Reckless by Hannah Howell

9

Ailis cursed viciously as Kate wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth. It had only been ten weeks since she had been back sharing Alexander’s bed. She did not think it fair at all that she should be paying for that weakness so soon or so heavily. Nevertheless, Ailis knew what was wrong with her, and the look on Kate’s face told her that that woman knew, too. Ailis was with child, and, even worse in her mind, she was pretty sure the child had been conceived up against the walls of Rathmor. It was embarrassing.

“Here, m’lady.” Kate sat on the edge of the bed and offered Ailis a chunk of bread spread with only a touch of sweet butter. “Eat this slowly, a wee bit at a time. Some women claim it eases the turmoil in the belly.”

Ailis did as she was told and did feel a little better when she was done. A slow, sip by sip drinking of some cider further cheered her. Then again, she mused with a wry smile, if I remain ill I need not face all the trouble ahead. She sighed and flopped back down on the bed after handing the empty goblet back to Kate. There was no way to avoid the trouble or confrontation, for there was no place for her to run to. Since it was the fifth morning in a row in which she had been ill, she was little surprised that she had eluded it thus far.

“I begin to think I am cursed,” she muttered.

“Nay, m’lady, ye shouldna say such things.” Kate quickly crossed herself.

“Oh? And what do ye call it when I have to live with Colin MacFarlane—aye, and call him kinsman—and am betrothed to Donald MacCordy? ‘Tis certainly a curse to have to call such a man husband. Aye, and then to be snatched away by a man who hates all things named MacFarlane and who isna too fond of females, either. And now this—now another MacFarlane lass carries another MacDubh bastard. It all sounds much akin to a curse to me.”

“ ‘Tis difficult, but ‘tisna quite as bleak as ye believe.”

“Ye havena met my uncle or my betrothed.” She smiled faintly when Kate giggled. “They will kill me for this,” she added in a far more serious tone. “ ‘Tisna an insult they will be able to abide.”

“The laird willna send ye back to them now.”

“Well, we shall soon find out what the great Alexander MacDubh will do. I shall go and tell him of his impending fatherhood.”

With a hint of caution, still uncertain about the steadiness of her stomach, Ailis got out of bed. She felt a little faint, but that began to fade as she dressed. Her courage, however, consistently faltered. She did not want to face Alexander with the news that she carried his child. There was no way for her to know how he would react. He had never even told her of his first child. Would he think she was attempting to cling to him by trying to replace that lost child? She shuddered at the thought. He would hate her, and she would find such a thing nearly impossible to endure. She would also find such a suspicion nearly impossible to disprove.

“Ye look so afeart,” murmured Kate as she finished lacing the back of Ailis’s plain brown overtunic.

“Wouldna ye be?”

“I canna say. I have spent my entire life here. ‘Tis difficult for me to understand why any lass would fear Laird MacDubh.”

“Aye, but a MacFarlane has many a reason to fear a MacDubh.”

Kate grimaced and nodded. “A MacFarlane man—aye. A lass—nay, not much. Ye have been with the laird for months. Ye must ken the man he is.”

“I have spent many a night with him, but he isna easy to learn about. He keeps his distance now, and he is very good at it. However, I gain naught by sitting in these chambers fretting over what he may or may not do. I shall go and find out. Is he still in the great hall?”

“Aye, he will be there for most of the morning as he hears the complaints of people in our clan and makes judgments.”

Ailis paused as she opened the door. “Oh, so he willna be alone. That could greatly complicate matters.”

“Sometimes he isna busy every hour. Mayhaps there arena many complaints. Or ye could just wait and be there the moment he puts an end to the hearings.”

“Or I could forget it until we both seek our bed tonight.”

“Nay.” Kate shook her head. “Everyone is weary at the day’s end. ‘Tisna a good time to deliver such weighty news.”

There was no arguing with that common sense, so Ailis just smiled and headed down to the great hall. She glanced back and saw Kate hurrying off in another direction. Kate was undoubtedly going to find Jaime. That made Ailis feel a little better. Jamie was still bound by his promise not to raise a hand against a MacDubh, but his presence was often protection enough.

She slipped into the great hall just as two squabbling women stood before Alexander. As Alexander tried to quiet them so that he could hear their stories more precisely, Ailis sat in a chair near the wall. She watched Alexander as he listened closely to each woman lay claim to a pig. He seemed honestly concerned for the woman who claimed the pig had been stolen from her and that it had been her only food for the winter. Here was the emotion Ailis hungered for, the softness and concern he so consistently denied her. Even the anger, she mused, as she watched his face while he listened to the other woman speak of her claim to the pig she had so swiftly slaughtered and was already feasting on. It was an anger free of the bitterness and hurt brought on by crimes she had had no part in.

As she listened to Alexander question why the woman had had to kill the pig so quickly, Ailis placed both hands on her stomach. She had thought of trying to keep her condition hidden, but common sense had prevailed. It was not something one could hide for very long. Then she had begun to worry about how Alexander would react—to her and to the child. She hated the uncertainty, the inability to be able to guess his reaction despite weeks of intimacy with the man. Here was the proof that, at least on his part, the intimacy they shared did not go to the heart of him. That hurt, and despite her intention to accept him as he was, it was getting harder to ignore.

Alexander’s judgment on the ownership of the pig drew her attention, and she was pleased that she could agree with it. The woman who had so hurriedly slaughtered the pig was clearly guilty of stealing it. Since the woman who owned the pig had planned on it for her winter’s food supply, Ailis did think the thief’s punishment should have been harsher. After all, the woman had stolen the food from a fatherless family of six. However, Alexander ordered the thief to replace the pig with one of an equal size, give back whatever was left of the slaughtered pig, and contribute one sack of ground oats to the victim’s food supply. By the look upon the thief’s face as the two women left, Ailis suspected there would be many more squabbles between the two. When no one else stepped forward to speak to Alexander for a good ten minutes, Ailis finally met his steady gaze.

“Do ye have a complaint, Mistress Ailis?” Alexander asked with a faint smile curving his lips.

“More than ye could deal with here, m’laird.”

He chuckled and looked at Angus, who stood just to the right of his chair. “I shall pause for a midday meal. If anyone wishes to see me, tell him to return in an hour or wait if he wishes. Have a page bring in some fresh wine, bread, cheese, and a bit of fruit.” He looked at Ailis. “Will that be enough for ye? Ye did miss the morning meal again.”

Ailis nodded and watched Angus leave before she looked at Alexander again. “I am sorry I overslept again.”

“Mayhaps ye are working too much, growing too weary.” He waved her to join him at the head table as others drifted into the great hall to have a light noon meal.

“Mayhaps.”

She said nothing as she joined him at the table and their meal was set before them. The hall was half full of people. No one was bothering them. No one was even close enough to hear whatever she chose to say to Alexander. Yet Ailis did not feel as if she could be private with him. As she started to eat, she realized that there would be little if any chance of being private with him until they went to bed, and Kate was right when she said that would be a poor time to tell Alexander her news.

“Ye are looking a wee bit peaked.” Alexander studied her closely as he poured them each some wine. “Do ye think ye have caught some chill?”

“Nay, not a chill.” A chill could be cured, she mused, then hastily and silently apologized to her child for any possible insult.

Alexander lightly felt her face for any sign of fever, and Ailis stared at him in surprise. There in his eyes was some of that softness, that concern, she had so wanted to see. It rankled that she could only pull it out of him by looking sickly. She could not, and would not, play the invalid for the rest of her life.

“Ye dinna feel warm. There is no sign of a fever,” he murmured and frowned at her. “And yet ye dinna look well.”

“Thank ye. Ye are looking particularly bonny yourself this morning.” She realized how sharp she sounded and took a deep breath to calm herself. Now was not the time to quarrel. “I will look better as soon as I have eaten.”

“If ‘tis a lack of meals that troubles ye, then ye shouldna sleep so late.”

Ailis decided she had better broach the subject quickly before he made any more irritating remarks, or there would be a further delay that she could not really afford. She certainly did not want him to guess that she was pregnant before she was able to tell him herself. The only thing that would be worse than that was if someone else guessed her condition and told him. She took a deep breath, leaned very close to him, and idly wondered how he could look so attractive eating a chunk of bread.

“I look peaked and I sleep late because I am with child.” She sat back and waited for his reaction.

The first expression she glimpsed upon his face gave her some hope. It was fleeting, but she knew it was elation. Then she began to grow very nervous, for the subsequent expressions rippling over his face held some very dark emotions.

“Whose child is it?” he demanded in a cold, hard voice.

There was nothing he could have said that would have insulted her more, Ailis decided. She wondered if he knew that, if that was why he had said such a cruel thing. Then she stood up and, putting all of her fury and frustration behind her swing, punched Alexander square on the jaw, knocking him sideways in his seat and causing all conversation in the great hall to cease. As he cursed and struggled to right himself, she strode out of the great hall, barely nodding a greeting to Barra and the children as they passed her on their way in. She quickly found her cloak, went outside, and began to walk the inner bailey, hoping the chill bite of the air would cool her temper.

Alexander glared at everyone in the great hall as he pressed a linen napkin to his bleeding lip. They quickly stopped gaping at him, but he knew he had not completely quelled their curiosity. He was still muttering curses against Ailis and had almost stemmed the bleeding when he glanced across the table to find Barra, the twins, and Sibeal all staring at him with a mixture of disgust and amazement.

“And what are ye staring at?” he snapped at them.

“A fool, I think,” replied Barra, who then quietly directed the children to go to Jaime and Kate in the far corner of the hall before moving to sit next to his brother. “What have ye done now? These last few weeks have been, if not perfect, at least peaceful. Your hatefulness had eased some.”

“ ‘Twas what she demanded as her price for returning to my bed. No more callous, insulting remarks during the day.”

“Ah, and ye just broke that agreement,” Barra unsheathed his eating dagger and cut himself a large chunk of bread.

“She told me she was with child.” He was somewhat relieved to see Barra tense and pale slightly, for it showed that he was not the only one to be taken completely by surprise.

“She tells ye she is to bear your child, then punches ye. A strange sort of behavior which prompts me to repeat my question—what have ye done now?”

“Mayhaps that was just her way of thanking me,” Alexander drawled.

“Very witty. Nay, ye said something, and the only thing I can think of that would prompt such fury is an insult that makes me shudder. I pray it isna what ye said to her.”

“I asked her—whose child is it?” He tried not to cringe beneath Barra’s look of furious contempt.

“God’s long beard, Alex! Ye used to have such a sweet tongue with the lasses. Are there no remnants of that skill left within ye? Are there no remnants of even simple courtesy? What has that lass done to ye that ye feel so pressed to cut her so deeply? She has her pride, and ye have sorely bruised it. Aye, time and time again.”

“ ‘Twas a reasonable question.”

“Nay, it wasna, and ye ken that.”

“She was out of my bed for weeks—free and within the reach of other men.”

Barra spat a foul curse. “She was out of your bed, but she was never free, and well ye ken it. There isna a single man within the walls of Rathmor who would touch her. Nay, not since ye first lay with her and held her in your bed until morning. The child she carries is yours, brother, and we both ken it. The question ye must answer now is—what will ye do about this? Will ye tend to your duty, to your responsibility, or will ye continue to play the callous rogue?”

Alexander decided he was growing very weary of his now constantly sober brother’s skilled, sharp tongue. “Ye seem to be determined to forget what Ailis is.”

“Nay, brother, ye do.”

“She is a MacFarlane,” Alexander hissed, then pounded his fist on the table. “That is all that matters.”

“She is a young lass who, I now ken, has struggled to maturity despite indifference at best and cold cruelty at worst. More the latter than the former. She had naught to do with the crimes of her uncle. Therefore, the only honorable thing for ye to do is to wed the lass.” Barra met Alexander’s stunned expression with perfect calm.

“Ye may have ceased to drink too much, but I think your brain is still well soaked. Are ye completely mad? Me to wed a MacFarlane? Colin’s niece and heir?”

“The innocent lass who now bears the weight of your growing seed.”

“Sobriety has made ye irritatingly pious.”

Before Barra could make any reply to that, Alexander was out of his chair and striding out of the great hall. He did not need his younger brother telling him where his duty lay and what honor demanded of him. After fetching his cloak, he went in search of Ailis. He had been cruel, and she had not deserved that. Shock had twisted his thoughts. It had roused all his suspicions and anger, and he had blindly lashed out at her. There was only one man who could have set a child growing inside of Ailis MacFarlane’s womb, and that was he.

When he saw her striding along at the foot of the western wall, he hurried toward her. The girl had a strong stride, he mused, then came to an abrupt stop when, while he was barely a yard away, she whirled around to glare at him. She grabbed up a handful of gravel and proceeded to pelt him with it. He used his heavy cloak as a shield as he slowly advanced on her.

“Get away from me!” Ailis ordered as she backed up a little, grabbed another handful of gravel, and continued to throw the small rocks at him. “I told ye I would have naught to do with ye if ye couldna even be courteous. Well, ye were just as far from that as ye could be, so now be gone with ye. Away with ye, ye bonny-faced, foul-mouthed, unfeeling, lustful sack of meanness.”

“Will ye cease?” He cursed and paused to wipe a smear of blood from his cheek after one of her pebbles scratched his face. “I have come to talk to ye. Ye can at least hear me out.”

“Why? So ye can spit more poison at me? I think not.” As she bent to grab some more pebbles, he lunged at her, easily catching her up in his arms. “Brute!” she cried. “I grow weary of ye grabbing at me!”

While careful not to do her any harm, Alexander got her pinned on the ground beneath him. “And I grow weary of being pelted with rocks. Now ye must heed what I have to say.”

“Nay, I dinna. If I wasna afraid it would fall back on me, I would spit in your face, ye heartless rutting pig.” Even though she knew it would not get her very far, she tried to squirm out from beneath him.

“Be still!” he yelled and cursed with exasperation when she did as he ordered, but glared at him, her lips pressed tightly together. “I shouldna have said what I did. ‘Twas a baseless accusation.”

“If that is meant to be an apology, ‘tis a very poor one.”

“Ye canna tell a man such news as abruptly as ye did and expect him to act sanely.”

“This apology isna getting any better. Get off me. Ye grow heavy.”

Recalled to her condition, he quickly got off her but sat right next to her, ready to grab her if she tried to run. “ ‘Twas wrong of me to speak so, but ye might have done better to restrain your own temper.”

Ailis almost laughed as she sat up, brushed off the bodice of her gown, and idly smoothed her hair. The man clearly found the words I am sorry more of a mouthful than he could tolerate. She doubted that she really wanted to hear his explanation for why he felt he was wrong to have so grossly insulted her. It would probably only make her angrier. What she wanted to do was to tell him to go away and stay away, but both her heart and her mind gave her a dozen reasons to strongly resist that urge. He richly deserved such treatment, but if nothing else, she had to consider the child she carried. She would have to compromise her own honor—again. It was growing tiresome being the one who always compromised, who always gave and tried to be understanding.

“Ye deserved far more than I gave ye,” she snapped. “If I were a man, we would be fighting to the death over such a bitter insult. In truth, sticking ye with a dagger holds a great appeal for me just now.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a light shaking. “Will ye set aside your anger for a moment so that we might talk? Aye, I misspoke and ‘twas an ill thing I said. However, I was set aback by your news. I had thought I had taken care not to seed ye.”

“Aye—except for that night against the walls of Rathmor, when lust overtook my good sense and your fine care.” When he began to smile, she swatted him on the arm. “Only a man would find such a thing something to take pride in.”

Alexander fought his amusement, knowing it was a poor time to reveal it. “Are ye sure that is when it happened?”

“One can never be sure, and yet, in my heart I do feel certain that conception took place that night.”

“Then we must be wed.”

“Wed? But a moment ago ye accused me of lifting my petticoats for all and sundry, thus putting the parentage of my child into serious question. Now ye wish to wed with me? Your wits are sadly addled, my fine laird.”

She stood up and began to brush off her clothes. Alexander stood up as well and studied her closely. He had admitted his wrong, and considering she was a prisoner at Rathmor, he felt that was more than enough. In his heart he knew that she deserved so much more, that there was so much more he wished to give her, but he could not. That there was now a child only reminded him of how deeply he could be hurt if he did not hold himself at a distance. He would not allow himself to weaken, to soften, for it could too easily break him.

“My wits are quite fine, Ailis,” he said. “We will be wed as soon as I can find a priest. Ye ken better than most what pain can be dealt to a bastard child. The one we have created will be legitimate. My child may have to carry MacFarlane blood, but by all that is holy he willna carry that accursed name.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Ailis to gape after him. She threw one last pebble at him but missed. Not only had she not gotten any real apology, but his parting words had been another insult. Ailis closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm herself. It was time for some cold, hard truths, and getting angry at a swine of a man would not help. She needed cold, unemotional, common logic.

The first fact she had to face was that she was carrying Alexander MacDubh’s child. That made her choices very limited. Alexander was still not softening to her for all his passion remained hot and sweet. There was always the chance that he might never do so, that he was too badly scarred by past hurts to feel again. His pain could be too complete, and no amount of caring, love and sympathy from her would ever heal him. Nevertheless, he had said that he would marry her, and her only real alternatives to that were to run off and be the poor mother of a bastard child—a life she knew could be a hell beyond bearing—or to return to Leargan to marry Donald, which would be no better and quite possibly a great deal worse. That left her with Alexander, a man who could turn her insides hot with a glance, or freeze her heart with one cutting word.

“There is no choice,” she muttered as she started back to the keep and her bedchamber. “It must be Alexander. I really dinna want another man despite the sad fact that I dinna have this one anyhow. And he willna beat me or our child. ‘Tis very sad when a lass’s life holds such choices. Donald would be the worst choice of all, so I shall take Alexander and pray for the best.”

It was her plan to formally inform Alexander that she would accept his proposal. She knew it had been a command, but she decided to ignore that if only to recall him to his own arrogance. There was no sign of him, however, either inside of the keep or in the bailey and its clutter of sheds and huts. When she finally espied Angus coming out of the stables, she set her shoulders and hurried over to him, determined not to let him be evasive with her.

“Where is Alexander?” she demanded as she caught hold of the sleeve of Angus’s jupon and forced the stocky man to stop and face her.

“Ah, isna he with ye?” Angus grimaced and flushed beneath her look of disgust.

“Do ye see him? Mayhaps I have tucked him into a pocket inside my cloak and I but forgot.”

“Enough. He has left Rathmor.”

“Left Rathmor?” Suddenly her own anger seemed a small thing as she recalled all the dangers awaiting Alexander outside the walls of his keep. “Is it safe for him to leave Rathmor? What of my kinsmen or even some other enemy?”

Angus rubbed a grubby hand over his stubbled chin, leaving a smear of dirt. “He wasna of a mind to heed any warnings. He has gone to the kirkyard. Ye ken the one. ‘Tis just inside the trees to the west of Rathmor.”

“Aye, I ken the one. He has gone to visit with Elizbet.” She sighed and wondered how she could fight the hold of that tiny ghost.

“So, he told ye about his daughter?”

“Nay, he never has. Barra mentioned her, that she died with his second wife. I have gathered a bit more of the tale, but only a wee bit. Somehow the second lady of Rathmor caused Elizbet’s death.”

“Oh, aye, that demon’s wife did that. She murdered her.”

“Murdered the child?” Ailis realized that was what had been constantly hinted at, but she found it hard to believe.

“Mind ye, she didna put her dagger in the child’s heart or the like, but what she did do was murder nonetheless. Aye, the second lady MacDubh had Satan’s spirit in her, and it broke free that day. There was no stopping the woman. She set that child on the back of a half-wild stallion and herself on a beast that wasna much tamer. Then off she raced, over the fields and moors and along the cliffs where we found those puppies some weeks back.”

“Oh, sweet Mary, dinna tell me that they came to harm at Pagan’s Point.”

“Nay, but ‘twas not too far from there. We took chase, but there was no catching her. Whenever poor Elizbet’s steed eased its pace, Lady MacDubh whipped it back into a frenzied speed. Ye could hear the poor child weeping with fright whilst Lady MacDubh laughed. Alexander could see how the mad chase could end, but we all tried to cheat fate. ‘Twas no use. Even as Alexander drew near, Lady MacDubh laughed and lashed out at the stallion Elizbet clung to, driving the beast over the edge of a gorge, and that devil’s woman leapt out after them. She laughed all the way to her death. Even if the fall hadna killed them, the high waters they fell into would have. We never did find that stallion.”

“ ‘Tis almost more than I can believe. Ye wouldna tell me such a tale to win over my sympathy and ease my anger against Alexander, would ye?”

“Nay, m’lady.” Angus looked at her with an expression of outrage clear to read upon his plain face. “ ‘Tis a tale born of madness.”

“Aye, of course it is. I meant no insult. I just dinna wish to believe that Alexander had endured such a tragedy.” She felt the weight of hopelessness but struggled to push it aside. “When did this happen?”

“Two years past come today. Aye, ‘twas a clear but bitter day, just like this one.”

“And I pick this day to tell him my news,” she muttered and shook her head.

“The when of such news makes no difference, m’lady,” Angus said, revealing that Ailis’s pregnancy was no longer a secret. “He wanted no more children, for he fears to lose another. However, ‘tis past time the lad learned that he canna keep tussling about without some seed taking root.” He smiled faintly when Ailis blushed.

“Quite so. Show me where this kirkyard is.”

“ ‘Tis outside the walls of Rathmor, m’lady. Ye arena supposed to leave this bailey. Ye could try to flee.”

“Angus, I am a MacFarlane lass seeded with a MacDubh child. Do ye really believe I would wish to go back to my kinsmen?”

After meeting and holding her gaze for a full minute, Angus came to a decision. “Nay, of course ye wouldna. Your fate is locked to ours.”

“Irretrievably so.”

“Just go out of this gate, lass, and follow the path that leads west into the wood. ‘Tis but a wee stone, chapel, and the poor lass’s grave is just behind it.”

“And ye think it is safe for Alexander to linger there?”

“As I said, there was no stopping the man.” Angus shrugged. “We ken that your kinsmen watch us, and there is talk of coin offered for ye—or for the laird. We watch, but there isna much else one can do. I sent a few men out after him and told them to stay out of his sight, yet watch out for him.”

“Do ye think that those men will try and turn me back? They willna ken that ye said I could walk outside of Rathmor.”

“As long as ye walk straight to the laird and stay with him, they willna try and stop ye.”

With every step she took toward the kirkyard, Ailis debated the wisdom of going after Alexander. He could become furious with her for intruding upon a very private moment. The thought worried her, yet she did not falter. Instinct told her to go to him. She inwardly cursed and wished that her instinct would tell her what to do when she got there.

Her first sight of Alexander tore at her heart, and she knew she would endure more coldness, even more insults, in her attempts to reach him. The man knelt before a tiny grave marker, sprigs of dried lavender sprinkled over the brown grass. His hands were tightly clenched and rested on his knees. His head was bowed, the cold but gentle wind lightly tousling his thick gold hair. As she neared him, he tensed and turned to face her even as he nimbly got to his feet. The first expression she saw was not a welcoming one, but then he smoothed his features.

“Did no one accompany ye? They just let ye walk out of Rathmor?” he demanded.

“Aye. Where would I go? To Donald so that he can take his fury out on me? Or mayhaps to my uncle so that he can tell me how deeply I have shamed him?”

“Are ye saying ye willna try to leave now?”

“There is no gain in it for me.” She looked at the stone, which held a simple carving of a few sprigs of lavender and the name Elizbet, under which was written “The beloved daughter of Alexander—a wee angel whose memory will ever linger in her father’s heart.”

“Your daughter.”

“Aye. So ye have learned about her.”

“That took no skill or cunning. ‘Tis no secret.”

“Nay.” He idly nudged a sprig of the dried lavender with his feet. “She loved the scent of lavender.”

“ ‘Tis a good one—neither too sweet nor too strong.” Ailis paused, trying to form her next words. “I dinna try to replace her,” she said in a quiet voice and did not cower beneath Alexander’s intent stare.

“Ye never could.”

“I ken it.”

“Do ye? Can anyone understand how it feels to bury one’s own child unless she had buried one of her own?’

“Nay, probably not, and if it pleases God, I hope I never have to learn how it feels.” She placed her hands over her stomach.

Alexander’s gaze fell to her hands. He placed one of his over hers, and he met her gaze. For one brief, stirring moment Ailis knew they were in complete accord. She felt as if they had touched in a deep, personal way and felt her first honest taste of hope. She prayed it was not a false one.