Highland Burn (16 page)

“Alice, I’ve been a selfish stubborn arse.”

Alice shook her head, “Ye be a Dragonkine and there’s no fault in that.” Alice stood from the table, “Now go to yer solar and think wisely about yer situation. Talk to Abigale in the morn after a good night’s rest. Trust me.” She smiled and quit the hall.

James grabbed another oatcake and headed to the solar.
Think wisely
, he mused. Words never seemed to come easy for him when it came to expressing himself, especially when it came to Abigale. But he had to try to make her see that indeed he wanted her to stay and that he would never abandon her, ever. Even if she denied his dragon, he would always love and protect her.

Chapter 14

Ye be no princess, ye’re a bastart!

Abigale slammed the wooden door to the bedchamber with such force she thought she heard the hinges crack. “Unbelievable,” she muttered out loud as she paced the room. Here she was on the verge of being abandoned again; sent away, unwanted, and left to live alone. Her mother had left her when she died… abandoned, her father had left her at the nunnery… abandoned, and now her husband wanted to send her away to Bothwell.
Nay, I won’t leave.

Something had changed between them in the past few days, she felt it. James wouldn’t let her out of his sight, so they had spent most of the day cuddled in bed while James healed and Abigale caught up on sleep. He’d fed her with the prepared provisions that Alice had brought up to them. Recalling the way he would rub his hands up and down her back comforting her while she slept, she knew he cared for her. His kisses felt like she was the only woman he had ever kissed, slow but with fierce need. There was something more between them and there was no denying it. Well, at least on her part there was no denying.

Or had she played the fool? Abigale’s anger grew. Was this some kind of trickery or bewitchment? Had she been too blind to see that he was a man who took what he wanted and didn’t care about anyone else? Could he be so cruel as to have his pleasures with her then send her off and be done with her? Mayhap he would only call on her to satisfy his urges. His own personal whore. Even though they were married, the thought alone made her feel like a whore.

Why was fate being so cruel to her? Didn’t she deserve happiness? Or mayhap she didn’t, perhaps her destiny was to be alone.
Alone and a bastard
. Abigale stopped in mid-stride as a vision of Abbess Margaret appeared over by the hearth. The raven-haired Abbess turned slowly to face Abigale. Her voice chilled her like ice. “Did ye actually think that a man would want ye, bastart?” Abbess Margaret seethed.

Abigale back-stepped until her back hit the door. “Nay, ye cannae be here.” Every word she spoke shook with fear.

In a split second the Abbess was eye to eye with Abigale. “Oh I’m real, I’ll never leave. Ye need me to remind ye of who ye truly are. A bastart that's all alone,” she mocked. “If ye were a true princess yer father wouldn’t have abandoned ye."

“Nay.” Abigale shook her head back and forth as she slid down the door. Huddled into a quivering ball, she hugged her legs close to her body waiting for her hair to be coiled around the Abbess’s deadly fist.

The wretched woman towered over Abigale’s shaking body. “The only reason James married ye was because it was arranged by ye father. Yer father didnae want ye so he married ye off to be done with ye.
Ye be no princess, ye’re a bastart!”

Abigale fisted her hands and began to hit herself in the head to make the voice stop. “Please, stop!”
Dear God, please make it stop
. This wasn't happening, not now. Normally she was able to fight back and make the vile woman stop. She thought that once she had left the abbey she would no longer be plagued by the evil woman. But as fate would have it, she was a bastard and abandoned again.

Abigale banged her fists harder against her temples. “I’m no bastart,” she cried out and repeated to herself over and over again until she could no longer hear the Abbess's words. When silence filled the room, Abigale dared to open her eyes. As she opened one eye at a time, relief washed over her as an empty bedchamber came into view. Quickly Abigale jumped to her feet and ran to the window, pushing the furs out of the way. She was sure she would see the Abbess fly from her window and back to her lair like some kind of night creature.

The walls of Castle Black Stone were beginning to feel constricting and her chest felt tight. She needed to leave this place for a while and clear her head. Mayhap a trip into the village would do her some good. Never being able to leave on her own will, excitement grew as she thought about what she might see. Perhaps some sweet smelling candles would lighten her mood. Abigale grabbed her cloak and headed for the door.

Once in the corridor, she lost herself in her current state of anger, she wasn’t aware of her surroundings and didn’t notice Marcus walking behind matching her stride. “See, I told ye he was too stubborn,” Marcus mused.

Startled that she was being followed, Abigale stopped abruptly to turn and face Marcus. “What is it with ye Highlanders sneaking up on people?” Beyond irritated at this point, her tongue was quick to insult.

Taken aback by the firmness of her tone, Marcus stepped back. “Lady Abigale, please forgive my rudeness. I was just trying to lighten yer mood.”

Truly he seemed sincere. Abigale felt horrible for snapping at him. It wasn’t his fault that his cousin was an arse. “Marcus, I’m afraid I'm in no mood for company right now. Please excuse me, the mood in here is foul and I need some fresh air.”

They continued onward. Reaching the stairs, Abigale descended steadfastly to the great hall. True to being who he was, a Highlander, Marcus wasn’t taking no for an answer. He followed her a few steps behind. “Ye know I’m a good listener and ye look as if ye need to speak yer mind about something.”

Nay, she didn’t need an ear, she needed to be away from this castle and most definitely away from a stubborn man. She’d had enough of being told what to do and when she was going to do it. She was hurt, confused, and mourned the fact she might possibly be leaving Alice and Effie.

Abigale took a deep breath trying to rein in her fury. “I thank ye kindly for yer concern, but I need to be alone right now. I’m taking Fergus to the village. I need some time to clear my head.” She tried her best to smile and reassure him that she would be fine, she needed some time… alone.

“The village… alone… without an escort! Nay, won’t allow it." Marcus folded his arms in front of his chest as if saying ye’ll leave over my dead body.

“Och… I… I won’t be gone long. I'll be fine.”

“Nay lass, ye cannae go alone, ‘tis not safe. The merchants can be ruthless out there. And do I need to mention the natty lads lurking around waiting to pick your pockets. I’ll escort ye to the village.”

It was true, merchants could be ruthless; desperate people did desperate things. With last winter being relentlessly frigid then adding to spring’s saturating rains, the terrain conditions for farming in the Highlands had become a challenge. Livestock froze to death and the soil was unproductive. Most items they had were brought back from village raids or crusades. People were hungry and in need of coin.

His mouth was just inches from her ear. He whispered, “I will nay take no for an answer.”

The sound of his deep baritone voice made Abigale go silent. His presence alone demanded submission like he was never denied it. Unease shivered through her, as she felt his hot breath searing her neck.

“Good. I’ll tell the stable groom to ready the horses for us. We’ll leave shortly.” Marcus strode out of the great hall taking all the tension with him, leaving Abigale to settle her nerves.

Feeling even more irritated, Abigale blew out a pent up breath. All she wanted right now was to be alone with her thoughts. Making her way to the kitchen, she remembered that she’d hid her dirk under one of the large black cauldrons. Not needing its use, she had hid it there before she went to bathe Lennox and Mahboon. Thank God the cauldron had been cold and unused this morn. Bending down, she looked under the pot. Reaching with all her might, her hand touched cold steel.
Aye, my dirk
.

Lifting the right side of her dress thigh high, she attached a black strap around her leg and sheathed the blade. Relieved her dirk was securely strapped to her inner thigh, she patted down her skirts and made her way to the stables, but before she left she grabbed an apple for Fergus.

As they reached the village, the aftermath of the hard rainfalls was hard to miss. The small village had been beaten and bruised; dirt paths had been washed away leaving behind dried ripples of mud. Water collected in small pools that dotted the paths weaving through the town. Rocks and stones had been unearthed by the flooding rain making it hard to walk without tripping and the stench of wet thatch was everywhere.

Abigale couldn’t believe how much destruction the rains had left behind. On the other hand, the clan members’ attitude didn’t match their muddled living conditions. The town came alive as villagers were patching up missing thatch from their roofs, cattle were being moved to drier ground, and merchants were out with carts full of salvaged vegetables and furs for the winter to come.

Abigale and Marcus walked through the merchant area of the village observing the different items for sale or barter. Her attitude began to soften a bit. Fresh air really did help clear the mind. Plus, Marcus hadn’t pushed the issue for her to talk about what ailed her. Indeed he’d held true to his word and kept quiet, but was ready to listen when Abigale was ready to talk.

Out of the corner of her eye, Abigale spotted a heavy-set older woman stepping out from behind a cart selling what looked like fresh honey. The woman approached Abigale, but was quickly halted by Marcus’s sword before she reached. The woman swallowed hard. “Pardon me my lady, I only want to thank ye for saving Laird Douglas.” She bowed her head and nervously wadded up her apron in her hands.

Abigale motioned for Marcus to release the woman, she held no threat. The woman lifted her head to look at Abigale. “My lady, I do no have expensive gifts to give, but would ye kindly accept this as a token of my gratitude?” The woman handed Abigale a cloth covered object that fit in the palm of her hand.

Abigale was shocked when she opened the fabric and found a brooch. Abigale ran her finger around the half circle pendant tracing the knot work. The brooch was weathered and looked old as though it had been passed down through generations.

“Oh my lady, watch oot for the pointy end. ‘Tis sharp,” the woman warned.

Amazed that the woman would part with such an heirloom, Abigale could not accept such a gift. “I can no—“

Marcus interrupted Abigale before she made a huge mistake. Refusing a gift was an insult. “The princess thanks ye kindly.”

Abigale stood dumbfounded. She felt guilty for accepting such an elaborate gift.

As they walked away, Abigale felt confused as she looked over her shoulder at the woman who was now beaming with a smile. Why would she give her such a gracious gift when a simple thank you would suffice?

Marcus leaned his head toward Abigale as they walked side by side. “’Tis rude to decline a gift, especially when it’s a gift of thanks.”

Bewildered, she turned back around. “Marcus, she could have used this trinket to barter for food or at least a few coos.”

“Aye, but she wanted ye to have it.” Marcus winked at her.

It was apparent that Abigale had a lot to learn about life. Being sheltered came with its disadvantages, she thought. Clan rules hadn’t existed in her world until a few days ago. She would have felt horrible if she’d hurt the poor woman's feelings by not accepting her gift. Being naïve was going to land her in a world of trouble if she didn’t watch it.

As they passed the last merchant Abigale noticed a rundown stone dwelling with a badly woven thatch roof. Two little girls with ripped, dirty tunics were standing outside in front of a loosely hung door that banged shut with every light breeze that blew through the village. The little girls were filthy and looked as if they hadn’t eaten or slept for days.

Before Marcus could stop Abigale, she walked up to the girls and bent down to their level. “Where’s yer mum and da?”

The youngest girl swayed back and forth with her hands tucked behind her back. She looked down to her bare dirt-stained toes and shrugged her tiny shoulders. She had to be about five summers old, Abigale thought as she picked a piece of caked-on mud from the little girl’s body. The eldest girl shoved her shoulder into the little girl as if letting her know not to trust the strangers.

Abigale walked past the girls and into their home, if you could call it a home. Cautiously, she pushed the door open and quickly had to cover her nose from the wretched smell that permeated the home. “Hello! Is anyone home? ”Abigale yelled out. No one answered.

Marcus followed Abigale inside and quickly covered his nose with a white linen cloth. “Bloody hell!” He stood next to Abigale as they observed the filth. Rotten food and dirty trenchers littered a wooden table near the hearth which was blackened with thick soot. Straw mixed with mice droppings covered the dirt floor and in the middle of the small house lay a mud puddle. Abigale cringed at the thought that this was the only source of water for the girls. “Who would allow such living conditions?” She shook her head.