An English Bride In Scotland (14 page)

Annabel stilled with alarm as she realized what she’d unthinkingly revealed.

“Annie?” Giorsal asked insistently. When Annabel continued to stare blindly at the cloth in her hand, she murmured thoughtfully, “Ross did no’ mention yer parents no’ raisin’ ye. From what he said, they’re still living. Though he did no’ seem to like them. Did they neglect ye and leave it to the servants to raise ye?”

Annabel frowned at the suggestion and reluctantly raised her head. She didn’t want to vilify her parents to save her secret, but . . .

“What is it?” Giorsal asked, noting her expression. “Ye can tell me. I promise I’ll no’ tell Ross if ye do no’ want me to.” When Annabel still hesitated, she added, “Ross said there were welts and scars on yer back from whippings. I ken they beat ye.”

“Oh, nay,” Annabel said with dismay. She had forgotten all about the marks on her back. She was used to the discomfort they caused and hadn’t considered that he might have seen them and jumped to the conclusion that her parents had caused them.

“Nay, what?” Giorsal asked.

Annabel sighed and then said, “Those were not from my parents. They never beat or whipped me.” She paused briefly, but didn’t see any way around telling the truth. “Giorsal, I was sent to the abbey at seven as an oblate and lived there right up until the day I married Ross.”

Giorsal stared at her blankly for a moment and then said slowly, “Is an oblate no’ a girl meant to become a nun when she’s considered old enough to take the vows?”

Annabel nodded and it seemed to confuse Giorsal.

“But how could yer parents send ye there to be a nun when ye were to marry me brother?”

Annabel grimaced. It seemed she had to tell the whole tale.

“
S
O YER THINKING
to set a guard on her at all times until ye find out if it’s your uncle or Fingal behind these attacks?” Bean asked. “Even in the keep?”

“Aye,” Ross said firmly. “He may ha’e only attacked when she was outside the walls ere this, but I’ll no’ take chances with her safety. He might strike within the walls next when he realizes she will no’ be out where he can get to her.”

“Yer no’ going to let her go beyond the bailey?” Bean asked with surprise.

“I’ll no’ be letting her leave the keep until we settle this thing,” Ross announced.

“Hmmm,” Bean said dubiously.

“Hmm what?” Ross asked with a frown.

Bean shook his head. “I’m thinking that’ll no’ go over well at all.”

“Why?” he asked with surprise.

“Well, I do no’ ken Annabel well, but I ken Giorsal would never put up with a guard on her at all times,” Bean said dryly. “Hell, she would no’ even put up with it for a day. As for restricting her to the keep . . . I can no’ see her liking being a prisoner in her own home.”

Ross relaxed and waved that away. “Annabel is no’ Giorsal. ’Tis for her safety. She will be fine with it. ’Sides, she will be busy running the keep and my servants. There is no reason fer her to be out in the bailey.”

“We will see,” Bean said looking amused.

Ross felt doubt claim him briefly, but then scowled and pushed the doubt away. Annabel was a sensible woman, wasn’t she? Surely she would see the sense of taking precautions.

“
W
HAT A HORRID
old bitch!”

Annabel gasped at that proclamation from Giorsal and lowered her sewing to glance worriedly to Seonag, only to see the maid nod solemnly.

“Aye. A nasty old bitch,” she agreed, continuing to stitch the hem she was working on. “ ’Tis a wonder ye turned out so sweet tempered after being raised by a nasty old cow like that abbess.”

Annabel sat back and peered from one woman to the other with wide eyes. This was not the response she’d expected when she’d confessed that her clumsiness and constant failures at the abbey were the reasons for her whippings. Or that it was also why she had still not been allowed to take the veil, so had been available to marry Ross when Kate had run off with her lover.

“Well, that settles it then,” Giorsal said with satisfaction.

Annabel hesitated, but then asked uncertainly, “What does it settle? And what exactly is it that is settling it?”

“Ye were destined to marry Ross,” Giorsal said as if that should be plain as day.

“I was?” Annabel asked dubiously, not sure how her being inept would lead to that conclusion.

“Aye. ’Tis why ye never fit in at the abbey,” Giorsal explained. “ ’Twas so ye’d no’ take the veil. Ye were no’ meant to be a nun, Annabel. Ye were meant to be Lady MacKay.”

“Aye.” Seonag nodded as if it were as obvious as could be to her as well.

Annabel simply stared at the two women for a moment, and then shook her head. “But do you not see?
I
was
not
to marry Ross.
Kate
was. She is the one who was truly contracted to marry him.”

Giorsal snorted at that. “Nay, he was to marry you, no’ Kate.”

“But the contract—”

“Oh, devil take the contract,” Giorsal waved it away as unimportant. “Ross is a good man, he deserves a good wife like you, not a light-skirt who runs off with the first cock that crows.”

When Annabel made a strangled sound at this description, Giorsal slapped herself in the forehead, and then said quickly. “I’m sorry, I should no’ call yer sister a light-skirt. I just mean that—”

“Nay, ’tis all right,” Annabel waved away her apology. She understood how Giorsal felt. She loved her brother and wanted the best for him, and the best was not a woman who would ignore a binding contract, go against her parents and run off to live in sin with another man. Annabel also understood that she hadn’t meant to offend her with the words. But what Giorsal didn’t seem to understand was that she was not a much better prospect, though for different reasons.

Taking a breath, she considered her words and then admitted, “But do you not see? I am not much better. I was not trained to be a wife and lady of a large castle like MacKay while at the abbey. I illuminated texts and worked in the stables.”

Giorsal waved that away as unimportant. “Ye can learn all ye need to ken easily enough. In fact, ye’re partway there already.”

“I do not see how,” Annabel admitted, almost afraid to hope the woman was right.

“Well, if ye were illuminating texts at the abbey, ye ken how to read and write,” Giorsal pointed out.

“Aye,” Annabel acknowledged.

“Then ye can help school the pages,” she pointed out.

“What pages?” Annabel asked with confusion.

“Well there are none at MacKay at the moment because there was no lady of the keep to train them. Now there is. You.” She smiled brightly. “They need to be trained in music, dancing, riding, hunting, reading and writing and arithmetic. O’ course, Ross will take care of the hunting, but ye can manage the rest.”

“I fear I have never danced, and I am not trained with any musical instrument,” Annabel admitted unhappily.

Giorsal shrugged. “Ye can hire a teacher for those and learn yerself. And ye should be a fair hand at the writing, reading and arithmetic.”

“Aye,” Annabel agreed, brightening. “And I am a fine rider too.”

“Er . . .” Seonag said, and then paused abruptly.

“What?” Annabel asked.

The maid hesitated, but then set down her sewing with a sigh and admitted, “I overheard the men talking on yer riding skills, me lady, and they seemed to think they were no’ so fine. They said ye bounced about on the mare’s back like a sack o’ turnips.”

Annabel winced and then explained, “We were not supposed to ride the horses at the abbey. I used to volunteer to walk them out to the far pasture, and as soon as I was out of sight, would mount up and ride them bareback. Sometimes I would slip out at night to ride too, but I couldn’t risk anyone hearing so took them bareback then as well. I have never ridden sidesaddle.” She pursed her lips and then said, “Those are a horrid contraption.”

“Aye,” Giorsal agreed with distaste. “I prefer astride too, and bareback is even better.”

Annabel grinned, both surprised and pleased to find they had this in common.

“She’ll do fine with riding,” Giorsal assured Seonag. “We must tell Ross to get rid o’ the sidesaddle. He should not fuss too much about it,” she added, and grinned at Annabel as she said, “Fortunately, he had me fer a sister and I broke him in on things like that fer ye.”

“Aye, that’s truth,” Seonag announced.

Annabel chuckled along with Giorsal at the dry comment from the maid, but then Annabel’s laughter faded. “Aye, but I am sure there is much more to being chatelaine than training pages and I know not what that is.”

“The rest is easy enough too,” Giorsal assured her. “Ye must oversee the servants; Cook and his staff, the housemaids, spinners, weavers, embroiderers and—” She paused suddenly and glanced to Seonag with a frown. “Speaking o’ which, why are we doing this? The embroiderers would have made short work of it.” Clucking, she added, “And the weavers could have produced new material for a new gown for Annie rather than her having to wear Mother’s old clothes.”

Annabel glanced to Seonag, interested in hearing the answer herself. She hadn’t realized castles had spinners, weavers and embroiderers. They’d had women at the abbey set to each task, but she had left Waverly as a child and hadn’t returned for long enough as an adult to know if they were in Waverly Castle. Certainly, she hadn’t seen or heard of them here at MacKay.

“Derek’s mother was the head spinner,” Seonag said solemnly. “And her sisters and nieces made up the weavers and embroiderers.”

“Oh, aye, I forgot,” Giorsal said on a sigh, and then explained to Annabel. “Derek was our cousin. When Father died, he rose up and tried to wrest the title of clan chieftain from Ross. He even ambushed him and his men one night, intending to kill him and take the title, but instead, Ross killed him.”

“And the women?” Annabel asked with a frown. “Surely Ross did not banish them for what your cousin did?” It would explain why there were no spinners, weavers or embroiderers here, but it also seemed unfair, and not something she hoped her husband would do. Much to her relief Giorsal shook her head vehemently.

“O’ course not. Ross would ne’er blame anyone fer someone else’s actions. He told them he held no ill will toward them because o’ Derek’s actions and that they were welcome to stay.”

“But Derek’s mother, Miriam, hated Ross fer killing her boy,” Seonag put in. “She spat in his face, she did. Then she packed her goods and left. The rest followed.”

“Ross could ha’e ordered them to stay, as clan chief, but he let them go,” Giorsal added.

“Aye, and we’ve no’ seen nor heard from them since.”

“Hmmm,” Annabel murmured, wondering where they’d gone.

“So, I suppose finding new spinners, weavers and embroiderers falls on yer shoulders now too,” Giorsal said apologetically.

“Aye,” Annabel muttered, wondering how the devil she was to do that. For that matter, how exactly was she to oversee the others? Did she hover over each servant ensuring they did it right? And if they were doing it wrong, what was she expected to do?

“Seonag and I’ll help ye sort it all out,” Giorsal said reassuringly. “I shall tell ye what I can now, and visit often to see how ye’re getting along, and Seonag’s been here a long time. She kens what’s what. She can help a great deal when I’m no’ here.”

“Aye,” Seonag agreed at once. “I’ll help ye. It’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Annabel said sincerely and smiled the first true and relaxed smile she’d enjoyed since reaching MacKay. She no longer felt alone in this. She had allies.

Chapter 10

“T
he laird said ye were to stay indoors, and indoors is where yer staying.”

Annabel scowled at Gilly’s stubbornness, but tried to remain patient as she reasoned, “But Jasper needs to get out and run off some of his energy else he shall get destructive out of sheer boredom, and I need to go to the village and speak to a woman who may be able to help us with sewing. Surely with the two of you accompanying me, ’twould be all right?”

“Jasper can go out if he likes, and Seonag can go talk to this woman in the village fer ye, but yer not,” Gilly said firmly.

“Sorry.” Marach shrugged when she turned to him for help. “The laird was very specific that ye were to stay in the keep.”

Annabel wanted to stomp her feet and have a screaming fit. Instead, she turned on her heel and marched across the great hall to the stairs and up. Aware that the men were behind her, she picked up speed as she reached the top and nearly ran to the bedchamber door. She then rushed inside and slammed the door closed, narrowly missing hitting Jasper with it when he raced in on her heels.

“Sorry, Jasper,” she murmured, sliding the bolt home to prevent the men from following. She’d barely done so when one of the men tried to open the door.

“Me lady?” Gilly called out. “Open the door. Ye ken we’re supposed to stay with ye at all times while the laird is out.”

“Nay. I do not know that,” Annabel said sweetly. “My husband did not tell me so.”

“Aye, but we did,” Marach pointed out.

“Hmmm. Aye, you did. But how do I know ’tis true? After all, surely my husband would have mentioned something of such import to me himself?” she pointed out grimly. “Besides, I am sure if he did give such an order, he did not mean you were to enter our private chamber and watch me”—she paused briefly, searching for something he wouldn’t want them to witness, and then said—“strip and bathe myself.”

There was a brief silence and then Marach cleared his throat and pointed out. “Me lady, ye’ve no bath in there just now.”

“Nay, you are right,” Annabel agreed. “So mayhap you would be kind enough to go ask Seonag to have it brought up: the tub, water, soap, linens and so on.”

If it would gain her some privacy, she would take a bath despite not really needing one yet. In fact, Annabel suspected if that was what it took to gain some time without tripping over the two men presently outside her door, she would be taking a lot of baths. After just one morning of this nonsense, they were already driving her wild.

Grimacing, she turned and paced to one of the windows to peer down at the busy bailey below. The visit with Ross’s sister had gone very well indeed. Rather than go below and join the men once the first gown was done, the three of them had eaten their nooning meal in the bedchamber and mended a second gown as Giorsal and Seonag had given Annabel more advice and information on her duties as chatelaine. They had only gone below when Ross had come up to say that Bean was ready to leave.

Despite the hours together, Annabel had been sorry to see Giorsal go and had gone below to see her off. The two had hugged affectionately and Giorsal had promised to come back soon. Bean and Ross had watched this with raised eyebrows, but had not commented. It wasn’t until they’d returned inside that Ross had said anything at all, and then it was a simple, “Ye seem to like me sister.”

“Aye. She is lovely,” Annabel had responded at once. “I like her a great deal.”

Ross had grunted at that, scooped her up in his arms and carried her back up to their room to finish what his sister had interrupted earlier. By the time they’d gone back downstairs the great hall was filling with people claiming seats at the trestle table in preparation of dinner. Afterward, Annabel had sat by the fire with Seonag and continued sewing while Ross, Gilly and Marach had sat at the table discussing some business or other.

Annabel had sewn until Ross had appeared at her side. He hadn’t said a word, simply reached out to take her hand. She’d set her sewing aside and allowed him to walk her up to their room where he’d taken full advantage of it being Thursday. It wasn’t until afterward that Annabel even thought to be grateful that he hadn’t given her time to pack. She was glad not to have to wear the chemise carouse that had been left behind. She liked it when her husband touched her. On that thought, Annabel had drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

She wouldn’t have been smiling had she realized what today would hold, Annabel thought grimly. Ross was gone when the watchman on the donjon had blown his bugle to wake the castle. She’d hurried to wash and dress and had stepped out into the hall to find Gilly and Marach waiting there. The two men had been leaning against the wall on either side of the door, but had straightened abruptly at her appearance.

Annabel had murmured a perplexed, “Good morn,” and headed for the stairs, aware that they were following. The men had taken up a seat on either side of her as she’d broken her fast, and then had stood on either side of her as she’d attended mass in the chapel.

“Where is my husband?” she’d asked when mass ended without his making an appearance.

“He had some business in the village,” Gilly had answered, following her along the hall toward the great hall. While the chapel at Waverly was across the bailey by the gatehouse, at MacKay it was in the keep itself, down a long hall off the great hall.

Annabel hadn’t commented, but had allowed the men to escort her back to the great hall. She’d been relieved, however, when they’d both settled at the table and let her continue alone when she’d spotted Seonag and had commented that she would have a word with the woman.

Mostly, Annabel had wanted to ask Seonag what she should be doing that day. She had a general idea, but was feeling uncertain enough to want a suggestion. She’d been glad she had when Seonag had told her that she’d found out that there was a woman in the village said to be handy with a needle. So handy, in fact, that many of the men were going to her when they had items that needed mending. She’d wondered if the woman might be interested in a position at the keep as an embroiderer if the pay was sweet enough.

Excited by the prospect, Annabel had assured Seonag she would speak to the woman and had headed for the keep doors intending to travel down to the village at once. She was vaguely aware of Gilly and Marach standing to follow when she passed the trestle tables. However, she was still stunned when they’d suddenly hurried around to block her way as she reached the keep doors. And she’d been positively shocked when they’d told her that she wasn’t allowed to leave the keep until her husband settled this business of the man who had attacked her.

Annabel now propped her elbows on the window ledge and rested her chin in her hands. This business with the attacker was a great nuisance. And restricting her to the keep just seemed silly to her. The man had only ever appeared outside of the castle walls. She was perfectly safe in the bailey. Of course, the village was not within the walls, but she was perfectly happy to allow Gilly and Marach to accompany her there, only they wouldn’t allow her to go. How was she to do her job as chatelaine if they would not allow her to do what needed doing?

Sighing, she watched the stable master lift a hand and call out a greeting to someone she couldn’t see. Curious, she leaned out to see who he was hailing. She had to lean out quite a ways to see the priest standing in a doorway further along the wall on the ground floor. It was the second door to the chapel, she supposed—one entrance to the keep for the lord and lady to use and one leading out into the bailey for those coming from outside.

Annabel stilled briefly, and then straightened and turned for the door.

Gilly was alone when she stepped into the hall, and Annabel raised an eyebrow as she pulled the door closed behind Jasper. “Where is Marach?”

“He went below to tell Seonag yer wanting a bath.”

“Oh aye.” She nodded. “I shall take it after confession.”

“Confession?” Gilly barked with surprise, and then scrambled after her when she headed for the stairs.

“Aye. I have not confessed since leaving England, and have a confession or two to make,” Annabel said mildly.

“Well, that’s fine, but it’ll ha’e to wait until Marach returns,” Gilly said with a frown.

“I do not need Marach for confession,” Annabel said with amusement. “ ’Tis a priest I need.”

“Aye, but—Oh there he is,” Gilly said with relief and Annabel glanced ahead to see Marach stepping into the great hall from the kitchens.

She didn’t comment and simply continued down the stairs as Marach rushed to meet them.

“I thought ye wanted a bath?” he asked with a frown.

“She’s wanting confessing first,” Gilly said for her.

“Now?” Marach asked with a frown. “But I’ve just told the maids to fetch ye a bath.”

“Perfect,” Annabel said lightly as she headed across the great hall. “First a clean soul and then a clean body. Will that not be nice?”

Marach muttered something under his breath about the vagaries of women, but fell into step beside Gilly at her heels and followed.

“Lady MacKay,” the priest greeted her with obvious surprise when Annabel led the men into the chapel moments later. If he was surprised at her returning, she was a little surprised at being called Lady MacKay. It was a new title and he was the first to address her so, but she decided she liked it. “Good morn again, Father . . .” Annabel paused uncertainly, realizing with some shame that she did not even know the priest’s name. She hadn’t even managed to make it to mass until that morning. The abbess would have fits if she heard about that.

“Gibson,” the priest said helpfully.

“Gibson.” Annabel smiled widely at the man. “You are English?”

“Aye.” He nodded. “Fortunately the MacKays do not hold that against me.”

Annabel grinned at the light words, and then said, “I have come for confession.”

“Of course,” the man said, immediately becoming solemn and serious.

“Thank you,” Annabel said and then turned to eye Marach and Gilly with arched eyebrows.

The men hesitated, glanced at each other and then backed away to give her some semblance of privacy, but Annabel simply scowled at them. They moved a couple more feet back, and then all the way to the door when she simply continued to glare at them.

“Can you hear me?” Annabel asked solemnly.

When both men nodded, Annabel turned to Father Gibson and said with regret, “I guess I shall have to bypass confession for now, Father. I apologize. But thank you for—”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he interrupted and started toward the men, waving them away. “Come now. Off with you. Lady MacKay deserves some privacy for her confession. You shall have to wait outside.”

“But we’re no’ to leave her alone, Father,” Marach protested, even as he backed to the door. “She was attacked yesterday in the woods and we’re to—”

“Well, no one is going to attack her here. She is perfectly safe in the chapel. You can wait outside until she comes out,” Father Gibson insisted.

“But—” Gilly tried.

“Out,” the priest repeated, and the two men backed reluctantly out into the hall.

“We’ll be right outside this door,” Gilly said.

“Yes, yes,” Father Gibson said impatiently and then closed the door in his face. Turning, he smiled at her with satisfaction and walked back, saying, “There. We are all set now. Would you like to—”

“I am sorry, Father, but I really do not have a confession,” Annabel interrupted quietly, taking his arm to urge him as far away from the door as she could. Pausing then, she frowned and said, “Although I suppose I should confess that I lied about confessing.”

“What?” Father Gibson said with bewilderment.

Annabel patted his arm and explained, “You see, I am chatelaine now.”

“Aye, of course you are, my lady,” he agreed.

“And part of my responsibilities is to oversee the spinner, weaver and embroiderer here. Only there are none.”

“Aye, I know,” Father Gibson said sadly, peering down at his somewhat frayed vestments. “ ’Twas a sad day indeed when we lost Miriam and her brood.”

Annabel nodded solemnly, but inside she was smiling. The man had just told her how to get him to agree with her plan. “Well, the good news is that I hope to replace them all, and the better news is that I understand there is a woman in the village who is excellent with a needle.”

“Is there?” he asked with interest.

“Aye, and I was hoping to slip down to the village and have a word with her, to convince her to come work in the castle. It would be the first step in setting things to right in the matter of clothing here. The first step toward being able to have you made some fine new vestments.”

“Oh, that would be lovely. It has been such a trial this last year.”

“Aye,” Annabel agreed, and then heaved out a little sigh and said, “Sadly, my husband has told Gilly and Marach not to let me out of the keep because of a couple trifling little incidents the past two days.”

“Oh yes, I did hear about the attacks, my lady.” Father Gibson patted her arm and shook his head. “I was not prying, of course, but did wonder why you had not yet attended mass since arriving and so I asked around and was most distressed to hear about the attacks on your person.”

“Aye, it was most unfortunate that I was forced to miss mass,” Annabel murmured, thankful that whoever had told him the tales had somehow made it sound as if she’d missed mass both days because of the attacks when the truth was she’d slept through the first and had been cleaning up dog dung during the second. Neither was a very good excuse to miss mass and she should be ashamed of herself, especially when she’d spent the better part of her life in an abbey where they held seven services a day starting at two o’clock in the morning. Honestly, it had been hard to get anything done when they were constantly forced to stop for this service or that one. Annabel had always been glad to help out in the stables because of that. You simply couldn’t leave an ailing animal to attend service and she’d missed several over the years thanks to that excuse.

“Just as distressing is the fact that those attacks have now made my husband overly cautious to the point that it is interfering with my ability to go to the village and convince this woman to come work for us,” Annabel said sadly.