by Fiona Faris
From behind the barn, Toby watched them with a frown on his face.
Dinner could only be described as awkward. The men were not used to formal dining and did not know how to treat Rebecca who sat at Chris’ right hand. Onesmus sat at his left hand, face impassive, while Toby glowered from the other end of the table. Rebecca insisted that Amos and Frances join them which made things that much more uncomfortable. Frances and one of Chris’ men served the food.
“Why are you smiling?” Chris asked Rebecca as Ronald put a plate in front of her.
“Nothing. I am just…amused.”
“At what? Pray tell so the rest of us can smile too.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I was just reflecting on how strange it is for us to be sharing a table like this.”
Chris nodded, lips twisting wryly. “Indeed. We plan and God laughs, no?”
Rebecca shrugged, looking back down at her plate. At the other end of the table, Toby snorted loudly. Onesmus turned toward him. “You have something to add Toby?”
The other man looked up with raised eyebrows. “Me? No sir. I am just wondering if we all forgot what we are doing here.”
“I don’t think anyone forgot,” Onesmus’ voice was tight with annoyance. “In any case, that is no conversation for the dinner table. Maybe save it for the next palaver.”
Toby snorted again and shook his head in discontent before turning back to his food. The other brigands at the table looked from him to Onesmus, and then to Chris who was occupied with the chicken on his plate and seemingly oblivious to the tension.
“The chicken is delicious,” he said to Rebecca.
She smiled, looking to Frances. “Weel ye can credit Frances for that.”
Chris turned to the former lady’s maid. “Thank you, Frances.”
She blushed crimson and looked down at her plate.
Chris looked toward the rest of the men at the table. “Gentlemen, do you not think this chicken is good? Won’t you compliment the cook?”
There was a chorus of awkward thank you’s around the table and Frances buried her face even further in her chin, her hand trembling with embarrassment. As quickly as she could, she finished her food and asked to be excused. Once she had scurried off to the kitchen ostensibly to see about dessert, Rebecca turned to Chris giving him a look. “Now see what ye did.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes in a long suffering manner. “What did I do now?”
“Ye embarrassed the puir lassie. Now she’ll ne’er come ou’ the kitchen again.”
Chris laughed incredulously. “You’re the one who told me to thank the cook.”
“I didn’t mean like that!”
“Well then how did you mean it?”
“She’s shy, a simple head nod would’ve been enough o’ an acknowledgement.”
Chris sighed loudly. “There’s just no pleasing you.”
There was a clatter as a spoon hit a plate and they all looked up as Toby got to his feet, his face like thunder. “You’re going to let her talk to you like that? Are you under her thumb now? What is this, happy families?”
Chris just looked at him calmly. “You should sit down, Toby.”
“No. I didn’t come here to watch you coddle your little whore while we-.” He stopped talking abruptly at the look on Chris’ face.
Chris slowly got to his feet, taking the napkin and dabbing delicately at his mouth before discarding it and facing Toby across the table. “I’m going to excuse you this time because I know where you come from, Toby, but if you ever call my wife a whore again, be ready to defend your position with pistols at dawn.”
Rebecca sat frozen, one hand on her spoon as she watched them glare at each other. She cleared her throat, hoping to break the tension in the room but they both ignored her.
“You’re making a mistake.” Toby said at last.
Chris stepped away from the table and everyone stopped eating to watch. “Am I? And you would do better than I have?”
Toby blanched, not quite ready to take Chris on. He was perfectly aware what the man was capable of. “I am trying to help you.”
Chris took a step toward him, hazel eyes gone cold and dead. “If I want your help, I will ask for it.”
Toby backed down, sitting down and picking up his spoon. Chris continued to watch him for a while but Toby did not raise his head again.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Chris asked.
“What?” Toby asked, glancing at him before returning his eyes to his plate.
“You haven’t apologized to my wife.” Chris bit out.
Toby lifted his head, looking like he’d swallowed a particularly bitter lemon. “My apologies madam,” he said in Rebecca’s general direction.
Rebecca nodded jerkily, feeling her heart pounding, “It’s quite alright.” She glanced at Chris to see if her response was enough to take the murderous expression off his face. He walked slowly back to his seat, face still closed and picked up his spoon.
“We are going to have a nice dinner, and we are all going to get along, understood?” he announced to the table at large.
There was a chorus of ‘Yes sirs’ around the table and Rebecca looked around at all the hardened criminals cowed by her husband in awe. Clearly there was more to him than the joking ridiculousness or searing passion. She took a deep shaky breath and resumed eating.
Rebecca did not know where she was supposed to sleep so she simply returned to the room she’d been sharing with Frances. The other woman seemed surprised to see her.
“Mistress Rebecca, what are you doing here?”
Rebecca shrugged. “I dinna ken.”
She slumped down on the bed, feeling a little defeated by everything.
“Won’t…he come looking for you?” the way Frances said ‘he’ it was as if she was trying to avoid invoking the devil’s name. Rebecca smiled wryly to herself.
“I dinna ken.”
She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. Frances came to sit next to her. “This must be difficult for you eh?” she said with surprising insight.
“It is very confusing.”
“He seemed much taken with you at dinner; making that other one apologize.”
“Ye saw that did ye?”
“Yes, I was…peeking from the kitchen.”
The looked at each other and then burst out laughing, stopping abruptly when the door burst open. “I’ve been looking for you,” Chris said striding in and coming to stand almost between her legs.
Rebecca sat up. “I’ve been here.”
“I see that. Why are you here and not in our chambers?”
Rebecca gawped at him, “Our chambers?”
“Yes. Where we sleep. As a married pair.”
Rebecca was at a loss. “And where is that?”
“Get your things, and follow me.”
He turned and strode out of the room. Rebecca and Frances gawped at each other before the former got to her feet and the latter began to rush around, gathering Rebecca’s gowns together. As a team, they were able to gather her things together and put them in a portmanteau for transportation. Frances hurried out of the room and waylaid Onesmus on his way to his watch.
“My mistress needs her things moved.” She told him.
“And why are you telling me?” he asked.
She gaped at him in surprise. “So you can carry the things.” She said as if it should be obvious to all and sundry.
Onesmus lifted an eyebrow but followed Frances anyway to the room and picked up the portmanteau when she pointed at it. “Where does it go?”
Frances looked to Rebecca who looked to Onesmus. “Where is Chris sleeping?”
Onesmus shrugged but the dilemma of where the portmanteau would go was resolved when Chris himself reappeared in the doorway. “What’s keeping you?”
“We dinna ken where ye went to.” Rebecca did not keep the slightly reproving tone out of her voice.
“Well here I am. Let’s go.” He tur
ned and walked away again, Onesmus on his heels with Frances and Rebecca taking up the rear. They followed Chris meekly as he set off for the North wing and the master suite. Rebecca slowed as they approached the room which had been set aside for Alexander and Emily. Chris walked confidently into the room even though Emily’s night gown was still hanging off a nail by the door.
“We canna sleep here,” she protested.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the MacTavish’s room.”
Chris frowned. “It’s ours now.”
Rebecca stared at him, at a loss for words. “Ye can’t just take ov-”
“But I have.” He interrupted, directing his glare at her. She stepped back, for the first time, truly afraid.
“Why? There are so many other rooms.”
“I want this one.”
Onesmus put her bag down and walked out, propelling Frances before him. He shut the door behind him, leaving them alone. Rebecca took a deep breath, her back to the door.
“You seem afraid.”
“I’m not.”
“Then come away from the door.” He gestured with his hand for her to approach him. Slowly, she unstuck herself from the door, hesitated a little and then began to walk to the bed. She bent down and opened her portmanteau.
“You don’t need to unpack this minute.” He said.
“I have to find my night gown.”
“What for? We have a fire roaring in the grate. You can sleep naked.”
She widened her eyes at him. “No!”
He advanced on her like a predator circling its prey. “What do you mean, no?” his eyes glittered with something…she could not tell if it was lust, or anger.
“I mean…I canna do tha’.” She could hear as well he could, how breathless her voice got at the last word. This Chris was different than the one she had been traveling with for the past two weeks. He held himself as if expecting attack at any time; he was sharper, colder, less accommodating. She did not know why he made her weak with desire.
It was unconscionable.
He caught hold of her hand, and pulled her toward him. “I have a lot on my plate at the moment, dear wife. And I refuse to have one of those things be fighting with you. I understand that it’s different. We are at your home now and you are reminded of your conflicting loyalties-”
“There’s nothing conflicting about them,” Rebecca said.
“Don’t interrupt me.” Chris tightened his hold on her arm, “Now as I was saying, I understand that your loyalties are conflicted but you are my wife, and if my men are to treat you as such, then you have to act like it. None of this disagreeing with me in public or giving me lip. Do you understand?”
His eyes bored into hers and Rebecca was ashamed to find that she was not unaffected. She wanted to lower her eyes and submit but her pride and stubbornness won out.
“I understand that ye think I have some kind of obligation to ye just because ye carted me off and tricked me into marriage.”
Chris sighed, shaking his head. “Is that what you think?” he shook her a little as if he wanted to shake some sense into her. “What do you think will happen if my men see you as hostile? Do you think you’ll be able to walk around freely? Do you think you’ll be able to help your people? No. They will watch you like a hawk, and stop you from doing anything but sitting on your thumbs. I am trying to help you.”
Rebecca snorted. “Ye just dinna want them to ken ye haven’t conquered me.”
Chris smirked. “Haven’t I?” he swooped down, covering her lips with his, and this time he was bruising, biting at her bottom lip and suckling her tongue like he meant to melt it into extinction. She stood still for it for a short time before pulling away from him.
“What is wrong with ye?” she asked, letting her irritation show.
“Nothing is wrong with me.”
“Why are ye acting like this?”
His breathe was coming hard as he stared at her. “I’m sorry…it’s just…” He looked away.
She took a step closer to him. “What?”
He sighed. “You’re not the only one with conflicting loyalties.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alexander’s men were extremely weary and afraid by the time they arrived at Eddingfield Hall. Connell led them into the compound, prepared to take all the blame for their ambush. He was well aware of MacTavish’s temper and was not looking forward to imparting the news that not only had they managed to lose his sister but that she had been abducted and forced to elope with a brigand.
It was grave news to bring a man on any day of the week, but Alexander had also recently lost his father in law and was knee deep in dealing with administration of the estate. This was a distraction he could do without. Connell deeply regretted that they were not bringing better news.
A footman hurried forward to take charge of their horses as soon as they were reached the front door. Connell alighted, followed by Benjie and then the other four men. The butler appeared at the door, looking at Connell expectantly.
“We’re here to see the MacTavish. Is he around?”
The butler lifted his chin. “Do you have an appointment.”
“No sir. We bring news of his sister.”
The butler hesitated, clearly reluctant to abandon protocol but knowing full well that if he prevented these men from imparting their news and Rebecca suffered as a result, he would be looking for new employment.
“The master and his lady are ensconced in a meeting with their midwife. They specifically asked not to be disturbed.”
Connell paled. “The lady is in labor?”
The butler frowned. “Of course not. Tis too early for that. She is merely monitoring my lady’s progress.”
Connell visibly relaxed. “Good. Well, please inform the MacTavish that our news is urgent.”
The butler looked from one to the other, seeing their sober miens and then gestured for them to follow him. “Wait in the parlor. I shall inform him of your presence.”
They stood around, shifting from foot to foot, none dared to sit or relax. Not too long after the butler disappeared, a tall strapping man with Rebecca’s eyes and a full head of long brunette hair, came barreling into the room, eyes wide and anxious. “Connell.” he breathed, and then looked around, “Benjie? Alistair, Monroe, Lachlan, Boyd...why are ye here and why have ye left my sister alone with none but an old steward and a woman to defend her?” He was already advancing toward Connell, hands out, ready to grasp a collar and squeeze answers out of him if they did not come fast enough.
“We did not leave of our own volition,” Connell began, heart quaking.
“What d’ye mean? Speak plain.”
Connell took a deep breath and began, telling Alexander the story of their ambush, and how they were immediately separated from Rebecca.
“We tried everything we could to escape but…” he shook his head with despair, expecting that Alexander might cut it off.
“Where is my sister the noo?” his eyes glittered with urgency, and not even the door opening could distract him. Connell however, darted a glance in that direction to see that it was Mrs. MacTavish who had come in. She looked curiously at her husband and the man he had captive, fisting his shirt.
“What’s going on?” she asked softly, hands reaching unconsciously to cover her belly.
“They have Rebbie.” Alexander said hoarsely, without turning away from Connell or loosening his hold on his shirt.
“Who has her?” Emily’s voice rose in alarm as she took another step nearer.
“Those brigands that were assailing us.”
“What?”
Alexander finally let go of Connell so that he could go and hug his wife. “Connell says she was alive when they were dumped in the Forest of Dean and they followed them to Gretna Green where they confirmed that that man really did marry her.” Alexander ground his teeth together as he looked over Emily’s head at Connell, his eyes narrowed.
“We thought that we nee
ded reinforcements to get her out and that if he had married her he wouldna easily kill her.” Connell hastened to explain.
“They willna kill. They will use her to bargain with me.” Alexander’s voice was wrecked, as if he had been crying for hours.