Reckless by Hannah Howell
3
“Curse ye, Alexander!” roared Barra as the victorious MacDubh raiding party entered Rathmor’s great hall. “Why did ye leave me behind?”
“Ye would have been more of a danger to us than a help, for ye suffer the ills of too much drink,” Alexander explained, then frowned as he realized that Barra was no longer listening. His gaze was fixed on the other side of the great hall.
It was not the three children Barra stared at as if the Devil himself had suddenly reared up out of Hell. The three children were still difficult to espy amongst the crowd of men. Barra’s wide gaze was fixed upon Ailis, who was gently urging Jaime to sit down as she attempted to tend the man’s facial abrasions and bruised knuckles.
Barra rose from his seat at the head table and took a few unsteady steps toward Ailis with one of his shaking hands outstretched toward her. With each step Barra took, Alexander saw the shock upon his brother’s lean face lighten just a little bit.
“Mairi,” Barra whispered, but then he shook his head and rubbed at his temples with trembling fingers. “Nay, how foolish of me. Mairi is dead. I but let wishes and dreams cloud my sight for a moment. Ye must be her sister, Ailis.”
Ailis gave a small involuntary cry. Her time had abruptly run out. Her shock increased as, in Barra’s handsome face, she saw the blue eyes of the twins as well as their narrow faces. So, too, did she see thick strawberry-blond curls identical to those that crowned Sibeal’s small head. There was no denying the devastating revelation that flooded her mind. The way Barra’s gaze settled upon the children, his look filled with love and a hunger born of long denial, Ailis was left with no doubts. Her sister’s lover had been Barra MacDubh. Now she understood Mairi’s reason for such intense secrecy concerning the identity of her lover.
“Sister?” Alexander hissed, and he gave Barra a slight shake to gain his attention. “Did ye say sister?”
“Aye,” Barra briefly forced his gaze back to Alex. “Ailis.” He looked at Ailis. “Ye do look much like my Mairi, but now that the first shock of it all has left me, I can see the differences. I am so very sorry, Ailis,” he said, his voice muted and sincere. “I brought your poor sister naught but misery.”
There was such melancholy in his voice that Ailis’s heart was touched. “Nay. Mairi was happy, very happy, with ye and with the bairns.”
“Ye said you were their nurse,” Alexander hissed, glaring at Ailis and fighting to ignore the way she spoke to Barra, for it created a dangerous, unwanted softening inside of him. “Ye lied.” He decided to center his attention upon this sin. “Ye are Ailis MacFarlane—niece and heir to that murdering bastard Colin MacFarlane.”
“I ken well enough who I am.” Ailis was determined not to quail before the man even though she only reached his collarbone. “I didna lie. Ye didna ask who I was, only what I was, and I answered that truthfully. I do act as their nurse. I just didna mention a detail or two.” A page brought her a cloth and some water to clean Jaime’s wounds, and Ailis took swift advantage of them even as she glanced toward the children. “Didna I care for ye and I alone?” she asked them, and the children nodded. “Didna I help your mama before God took her into His arms; didna I help her and care for ye when she couldna?” Again the children nodded, and Ailis sent Alexander a brief sharp glare. “That sounds much akin to a nurse to me. So how did I lie?” She shook her head as she rinsed out the rag she had used to bathe Jaime’s wounds. “I now ken why ye were after the children.”
She tried to keep her attention fixed upon Jaime. Alexander MacDubh was far too unsettling. None of the stories of his beauty had been exaggerated, she decided. He was tall, lean, and exquisitely formed. His hair was thick, had an attractive wave to it, and hung a little past his broad shoulders. There was that taint of a cynical twist to his expression, but that face was still breathtakingly lovely. Ailis did not think she had ever seen a man’s features cut so perfectly. And his eyes, she mused with a silent curse. Those startlingly blue eyes stole her thoughts even though they glinted with fury and mistrust. And his temper had not been exaggerated, either, she thought. Ignoring the man was her best defense. If his beauty did not leave her witless, then seeing that anger would surely have her trembling. She had no wish to appear either way in front of the man. When Alex spoke, she fiercely resisted the urge to turn toward that deep voice.
“Aye, I was after the children,” Alexander said, his voice hard and cold. “I wasna about to leave anyone with a drop of MacDubh blood in the murderous hands of a MacFarlane. The children are still young. We should be able to scrub them clean of the taint.”
Despite what Ailis thought of the method her uncle had used to obtain Leargan, she was a MacFarlane. Alexander’s insult stung. Since she, and before her, Mairi, had had the sole care of the children, she saw his remarks as a personal affront. The soft voice of common sense told her that MacDubh could have no knowledge of who raised the children or how, but she paid it no heed. She curtly tossed aside the rag she held, forcefully placed her small fists on her slim hips, and glared at the man.
“Oh, aye, the raising of the bairns is so clearly a concern for ye.” She gave a soft, sarcastic laugh. “ ‘Tis so much better if the bairns learn to be the bloodthirsty, cold-hearted bastard that ye are.”
Alexander backhanded Ailis across the face. His action stunned him and—he could tell by their faces—astonished and shocked his men. Despite the depths to which his opinion of women had sunk, he had never before struck one. He had always seen such an action as dishonorable, even cowardly, for a woman could not match a man blow for blow.
A low growl escaped Jaime as Ailis tumbled to the floor. Four men rushed to hold the brute down, but tiny Sibeal reached Alex first, and she demonstrated that she carried an ample load of the now legendary MacDubh temper. Alexander grunted in pain as the little girl delivered a punch to the part of his anatomy most within her reach. He clutched his groin and doubled over slightly, needing a moment to catch his breath. When he looked at his tiny niece, she faced him squarely with her small fists set firmly on her hips in imitation of her aunt. Through his discomfort, Alex briefly noted that he was not the only one staring at the child in openmouthed silence.
“I hope I crippled ye!” Sibeal said, fury adding strength to her childish voice. “Ye hit my aunt Ailis ever again, and I will cut your pintle off and stuff it in your ear, ye rammish whoreson.”
Even the pain in her jaw could not extinguish the laughter rising up in Ailis. Neither could swallowing hard, coughing, or any of the other tricks she sometimes used to stifle a laugh. The gaping looks upon everyone’s face and the sheer astonishment on Lord Alexander’s overwhelmed her. She released a peal of laughter. The twins were the first ones to join her, then Jaime and Barra, as well as many of the MacDubh men. As she fought to control her mirth, Ailis noted that Alexander himself was very close to outright laughter.
“Och, lassie,” she finally said, grinning at Sibeal. “Ah, my sweet Sibeal, ye shouldna have done that. ‘Tisna proper for a lady to act or speak so.”
A frown creased the child’s angelic face. “But ye did the same to Sir Donald MacCordy. I was peeking, ye ken. Ye said just those things and more, too.”
Ailis could feel the color rush into her face, and she groaned softly, then attempted to look stern as Barra helped her to her feet. “I am sure ye are mistaken, child.” She tried to speak with calm assurance, but it was not easy. She knew she had said such things. She silently vowed that, if there was a next time, she would be certain to ascertain that no small but keen ears were close at hand.
“Nay, she isna mistaken,” said Rath, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and his upset over the treatment of his aunt briefly pushed aside by a highly amusing memory. “Donald was screaming like a stuck pig. I ken it well. He was saying that he burned for ye, and ye said that ye would snuff out his flame for all time.” Ailis softly yet vehemently urged him to hush, but he was spurred on by the obvious enjoyment of the MacDubh men. “Donald said that he would warm ye up until ye begged for him, and ye said that if he put one filthy hand on ye, ye would knock his cullions back so far that he would never be able to swallow again. Then he touched ye and ye did it.”
“Nasty little piece,” Alexander murmured and grinned at Ailis’s embarrassment. His amusement faded as he studied her, fighting to ignore the bite of guilt he suffered over the mark of his blow upon her small, oval face. “And just why does Sir Donald MacCordy feel he can take such liberties with Laird Colin MacFarlane’s niece?” When she started to turn away from him, he caught her by the arm.
“Mayhaps he is just a lecherous dog.” Ailis knew it would be a mistake to let him know that she was betrothed to a man the MacDubhs hated almost as much as they did her uncle.
“Aye, he is that, well enough, but I think there is more.” He grasped the hand she was trying to keep hidden in the folds of her skirt and stared at the ring she wore before looking directly at her. “I think the man merely tries to gain what will soon be his anyway. Ye are betrothed to Sir Donald MacCordy.”
Ailis frantically searched her mind for some name to give him, any name that would not add to her usefulness as a tool of revenge.
“Ye dinna like him, either, do ye, sir?” Sibeal said to Alexander in all innocence. “I can tell it. He doesna like me and my brothers, ye ken, but it doesna matter. We shall still have Ailis. We will live with her. She has promised us. I am going to help her care for her bairns.”
Although it was faint and quickly disguised, Alexander felt the tremor that ripped through Ailis. He also saw the fleeting look of revulsion that clouded her beautiful dark brown eyes. Alexander wondered if it was only Donald MacCordy who repulsed her or if it was all men, then wondered why he even cared. When he bedded the girl—and he would—it would not be for pleasure, his or hers, so her warmth or lack thereof should be of no concern to him.
“Your value rises by the moment, wench,” Alex drawled. “It appears that I not only hold the heir to Leargan and all else that filth Colin possesses, but the bride to the heir of Craigandubh.” He tightened his grip on her soft hand when she tried to wriggle it free, then tugged her closer to him. “Now, what do ye think I ought to do with ye, a lass who is so closely tied to two men I sorely ache to run my sword through?”
The very softness of his lovely voice made her blood chill, but she faced him squarely. “Ye already ken how ye will act, so I willna waste my breath to answer ye.” She glared when he slid his gaze over her in a slow, insolent inspection, for she saw it as nothing less than an insult.
“Aye, I ken what I shall do with ye. That ye should have been saved for the poor abused Sir Donald MacCordy will only sweeten my cup.” He glanced at Jaime, whose huge fists clenched and unclenched. “Ye had best warn your large friend not to try to be gallant, or all your valiant efforts to keep him alive will have been for naught.” The way the color seeped from her face told him that she truly cared for the brute, yet Alexander wanted to deny that truth, for it undermined his bitter, unflattering opinion of women.
“Jaime, ye swore that ye wouldna raise your hand against a MacDubh.” Ailis kept her voice calm yet firm, for it was the surest way to pierce through Jaime’s fury. “Ye must hold to your oath.”
“But, mistress,” he protested, “I ken what he wants with ye.”
“Hold to your word, Jaime,” Ailis stressed. “I willna have your blood upon my hands. Ye can do naught to change my fate.”
“I can snap the rutting bastard in twain,” Jaime grumbled, his dark eyes hard with fury and his gaze fixed upon Alex all the while he flexed his big hands.
“Aye, ye can do that.” Ailis looked at the man who still gripped her hand and idly wondered why the Lord sent her a persecutor hidden beneath such a lovely shell. “And I shall be right there to enjoy it when the time comes, but that time isna now, Jaime.” She looked back at her big friend. “Nay, not now. I may have more need of ye when I face my uncle and my betrothed again.”
Before Alexander could reply, servants arrived with food and drink. When the children, Ailis, and Jaime held back from sitting at the table, Alexander none too gently pulled Ailis to a seat by his side. The children and Jaime cautiously followed, but an outright command was needed to get them to sit. Alexander found it a little confusing. The children acted as if they expected to be forcibly expelled from the great hall.
“We canna eat in the great hall,” Sibeal blurted. “Grandmère forbade it. So did Uncle Colin. Are ye sure we shouldna go to our room? We do have a room, dinna we? Rath makes naughty noises, ye ken. Aunt Ailis can come with us, too. She often does.” She sat stiffly at Barra’s side, tensed as if prepared to flee.
“Well, we dinna mind sharing our table with children,” said Alexander. “Did your uncle and grandmère often have company, then?”
“Nay,” mumbled Sibeal, who suddenly grew intensely interested in the food Barra set before her.
Ailis felt her heart contract as it always did when the children revealed how their elders’ scorn had touched them. She was also relieved when Sibeal grew quiet. Ailis did not think it would help her at all if Alexander MacDubh found out how the children had been mistreated by the MacFarlanes. She saw Barra exchange a look of puzzlement with Alexander and knew that her sister, Mairi, had never told Barra how the children had been treated like pariahs. She suspected Mairi had feared that Barra would insist upon taking the children out of the reach of that scorn, and Mairi would never have been able to give up her children. She prayed that Alexander would not press the matter, then glanced at the man and inwardly groaned. Alexander had a look of determination on his almost pretty face, and instinct told her that he would indeed press the matter. He had questions, and she knew that he was a man who would doggedly pursue the answers.
“There appears to be something tying up the wee lass’s tongue.” Alex looked at Ailis. “She willna reply to any questions.”
“Mayhaps that is because what ye are asking isna any of your concern. Ah!” she cried softly when he took hold of a hank of her hair and none too gently pulled her toward him until their faces were but inches apart. “Brutality will gain ye naught, Sir MacDubh.”
“I will have the answers,” he said in a low, quiet voice, ignoring Barra’s soft admonitions and noting that, although Jaime was as taut as the finest drawn bowstring, the man held to his promise to stay his powerful hands. “ ‘Tis by your command that they remain silent, mistress. I wish to ken what poison your cursed family has fed to them.”
Even if he threatened to snatch her bald, hair by hair, Ailis swore that she would not answer. She set her chin and gave him her most stubborn look.
“Leave her be!” Manus cried, grasping Alexander’s wrist. “I will tell ye all ye might wish to ken.”
Alexander loosened his grip on Ailis’s thick, midnight-black hair and mused that the boy looked far older than his seven meager years. “Fine. Why were ye made to dine in your chambers?”
“Because we are bastards.” Manus blushed, cast a brief, nervous look at a tight-lipped Ailis, and continued, “Our mother’s kinsmen, except for Aunt Ailis, couldna bear to look upon us. Grandmère MacFarlane said that we were produced from sin and shame and that we reminded her that her eldest daughter was naught but a whore.” His clear voice wavered slightly. “Grandpère was much the same, though he was dead ere I was old enough to care much. Colin MacFarlane sees us as a mark of shame—‘a sordid stain upon the name MacFarlane’ is what he calls us. He says we are naught but a whore’s misbegottens and that he canna bear the stench of us. That, sir, is why we stay within our chambers.” He returned to his seat and, after one last glance at Ailis, began to eat.
As Ailis fruitlessly tried to put some order into her wild unbound hair, she hissed at Alexander, “Are ye satisfied now, Sir MacDubh? Now that ye have opened up all of their wounds? They see and feel the scorn and pain it stirs all too often. They dinna need ye making them face it so fully and hear it discussed.”
Her words held a truth that Alexander chose to leave unacknowledged. He could easily read the wounded look in the children’s eyes. For a moment he said nothing as he valiantly fought to control his temper. It was not only the heartless way the children had been treated that stirred his fury, but how the knowledge of it brought even more grief to Barra.
“What have ye been told about your father?” Alexander asked abruptly, glancing at each child in turn as he awaited a reply.
“Only what our mother and Aunt Ailis have told us,” answered Manus. “We couldna go with Mama to see our father once we began to speak, for the secret could have been revealed. Children dinna always think before they speak. Mama told us that there were people who would kill our father if they kenned who and where he was. Mama said he loved us, but she didna want us to have to bear the weight of such a secret or suffer the guilt if we couldna keep that secret. I can understand all of it now. We often exchanged gifts with our father. Wee tokens.”
“Aunt Ailis told us what Mama did,” Sibeal added. “Aunt Ailis says our birth canna be a sin in God’s eyes because Mama acted from love. God understands love.” She patted Barra’s tightly clenched hand where he had rested it upon the table and smiled at his taut, wan face. “Ye must not feel sad for us. Aunt Ailis says that when we die, we will be taken in God’s arms like Mama was. God has very big arms.” She suffered herself to be held tightly for a moment by a smiling but moist-eyed Barra. “I hope Mama willna be cross if I dinna go to God’s arms too soon.”
“Nay.” Barra’s voice was unsteady as he released the little girl. “Your mama willna mind if she has to wait four score years or longer.”
“Was there more?” Alexander pressed.
“Our mother told us that Manus and I have the look of our father except for the color of our hair,” Rath answered. “Sibeal has hair like our father’s. Mama once said that it was for the best that we were kept much out of sight, for there was a big danger that somebody would see in us the clue as to who our father is.”
Manus nodded. “Then those people who wished him dead could have found him and killed him. Aunt Ailis says that would have killed our mother as quick as that knife did.”
“Who wished to see your father dead?” Alexander asked, curious to see how much they had been told.
Alexander found himself admiring the children’s skill at conversation. It was evident that an adult had spent time with them, talked to them a lot and as equals, and thus developed their skill with words. Although a great deal of what they said was clearly a lesson well learned and recited back, he sensed a keen intelligence in them. Manus replying to his question drew him from his thoughts.
“Grandpère and Uncle MacFarlane and Donald MacCordy,” answered Manus. “Aye, the MacCordys were very angry about our father, and they still are.”
“Why should the MacCordy clan care that Mairi MacFarlane had herself a lover?” The tension Alexander felt in Ailis only increased his curiosity.
Sibeal looked at Alexander. “Donald MacCordy was to be betrothed to my mama. Isna that right, Aunt Ailis?” She did not wait for Ailis to reply. “It had all been settled, but then Mama had the twins. Aunt Ailis said ‘tis best that the betrothal never happened because my mama could never have borne being wed to a man with leech lips.”
“Leech lips?” Alexander looked at Ailis, noticed how she avoided his gaze and blushed brightly, and he nearly laughed.
Rath nodded, smiling faintly. “Aye—leech lips.” He dodged his aunt’s attempts to pinch him into silence. “Aunt Ailis says that Donald MacCordy’s kisses are akin to having a big fat leech stuck over your mouth.” He giggled when Alexander and his men laughed.
Some of Alexander’s amusement had nothing to do with Ailis’s colorful description of Sir Donald MacCordy’s kissing skill. To think that Sir Donald MacCordy, a man Alexander hated almost as much as he hated Colin, had lost one of his brides to Barra and was soon to lose the chastity of another to Alexander was truly something to savor. Even if he did not desire Ailis with a strength hitherto unknown to him, Alexander knew he would have bedded the girl anyway. The carnal use of the woman Sir Donald MacCordy considered his might be a petty revenge, but it was still an enjoyable one. Alexander knew that it would send Sir Donald into a towering rage, and if the way Mairi and her children had been treated was any indication, the loss of another of his niece’s chastity would certainly raise Sir Colin’s choler.
Ailis saw Alexander’s amusement and inwardly cursed. She instinctively understood what the man found so funny. Her annoyance was increased by the realization that she found his laugh attractive. It stirred an unknown yet frighteningly pleasant feeling in her blood. Even reminding herself that her impending shame was one of the things that fed his amusement did not stop her from liking to hear that deep, rich laugh. She ruefully admitted to herself that she disliked Donald intensely enough that the thought of how both women intended to be his bride were bedded by his bitterest foes did have the flavor of a fine jest. That did little to soothe her abused feelings, however.
“Methinks ye will make Sir Donald MacCordy a very poor wife,” Alexander said, his enticing voice intruding into her dark thoughts.
“That should please ye,” she snapped, keeping her voice low so that their conversation remained private. “If ye do as ye plan, however, that marriage might never come about.”
“Aye, ‘twill please me if ye torment MacCordy. I also ken that MacCordy badly needs to make a firm alliance. There are too many around who wish to see him dead or run off. ‘Tis the same with the MacFarlanes. As separate clans, their enemies could prevail against them, but united they could stave off the wolves of vengeance. Aye, Donald MacCordy will still take ye as his wife no matter how ill I use ye, but he might not be too pleased to do so.”
“Och, well.” She sighed, twisting her full mouth into a wry smile. “I ken that Donald already regrets it. ‘Twill make little difference.” She decided it was a good thing that the children were so young, for they did not fully understand the danger she faced.
“Ye have been greeting his wooing with a rough hand, mistress,” Alexander said, his tone and attitude jovial. “I ken that MacCordy will be here with his sword a-swinging as soon as he kens who has ye. Aye, he will be fair eager to run me through.”
The anticipation Alexander felt about such an event was revealed in his rich voice, and Ailis wondered why she was not more afraid of the man. “ ‘Twill be a while ere Donald raises a sword for any reason or cause.”
“Oh? Is your eager groom ill or, mayhaps, wounded?” Alexander watched her lick the wine from her full lips, felt his loins immediately tighten, and inwardly groaned.
“Aye, Sir Donald is sorely wounded,” replied Manus. “His sword arm was bandaged and in a sling. I heard it said that his injury needed many a stitch.”
“Donald MacCordy was ever quick to take to a sword or the fist,” Barra said. “Who did this deed, one that could buy us even more time ere our enemies strike back? O-ho,” he whispered when he saw the color flooding Ailis’s face. “A fight over ye, was it, mistress?”
“Ye could say that,” drawled Jaime, his dark eyes alight with laughter, his fear and anger forgotten for the moment. “My mistress took a knife to the rogue when he crept into her chambers.”
“Oh, but ye are a vicious piece, Mistress MacFarlane!” Alexander gasped the words out as he was again seized with laughter, a laughter that began to fade when he realized that he had indulged in it more since the MacFarlanes’ arrival at Rathmor than he had in many a year. “Sir Donald MacCordy may never survive marriage to ye.” He grabbed Ailis’s wrist and tugged her close to him, noting that even the smell of her, that scent of clean touched with lavender, stirred his body’s interest. “Ye had best not be thinking to deal with me in such a fashion,” he murmured. He fixed his gaze on her mouth for a moment before looking into her wide, dark, and anger-filled eyes.
A quick glance told Ailis that Barra and the rest were keeping the children diverted, so she hissed at Alexander. “It wouldna be your sword arm I would be slashing, Alexander MacDubh. I can do naught at this moment, but heed this, my fine rutting reiver—for every drop of blood ye draw from me, I will have the same from ye tenfold. Once I am free, be it through rescue or ransom, it willna be the men ye had best keep a wary eye on.”
“Such hard words from such a soft mouth.” He lightly touched her lips with his finger and held her steady when she tried to pull away. “Tell me, does your uncle or your groom MacCordy ken who fathered the bairns?” He watched her closely in hopes of detecting any evasion in her reply.
“How could they? I didna ken it myself, yet there was no one, save for your brother, who was closer to Mairi’s heart than I was.”
“Your kinsmen and betrothed have eyes, mistress, and they ken very well what Barra looks like.”
Ailis frowned as uncertainty crowded into her heart. She had been so relieved that the children would be allowed to stay with her that she had not really given much thought to how unusual it was for a man like Donald MacCordy to agree to her request. Under the law the children were her uncle’s responsibility more than they were hers. In Donald’s eyes they were living proof that his first intended bride had desired another man over him. Ailis had always thought that Donald hated the children. Although she now saw that he could easily be plotting something concerning the children, she was not at all sure of what such plots could entail.
“I dinna ken,” she said, her voice quiet and unsteady. “Donald never said a word, but the MacCordys may indeed ken just who fathered the children.” Her deep concern for her niece and nephews made her repeat her thoughts to Alexander. “Do ye see? I now have some doubts, some questions. The MacCordys might well ken the truth.”
“Aye,” Alexander mumbled, idly caressing her wrist with his fingers as he thought the matter over. “What about your uncle?”
“Nay,” she replied with no doubt at all. “Uncle wouldna be so quick to give them over to the MacCordys if he did.”
“True.” He hid his surprise and appreciation over her perception. “Those children are too good a weapon to lose. Old Colin would have found as much use for them as the MacCordys think they have. I wouldna have left the bairns within his grasp, but Barra only told me his secret yestereve.” Alexander made a quick decision and, turning toward the children, called, “Children, would ye like to ken who your father is?” He ignored Ailis’s soft, hissed protests and Barra’s abrupt loss of color.
“Aye, sir,” replied Manus. “But not if it will put him in danger.” His siblings nodded their agreement.
“It willna, for ye all now share a roof.” With a slight flourish of his hand, Alexander pointed toward Barra. “Allow me to introduce ye to your father—Barra MacDubh.”