More English soldiers fell at the hands of her clansmen as she battled her way through the remaining soldiers. Her frenzy intensified as she sought out more of the bastards.
From somewhere to her left Angus bellowed a warning. “Behind ye!”
She turned in time to see the soldier as he lunged his sword towards her.
She had not moved quickly enough and the tip of his sword sliced through her upper left arm.
Consumed with hatred and rage, she ignored the blood as it trailed down her arm.
She used her rage and plunged her sword deep into the English soldier’s belly.
With her sword lodged firmly in his midsection he felt backwards and landed in a twisted heap. Using her foot as leverage, she wiggled and pulled until the sword finally let loose with a nauseating sucking sound.
She turned to seek out more men to kill. Duncan’s tunic and her shift clung to her body soaked in mud, sweat, blood and rain. She fought to raise her sword again as her breath came in great bursts.
Using her free hand to wipe the sweat from her eyes she looked about readying herself to kill any one who came near her.
She noticed that her clansmen were staring at her with wide-eyed bewildered expressions. A deafening silence had filled the air. Angus began to cautiously walk towards her with one hand held out fearful she was so caught up in the moment that she might kill him.
“Aishlinn,” he said nervously.
“Tis me, Angus. Yer da.”
She stared right through him as if he were an apparition made of mist.
“Lay the sword down, lass.
They all be dead now,” he spoke quietly, trying to reassure her that it was over.
He took another step towards her and prayed she would soon acknowledge him.
“Tis all right, Aishlinn.
Tis over.”
She recognized him finally and let loose the sword.
It landed with a thud on the ground at her side. The ferocious rage she had felt only moments ago was now replaced with absolute despair and anguish.
She fell to her knees, her body racked with guilt, remorse, and grief.
She cried not for the lives she had just taken, but for her dead husband whose body lay not far from her.
His men had surrounded him, shaking their heads and mumbling words she could hear over the sound of her own sobs.
Angus pulled her into his chest, her fisted hands grasping his bloody tunic to keep from falling completely over.
When he spoke, his voice was soft and low.
“Tis all right, lass.”
His attempts to soothe her did not work.
“No!
No it isn’t!
Duncan is dead and it’s all my fault!
I might as well have thrust a sword into his heart with my own hands. It’s just the same!”
She cried out, holding onto her father.
The guilt was maddening.
She would never forgive herself for her husband’s death.
He had made good his promise to defend her honor to his death if necessary.
Because of her, his death had become necessary.
He had sacrificed his own life so that she could live.
A torrent of grief enveloped Aishlinn’s heart as she clung to her
father.
No matter how hard they tried to pull her from him, she could not let go.
She heard muffled voices as if they were speaking to her through heavy blankets.
She could not see for the tears blurred her vision completely.
Her body and her soul were breaking in half and there remained nothing left of her heart.
Finally, she looked up and into her father’s eyes.
“Please, please plunge your dirk into my heart and kill me now for what I’ve done!” She begged him between sobs. “I know I’ll burn in hell for all eternity, but that would be better than living without him!”
Pain covered Angus face as he watched his daughter suffer in utter agony. He hated when lasses cried for he knew not how to deal with it.
“Lass, ya need to calm yerself down!” he shouted at her for he knew not else what he could do or say.
She had to see Duncan, one last time.
She had to hold him in her arms and tell him how sorry she was and that she would spend the rest of her days in agony over losing him.
Finally, she pulled away from her father and raced to her husband.
She pushed through Wee William and Black Richard to get to him.
Tall Gowan knelt beside him, his face looking horribly pained.
Aishlinn flung herself on top of her husband as the tears racked her body again.
She clung to Duncan, crying uncontrollably as she laid her head upon his shoulder.
“I am so sorry,” she choked between sobs.
“I would plunge a dagger into my own heart if it would bring you back, if only long enough so that you could hear my words.”
She shook violently and felt as though the air had been kicked from her lungs.
“Has anyone ever told ya, lass, that ya be horrible at judging if a man be dead?”
For a moment she thought she had imagined hearing his voice.
Her eyes flew open as she bolted upright.
His eyes were open and he had a slight smile upon his face as he tried to hide the pain. For a moment she could not breath, could not speak.
“You’re not dead!” she shouted, stunned and relieved.
Duncan winced.
“I told ya to no’ leave my side, lass,” he managed through clenched teeth.
Tall Gowan had removed the arrow while Aishlinn had been clinging to her father and too overcome with grief at thinking Duncan was dead.
“But ye just never listen to me.”
She kissed him, every inch of his face she plastered with kisses as she held his face in her hands.
“I’m sorry,” she said between sobs and kisses.
“I never meant for this to happen.”
She looked up to Tall Gowan.
“Will he live?”
She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him now.
Tall Gowan nodded his head.
“Aye, I ken so.”
“But only if ya promise to never, ever leave in the night like that again,” Duncan told her.
“Or I promise I will die, on purpose, just to get even with ye!”
“Never,” she told him.
“I promise to listen to you always!” She smiled as she kissed him all over again.
Duncan sighed heavily.
“I’m not sure I should be believin’ ya,” he said with a smile.
Aishlinn looked at him, heartbroken that he did not believe her, but really, could she blame him? If it took every day of the rest of her life to regain his trust, then so be it.
“I swear it!
I will always listen to you,” she pleaded with him.
“Aye,” came Angus’ deep voice from behind them.
“She’ll listen to the words that leave yer mouth, lad.”
He smiled as he placed a hand upon Aishlinn’s shoulder.
“But that doesn’t mean she’ll mind them!”
Duncan reached out to pull her closer to him. When he touched her arm, Aishlinn winced from the cut.
Duncan examined the torn tunic and saw the gash in her arm.
“What the bloody hell happened to yer arm?” he demanded.
“One of the soldiers cut me with his sword,” she told him.
Duncan was instantly incensed and tried to sit.
“Where is the bastard?” he shouted.
“Layin’ dead on top of the other two she killed,” Angus said, motioning over his shoulder at a heap of fallen soldiers.
The men broke out in laughter.
Duncan eyed his wife for a moment. She was a sorry mess, with her hair and clothes plastered in mud and blood.
“What the bloody hell happened?” he asked.
Wee William spoke up.
“Well, while ye were lyin’ on the ground takin’ a wee bit of a nap,” he began.
“Yer wife took up arms and slayed
at the least
a dozen men.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled proudly.
“Nay,” said Black Richard.
“Twas at least ten and five.”
“I counted twenty-one!” said Rowan.
“Seen it with me own eyes!”
Duncan stared in disbelief at his wife.
Aishlinn sank lower, bracing for the wrath she was certain would come forth from her husband at any moment.
She tried to muster a sweet smile, but it came out looking more like she was bilious and in pain.
Angus let out an exasperated sigh. He rolled his eyes and looked down at Duncan. “They keep this up and before this day is out, they’ll be swearin' she took on the entire regiment single handedly while we all stood shittin’ our trews in fear!”
While the men argued over the number of soldiers Aishlinn had slain that day, Duncan reached up and touched Aishlinn’s cheek.
“Wife!” he said.
“Will ya please take me home and nurse me back to health?”
Aishlinn nodded her head.
“I’d be glad to, husband.”
She bent and kissed him full on the lips and when she was done, he smiled back at her deviously.
“I imagine I’ll be needin’ plenty of rest,” he told her.
“Bed rest.”
“Aye, and that you’ll get!” She told him firmly, not picking up his sly inference.
“I’ll see to it that you’re well cared for.
You’ll stay in bed a month if you need to.”
Duncan smiled at her.
“A month ya say?” he winced again as he tried to sit.
Aishlinn pushed him gently back.
“Stay put!” She scolded.
Duncan motioned for her to come closer.
She bent low so that he could whisper in her ear.
“Will ya be joinin’ me in my bed rest, wife?”
Aishlinn began to protest that now was not the proper time to be thinking of such things.
Duncan forced himself to sit.
He pulled her to him and kissed her firmly on her mouth. When he let go, he saw that he had left a smile upon her face.
“Lass?” he asked.
“Yes?” Aishlinn said, rather breathlessly.
“Haud yer wheest and love me.”
Three months later
“Are ya listenin’ to me, wife?”
“Aye, husband.
I hear you.”
“But are ya
listenin’
to me words?” he asked.
His wife had a habit of hearing the words he spoke, but not always heeding them.
Aishlinn sighed heavily.
“
Yes!”
she told him.
“Yer no’ peekin’ are ye?”
He asked as he glanced down at her.
“Duncan!” She was growing frustrated with him.
“How on earth could I peek?
You’ve got me blindfolded and my face stuck to your chest!”
She could hear him chuckle wickedly.
“I think we might use this blindfold again,” he whispered in her ear.
Aishlinn had learned over the last three months that her husband was quite inventive when it came to new ways of bringing pleasure to her in their marital bed.
She was glad for the blindfold and her face being hidden, for he could not see the rush of red that came to her face.
Duncan kissed the top of her head as they rode down a path.
She was perched atop his lap, her arms wrapped around his torso tightly.
He had a surprise for her, hence the blindfold.
Duncan could barely wait to see the expression on her face once the blindfold was removed.
When he pulled the horse to a stop, Aishlinn sat upright.
She didn’t think they’d ridden very far from the castle and wondered why they had stopped so quickly.
Duncan dismounted while Aishlinn strained to listen for any familiar sound that might give a clue as to their surroundings.
“Come here, lass,” Duncan said, reaching up for her. Aishlinn leaned over so that he could grab her waist and set her upon the ground.
She realized then there wasn’t a man on God’s earth that she would have trusted to blindfold her.
A thrill shot up her spine when his hands lingered for a moment at her waist.
Duncan took her hand and elbow and guided her only a few short steps before stopping.
“Do no’ move, wife,” he told her as he walked away.
“I mean it!”
Her anticipation grew but she would not allow herself to peek. She had made a promise that she intended to keep, no matter how long he might force her to stand there.
Waiting.
For heaven only knew what or how long!
She felt him standing beside her again.
Suddenly, he tugged at the blindfold and the sun blinded her momentarily. When her eyes adjusted she saw that it wasn’t Duncan who had removed it, but Wee William.
Duncan stood in front of a cottage with his arms spread wide.
The sound of people yelling “Surprise!” erupted all around her.
Her father and Isobel were there, as well as Bree and Mary.
Black Richard stood near them, with Rowan, Manghus and Tall Gowan and countless others.
Her heart pounded in her chest and her lips curved into a very surprised smile.
“Welcome home, Aishlinn,” Duncan said as he bowed towards her.
“Home?” She asked.
“Aye,” Duncan told her.
“This is what I’ve been doin’ with me days of late,” he said, walking towards her, smiling brightly.
“Building us a home.”
She was dumbfounded.
She had thought her husband had gone back to training with his men, a notion she had objected to quite vociferously.
Aishlinn worried it had been too soon after taking the arrow to his shoulder and nearly dying from it.
But he hadn’t been training; he had been building them a home.
Tears came to her eyes when she stood before the stone cottage.
Duncan scooped her up and carried her across the threshold.
His smile never left his face as he sat her down and watched her closely while her eyes searched the room.
It was much bigger than the home she had grown up in. A massive fireplace stood to her right, a large kitchen to her left.
A table, much too big she supposed for just the two of them took up a place not far from the kitchen.
She caught sight of a heavy curtain covering a doorway next to the fireplace.
A ladder led to a loft above it.
“Duncan!” She exclaimed.
“It’s beautiful!”
He grabbed her hand and led her through the curtain.
“This’ll be where we’ll make all our wee bairns,” he whispered to her as she looked about the room. A large bed stood against the wall while stands flanked each side of it.
The fireplace stood directly opposite it.
There were rugs upon the floor and tapestries on the wall.
She recognized them from Duncan’s room in the castle.
The house had quickly filled with family and friends, all wishing them good luck.
Ale was poured and many toasts were made for them to be blessed with many bairns. Aishlinn could not quit smiling, for she was indeed truly happy.
Blessed she was, to finally have a home of her own.
Aishlinn stood near the fireplace, hugging herself, watching the people around her having a grand time.
It came to her then, as she looked about the home that Duncan had built for her, that nothing in this home was actually hers.
Sadness threatened to creep in at thinking of it.
She had nothing of her past, nothing of her mother’s, nothing of her
own
here.
She knew she should be happy, but she felt a tug of sadness in her stomach.
Angus and Wee William came to speak with her.
“Do ya like the house, young Aishlinn?” Wee William asked smiling.
“I helped Duncan ta build it!”
Aishlinn smiled up at the lumbering giant and noticed there was plenty of headroom for him. She imagined he would have to stoop over in order to fit into most cottages.
“Aye, I do William!”
She gave him a hug about his waist.
“I notice we’ve quite tall ceilings.”
“Made sure of it!” Wee William boasted.
“I get such a crick in me neck when I visit others.”
He winked at her.
“And ye’ll be noticin’ also, the glass in the windows?” Angus asked. “I insisted upon it.
Nothing too good for me daughter, ya know.”
He smiled as he accepted the hug from her.
“Thank you both, so very much,” Aishlinn told them.
She tried to keep the smile upon her face, but the melancholy in her heart threatened to dampen her spirits.
She wanted not to seem an ungrateful person.
Angus picked up on her mood.
“What be the matter, lass? Do ya no’ like yer new home?” he scowled at her.
“Nay! I love it!” She assured him. “It is more beautiful than I could have imagined.” She tried smiling again, but it wasn’t working.
“What be the matter, lassie?” Wee William asked.
“Is there somethin’ ya be wishin’ we did different?”
Aishlinn shook her head. “Nay,” she told him.
“It is quite silly really.
Nothing at all for you to be concerned with.”
She rubbed her father’s arm.
“I’ll no’ be believin’ ya, daughter,” Angus told her.
“Now tell me, what be the matter?”
Knowing well that they would not give up until she confessed what bothered her, she sighed heavily.
“When I look about the home, and it
is
a grand home,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath, “there is nothing of
mine
here. Nothing of my mother’s.”
She waited to see if they would laugh at her silly notions.
When they did not, she continued to explain.
“I know I did not have much in the way of an upbringing.
And it would be very nice to leave my past behind me.
But I’ve nothing to remind me of my mother.
I had to leave her things behind.” It seemed a lifetime had passed since that fateful day.
“When my brothers told me I was leaving that day, I hid some of my mother’s things in the barn.
Up in the loft there was a spot I could hide things in.
So I hid her candlesticks and her trinket box, thinking I could come back for them some day.
I even hid the bowl she used to make her bread in.”
She wiped away a tear as Angus and Wee William looked at her.
They didn’t look at her with pity, just sadness.
“Lass,” her father said.
“It breaks me heart to see ya so sad.
We’ll replace those things for ya.
I ken it won’t be the same.”
“Nay,” she told him.
“Duncan and I will fill this house with our things.
I was just sad for a moment.
I’ll be fine and I don’t want you worrying over it.”
She gave him a big hug as Isobel approached.
“How do ye like it, Aishlinn?” Isobel asked.
“Tis beautiful!” Aishlinn answered.
“I’m certain you helped with it, for I see books and art all about.”
Isobel smiled.
“Aye, I did.
And I’ve something else I want to show ya.”
She took Aishlinn’s hand and led her into the bedroom.
As Aishlinn sat upon the bed, Isobel went to the trunk that sat at the foot of it.
She pulled out a basket and sat it between the two of them.
“These are some of yer mother’s things,” Isobel told her as she opened the lid of the basket.
“There isn’t much mind ye, but a few things I saved after --” she stopped short and shook the memory from her mind.
Isobel removed a leather necklace with a small seashell fastened to it and carefully handed it to Aishlinn.
“Yer mother made this when she was a little girl.
We had gone to the ocean to stay with some of her father’s relatives for a time.
She was eight, I think, when we were there.”
Aishlinn felt her heart swell with joy.
She was holding a piece of her mother’s past in her hands.
Tears welled in her eyes as she draped it around her neck.
Next, Isobel pulled some colorful threads from the basket.
“These were some of her favorite colors to weave with,” she said, laying the spools in Aishlinn’s lap.
Dark green, dark blue, crimson and goldenrod colored threads filled her lap.
Aishlinn tenderly brushed her fingers across them, knowing these were things her mother had loved and had once held in her own hands. Aishlinn promised herself she would make something from them very soon.
Isobel gently removed a small blanket and handed it to Aishlinn.
“This was yer mother’s blanket when she was a bairn.”
Aishlinn noticed that Isobel’s eyes were brimming with tears. She was glad for the gifts, but sad that Isobel’s memories were so painful.
“Ye can wrap yer own bairns in it,” Isobel said, wiping a tear away.
“I think she would have liked that.”
Aishlinn held the soft blanket to her face, breathing in the scent of heather and lavender.
The small blanket soaked up the tears that fell from Aishlinn’s eyes.