Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) (5 page)

‘What would you
know?’

‘Oh I know!’ Mary
smiled a secret smile.

‘You’re telling
tales.’

‘But I’m not.’
Mary insisted. ‘The last time Angus left for battle…’
Bridie’s
eyes widened in shock.
‘He said he didn’t know if he’d be seeing me
again and he kissed me. Oh, Bridie, it was the nicest thing ever, honestly when
he kissed me I felt all warm and not just on my lips…’

‘Mary!’

‘But I did.’ She
insisted. ‘Maybe you could pretend you were kissing the laird when you kiss
Dougal
.’

‘
Och
, why would I want to pretend I was kissing the laird?’
Bridie scolded, but she was glad it was dark for she was burning just at the
thought.

‘Because you like
him,’ Mary said.

‘I like him
because he saved Gracie. I like him because he has always been kind to me, but
I don’t think of him in that way.’

Except lately she
had been starting to.

‘Well, if you
don’t want to pretend it’s the Laird, maybe you could take some whisky,’ Mary
suggested. ‘I heard
Mrs
Moffat say that that was what
she did on her wedding night. You might be lucky and not even remember it.’ She
tried to cheer her friend. ‘You’ll be okay, Bridie.
Dougal’s
no beauty, but at least he’ll take care of you and Gracie.’

And yes, she
should be thankful for that.

She was thankful
for that, Bridie insisted, as she said her prayers.

And then lay
feeling guilty for she had just lied to the Lord.

‘Let it steep for
a few more minutes,’ Bridie said as she checked the laird’s brew before taking
it up to him.  While she waited, Bridie fed Gracie her porridge as
Mrs
Moffat served some ham and
haddie
onto a plate along with fresh warm oatcakes for the laird.

‘It’s ready now
Bridie.’

She kissed Gracie
and told her that she’d be back soon, and though nothing bought her more joy
than her daughter, this morning Bridie’s heart was heavy as she took up the
tray to Laird Alasdair.

Still the laird
did not need to be burdened with her problems, he had enough on his mind,
Bridie knew, so she forced a smile as she knocked on his door and walked in.

‘Good morning,
Laird.’

 ‘I hear
congratulations are in order, Bridie.’ Alasdair sat up as Bridie put down the
tray on the table while she opened the curtains, but even the sight of the Loch
gleaming in the morning sun and the heather softly swaying could not lighten
her mood but she kept her voice light as she answered the Laird.

‘So they
are.’  Bridie said and Alasdair’s heart sank as he saw her force a smile.
‘I’m to be married soon, the banns will start to be read next month.’

‘And can I ask who
the lucky fellow is?’ the laird said, as if he didn’t know, as if it was normal
congratulations he was about to offer.

‘
Dougal
Blaine.’

He looked to
Bridie, saw her busy blowing the kindle but he saw too that she wiped her cheek
with the back of her hands and the laird could not say the words he perhaps
should, could not offer his congratulations, so instead he asked a question.

‘Is this what you
want Bridie?’

‘Of course it is.’
Bridie’s voice was firm. ‘
Dougal’s
kind and there’s
not many who would take me on, what with Gracie and me being damaged goods and
all.’ Alasdair sat silent, anger still churned unspent inside him, for all she
had endured, and there was fresh anger there too now - that someone as bright
and as stunning as Bridie could be married off to someone like
Dougal
. ‘
Mrs
Moffat wants to know
that I’m taken care of, she’s not getting any younger…’ She repeated the
arguments that had been thrust upon her then stood and warmed her hands a
moment on the fire that was starting to take and then turned to him and smiled.
‘You’ll be a married man yourself soon.’

‘I shall.’
Alasdair could not keep the dark note from his voice, he had no wish to marry
but, like Bridie, had no real choice in the matter, he was to marry a lady, one
that would be suitable, and prosper his land.

It had nothing to
do with heart.

 ‘I’ll miss
this Bridie…’ Alasdair gruffly admitted, for the laird rarely spoke as to how
he was feeling, he was always sullen and silent with his emotions, and anger he
saved for battle. ‘Our morning chats.’

‘Aye, well I doubt
her ladyship will want me standing around chatting as I serve you your
breakfast.’

Alasdair doubted
it too, for Bridie’s beauty was becoming more potent. Her hair gleamed in the
morning sun and the smile on her lips drew his eye these days – was it
that she moistened her lips that made her mouth seem to plump? She had her
tunic on over her kirtle, but he could see as she bent now to stoke the fire
the curve of her bottom and she was a woman now, Alasdair was well aware of
that from the response of his own body. She stood then, stretched her back and
as she did he saw the swell of her bosom and Alasdair looked down to the
breakfast rather than her, for he was starting to think of Bridie in ways he
never had.

‘Can I still take
my meals here, I mean, me and
Gracie ?
’ Bridie asked.
‘I’ll work twice as hard.’

‘Of course you
can.’ The Laird said.

‘To tell the
truth,’ Bridie admitted. ‘I’ll be glad to come to the Castle during the day,
though I can’t imagine not living here anymore. I don’t think
Dougal
will be great at conversation…’

She stood with her
hands behind her back.

‘Would you like
breakfast,
Dougal
?’ Bridie teased.

‘Aye,’ she said,
mimicking his simple voice.

‘It’s a fine
morning, is it not
Dougal
?’

‘Aye.’

Yes, every morning
she made Alasdair smile, but he struggled this morning, was pensive as he lay
back on his pillow and he watched as the tears shining in her green eyes
started to tumble down.

‘Bridie?’ She was
shaking in terror he could see it.

‘I’m petrified
laird…’ She sobbed.

‘You don’t have to
marry him, then.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind being
wed.’ Bridie begged, for she would do anything to keep Gracie. ‘I’m just scared
of my wifely duties.’

 Alasdair
knew what she meant, knew the terrible injuries that had been inflicted that
awful night, knew how badly she had been abused. Thankfully her memory of that
time was dim, little could she remember, Bridie admitted through her tears, but
the rest of her sexual knowledge was based on watching animals mating.

‘Bridie…’ He
didn’t know how to comfort her. ‘It will be nothing like that. You’ve had a
terrible experience.’

‘I watch the
beasties out in the fields and I hear them bay and scream.’

‘Bridie…’ he
couldn’t just lie and watch her cry. ‘Come here.’

‘I think
Dougal
is kind and will be good to us, it’s just….’ He
could feel the fear in the shoulders that shook beneath his hands as she sat on
his bed and Bridie, given all she had been through, was rightly terrified of
what was to come.

‘What happened to
you is very different than what happens between a man and his wife.’ Alasdair
held her in his arms and tried to comfort her. ‘Have you spoken to the other
lassies about what you can expect?’

‘Aye,’ she gulped.
‘Mary says I should use my imagination.’ She felt his strong chest on her cheek
and she breathed in the laird’s male scent and maybe Mary did know what she was
talking about, for Bridie was petrified of men, but not this one, here in his
arms she felt safe. ‘Or that I should take a few whiskies.’ Bridie screwed up
her face.
‘But I
dinnae
like the
taste.
Still, Mary says I’ll be half asleep and it will no hurt as much
and if I have enough to drink I might be lucky and not even remember it.’

Alasdair held her
shoulders, thought of the halfwit
Dougal
and had to
loosen his grip, for his hands fisted at the very image –
Dougal
would not be taking any time to reassure his young
bride, and perhaps Mary, for all her tender years, had given Bridie the best
advice – whisky was perhaps the only thing that could help. ‘It will be
all right.’

Bridie pulled her
head back, released herself from the Lairds arms and stood from his bed then,
just a little bit angry and not sure why, perhaps because for the first time
she didn’t believe the words that came from the Laird’s lips. ‘That’s fine for
you to say.’

He called her as
she reached his door. ‘Bridie, if there is anything I can do…’

She left without
answer and if he was not mistaken did a lowly servant just slam the door to his
chamber? 

Yes, Alasdair
realised
, she did, for he could hear her crying as she ran
down the passage - he could call her back and warn her for her cheek, have
Mrs
Moffat scold her, but of course he would not –
for she was right, it was fine for him to say.

He did not have to
climb into bed and be taken by
Dougal
.

Bridie wanted to
know more about kissing.

The girls were getting
the Grand Room ready for the ball, hanging up fine tapestries and cleaning and
Mrs
Moffat was keeping a close eye on them.

‘So the
Glenbarachs
are
invited?’ Mary was trying to
understand why they would come here to the McClelland Castle, for the
Glenbarachs
were hated.

‘Aye, Laird Peter
will bring his sister Lady Donalda,’
Mrs
Moffat
explained. ‘Though the Laird would fall on his dirk before he chose a
Glenbarach
, but all eligible ladies have to be invited,
though the talks have already begun…’
Mrs
Moffat was
explaining things but she was called away when the seamstress arrived.

‘It’s to be Lady
Catherine or Lady Helena,’ Mary said. ‘Angus told me.’

‘Between kisses,’
Bridie said as Mary blushed. ‘So what did Angus do when he kissed you exactly?’
Bridie asked, for she really wanted to know.

‘He pressed his
lips to mine,’ Mary said.

‘And then what?’
Bridie
frowned,
she was really starting to think that
Mary was lying.

‘I can’t explain
it,’ Mary said.

‘Aye, because
you’re telling fibs,’ Bridie said.

‘I’m not.’

‘You two!’
Mrs
Moffat warned when she walked back in and saw the two
girls arguing. ‘I’ll keep you apart…’ but she didn’t stay cross for long - the
Laird’s outfit for the ball had arrived and it was heavenly - a heavy plaid, in
the deep purples and greens of the
McClellands
and
there was a dark purple jacket too in the softest of velvet.
Mrs
Moffat slapped the girls’ hands away when they touched
it, but more worrying for
Mrs
Moffat than them making
a mess of the Laird’s outfit, was the gleam in Mary’s eyes when she saw the
sash the chosen Lady would be presented with at the end of the ball.

 ‘Would
Angus’s wife get a sash?’ Mary asked. ‘Even though Angus isn’t a laird.’

‘Yes, she’ll get a
sash.’
Mrs
Moffat said. ‘And even if Angus isn’t a
Laird, still he has to marry a lady.’

‘Why?’

‘Because, the same
as the Laird
-  Angus
will be marrying for the
good of McClelland.’

It was a busy day
but it didn’t end for Bridie when she’d got Gracie to sleep, because
Mrs
Moffat decided there was enough water for the girls to
bathe and more than anything they loathed it. ‘I’m frozen,’ Mary said after as
she braided Bridie’s damp hair. ‘I hate
Mrs
Moffat
sometimes…’

‘You’re just angry
because of what she said about Angus,’ Bridie pointed out. ‘But she’s just
speaking the truth - Angus can only marry a lady.’

‘Perhaps,’ Mary
said, ‘but do you remember Miriam?’

Bridie frowned as
she recalled the lady who lived in a fine house near the burn. ‘She was the
auld laird’s leman. Everyone knows that he loved her and not Lady McClelland…’

‘Mary,’ Bridie
interrupted. ‘Mistress Miriam was well born, she wasn’t a peasant or a servant
- you’re to stop getting grand ideas.’ Bridie’s words were harsh, maybe because
she was jealous - Mary would marry a young lad from the village
and
she’d already been kissed. The only thing Bridie had to look forward to was a
marriage to
Dougal
.

Bridie closed her
eyes and tried to sleep, but it simply wouldn’t come so she rose from her bed
and stared out to the still night. She could hear the noise drifting from the
village, hear the singing from the alehouse and it was not a sound that soothed
– what a fool to go wandering that night, Bridie thought, but back then
it had never entered her head that she might be in danger.