Highland Promise (9 page)

Then her parents turned their matching green eyes on her and Bethia had to crush the sudden urge to run. She felt like a scared, unhappy child and she hated it. Not only had she left Dunnbea but she had bedded down with a man. She had given them a great deal they could berate her with, and Bethia had the sick feeling that this scold was going to make all the past ones look insignificant.

“So ye took it upon yourself to bring the child away from its home,” Lord Drummond said, slowly drumming his plump fingers against the arm of his heavy oak chair.

“Did Wallace nay tell ye the danger James was in?” Bethia asked.

“He told us that ye believe the lad was in danger, but ye have always had too fanciful a mind.”

“This was nay fancy, Father. The food they brought us was poisoned. It killed James’s puppy. Nay, this is no game,” Bethia said forcefully even though her heart was pounding with fear. She had never stood up to her parents before, but the need to protect James gave her the strength. “William Drummond wants the lad dead and I am certain that he killed Sorcha and Robert.”

“Of course he shall be made to pay for the death of our daughter, if what ye believe is true.”

But nay for trying to kill James
, Bethia thought and inwardly shook her head. Bowen and Wallace believed her. They would help her keep James safe even if her parents refused to accept her tale. And whether Eric wanted to be or not, soon he would be bound to the family. He also believed her, had been at her side as they had fled from William and his men. She did not need her parents to understand or believe her.

“Whatever danger ye think there might be doesnae excuse your behavior,” Lady Drummond said, clasping her plump hands in her lap. “Did ye nay think of the shame ye would bring us ere ye decided to play the whore?”

“I do hope this young mon was the only one ye bedded down with,” her father said.

For a moment, Bethia just stared at them. She could not think of one thing she had ever done that would make them think that, the moment she broke free of the walls of Dunnbea, she would be tossing her skirts up for any and every man. Bethia began to wonder if they knew her at all. Then she tried to soothe her hurt feelings by telling herself that they were just shocked and angry, that they did not really mean all they said. Making excuses for them was an old trick, but it was not working as well as it always had before, and Bethia wondered what had changed.

“I was wrong to lie down with Sir Eric, but he is the only mon I have e’er been with.”

“Weel, after tomorrow ye will be his problem,” her mother snapped. “If ye have taken up whorish ways, he will have to beat them out of you.”

“Did ye give no thought to us at all?” demanded her father. “Ye have work to do here, yet now ye must leave us with no one to take your place. I cannae believe we have raised such an inconsiderate child. But then ye have always done as ye pleased, havenae ye?”

“Nay like your sister, God rest her blessed soul,” her mother added, sniffing loudly. “Nay, our Sorcha kenned how to make her parents happy and proud. But she is dead and yet ye are still here. I shall ne’er understand how God could take our angel and leave ye here. It—”

Whatever her mother had been about to say was lost, for James suddenly began to scream. Bethia immediately took the child from Grizel and hugged him, rubbing her hand over his back to soothe him. When James quieted, leaning heavily on her shoulder and sucking on his fingers, Bethia noticed that he was scowling at Grizel. She glanced toward the maid and decided that Grizel looked far too innocent. It was unusual for James to suddenly start yelling and Bethia began to think Grizel had somehow prompted it. Holding James close, she looked back at her parents and caught them looking at James in mild distaste and confusion.

“Are ye sure he is Sorcha’s child?” Lord Drummond asked. “I cannae recall our wee angel making such a horrible noise.”

“This is Sorcha’s son,” Bethia replied. “He can be sensitive. ’Twas probably the anger in the room that started him wailing,” she murmured and kissed the top of James’s head to hide her face in case the lie she had just told was visible there.

“Weel, she did send us word that she had borne Robert a son, so we must believe ye, must we not?”

“Ye wouldnae try to foist some by-blow of yours off as Sorcha’s bairn, would ye?” her mother asked, squinting at James as if she sought some clue in the child.

Bethia could not believe her own mother could say such a thing to her. She had always wondered why her parents had not rushed off to visit with their new grandson. Now she knew. They simply were not interested. It was probably even worse than that if they were so willing to mark James as her bastard just because he was not as perfect as his mother.

“This is Sorcha’s son, and if I must, I will drag every person at Dunncraig before ye to testify to the fact.”

“There is no need to speak so sharply to your mother,” her father said in a cold voice. “Enough talk about the bairn. Ye will be wed on the morrow. I have sent Peter to
fetch a priest. He will hear your confession, and let us pray that he can give ye absolution for all your sins, and then he will marry ye to Sir Eric Murray.”

Bethia feigned a curtsy, and even though she had not been formally dismissed, she hurried out of the great hall, Grizel close behind her. She prayed that she would not have to face her parents again. Her insides churned with a mixture of hurt and fury. Of all the things she had envisioned them saying, she had never once imagined such a cold disregard for James.

“I thought they would love him as they loved his mother,” she said quietly as she entered her bedchamber and set James on the bed.

“Aye, I rather thought the same,” Grizel agreed as she sat down next to the baby and watched Bethia pace her room. “He is such a bonny child and sweet.”

“Except when someone pinches him,” Bethia murmured, glancing at Grizel and smiling faintly when the woman blushed. “Ye must cuddle him now so that he forgets it or thinks ye didnae do it apurpose.”

Picking the child up and holding him on her lap, Grizel sighed. “I wanted her to shut her mouth.”

“She did. It hurt to hear it, but I wasnae surprised that she wished it was me buried at Dunncraig and nay Sorcha. Howbeit, I must set aside such hurts and set my mind to the care of this lad.” She stepped over to the bed and lightly ruffled James’s curls. “I will raise him and I will protect him.”

“What of the mon ye are about to marry? Will he be willing to take on a bairn as weel as a wife?”

“I may nay ken how Eric feels about being dragged before a priest, but I have no doubt at all that he will accept the charge of James without hesitation. He loves the boy,” she murmured and tried not to feel jealous. “Aye, we will be a family. I just pray to God that I have the strength and wit to make it a good and loving one.”

Eric looked up from the meal he was finishing when Bowen entered the tower room. He leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine, watching closely as the big man shut the door and leaned against it. The look on the man’s rough face told Eric he had not come just to see that he was comfortable in his prison. He had been expecting the man, however. Bowen was more family to Bethia than either of the plump, coldhearted people he had met upon his arrival at Dunnbea.

“Do ye want the lass?” Bowen asked abruptly, his brown eyes narrowing as he closely studied Eric.

“I would have thought that was obvious,” Eric drawled.

“I mean for a wife, ye rogue.”

“I am to be wed to her tomorrow.”

Bowen grimaced and dragged his fingers through his long dark hair. “Aye, that is the plan.”

“Are ye here to offer me another choice?”

“I have kenned the lass since she was little more than a bairn staggering with her first steps. Ye met her parents. Cold bastards who saw only the bonny Sorcha. Little Bethia was naught to them but an annoying shadow that occasionally crossed their path. The much loved Sorcha didnae treat her any better. Me, Wallace, and Peter talked this o’er and we dinnae want her going to a mon who, once the heat has cooled in his blood,
will treat her nay better. At least she kens the way of it here and has made a place for herself.”

Eric smiled faintly. “And so ye will let me go if ye dinnae think I can care for her as she needs to be cared for.”

“Aye.”

“I will marry Bethia. She is mine. I wish I could have had time to make her believe that I want her, but I shall have to deal with that after the vows are said and nay before.”

“Do ye love the lass?”

“I am nay sure what I feel. Running from men trying to kill her and the bairn didnae give me much time to puzzle o’er my feelings. All I ken is that she is mine. The first time I held her, I kenned that I would ne’er allow her to leave me. I kenned the bond in my heart, my mind, my soul. When she became my lover, she sealed her fate. She just doesnae ken it yet,” he added with a slow smile, pleased when Bowen grinned back with perfect male understanding.

“He will be here in but a moment, lass,” said Bowen.

“I suppose it would take a wee bit of time to remove the chains,” she muttered, scowling at the people gathered in the hall, then at Bowen when he grinned.

“Lass, ye bedded down with the mon.”

“That doesnae mean I wish to have him for a husband. Mayhap I just thought he was bonny and decided it was time to take a lover.”

“Aye, and I am about to retire to a monestary.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I ken ye too weel, lass. Ye may nay wish to say it aloud but ye had to love that lad ere ye would bed him. He is a good lad and he will make ye a fine husband.”

Bethia nodded and idly smoothed her hands over the deep green velvet surcoat she wore. Grizel had found some of the gowns Sorcha had left behind, and after a little stitching to make the gowns fit her slimmer shape, Bethia was dressed finer than she had ever been before. Her hair hung loose and a braided gold netting was draped over it. Her parents had made a few sharp remarks about her audacity in wearing her hair as if she was still a maiden bride, but for once, Bethia was able to ignore their disapproval. Eric liked her hair loose.

A murmur amongst the crowd warned her of Eric’s arrival. She watched him as he walked toward her, dressed in his plaid and a fine linen shirt. He was such a beautiful man. Bethia could not help but wonder how he could be happy about this when he could do so much better than her for a wife.

Eric smiled crookedly as he took Bethia’s hand in his and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. She looked nervous and a little sad. She needed assurances from him but now was not the time nor the place to give her any. He kept her hand clasped in his as he looked at Bowen, glancing only briefly at Bethia’s parents who sat on the dais at the head of the hall.

“They ne’er came to speak with me again,” he said.

“Nay. ’Tis settled in their mind,” answered Bowen.

“For all they ken, I could be taking her to a wee shieling in the hills.”

“They have offered ye no dower for me?” asked Bethia.

“Nay, lass, but I am nay needing one.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“Weel, that is verra gallant of you, but whether ye need one or nay, they should have offered one.”

“Dinnae fret yourself o’er it. Come, they are waving us forward. ’Tis time to kneel afore the priest.”

“Eric,” she began as he started to pull her toward where the priest waited for them.

“Ye said ye were mine, didnae ye, my heart?”

“Aye, I did.”

“Weel, we are about to make that a true fact, sanctioned by the church.”

She had no more chance to talk with him. Bethia tried to take comfort in the fact that she felt no reluctance in him. He might not have chosen her, but he did not appear to abhor the idea of being bound to her. As the priest muttered over them, she prayed she was not about to plunge herself into a lifetime of heartache.

The wedding feast was not as bad as she had feared. Her parents concentrated on the vast array of food set out before them and paid little attention to her. The people of
Dunnbea seemed to be genuinely happy for her. Wallace, Bowen, and Peter sat across from her and Eric, ignoring her parents’ disapproval over two men-at-arms sitting so high up the table, and they kept conversation going. Bethia relaxed a little when she saw that Eric and the three men were very friendly.

“Ye arenae eating much,” Eric said as he offered Bethia a slice of apple.

“I was a wee bit nervous,” she murmured.

“Ye are looking verra beautiful, Bethia.”

“Sorcha left some of her gowns here and Grizel did them o’er to fit me.”

“Are there others?”

“Aye, nearly a dozen. Why?”

“Weel, I would prefer to buy ye your gowns myself and I can afford to, but ye may have need of some finery ere we can get some in the usual way. Can Grizel make some others o’er to fit ye?”

“Certainly, but why?” She sipped at her wine as she frowned at him, for he was looking very serious.

“I may have to go to court e’en before I can take ye to meet my family.”

“Court?” Bethia nearly choked on her wine. “I cannae go to court.”

“Of course ye can. Ye are my wife now. Where I go, ye go, at least most of the time.” Eric inwardly grimaced, for he had not had time to tell her about his planned trip to the MacMillans.

Bowen and Wallace drew his attention away from her and Bethia tried to calm herself. The mere thought of going to the king’s court put her into a panic. She had never been trained for such things. There would be rules and courtesies to follow that no one had ever taught her. Bethia was terrified that she would shame Eric and wondered if there was any way she could get him to leave her behind when and if he had to go.

The time soon came for her and Eric to retire to their bedchamber. He took her by the hand and led her to her parents so that they could politely take their leave. Bethia held her breath and prayed that her parents would just mutter some bland courtesy and let them escape.

“I think ye could have asked us if ye could ruin Sorcha’s gowns like ye have,” her mother snapped.

Bethia sighed, then frowned at Eric. His grip had tightened almost painfully on her hand and he looked coldly furious. She placed her other hand over their joined ones in a silent bid for peace.

“I didnae wish to shame ye by coming poorly dressed to my wedding,” she said.

Lord Drummond scowled at Eric. “I suppose ye will be taking her away from here.”

“As soon as I am able, sir.”

“Weel, I hope ye have the wit and strength to make her a more obedient and respectful lass. We could ne’er do anything with her. She will be your burden now.”

“Aye, all mine. We wish ye good sleep, laird, m’lady.”

Bethia barely had time to feign a curtsy to her parents before Eric was dragging her from the hall. She caught up her skirts in one hand so that she would not trip as she hurried to keep up with his long strides. Only once did she force him to halt, yanking on his hand as they started to walk past Grizel just inside the doors of the great hall. The grinning maid held James and Bethia gave the boy a kiss on the cheek. Eric paused to do
the same, then started towing her along again. Only a few rowdy bellows followed them out of the hall and Bethia thanked God for the reticence the people of Dunnbea showed.

When they reached the bedchamber that had been assigned to them, Eric gently pushed her inside, slammed the door, and immediately went to the table that held the jug of wine and two goblets. Bethia stood where he had left her, wringing her hands as she tried not to be distressed by his sudden anger. He had a right to it, she told herself firmly, and she should not allow herself to be hurt by it.

“Eric,” she began, wondering how one could possibly apologize for something that would affect the rest of his life, “I am so sorry.”

Eric finished his drink, refilled his goblet, and poured one out for Bethia. “Lass, I have a feeling ye are apologizing for the wrong thing.” He handed her the goblet, smiled briefly, and took another drink.

“Ye are angry. Ye have every right to be angry. I dragged ye into the midst of my danger and now ye have been weel and truly trapped.”

“I dinnae feel trapped, my heart. I wasnae angry because of the wedding. I have ne’er been angry about that. Nay, I was angry at your parents.”

“Oh. Weel, aye, they could have been a wee bit more courteous to you.”

“I am the mon who seduced their daughter. If naught else, they should wish to wring my neck. Nay, ’twas the way they treated ye that stirred my rage. Ye have no idea how close I came to putting my fist in your father’s face.” He smiled at her look of shock. “That is why we left so abruptly, although getting ye into this bedchamber was reason enough.”

Bethia quickly took a deep drink of her wine. She had been shocked, but not by the fact that Eric had wanted to hit her father. What had stunned her was the swift strong wish that he had done so which had swept over her. There was an anger in her that was becoming harder to keep buried. There may be a few things wrong with her hurried marriage, but Bethia began to think it was for the best if she left Dunnbea as soon as possible. Eric would take her away, and perhaps this anger that seemed to have been bred in her would leave before it made her do something she might regret.

“They are still grieving o’er Sorcha’s death,” she said. “It makes them unhappy and thus they are unkind.”

Eric did not believe that for a minute and he had the feeling that, more and more, Bethia was finding such excuses hard to accept. He would never let her know that her parents had almost sent him away, that they had expressed astonishment that he would even bed the lass. It was Bowen, Peter, and Wallace who had insisted upon the marriage. The only feeling he had gotten from her parents was that they were highly annoyed to be losing their servant, the one who kept the keep running so smoothly.

“Soon ye need not try to explain their unkindness, for ye willnae have to deal with it anymore,” he said as he set down his goblet and began to unlace her gown.

“Eric, about James,” she said, wanting to get something said about her nephew before passion made her forget everything but Eric.

“He will stay with us.” He slipped her surcoat off and began to unlace her corset. “I asked Wallace how they acted toward the lad and what he told me was enough to make me ken that we cannae leave him here with them. If Wallace was already the laird, I wouldnae worry, but nay them. They dinnae even believe that he is in danger.”

Bethia hugged him. “Thank ye, Eric. They called him an it,” she whispered. “They
even, briefly, questioned if he was truly Sorcha’s child.”

“Whose else’s could he be?” he asked, then tensed and pulled her away from him enough to look at her face. “Nay, they didnae ask if he was your bastard, did they?” He cursed when she blushed and nodded.

“Weel, they had ne’er seen Sorcha’s son, so they couldnae recognize him as hers. And my having been caught abed with you made them question my morals.” Bethia frowned. “Although I dinnae ken where they thought I had been so that I could get with child, hide the fact, and then have the bairn. Or why I would hide him for a year, then brazenly bring him home. Howbeit, I had shamed myself the once and they were, mayhap, nay so wrong to wonder if I had done so before.”

“Hush,” he said, his voice hoarse with anger. “Nay another word.”

“Eric?”

“Nay, we arenae going to talk about those fools at all. I fear that, if I hear any more of what poison spills from their lips and how ye try to find excuses for it, I shall say something we may both regret.”

His blue eyes were dark with fury and Bethia decided she would abide by his wish to be silent concerning her parents. His outrage on her behalf warmed her. A small part of her still tried to excuse her parents, tried to convince her that they did not deserve Eric’s anger, but it was easily smothered by the delight she felt over his defense of her.

When Eric got her stripped down to her fine linen shift, Bethia nervously finished off her wine and let him take her goblet away. He started to tug off her shift and she closed her eyes. She was still not comfortable with him seeing her naked, but he was her husband. It was his right, and he seemed to enjoy it.

A soft gasp escaped her when he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. She lay there, watching through her lashes as he disrobed. This time the sight of his aroused manhood only excited her and she reached out to stroke it as he climbed onto the bed beside her.

“I am glad ye left your hair loose,” he murmured against her throat, slowly running his tongue along the pulse point in her neck and making her shiver.

“Weel, I wasnae a maid when we said the vows, but ye are the only mon I have e’er been with, so I thought I could pretend without stirring up too much comment.” When he framed her face with his elegant hands, she sighed. “I will try to be a good wife to you, Eric. I ken that ye could have done much better than me for a wife.”

He brushed a kiss over her lips, then slowly covered her breasts with his hands as he kissed his way toward them. “I could have found a lass with more dowry, mayhap a wee piece of land.” He rubbed her nipples into hard points with his thumbs, then took the taut peak of one deep into his mouth. “I could have also found a lass with bigger breasts.” He smiled against her midriff when she gasped softly. “And fuller hips.”

“Aye, ye could have, so why did ye bed me?” she asked sharply, even the passion he was stirring in her unable to ease all the pangs of jealousy she felt.

“Because ye are mine.” He kissed the soft brown curls that sheltered her womanhood, holding her tightly in place when she tried to pull away in shock. “And I dinnae think, in all of Scotland, I would have e’er found one sweeter.”

Bethia’s whole body grew taut with shock when he kissed her, pressing his warm lips against a place she did not even have a polite name for. Barely a heartbeat later, however, shock was replaced by passion. She shuddered beneath the deep intimacy of his
kiss, curling her fingers in his hair to hold him close as he drove her mad with his tongue. He kept her poised on the edge of her release for so long she started to curse him and tried to pull him back into her arms. Suddenly, he relented, joining their bodies with one swift thrust. It was all she needed and she cried out as she was swamped by waves of pleasure.

Eric felt her body clench around his, watched her release transform her face, and felt himself dragged along for the ride. He groaned out her name as he spilled his seed deep within her womb. Slumping down on top of her, he wondered how she could fail to see how perfect they were together. Her innocence had to be what kept her blind to the rarity of the passion they shared, to how beautifully they were matched.

“Ah, Bethia, my own,” he murmured as he rolled over onto his back and tucked her up to his side, “I have nay been a celibate, nay, nor even verra cautious with the ladies, but I have ne’er kenned it to be so wondrous.” He sat up enough to dampen a rag in the bowl of water sitting next to the bed and, ignoring her blushes, washed them both clean before lying down again. “Trust me in this,” Eric said as he pulled her back into his arms.