Heroes of Honor: Historical Romance Collection

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Mairghread breathed through her nose and tried to calm her rising panic. She no longer feared Alan raping her, but she much more feared Sorcha’s bitterness and vindictiveness. Mairghread understood a woman could be far crueler in her jealousy than a man. She tried to piece together what had happened since she pulled herself out of the river. She vaguely remembered being dragged along the mud by two people, but she had not had the strength to look around. Blackness kept overtaking her every time she tried to open her eyes. She remembered a sense of floating, but now she realized someone must have been carrying her. She looked again at Sorcha. There was no way she carried Mairghread anywhere which meant another man had been there to do Sorcha’s bidding. Mairghread was noticing the various aches and pains in her body after the fall from the horse, the painful but short ride on Alan’s lap, and then the icy swim she had taken. She also became acutely aware that she was naked under the sheet.

  Bluidy bleeding hell! I’m bound, gagged, and naked with nae memory of how I came to be in this position. Ma betrothed’s scorned lover is holding me captive after ma scorned whatever Alan was to me lost me in a river. How the bluidy hell am I going to get out of this? I’m certain Tristan is looking for me, but does he even have a clue where I am? I dinna ken where I am. I canna even ask since I’ve this rag in ma mouth.

  Mairghread looked around the chamber as she tried to get her bearings for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. The chamber was well appointed with glass in the windows and tapestries on the wall to cut down the chill. She noticed clean rushes on the floor. The bed upon which they tied her had a soft mattress and clean sheets with blankets and furs at the foot of the bed. Just as Mairghread was calming since she realized she was in a keep somewhere, her world tilted again.

  “Och, the chit is awake?” Mairghread turned her head towards the door as Lady Beatris entered. Beatris moved to Mairghread’s bedside and looked down at her. “Ye were so sure ye were too good for ma son, but tis ma son who is too good for ye. We have heard all aboot how ye’ve been carrying on with Tristan. Ye’ve been used more than a tavern wench in an alley.”

  Mairghread squinted her eyes as she took in Beatris’s pinched face. The longer Mairghread stared at her, the redder her face grew. Before Mairghread managed to change her expression, Beatris’s hand whipped across Mairghread’s cheek, making it sting and smart. Mairghread refused to flinch or allow her eyes to water despite how much her cheek hurt. This only infuriated Beatris more. She slapped Mairghread twice more before Sorcha grabbed her wrist.

  “As much as I would like to do the same, marking her face will make her harder to sell.”

  Sell! What are they talking aboot? Mairghread looked back and forth between the two women.

  Beatris looked back down at Mairghread and smirked at her confusion.

  “Aye, we plan to sell ye to a Norse slaver who comes by every fall. Ye will be a Norseman’s bed slave before Christmastide.” Beatris cackled as she moved across the room. Before leaving, she turned back to Mairghread, “I hope ye learned something from Tristan’s time between yer thighs. Ye’ll need that knowledge if ye hope to survive yer new master.”

  Beatris’s laugh floated to Mairghread even after the door closed.

  “Dinna pretend to be so shocked. Nay woman who holds Tristan’s interest is an innocent. He likes his women to ken their way around a cock. If he’s still sniffing at yer skirts, ye must do something right to his cock.” Sorcha sneered at Mairghread as she, too, moved to the door and then left.

  Alone, Mairghread tried to process everything she had just learned. They assumed her to no longer be a virgin, and they planned to sell her to a Norse slave trader.

  How the hell am I going to get out of this? I’m still bound and gagged and naked. Naught aboot that has changed. I have two women ready to send me to ma death or a life of hell, and I still dinna ken where I am. Tristan couldnae ken Sorcha is with Beatris, and even though he kens where he sent Beatris, he canna ken they have me. Where did he say he sent Beatris?

  Mairghread’s normally steal trap memory failed to recall which clan Tristan said Beatris was from. Her mind was fuzzy from exhaustion and the physical pain she was in. She shifted on the bed, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders, but it only made her moan from the pain that shot through every part of her. Her eyes closed, and she felt herself drifting. She was just about to fall asleep when the door creaked. Her eyes flew open as a young woman of about eighteen or nineteen summers entered the room. Mairghread took in the pattern of the girl’s plaid. MacDonnells! At least now she knew where she was. The woman carried a tray with food on it. Mairghread’s stomach growled as the scents wafted towards her. She realized she had not eaten since breaking her fast earlier that morning. She looked out the window to a setting sun.

  “Ma lady, I will remove yer gag but ken that there are two guards outside yer door. If ye scream, they will come in.” The young woman allowed her eyes to trail over Mairghread’s restrained body. With only a thin sheet covering her, it was better than nothing but left little to the imagination. The woman set the tray down and inched towards the bed. She approached as though she was nearing an injured wild animal. Mairghread tried to relax her body and her expression, so the woman would realize she had nothing to fear. The woman untied the gag from Mairghread’s mouth. Her throat ached, and her jaw was sore from being pried open for so long.

  “Water,” she whispered. Her voice was rough from unuse. “Please.”

  “Here ye are, ma lady.” The young woman placed a waterskin to Mairghread’s lips and allowed her to drink. “Nae too much too soon, or ye will be ill.”

  After sipping, Mairghread anticipated her voice would be closer to normal, so she attempted speaking again. It was still craggy but much stronger.

  “Who are ye? What’s yer name?”

  The young woman looked wary to answer but did anyway. “I am Alyson.”

  Alyson. Just like ma Alys back home. Perhaps she will help me.

  “Alyson, ye’re a MacDonnell, right? Is that where we are? The MacDonnell keep?”

  Alyson only nodded her head. She looked towards the door and put a finger to her lips. She neared Mairghread’s head and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “I dinna ken who else might be in the passageway. I am only to feed ye and allow ye to use the chamber pot. They warned me nae to speak to ye, but I dinna think this is right. They shouldnae tied ye up like a boar waiting for the spit.”

  While Mairghread did not appreciate the comparison to a grizzly boar, but the similarities did not escape her. She could not help but smile. Alyson looked at her as if she had gone soft in the head.

  “If I dinna smile, then I will surely start crying. I dinna even ken how I got here, but I ken Beatris and Sorcha plan me harm. If they succeed, they will start a clan war between the MacDonnells and the Sinclairs and Mackays. Neither ma father nor ma betrothed will stand for this.”

  “Isnae Alan yer betrothed? I was under the impression he was why ye were here.”

  “Nay!” Mairghread answered in a harsh whisper. “Alan stole me from Mackay lands and then lost me in the river. I washed up on the shore, and the next thing I kenned I was waking up here to find Sorcha and Beatris planning to sell me to a Norse slaver.” Mairghread was no sure why she shared all of this with Alyson, but she was overwhelmed and, frankly, terrified.

  A knock came on the door, and it opened a crack. A guard stuck his nose in and looked around. When his eyes landed on Mairghread, he leered at her and licked his lips. He looked over at Alyson. “Yer time is up. Come now.”

  “Nonsense, Duncan. Ye ken I just walked in. I must still feed Lady Mairghread. Close the door and wait for me to come out. Open it again, and I’ll tell the laird ye’ve been harassing his guest.”

  When the door closed, Mairghread raised her eyebrows. “Guest?”

  “Aye. Nay one kens who ye are, and no one kens ye’re tied up and gagged. Lady Beatris and Sorcha didna tell anyone who ye are, and they definitely d
idna tell the laird what they did or why they placed guards at yer door. I only ken because Sorcha is ma cousin and she forced me to serve ye. Nay offense intended, ma lady.” Alyson’s cheeks pinkened when she realized how the last part came out.

  “Dinna be embarrassed. I am more than enough embarrassed for both of us. Sorcha is yer cousin? Does that mean she is a MacDonnell?”

  “Nay, ma lady. Sorcha and her parents are Mackays. I am, too, but ma mother remarried a MacDonnell when I was still a wean. We moved here, and I have been here ever since.”

  “How does yer laird nae ken he has a prisoner in one of his guest chambers?”

  “Lady Beatris and Sorcha pretended nae to recognize ye. Sorcha and one guardsman brought ye to the keep. They claimed to find ye by the river. Ye were soaking wet and yer kirtle was in tatters. It was such a distraction that nay body asked why they were there. It seemed to make sense. Lady Beatris had them bring ye above stairs, and both women promised to tend to ye. The laird agreed as he gives in to Lady Beatris to keep the peace. He canna stand his stepmother.”

  “Stepmother? How is that? She’s Laird Mackay’s stepmother too.”

  Alyson brought a bowl of steaming broth over to the bedside. She put it down on the table next to the bed and moved the pillows behind Mairghread’s head and shoulders to prop her up enough, so she could swallow without choking. She held the bowl to Mairghread’s lips and let her sip.

  “Aye well, Lady Beatris married the auld laird after his first wife died. Lady Mary, the auld laird’s first wife, had already birthed two sons and three daughters before she passed. Lady Beatris arrived a short time later because the laird needed a mother for his children. She didna take any interest in the bairns and weans once she was wedded and bedded. Her belly started swelling with Sir Alan within four moons. As I’ve heard it, it raised some eyebrows, but the auld laird liked his pretty young bride though she still left the auld laird’s children without a mother. Lady Beatris spoiled Sir Alan when he was a wean, and his aulder brothers and sisters didna take to him. When the current laird became laird, Lady Beatris left to marry Laird Mackay. Sir Alan was about three or four, I believe.”

  In all her conversations with Tristan, Lady Beatris and Alan’s history before arriving at the Mackays never came up. Mairghread wondered how much Tristan knew.

  “How have Lady Beatris and Sorcha settled in to being here now? What about Sir Alan? How long has Sorcha been here?” Mairghread had been under the impression that Sorcha was still living in a croft on her own. She had not known Sorcha left Mackay land.

  “Lady Beatris and Sir Alan arrived with Mackay guards several sennights ago. Sorcha only arrived less than a sennight ago. Lady Beatris claimed Sorcha was her maid from when she lived with the Mackays and that she needed Sorcha’s help, that nay one was better at dressing her hair than Sorcha. Alan seemed keen to have Sorcha keep him company most nights since none of the MacDonnell women want to warm his bed. The laird has already had to stop Alan from assaulting more than one woman in the keep.”

  “Sorcha wasna Lady Beatris’s maid at the Mackay keep. Sorcha was a kitchen worker and server along with the laird’s lover.” It galled Mairghread to admit that out loud, but there was nothing for he to do that would change the past. She could not undo Tristan’s history with other women, and if she was being honest with herself, she benefited immensely from Tristan’s practice before she came along.

  “Sorcha was Laird Mackay’s lover? She’s now Alan’s. They seemed to ken each other vera well when she arrived. Vera well indeed.”

  “I wonder if Alan was bedding her while Tristan was, too. It wouldnae surprise me in the least.”

  By now, Mairghread had finished the broth and the bit of crusty bread that went with it. Alyson cleaned up and replaced the bowl on the tray. She looked at Mairghread and shook her head.

  “Ma lady, I canna untie ye. Lady Beatris or Sorcha would nay doubt kill me if they found ye free. But I also canna bring maself to gag ye either. Will ye promise nae to scream or even make a peep? If ye will remain silent, I willna gag ye.”

  “I will remain silent.” For now. “Thank ye for yer kindness.”

  “Aye, well I will be back before I retire for the night. I will bring more broth and help ye with the chamber pot if needed.”

  Mairghread could only nod her head to that. She realized that meant she was not even going to be untied to use the necessary if Alyson was offering to assist her with the chamber pot. How bluidy humiliating. Hmmm. I canna even remember how many times I have sworn today. I willna be able to confess all of them. I doubt I’m done for the day either. If either of those bitches return, well there is one more, I dinna think I can stop maself from heaping more curses upon them.

  Mairghread looked out the window again. The sun had set. It was evening, and she barely made out the sounds of people gathering in the Great Hall below. She was overwhelmingly tired. If I just close ma eyes for a wee while, I will regain ma strength for when I need to fight. For a fight I will give them, if they think to give me over to a Norseman.

  Chapter Nineteen

  T

  he search party made up of Mackay warriors, the Mackay laird, and the brothers Sinclair arrived at the MacDonnell keep just as the evening meal was being laid out. Tristan and the Sinclairs entered the Great Hall with a contingent of MacDonnell warriors surrounding them. They had agreed to surrender their weapons before entering the keep, but each of them had at least one dirk hidden in a boot. No warrior was ever without a weapon. Tristan looked around and spotted Lady Beatris seated at the dais. Two chairs down from her was the current laird, Malcolm MacDonnell. Laird MacDonnell looked up as the visitors approached the dais. He looked surprised to see Mackays and Sinclairs entering his keep together. Peacefully.

  “To what do I owe this surprise visit?” He boomed from his seat. He stood and moved down to the floor to greet his guests. “Tristan, I havenae seen ye in ages. How are ye? Since when have ye become friendly with the Sinclairs?” While the McDonells and Sinclairs lived far enough apart that they could not easily antagonize one another, they were not exactly warm to one another either. The four Sinclair brothers assumed their usual position of a semicircle with their arms crossed and feet planted hip-width apart.

  “Malcolm, I am betrothed to Lady Mairghread Sinclair. Our mutual brother stole her from ma land today. Was she brought here?”

  “Alan? Nay. I havenae seen him all day.”

  “I didna ask if Alan was here. I ken where he is. What I dinna ken is where ma woman is.” He growled the last part. Malcolm’s eyebrows shot up. He had fair hair, fair skin, and fair eyebrows, so his eyebrows seemed to almost disappear. He turned his sharp blue eyes on his former stepmother who was eying the group of men warily. As she began to rise, Malcolm grasped Tristan’s arm and waved him towards his solar. “If ye want to learn aught, this is nae the place to do it. Ye ken she will only interfere. Come to ma solar. All of ye.”

  The men made their way to the back of the Great Hall and entered Laird MacDonnell’s private sanctum. A small fire burning in the hearth warmed his solar. There were plenty of chairs available, and a large round table sat in the center. Laird MacDonnell moved to the sideboard and pulled out tin cups and a bottle of whisky. He poured and handed out the cups. Before speaking again, he took a long draw from his own cup. He looked at the Mackay and each of the Sinclairs. They looked haggard and impatient. He could only imagine what his bastard of a half-brother had done now.

  “As I said, I havenae seen Alan all day. He rode out early this morning and hasnae returned.”

  “And I told ye I ken where he is. He’s dead and tied to a horse in yer bailey.”

  “What!” Before he got any further, there was a soft knock.

  “Enter!”

  Alyson entered with a tray overflowing with trenchers. She eased into the room and placed the tray on the table. With her head down, she moved about the table handing out the trenchers of steaming stew. As she moved next to Magnus,
he dipped his head to look at her face.

  “Thank ye, lass. Ma stomach thought ma mouth ran away.” Alyson giggled and blushed. She looked up, and saw Magnus’s face for the first time. She gasped and dropped the trencher she was about to place before Magnus. “Lass, are ye all right? What is it? I didna ken I was that ugly.”

  “Ye’re, ye’re, ye’re. Well, ye’re ye.” Alyson stammered, unable to gather her thoughts. She was looking at Lady Mairghread’s face but the masculine version, and instead of stormy, angry blue-gray eyes there were warm, whisky brown eyes staring at her. Alyson looked around the table and began to shake. “Ye’re her brothers, arenae ye?”

  “Where is she?” Tristan bellowed as he shoved his chair back. He reached across to Malcolm and grabbed his leine. “Where is Mairghread? What the hell have ye done with her?”

  Malcolm tried to break Tristan’s grip, but Tristan only yanked harder. He only moved Malcolm an inch as they were well matched in height, size, and strength.

  “Ye come to ma keep and begin accusing me of what I dinna even ken!”

  “Ma lairds, please. I can explain. Please.” Alyson looked to Magnus for help. He was the only huge man in the room who did not terrify her.

  “Tristan, calm down. Ye’re scaring the lass too badly for her to talk.” Magnus stood and wrapped an arm around Alyson. “Come now, lass what is it ye ken? What can ye tell us? Ye can see that Laird Mackay is out of his mind with worry.”

  Alyson looked up at Magnus and smiled shyly. She turned to examine at the other men who all wore an expectant expressions on their faces.

  “Sorcha brought Lady Mairghread in today.”

  “Sorcha? What is she doing here?” Tavish piped in. “I thought she was still on Mackay land.”

  “As did I. Nay one reported to me that she had left.” Tristan did not know who to direct his anger at now. Malcolm for having his beloved. Sorcha for whatever her involvement was. Or his guardsmen who had failed to report Sorcha left her croft and Mackay land altogether.