Reckless by Hannah Howell

4

“Is he really our father, Aunt Ailis?” Manus asked as, in the bedchamber he would share with Rath, he donned a clean, linen nightshirt. “I feel he is and I think we look a bit alike, but do ye ken it for sure?”

Ailis sat on an ornately carved oak chest near the window and settled Sibeal on her lap. As she began to brush out the little girl’s bright hair, she wished with all her heart that Alexander had not made his announcement. Such startlingly important news should have been delivered gently, slowly. The words could not be called back now, however. Now it was best to stay with the truth and to try to ease any doubts or fears the children had.

“Aye, he is your father,” she replied. “ ‘Tis true that we dinna have anyone’s word on that save for the word of the MacDubhs. However, enemy or nay, the word of a MacDubh is good.” She grimaced. “Even if ye canna abide what they tell you, ‘tis the truth. They are known for their honesty. Though I dinna care for the way Sir Alexander told ye, I canna deny what he said.”

“And ye feel really sure that ‘tis the truth?”

“Aye, Manus. Ye share a look with Sir Barra, especially ye and Rath. There was the way Sir Barra looked at me and called your mama’s name. ‘Twas the face of a man who had seen a ghost. Then there was the way he looked at ye lads and wee Sibeal, as if he couldna see enough of ye. A man can ply many a trick, but he canna put such raw love in his eyes unless the feeling rests in his heart. Nay, nor can he look so at a child who isna his.”

“If he loves us, then why didna he come for us when Mama died?” asked Rath as he crawled into the bed he would share with Manus.

“Ah, sweeting, there are so many reasons.” Ailis sighed when she realized that the children expected her to explain. “The MacDubhs and the MacFarlanes have been enemies for years. Leargan was once a MacDubh keep until our uncle took it through treachery and murder. Your father met your mother after that hatred had begun. He couldna speak of ye or of her, just as your mama couldna speak of him. And he already had a wife. The laird of the MacDubhs, Sir Alexander, makes his loathing of the MacFarlanes plain. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

“Aye,” Manus nodded as he snuggled down next to Rath. “If it were kenned that we had MacDubh blood, we wouldna have been safe with MacFarlanes, and our father felt that our MacFarlane blood put us in danger with the MacDubhs.”

“Exactly.” Ailis stood up with Sibeal in her arms and kissed each boy’s forehead. “Now ye are all together as ye should have been years ago.”

“What will happen to ye?”

“I will be ransomed, Manus.” She forced aside her many fears about her fate.

“But then ye will be taken back to Leargan,” Rath said, a slight tremor in his voice. “We will stay with ye.”

“Nay.” Ailis spoke firmly despite her own pain. “Ye belong with your father. He loves you, so much so that he kept away from ye even though ‘twas the very last thing he wished to do. I have had ye since the day ye were born. ‘Tis his turn now.”

Ailis realized that she had never foreseen a time when the children would not be hers to care for. Now she saw that she had been foolishly blind. The chance of Sir Barra claiming his children had always existed. Now it had happened, and despite how deeply it cut her, Ailis knew she had to step aside.

“Canna ye stay here with us?” asked Sibeal as she tightened her arms about Ailis’s neck.

“Nay, lass. I have no place here. Mayhaps later, when the troubles have eased between the clans, we will see each other again.”

“If our father lets the laird hurt ye, I will hate him,” Rath swore fiercely.

“Nay, ye willna, laddie.” Ailis spoke as firmly as she could. “Barra MacDubh is your father. He is the man your mama loved and the man whose seed made ye. He also isna the laird here—Sir Alexander is. A man must do as his laird says. He may argue and disapprove, but he canna stop his laird. Ye arena to hold your father to blame for Sir Alexander’s actions.” She ruffled each boy’s hair. “I will be fine.”

“He hit ye, Aunt.” Sibeal touched the slight bruise marring Ailis’s cheek.

“That is something I have experienced before. Uncle Colin and Donald MacCordy have both knocked me about some from time to time. I have a wretched sharp tongue that can sorely try a man’s temper. And did ye see Sir Alexander’s face when he did it? ‘Twas a great surprise to him, so ‘tis clear that he doesna do it much, if at all.” Ailis sat down on the edge of the bed. “Dinna fash yourselves over me, children. There is naught that Sir Alexander can do that I canna overcome. He isna going to kill me. I am much more valuable alive. Now I must be putting this lassie to bed.” She stood up, turned toward the door, and came face to face with Barra. Instinct made her certain that the man had been standing there for a while.

Barra stared at Ailis for a moment. He was confused about her after all he had just heard. It was clear that Ailis had Mairi’s capacity for love and understanding, but that softness was clearly tempered with finely honed steel. Mairi had often chosen to ignore reality, whereas Ailis evidently never lost sight of it, faced it bravely, and did her utmost to make the best of things. Ailis was a survivor, whereas Mairi had been a dreamer. Barra suddenly knew, deep in his heart, that his Mairi never would have lasted long. Mairi had simply not possessed the inner strength needed to survive.

“Will ye come to me, Sibeal?” Barra asked in a soft voice as he tentatively extended his arms toward the child.

After a brief hesitation Sibeal allowed Barra to take her into his arms. Ailis watched as the man bid a rather shy good sleep to his sons, then followed him as he walked to Sibeal’s room just across the hall. As she watched him tuck Sibeal into bed, Ailis knew she was right to believe that the children should stay with their father. The man truly loved them, and the children were already responding to his kindness. Ailis kissed Sibeal good night and left the room. She briefly wondered if she should warn Barra about Sibeal’s special gift, but decided that revelation should wait until they had all come to know each other better. She turned to seek out the bedchamber allotted to her, and Barra caught her by the arm, halting her. As she turned to face him, she fought to hide the sadness she felt over the impending loss of the children.

“I wish to thank ye, Mistress Ailis,” Barra said, his voice soft and husky with emotion. “Ye could have turned my bairns from me with but a single word.”

“Ye are their father. My sister loved ye.” Ailis sighed. “Without ye I wouldna have had the children at all. There is naught ye have to thank me for.”

“Allow me to believe that there is.” He grimaced and ran a hand through his thick hair, which so closely matched Sibeal’s. “I wish I could repay ye by keeping ye safe, but I fear that I canna. When my brother wants something, there is naught a body can do to stop him.”

“It matters little. When ‘tis learned who holds me, there is no one who shall expect me to escape here still a maid. Donald MacCordy will add the loss of my chastity to his lengthening list of grievances against me.” A slow, wry smile curved her mouth. “Dinna tell your wretched brother that I said this, but the jest he so savors has something of a pleasant taste for me as well.”

“Dinna try to soothe me. ‘Tis dishonor he means for ye, and we both ken it. I canna understand it, for ‘tisna his way, yet ‘tis clear that he means to excuse his actions by claiming his need and right for vengeance.”

Ailis lightly placed her hand on his arm. “Do ye really think Donald MacCordy would take me gently?” At his expression of sudden understanding, she nodded. “Aye, ere now my fine betrothed has seen the taking of my chastity as a means to avenge all the wrongs and slights I have heaped upon him. I dinna wish to be ‘taken,’ dinna mistake me. However, thinking on how it will thwart Donald will make it easier to bear. If I am fated to be used as a tool of revenge, let it be against Donald and not by him against myself. And, too, I canna help but believe that your brother willna be as cruel as Donald.”

“Nay, and yet, Alexander has no love for women and a temper that can burn hot.”

“Aye, I ken that. If ye wish to do something for me, have some wine sent to my bedchamber.”

“Och, nay, Ailis. If ye are thinking of drinking yourself into senselessness, dinna do it. ‘Twill enrage Alexander.”

“Ye mistake me,” she said in a gentle voice and smiled faintly. “I ken that I might yet try to resist my fate. I shall fight your brother as I have fought many over the years, if only because his arrogance will irritate me. I speak eloquently of resignation and turning matters to suit myself, but I am not the meek submissive sort. I want to chain both fist and tongue with the numbing effects of wine so that I will not bring more pain upon myself by word or deed.”

Impulsively Barra gave her a quick hug. It was somewhat fumbling, but his genuine concern touched her. As he left he muttered that her wine would be delivered presently, then strode off, leaving Ailis feeling decidedly confused. She shrugged over the vagaries of men, which she was beginning to think were as plentiful as any woman’s, and went to her room.

One quick glance as she entered her bedchamber told her that she had been sent to the laird’s chambers, and she cursed softly. It was very clear that the laird of Rathmor was not planning to waste any time in claiming his prize. As she studied her surroundings more carefully, she angrily mused that she should probably consider herself lucky that he had not taken her right there in the great hall.

 

The room was sparsely furnished, as was common, but it was also warm. What drew her attention the most was the massive bed. She found it difficult to look away from the ornately carved piece of furniture.

Hot water had been provided for her in a large earthenware bowl. Ailis briefly considered the thought that it would serve Sir Alexander MacDubh right if she stank of horses and a hard ride, then she shrugged and began to wash. A little dirt would not stop the laird of Rathmor from collecting his vengeance.

The robe provided for her was much too large, so she put her chemise and undertunic back on, finishing just as her wine was delivered. Ailis poured herself a full goblet, sat on a chest beneath the narrow window, and stared out at the moonlit bailey of Rathmor. Thoughts tumbled through her mind, a mind too active and aware for her liking. Ailis decided to seriously consider what her next step should be.

As had many another young maid, Ailis had occasionally dreamt about the legendary handsome Sir Alexander MacDubh. It was disappointing to discover that he was not terribly different from other men except in his abundance of good looks. Those fine looks, however, could prove a great help to her. It would be very easy to imagine Sir Alexander as a lover, as a man who was bedding her out of need instead of vengeance. Her own earlier reaction to him, the feelings he had stirred within her as he had held her wrist and had gently caressed her with his long elegant fingers for a moment, told her that the man could easily catch her interest. And very firmly, too, she mused.

She refilled her goblet and thought that over for a minute. Instinct told her that the man was no rapist, not when he had looked so shocked about striking her in a response to her insults. There was no doubt in her mind that he would get what he wanted, however, through coercion, through skillful seduction, or even through patience. She could save them all a lot of trouble and just let him bed her. There was so little she could do to strike out at Donald MacCordy that it truly appealed to her just to give her maidenhead away to his bitterest enemy. What she would guard against was giving away her passion or any other, deeper emotion. She would strike at Donald by the act and defeat Sir Alexander by not allowing him to cause her any pain. That decided, she drank her wine and idly mused that it might not hurt to also pray that Sir Alexander became insensibly drunk while toasting his easy success of the day.

* * *

Alexander thought of Ailis and savored the shiver of anticipation that went through him. So intense was the feeling that he barely noticed the other people in the great hall who were drinking with him. It had been a very long time since he had felt eager to bed a woman. He could almost wish that the taint of vengeance did not hang over them all, but it did, and there was no way of shaking it. Neither could he fully shake a sense of guilt, even of distaste, over his plans. It was right there mingling with the anticipation. He had never forced himself on a woman, not even after his emotions had soured. As he tried to convince himself that he had every right to treat a MacFarlane in any way he chose, Alexander noticed that Barra’s glances his way were less than filial.

“Something troubling ye, Barra?” he asked his brother. “Ye dinna look much like a man who has just had his lost bairns returned to him. I begin to suspect that what gnaws at ye has naught to do with the children.”

“Ye are right to suspect that, brother. Curse it, Alex, canna ye leave the lass alone?” Barra demanded.

“Nay.” Alexander’s reply was succinct, but then he sat up straighter and leaned closer to Barra. “Have ye forgotten that the lass is a MacFarlane?”

“Nay, and neither do I forget that she is the beloved sister of my lover Mairi and the aunt of my bairns.”

“A fact that I would sorely like to forget. Ye had best keep an eye on that lass, and on your bairns. Or she will soon have the children turned against ye.”

“She has already had the chance to do so,” Barra said in a solemn, quiet voice. “She turned from it. Ye judge this lass wrong, Alexander.”

Barra’s words angered Alexander for reasons he knew he could not begin to understand, and that annoyed him even more. “I dinna judge this one at all save to see that she is a fetching wee piece for which every inch of me is afire.” He finished his ale and refilled his tankard, staring moodily into his drink.

“If ye are feeling amorous, why canna ye take one of the willing lasses scattered about Rathmor? Ye have made certain that there are more than enough of them.” Barra muttered a curse. “The lass is a virgin, for the love of God.”

“Love of God had naught to do with it. ‘Twas swift unladylike fists and skillfully wielded knives.” Alexander could not restrain a faint smile as he thought about how his enemy, Donald MacCordy, had had his wants thwarted by the young girl. “I would wager that he was planning to avenge her slights and insults in their wedding-night chamber. ‘Tis the way MacCordy would think, I am certain of it. ‘Twill enrage MacCordy to ken that I have had what should have been his, that a MacDubh sword will be the one to pierce her maidenhead. Aye, and he will ken that I enjoyed it.”

A few men were near enough to overhear Alexander’s words, and they laughed crudely. Barra glared at them before turning toward his brother and snarling, “Dinna speak of her as if she were some whore.”

“Ye are concerned about a MacFarlane wench? Do ye forget . . . ?”

“Nay, Alex, I dinna forget, curse ye. But dinna ye forget that the lass ye plan to wreak vengeance on was but a child when her uncle treacherously murdered our father. Do ye think a wee lass not much older than my sons is guilty of that crime? Mayhaps she honed the knife her uncle used? Mayhaps ye think she planned the crime?”

Alexander was somewhat taken aback by Barra’s sarcasm, then he frowned. There was going to be trouble between himself and Barra over his treatment of the MacFarlane wench. That did not change Alexander’s plans, but he recognized the danger of it. Barra had some good arguments and good reasons to take the girl’s side, but none of that mattered compared to how strongly Alexander desired the young woman. The strength of Barra’s defense, however, was unusual if only because Barra was doing it with clear-eyed sobriety. That was something Barra had lacked for far too long. For that reason alone Alexander decided not to simply brush aside Barra’s arguments.

“She carries the name MacFarlane,” Alexander said. “ ‘Tis all that matters.” A mutter of agreement amongst the men echoed his words. “I dinna care if Mistress MacFarlane was naught but an itch in her father’s loins at the time her uncle began to strike against us. She is that murdering bastard Colin’s niece, his only heir for now.”

When Barra started to speak again, Alexander snapped, “Enough! I will concede that ye are right in all ye say, but it doesna matter. From what little I have seen of the lass, she holds all that used to be good in the MacFarlanes before that adder Colin tainted the strain. That also matters naught.” A few of the men sharing the head table nodded thoughtfully. “Through Mistress MacFarlane I may strike at both MacFarlane and MacCordy. ‘Tis too sweet a chance to ignore. They would think the same if they held a MacDubh woman. Aye, and ere ye say it, I run hot for the wench. I willna even try to deny that. That alone is reason enough to bed her. Have done with it, Barra.”

After a measuring look at Barra’s compressed lips, Alexander turned his attention to where a comely maid named Kate was collecting the remnants of Jaime’s hearty meal. They had placed the huge man in the far corner of the great hall, but Alexander knew that everyone still keenly felt the man’s presence. “I want that brute watched closely even though he has vowed to stay his hand. The bond between him and the lass is a strong one. ‘Twas certain death to face us alone and unarmed as he did. I could have cut him down in a winking. Aye, but stand firm he did. That sort of loyalty may prove stronger than his word.” Alexander studied Jaime and saw how the man’s gaze was fixed upon him and how Jaime’s massive hands clenched. “Aye, I ken that it is.”

“Jaime loves his mistress,” Barra murmured.

“Aye. Beauty and the beast. Watch him, Barra, for I have no wish to kill the man.”

 

Kate paused in refilling Jaime’s tankard when she saw how he eyed the Laird of Rathmor. The size of Jaime fascinated her. She was a buxom, healthy girl, yet he made her feel like a dainty lass. She did not think him any less of a man because of his stutter. In truth, for the first time in her life she was really interested in a man. To watch him threaten her laird in his every look and gesture made her afraid of him. Without any thought except to calm him, she placed her hand over his and met his startled dark gaze.

“Nay, sir, the laird will have ye killed, and then ye will be useless to your mistress.” She wondered at the astonishment in his fine eyes when he looked at her. “There is naught ye can do to halt what is to happen.”

Jaime saw the concern in the woman’s pretty hazel eyes and nearly forgot what he was troubled about. His stutter was strong as he said, “Your l-laird means to d-dishonor Mistress Ailis. Aye, and he c-could hurt the wee lass. I c-canna bear it.”

“Ye can bear it and ye must,” Kate ordered. “Did your mistress not ask it of ye herself?” Jaime gave a reluctant nod. “If ‘twill ease your mind, I will tend to her come the morning. She may wish for a woman’s help.”

“Aye.” Jaime smiled at the girl. “Aye, that would ease my mind some. Thank ye, mistress.”

“Kate,” she murmured, slightly bemused over how his smile softened his broad, not unhandsome face and caused a softening within her. “Call me Kate.”

 

Alexander watched the byplay between Kate and Jaime then looked at Barra with his brows raised slightly and amusement turning his gaze a gentler blue. “The beast has a way with the lasses. Do ye see how our Kate moons over him, our cold Kate, who usually scorns men?”

Barra’s smile was real if small. “The lasses see the lamb beneath the lion, the loyal and mayhaps too soft a heart beneath the brawn.”

“Aye, ye have the way of it,” agreed Angus. “ ‘Tis wrong to think him a poor idiot as well. Aye, he may be a wee bit slow-witted, but he isna an idiot.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, Alexander studied Jaime as the big man shyly conversed with Kate. “Nay, not an idiot, but often thought to be one. He carries the mark of a man scorned or ridiculed at every turn. Ofttimes great size can stir such feelings. The MacFarlane wench chose well. A kind word and the brute is her slave.” He shook his head when he saw Barra stiffen, clearly preparing to argue that cynical observation. “I ken that Mistress Ailis means her kind words, so dinna rage at me again. Even I canna feel that she just feigns caring for the man.”

“Aye, the children care for him as well.” Barra frowned slightly. “Ye are right in thinking that his loyalty and need to protect the lass could prove stronger than his word. The promise could well be pushed from his mind as his concern for his mistress grows stronger. Is there no way to secure him for the night?”

Alexander slowly nodded. “Aye, we could place him in the dungeons. I hadna wanted to. It seemed an insult, a sign that we didna trust him to honor his word.”

“It could save the brute’s life in the end,” Angus said. “Far better to endure an uncomfortable night, mayhaps a sense of insult, than a taste of cold steel.”

With a sigh Alexander ordered some of his men to take Jaime to the dungeons. He was not worried that his men might think fear prompted his command, for his bravery was unquestioned and well proven. It was simply an expedient move to keep a man alive. Alexander truly did not want to have to kill Jaime.

Jaime sensed what was about to occur as soon as he was approached by four burly men. Fear kept him from acknowledging Kate’s soft promise to see him on the morrow. Ever since he had been a small child, he had feared dark places. He knew the MacDubhs meant no intentional harm, but they were about to inflict the worst kind of torture on him. He dragged his feet, but they treated it as a mild protest. He knew they saw his blank expression as stubbornness or stupidity and not the blind terror that it was. Fear stilled Jaime’s tongue so that he could not explain himself. Only his promise to Ailis to stay his fists kept him from using his great strength to break free.

A small whimper escaped Jaime as the door to the cell was shut, but no one heeded it. He sank down onto the cold stone floor as the light from the men’s torches faded. He curled up into a ball and tried to stave off the horrors his mind invoked. It would work for a while, but in the dark close space of the dungeon, Jaime knew that his fears could not be conquered, would only grow stronger. He called out for Ailis. But that did little to halt his growing panic, for he knew she could not help him, that she would soon be far too busy fighting the Laird of Rathmor.

* * *

As he finished off his ale, Alexander decided that he had savored his anticipation long enough. He rose from his seat prepared to savor reality. Alexander paused by his brother and noted the white-knuckled grip Barra had on his goblet. It was but one of many signs that heralded an uncommon tension in Barra. Although Alexander did not wish such dissension to exist between him and Barra, he was not ready to turn away from Ailis.

“Ye thought she was Mairi when ye first saw her,” he murmured. “Is there a great likeness?” As Alexander had hoped, the mention of Mairi caused an immediate softening in Barra.

“Aye, though Ailis is smaller. Mairi wasna only taller but rounder, fulsomer. Ailis is also a fighter. I fear my Mairi was not.”

“The woman risked a lot when she took ye as her lover. MacFarlanes are bred to hate MacDubhs.”

“True, but Mairi was ever afraid. At times she shook with fear, shook as if she had the ague. My Mairi was soft of spirit, but wee Ailis isna. Methinks Ailis would spit in their eyes.”

“Aye.” Angus chuckled. “The lass may be a MacFarlane, but ye canna help admiring her spirit.” A quick glance at Barra caused Angus to abruptly fall silent.

Barra guessed that Angus had wanted to make some remark about how that spirit could affect what Alexander planned to do. He looked at Alexander, intending to make one last plea. “Alex, canna ye—“

“Leave it, Barra.” Alexander leaned close to his sibling so as to ensure the privacy of his next words. “Though I have come to scorn the more tender emotions, I still savor the baser ones betwixt men and women. Ye say that Ailis looks akin to Mairi, so ye ought to ken why your pleas fail with me.”

Barra sighed, for he did understand. “Just dinna hurt the lass. I ken ye can get what ye seek without much force or fear. Use those skills of seduction ye had so finely honed years ago. Ailis has done naught to deserve pain added to the shame ye mean to visit upon her.”

Alexander briefly clasped Barra’s shoulder in a silent promise, then started out the hall. He understood Barra’s torn loyalties, and the lack of ribald comments as he left told him that others understood, too. Alexander was grateful since he sensed that Barra’s capitulation was far from complete. By the time he reached his chambers, however, Alexander’s only thoughts were upon what awaited him inside. The enticing sense of anticipation was heady as he entered his chambers.

Ailis eyed Alexander warily, and a bit unclearly, as he entered. On one or two occasions she had been drunker than she was at the moment, but she felt her state of inebriation would suffice. In fact, she was feeling decidedly free of tension and even a little cheerful. All moral questions aside, if it was not Alexander MacDubh who bedded her, it would be Donald MacCordy. She had no wish for either man’s services, but if given a choice, she would most certainly take Alexander. He simply wanted to humiliate Colin and the MacCordys. Donald wished to subjugate her. She also knew that Alexander MacDubh would accomplish the act with less brutality and more finesse than Donald. The fact that Alexander was the most attractive man she had ever seen did not hurt, either. In truth, she was a little worried that that could severely undermine her resolve to remain cold and distant.

When Alexander correctly judged Ailis’s state, he experienced a brief flash of anger. That eased when he realized that she was only slightly inebriated. It would probably make matters easier for him. He really had no wish to fight with her.

“Still dressed?” he murmured as he moved toward her.

“Did ye expect me to be naked and laid out on the bed for ye?” she snapped.

His lips twitched as he suppressed a grin. “Nay, Mistress Ailis. ‘Twould be more your way to meet me fully armed and hot for my blood.”

She frowned when he sat down near her and calmly removed his boots. It was a very poor time to so clearly notice his good looks and virility. Coldness was what she needed to maintain, coldness or at least disinterest. When he stripped down to his hose, she abruptly stood up. She definitely needed to fortify that disinterest with another drink. One look at his smoothly muscular chest had stolen every bit of coldness she had mustered.

Alexander guessed her intent and, moving quickly, clasped the decanter at the same time she did, preventing her from getting another drink. “Ye have had enough, wench. I dinna care to lie with an insensible female.” He pried her hand from the bottle and grasped her by the shoulders, surveying her gentle curves with undisguised hunger. “Undress,” he ordered.

That curt demand made Ailis ache to hit the man, but with great effort she refrained and replied with an equal curtness. “Nay.” She gave a startled yelp when Alexander deftly tore both her undertunic and her chemise down the front.

As Ailis made an instinctive move to flee, Alexander grasped her by the shoulders again and pressed her against the wall. It was an effort for him to tear his gaze from the soft golden beauty he had uncovered. Finally he looked at her face, meeting her wide, angry, but fearless brown eyes.

“If ye intend to screech so, then I am glad we put your burly guard in the dungeons for the night.”

“Jaime is in a cell?” she whispered, and her concern for her friend ended her embarrassment over being naked before a man as well as her anger over his rough manner. She was all too aware of Jaime’s terror of such places.

“Aye,” Alexander murmured as he discarded her torn clothing. “ ‘Tis more for his good than for mine.”

A desperate need to free her friend from the mental horror she knew he was suffering prompted Ailis’s next move. She reached out to the table to their side and grasped the wine decanter. She knew Alexander saw her move even as she swung, but it was too late for him to stop her. He fell beneath her blow, the shards of the broken bottle and its contents surrounding him.