by Fiona Faris
“Ready to go where?”
“Why, to Gretna Green, where else? We're about five hours out on a fast horse. Which we have. So? Decide. Breakfast or no?”
Rebecca tried to think, which was the better option. One thing she knew for sure, the more she delayed the wedding the more time she was giving somebody – her brother, her men – time to rescue her.
“Breakfast.”
Chris nodded. “Good lassie. Come, let us eat.”
They walked downstairs, the hobbles on her ankles concealed by her long dress, Chris keeping her from falling. She wanted to start shouting for help but knew there was no guarantee that the help she received would be benign. Somebody might take her from the brigand only to do worse to her. For Chris was right; in the eyes of the public, she was soiled goods. She had spent the night with a man in an inn. It did not matter whether something had happened or not.
Rebecca swallowed the lump in her throat. Even if it killed her, she would not cry.
The innkeeper came up to them as they took a seat in the dining hall, a beaming smile on his face. “How was your night? Did you sleep well?” he asked the brigand. Rebecca regarded him with narrowed eyes.
“I see your missus is awake now.”
“Yes yes,” Chris replied with a grin, “We had a lovely little sleep. Now we’re off to get married!”
“I’ll bring you some ale so you can celebrate,” the innkeeper bustled off with a beaming smile. Rebecca wanted to kill every man in the room. Chris was still grinning at her. He leaned toward her, eyes shining with accomplishment.
“You see.” he whispered, “Too late.”
Rebecca simply looked away.
Being on a horse and sitting in front of the brigand while completely lucid was very uncomfortable. Rebecca could feel his crotch pressing up on her backside and she wanted to sidle away from him but there was nowhere to go. She bit back tears, her hands white knuckling the saddle as she stiffened her spine, trying to have as little contact with him as possible.
Still she could feel him behind her, relaxed, whistling, happy. He was very pleased with himself, feeling as if he had outwitted her. Rebecca was determined to prove him wrong. She could lead him to the priest but nothing could make her say the vows.
She smiled, nodding to herself with relief now that she had a plan. The gentle sway of the horse lulled her and as much as she tried to stay alert, she still had the remnants of whatever he gave her in her system and soon she was fast asleep again.
Chris shook her gently awake as they came to a stop in front of the chapel and she started, realizing that her time was up.
Will he kill me when he realizes? She wondered even as she alighted from the horse.
Chris was waiting for her as her feet touched the ground. He turned her around to face him, his demeanor solemn. “Now when we go in there, you might be tempted to say something other than ‘I do’.”
Rebecca snorted, looking away.
“I want to give you a little something to think about before you do that however. Your sister in law, she’s pregnant yes?”
Rebecca turned to face him with narrowed eyes, gnashing her teeth.
“Yes, she is pregnant. And she is at Eddingfield Hall, where one of my men is currently employed in the kitchens-”
“No!” Rebecca screamed.
Chris nodded his head regretfully. “I’m afraid so. And if we do not complete this marriage, my man has been instructed that little Mrs. Emily MacTavish should have a little blue and black cohosh mixed in with her food. Do you know what that does?”
Rebecca shook her head, tears falling unchecked as she stared at him.
“Why, it simply gets rid of the wee baby. Now,” he said leaning in to her conspiratorially, “do you want that?”
She shook her head again.
“Good lassie. So, we are going in there and we’re going to get married. You’ll say your vows all happy like and then it’ll be done. Alright?”
Rebecca nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Good good. Now let us go and be wed.” Chris offered her his hand and she took it, eyes on the ground, tears still flowing freely.
Chris had not wanted it to come to this; threatening a baby was not really his cuppa tea. But he knew that nothing less would get Rebecca to that altar. He needed the leverage of her as his wife in order to deal with her brother. It was that simple.
He had learned that lesson young – never go into a negotiation without leverage. A few months after Killian had figuratively plucked him from the jaws of death, Chris had been given his first job – to climb through the window of an apothecary in order to steal his store of arsenic. He had been terrified as to what use Killian meant to put it to, but really it was not like he was given a choice.
The apothecary had been dark and the only light available was the full moon that peeked through the window. He felt around until he found the accurately described box in which Killian said the arsenic was kept. He picked it up with relief and scurried out of there as fast as possible, his heart pounding so hard he was afraid it would come right out of his chest.
He had walked quickly to the corner of the alley where Killian was waiting and thrust the box into his hands. Killian fumbled for it, and almost dropped it in surprise. “Well well…lookit you. In and out as fast as a squirrel. We might make a bandit outta you yet, aye?”
Chris had nodded his agreement although it was the last thing he ever wanted. He had tried to run three times, and three times they’d brought him back. Now he’d stolen a poison from an apothecary and he had no idea what they meant to do with it.
“Ple-please may I go now?” he had gathered all his courage to ask, not wanting to stay and find out if he had contributed to somebody’s death.
“What? No way, we’re just getting started.” Killian grinned at him, cerulean eyes alight.
Rebecca had very rarely felt this level of fear and nervousness in her life. Even finding herself locked in a dark and dreary jail cell had not elicited this level of panic.
I am about to wed a brigand!
The anvil priest that was to conduct their ceremony did not seem at all fazed by the caliber of criminality he had before him, much to Rebecca’s chagrin. She entertained for a moment, the notion of asking him for help, before remembering what was at stake: her brother’s child.
For witnesses, the priest had brought with him a wedded couple. They smiled gently at Rebecca and Chris but did not otherwise say much.
The priest turned to face them, bible in his hand. “State for me your names please.”
“Christopher Ellis.”
Rebecca flicked her eyes at Chris in surprise, realizing that this was the first she was hearing his last name. She quickly turned back to face the priest however, lest Chris think she was reneging on their pact.
“Rebecca MacTavish.”
“Very good. Now you will stand up and declare that you are both unattached to others.”
Rebecca’s heart stopped, and then plummeted into her shoes.
This is really it. I am shackling myself to this bampot forever!
She emerged from her cloud of panic long enough to hear him reply in the affirmative.
“Ah’m unattached as weel.” She could not stop her voice from shaking.
The priest nodded. “Did you come here of your own free will and accord?”
Rebecca cast a glance at Chris. “Y-yes.”
“Yes, sir we did.” His voice was much louder than hers.
Upon receiving the affirmative answer, the priest commenced filling in the printed form of the certificate.
He turned to Chris. “Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, forsaking all others, kept to her as long as you both shall live?”
Chris nodded, “I do.”
The priest turned to Rebecca, asking her the same question.
Her voice shook but she got the words out. “I do.”
Rebecca produced the ring Chris had handed her on the way over
. She gave it back to him and he in turn handed it to the priest, who then returned it to Chris, “Put it on the fourth finger of the woman’s left hand and repeat these words,” he ordered Chris, “with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.”
Chris took Rebecca’s right hand.
“What God joins together let no man put asunder.” Rebecca said.
“Forasmuch as this man and this woman have consented to go together by giving and receiving a ring, I, therefore, declare them to be man and wife before God and these witnesses in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.” The priest made the sign of the cross as he said the words, and they were married.
Chris had once destroyed a marriage. It was involuntary, as he was not given a choice but he still carried the guilt of it. The worst part was not knowing why. He had simply been instructed to wheedle his way into the house of the local magistrate, and sprinkle the arsenic he’d stolen, in a specific container. He had begged and cried to be let off but Killian reminded him that he owed his life to the bandit.
“Do you want to pay me back? This is how.”
So he had swallowed his spleen and slipped his small body into the grate, landing in the magistrate’s busy kitchen and waited until he saw the white jug with blue flowers – containing a special sauce the mistress of the house sprinkled on her food so that she could enjoy it. She suffered from a condition that numbed her taste buds and the hot sauce was the only thing that helped. Now it would kill her.
And it was Chris’ fault.
Tears were rolling unchecked down his face the entire time he was sprinkling the arsenic into the jug. Nobody stopped him. No one noticed him. He hung around until there was a cry from the dining hall, commotion everywhere.
“The magistrate’s wife been taken bad!” was the cry that reverberated in the kitchens. That was when Chris had left.
“Why?” he asked Killian as they sat around a fire, three days later, joined by two new brigands, freshly released from imprisonment.
“Leverage.” Killian had replied, grinning with maniacal glee at Chris.
Chapter Four
Rebecca could not fathom why the prospect of the marriage bed had not crossed her mind before now. It could have been that she was too busy being terrified about having to wed the brigand, but she honestly had not thought that he would want to consummate.
“The marriage will not be real if we don’t.” he had averred.
“No!” she cried, shaking her head vigorously. It was one thing to say some words in a makeshift chapel, it was another to expect her to…give her body to this man. There was simply no way she was doing that.
“Rebecca you’re being unreasonable.” Chris said with a long suffering sigh.
“Am I? Am I indeed? I dinna agree with that assessment of the situation.” She crossed her arms stubbornly and looked away.
“Here, have a drink. It’ll loosen you up,” Chris picked up his whisky and tried to hand it to her.
She snorted contemptuously. “Ye think I’m going to let ye drug me twice? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.”
“I have not drugged the alcohol, Rebecca. Don’t be silly. You’ve seen me drink from it all evening.”
“I’ve seen no such thing.” Rebecca cried. They were sitting in their room at the inn, Chris having had supper brought to them. For sure she’d seen him lifting the bottle to his lips but what’s to say he wasn’t only pretending to drink?
“Rebecca, I will not force you to lie with me-” Chris began leaning in to stare her in the eye.
“Good, because I’m nae doing it.” She interrupted, shaking her head for emphasis.
“However…” Chris manfully refrained from rolling his eyes, “if you do not consummate the marriage, then the deal is not complete and my man will be forced to put that cohosh in your sister in law’s food. Now, are you willing to risk your nephew’s life to hold on to your virtue?”
Rebecca merely stared daggers at him.
“I did not think so,” he said staring impassively back, “and so tonight, we consummate!” he lifted the bottle in toast and took a long drink.
Rebecca bit her bottom lip, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. She closed her eyes, praying fervently for somebody, anybody to rescue her.
Alexander, help me please!
She would have given anything for her brother to come charging into the room like the wrath of God and whisk her away from this nightmare. But she knew that even if someone had gotten word to him that she had been taken, he had no way to know where she was now and that she was in danger of being defiled.
“Mr. Ellis, please,” she tried to beg, eyes brimming and spilling over.
He reached out and wiped a tear off her cheek. “Don’t you worry darlin’. I’ll make it good for you.”
The last of the brigands were barely out of the gate when Amos, Frances and Benjie were huddling together, trying to figure out a plan to get Rebecca back.
“The villagers are scared. They think Mr. MacTavish’s abandoned them. We can’t rely on them to help.” Amos sighed, shaking his head.
“We must get Himself back then, hadn’t we?” Benjie said.
Frances nodded. “Yes, somebody has to go and get him! He’ll want to know, right away.”
“There’s nobody here but us,” Amos said, his eyes on the stick he used to get around, “How would we get the message through?”
“I’ll go,” Frances said at once.
Benjie and Amos both shook their heads, “It’s too dangerous.” Amos said.
“Well then?” Frances was practically jumping up and down in frustration, “Who?”
“I’ll go.” Benjie said, “I know all the ways out of Dun Alba. I can slip out without anyone noticing. I can get to Himself.”
Frances nodded. “Okay good, I’m going to go and pack some food for you while you collect anything else that you need.”
Amos sighed. “Be careful young man. You never know what traps they’ve left behind.”
“I will, Amos,” Benjie said with a nod, “I’ll be very careful.”
“Go on then. I’ll try to gather as much information as I can as you do that so that we have a place to start once you get back.” Amos straightened up, limping toward the door, “I need to talk to the villagers, see who will be mobilized.”
Frances and Benjie watched him go before springing into action, headed in opposite directions as the gathered what Amos needed for the journey.
Rebecca grabbed the bottle of whisky and took a large gulp.
“Careful now, we don’t want you blacked out.” Chris made a grab for the bottle but Rebecca moved it out of his reach.
“Says who?” she asked taking another gulp.
“I can’t make love to you if you’re unconscious.”
Rebecca scoffed, “As if ye care.”
“I do care. You completely misunderstand me, my lady. I will not hurt you.”
Rebecca simply turned away, a sneer on her face. Chris got to his feet, reached for the bottle and put it aside. Rebecca stared up at him, awaiting his next move.
He looked down at her, eyes glazed with either drunkenness or lust she didn’t know. “Take off your clothes.”
Rebecca was already shaking her head before he finished speaking. He sighed, as if he did not want it to come to this. “Have you already forgotten the repercussions if you refuse?”
Rebecca looked around the room. “This place is dirty; the walls are thin. I willna have ye take my virginity where everybody can hear ye. I’ll do it when we get back.”
Chris gave her a cynical smile. “Is that so? Or do you mean to keep finding excuses to say no until your dear brother comes to your rescue?”
Rebecca shook her head vigorously. “No. But if’n ah‘m truly yer wife, I deserve this consideration. Ye willna make me the laughing stock of this inn by-”
“Do
you think you’d be the first woman to wind somebody’s little ball o’ yarn here?” he interrupted in irritation, “Women are wantin’ pumped at this inn every day.”
“Perhaps. But I bet it isna their first time.” she spat.
“Is it yours?” he shot back. Before she knew it, her hand had shot out and she had slapped his cheek hard enough to sound like a pistol shot. She startled herself with how loud it was and her palm stung from the impact. She held her breath, eyes wide as she waited for Chris’ reaction, braced for violence. A red handprint stood out on his cheek as he glowered at her.