”
“What ye did to aid me is only what anyone would do. However, I thank ye. Surely, though, honor demands that ye put a stop to this. This is a cruelty—naught else. There is no honor or victory in this.”
“True, but I willna stop it. I canna. I havena the power. And ‘twould be wise if ye kept a stiller tongue in your head. Ye dinna truly want Donald to pay ye more heed than he does, do ye?”
Ailis answered that by becoming very quiet. She wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself. It was late in November, and it was almost a miracle that there had been no seriously bad weather. If she found herself heavily confined to Leargan for too long, then the weight of her pregnancy would begin to hinder her. If spring was too late as a result of a late winter, she could easily be forced to bear her child at Leargan, and she knew that would greatly endanger her child.
She looked at Alexander and caught him staring at her. Even though his eyes were swollen and bruised, she caught the glint of mistrust in them. That stung. No matter which side she chose to stand on, Alexander should know her well enough by now to know that she would never condone such brutality. As she held his look, she made no effort to hide the fear and sorrow she felt, nor the hurt he caused with his misjudgment of her. His battered eyes widened a little, and she knew he had read her expression correctly. She quickly smoothed away that glimpse into her emotional state as Donald walked up to Alexander and gave her one hard look before turning toward his prisoner.
“Yet again you have stained the honor of the MacCordy clan,” Donald accused Alexander.
“What honor? A man canna damage what isna there. A MacCordy stains the word honor simply by saying it.” The pain of the blow to the face Donald gave him was enough to penetrate the numbness inflicted by the cold.
“Such insults dinna change the crime ye will now pay for. Ye stole my bride and ye stole her maidenhead.”
“Nay.” Alexander turned to look at Ailis and wished he could see her better. “I bedded my wife. Ailis MacFarlane is my wife in the eyes of God.”
“Oh, sweet Jesu, that clever devil,” muttered Malcolm.
It took only one look for Ailis to understand what Alexander was doing—he was declaring a handfast marriage. Since Donald intended to kill him, it would not protect him or gain her much. It would, however, keep her child from being marked as a bastard. She neatly eluded Malcolm’s attempt to grab her and cover her mouth. She used Jaime’s bulk to slow down Donald’s advance on her.
“And Alexander MacDubh, the Laird of Rathmor, is my husband in the eyes of God.”
She did not completely evade Donald’s slap, his fingers scraping her cheek as he swung at her, but Jaime and Malcolm silently shielded her from the worst of it. It was probably not a perfect declaration, but it would serve. There were a couple dozen people who had heard it. That would serve as some protection for her child, at least for as long as Donald allowed her child to survive. If nothing else, it was a small strike back at Donald, mayhaps a little petty, but nonetheless enjoyable.
“Well, ye shall soon be a widow!” Donald screamed at her. “Ye have just signed his death warrant.”
“Oh, nay, Donald,” she replied. “Ye willna try and set that guilt upon my shoulders. Ye have wanted Alexander dead for years. Ye began to plan it as soon as ye netted him in your trap.”
“Aye, I did and I planned to enjoy it. Now I shall enjoy it even more, for ye will be helping me.”
“Oh, nay. Nay. I willna dirty my hands.” She tried to avoid him, but he grabbed her by the wrist. “I said nay!”
Malcolm and Jaime made a cautious attempt to stop Donald, but it was not enough. Ailis could see that they did not dare to do too much. Donald was not going to physically harm her, just ask her to do something that she would find unspeakably hurtful. She wondered how she could resist without tempting a brutal reprimand from Donald.
“Ye will, my wee whore. Ye will wield the lash as I say, or it will be tested upon your skin.”
“Do it, Ailis,” Alexander ordered.
She stared at Alexander in horror and amazement. “Ye would have me become a part of his disgusting game?”
“Ye have always been a part of the game. Now ye must remember that ye carry my child. ‘Tis time to be meek and obedient, to do all ye can not to invite retaliation or punishment.”
A muffled cry of revulsion escaped her when Donald pressed the whip into her hand. “I canna.”
“Ye will, Ailis,” Donald said as he stood behind her, forcefully positioning her behind Alexander’s broad smooth back. “Think of Jaime.”
“What of Jaime?” She stared at the whip in her hand, then at Alexander.
“He lives as a favor to ye. No more. ‘Tis a favor that could be easily lost.”
“So, if I dinna take a part in your sins, then ye shall harm an innocent man.” She gasped with pain when he grabbed her by the upper arm in a cruelly tight hold.
“Ye always were a clever lass. Now, strike.” He stepped back. “Why do ye wait?”
“I dinna ken how to use this,” she said.
Donald told one of the burly guards flanking Alexander’s bound body to show her what to do. She had to bite back a scream when the man struck Alexander. Twice more he did it until she claimed she knew what to do despite not having seen a thing. Her hands shook as she took the whip.
Her first strike was weak, and the lash barely touched Alexander. Donald cursed her, drew his sword, and walked over to Jaime. He held the sword against Jaime’s throat and just stared at her. No words were needed. The threat was wrenchingly easy to read. Her second attempt with the whip was not so weak, and she gagged as a red welt appeared across Alexander’s skin.
Five more times she struck. Alexander’s body flinched, but he made no sound. She shook until she hurt, and her emotions churned so much that she became nauseated. As she prepared to strike him a sixth time, the whip was yanked from her hand, tossed aside, and she was cradled against a hard, male body. It took her a moment to realize that it was Malcolm. She chanced a quick peek at Alexander and caught him watching her and Malcolm with a cold expression on his face. Then she looked at Donald, whose square face was nearly purple with fury.
“Ye grow too bold, cousin,” Donald hissed.
“I but watch over our interests when ye are too twisted with hate and anger to do so,” Malcolm replied, his voice soft and calm, and he made no attempt to draw his sword or dagger.
“This was to be part of her punishment. What right do ye have to interfere in my discipline of my woman?”
“Whatever right I can incur in order to keep her alive.”
“This willna kill her.”
“Nay? This was causing her to shake like a lump of pork jelly. She has also grown quite gray. I feared she could be driven to miscarry the child.”
“Good.” Donald glared at Ailis’s middle with cold-eyed hatred.
“Good, is it? Aye, I hadna realized that ye wished her to be unable to bear ye any children or even to die. ‘Tis risky to play that game ere ye actually wed the girl, and ye canna wed her until her husband is dead.”
“That girlish-faced cur isna her husband!” Donald screamed.
“As ye wish.”
“And what is this nonsense of her becoming barren or dying?”
“Malcolm is right,” said Duncan as he stepped forward and put a restraining hand on his son’s arm. “A miscarriage can even be more dangerous than a birth. Ye could easily drive her to it if ye continue to torment her so. I am not too sure she should even stay here to watch this. The man has clearly swayed her heart, and she finds his punishment painful to watch.”
Donald took several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. “All right. Get her out of here.”
“Nay.” Ailis protested. “I mean to stay.”
“Ye will cease to argue with me!” Donald grabbed her by the chin so tightly that she feared her bones would break. “I can find ways to hurt ye that willna hurt the bairn ye carry whilst ye carry it. I can also make your bairn pay the price for your sins when he is finally spawned. ‘Tis your choice.”
“Get out of here, Ailis,” Alexander ordered her. “I dinna want ye here.”
“I should stay here,” she murmured as Malcolm led her away and she gave him little resistance.
“Why?” asked Malcolm, his arm about her shoulders as he urged her back toward Leargan. “Do ye want to see his pain and death, simply lack the stomach to do it yourself?” I hadna thought ye capable of such things.”
Ailis decided she was very weary of cynical men who mistrusted her simply because she was a woman. “Oh, aye, I think ye must have thought of me in such a way, at least once or twice, or such an insulting idea would never occur to ye now.”
“My pardons. ‘Tis just that I canna see any reason for ye to want to witness his death, especially when we both ken that my cousin shall make it as slow and agonizing as he can.”
“I dinna want to see it. ‘Twill tear my heart out piece by piece. However, Alexander should have at least one friend with him when he meets his fate.” She looked at Jaime, who had fallen into step beside her. “Do ye think ye could be there for him?”
“Aye, Mistress Ailis.” Jaime turned back to go and stand as near to Alexander as he was allowed, but still some several feet away.
The sound of the whip made her jump, and she fought back her tears. “And so it begins.”
Barra cursed and tightly clenched his hands. He crouched in the knotted thickets to the west of Leargan and had a clear view of the place where his brother was meant to die. A quick glance at Angus told him the man was as furious as he, for the mild wound Angus had suffered was not enough to make the man go white.
“There is some good to be found in this,” Angus said at last, his voice rough with emotion.
“Aye, and what might that be?”
“They are outside of Leargan. We need not try and storm that formidable keep.”
For the first time since Angus and Red Ian had arrived to report Ailis’s and Alexander’s abductions, Barra felt a stirring of real hope. His only plan had been to get to Leargan as soon as possible, so soon that the MacCordys and MacFarlanes would not be expecting him and the dozen men-at-arms he had with him. After that he had developed some vague idea of surveying Leargan, the MacCordys, and the MacFarlanes and seeing if some opportunity to save Alexander would eventually appear. He was sure it had. The number of people around Alexander was greater than the small force he had, but they were not all fighters or even armed. The only problem he could see was that Ailis was being taken back inside of the keep.
“I willna be able to grab them both,” he said and pointed toward Ailis. “Although after what she just did, perhaps that is for the best.”
“Come, lad, the lass was forced to do that. Probably threatened into taking part by that filth MacCordy.”
“Ye sound sure of that.” Barra dearly wanted to believe that, and for that reason alone he was afraid to do so.
“I am. The lass is fair sick of love for the fool. She was given no chance to say nay. Now, we had best get to the business of rescuing our laird ere we lose the chance so sweetly handed us.”
As he followed Angus back to the rest of their men, Barra required some assurances. “Do ye really believe we can succeed in freeing Alexander?”
“Aye. If we gallop out of this dark wood, screaming like banshees, we will set most of that lot of carrion racing for the safety of the keep. That will make it hard for the true fighting men of Leargan to do their best. We need but hold them at bay for a wee bit whilst we cut our laird down, and then we hie back to Rathmor.”
“Do ye think our mounts are worthy of the challenge?”
“We were but a few hours behind the MacCordys, so they have had as much rest as the mounts they shall need to chase us. Shall I tell the men what to do, or do ye wish that honor?”
“Best if ye do it, Angus,” Barra said as he swung up into the saddle. “I understand what we are to do, but I havena much experience in giving orders. Ye do and I want to be very sure that we make no mistakes.”
Barra stared in the direction of Leargan as Angus instructed their men. He heartily wished he could rescue Ailis as well, but he knew that would be impossible. That would be hard to explain to the children when he returned without their aunt. He suspected he was going to have a difficult time explaining it to Alexander, too.
Alexander clenched his teeth to halt another scream as the lash seared across his back. He needed something to bite on if he was going to continue to remain silent, but he had no intention of asking MacCordy for anything. Each time he looked up, he met Jaime’s steady gaze. He knew exactly why Jaime was there and not with Ailis, and the gesture touched him. Ailis did not want him to be alone amongst his enemies. He knew that with as much certainly as if she had told him herself.
Another sting of the whip and Alexander fought to regain his wits, to prepare for the next. He met and held Jaime’s look again. Just as he was about to thank the man for his presence, something Alexander was able to draw strength from, a sound tore through the quiet that left him stunned. The slow grin that spread over Jaime’s face told him he had heard the MacDubh warcry, but he still found it hard to believe. He was about to be rescued.
“Ailis,” he said, finding his thin, hoarse voice difficult to recognize as his own.
“I will watch her,” Jaime said as he neatly felled the two MacCordy men guarding Alexander, allowing Barra to get in close enough to cut the bonds around Alexander’s wrists.
“Nay, we must get her.”
Alexander clung to one post while Jaime undid the bonds at his ankles. All around him was chaos. Donald and his father could be heard bellowing curses and orders, which were going unheard or ignored. Alexander could see people running for the safety of Leargan, and one or two of his men indulged in a short chase now and again to ensure that those people kept right on running. The MacCordy men-at-arms found it nearly impossible to maintain a defense because of the people trying to flee and the need to evade the rearing horses of yelling, sword-swinging MacDubhs.
“She will live. Ye willna.” Jaime easily lifted the weak Alexander and set him on the saddle behind Barra. “Go and regain your strength so that ye can rescue your bairn when it comes.”
“But that stinking coward Donald will hold her, will wed her, and force her into his bed.”
“Nay, he canna wed her.” Jaime hastily and lightly secured Alexander to the saddle. “Ye claimed her before witnesses. And methinks he will want none of her until she is rid of your bairn. Now, hie away from here. Donald runs to Leargan to get more men and horses.”
Before Alexander could say any more, Jaime sharply slapped the rump of Barra’s horse to start it galloping back toward Rathmor. That forced Alexander to concentrate on the simple matter of holding on. An instant later another horse reared to a restless halt before Jaime, and he found himself facing Angus.
“So, ye werena murdered,” Jaime said and grinned at the older man.
Angus held out his hand. “Climb up, laddie. There is naught here for ye but cruel words.”
“There is Ailis. I must stay with Ailis. She will have need of me.”
“Our Kate will wonder why ye have stayed behind.”
“Nay, she will ken why.” Jaime saw one of MacCordy’s men run by, an armed crossbow in his hands. “Nay!”
Jaime tried to chase down the man, but was briefly blocked by Angus’s horse. By the time he was able to start after the man, the crossbow was aimed at the backs of the retreating MacDubh brothers. Jaime was just reaching for the archer when the man fired off the crossbow. A bellow of fury escaped Jaime as he watched the bolt bury itself in Alexander’s back. Alexander convulsed from the blow and then slumped against Barra’s back. Angus shouted a curse on all MacCordys and raced after Barra and Alexander. Jaime looked at the terrified archer he held by the front of his jupon, then tossed him aside. His last sight of Alexander was to see the unconscious and wounded man disappear over the horizon with his men. The MacCordys were racing out of Leargan to follow their enemies even as Jaime started back to Leargan.
Ailis finally kicked Malcolm in the shins. He stopped pushing her toward the keep, but he kept a firm grip on one of her arms. She had heard the MacDubh warcry and tried to run back to Alexander. Malcolm had picked her up in his arms and run for Leargan. He had finally set her down once they were well inside the protective walls enclosing the bailey, but he had tried to drag her inside of the keep itself. What little she could see and hear told her that she had lost her chance to escape with Alexander, and she did not know whether to weep or punch Malcolm until her arms hurt.
“I could kill ye!” she cried, her hands clenched into fists. “I have lost a chance to escape.”
“Ye have lost a chance to get yourself killed,” Malcolm snapped as he rubbed his shin.
“They have as much chance of getting back to Rathmor as the MacCordys do of stopping them. Now, let me go.”
“Aye, I will. Do as ye please. I dinna think ye will get very far. Here comes that brute of yours.”
“Jaime?” She felt her heart sink as she turned to see Jaime walking toward her.
“Are ye hurt, Mistress Ailis?” Jaime asked as he stepped up to her and spared a brief, curious look at Malcolm.
“Nay, I am fine. Did they escape, Jaime? Was it really the MacDubhs—and did they free Alexander?” She grasped him by both arms and tried to read the expression on his face.
“Aye, Barra and Angus sent the MacCordys scurrying just long enough. They cut Alexander free, I put him up behind his brother, and they were away toward Rathmor. Alexander wanted to come after ye.”
“He did?” Ailis almost felt better knowing that Alexander had wanted to take her back with him.
Jaime nodded, then gently tried to free himself of her grip. “He did, but me and Angus convinced him it couldna be done, that he must save himself now. We all ken that Sir Donald willna kill ye, so that gives Alexander time to save ye.”
“And Alexander had no time left.” Ailis frowned when Jaime would not meet her eyes and tried to get away from her. “Jaime, what are ye not telling me? What happened?” She placed herself squarely in front of him and put both hands on his chest. “What are ye trying to hide?”
“I d-dinna want to tell ye.”
The slight stutter in Jaime’s voice alarmed Ailis. “Ye have to. I will command ye if I must.”
“Alexander was alive when he r-rode away,” Jaime muttered.
“But? Come, there is a but in your tone of voice. Was Alexander hurt?”
“Aye.” Jaime sighed, his posture slumping slightly. “One of MacCordy’s men fired an arrow ere I could stop him. It hit Sir Alexander high up on his back, near his right shoulder. He wasna dead, though. He wasna.”
She clutched his arm and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “So, he could heal.”
“Oh, aye,” Jaime hurried to assure her. “He could heal.”
“So I must believe. My strength for what lies ahead depends upon it.”