by Wine, Mary
It was a common enough thing, for many crofters paid their due to the laird in goods. Much of the grain used to produce the bread in the kitchens was from rent payments. Everything from chickens to pelts. The common people offered a percentage of their yearly toil to the laird, who, in turn, maintained Retainers who would protect those living on his land.
“I’ll show ye what happens to those who steal from the Mackenzie.” Fenella sent Rhedyn a scathing look.
The rest of the kitchen staff abandoned their work.
Clearly, they understood Fenella. A few appeared reserved about watching whatever was to come, but they hid behind the ones who pushed forward to make certain they had an unobstructed view.
“Put her across the table, Tyree.” Fenella turned and went toward a wall.
She held up a long rod as the Butler grabbed Rhedyn by the wrists and stretched her across the work table. Rhedyn barely had time to wrinkle her nose at being forced face-down on the remains of the meat which someone had been cutting on that table before Fenella unleashed a blow that landed across her arms.
The pain was sharp and excruciating.
Rhedyn struggled to draw in a breath as the rod came down again.
“Ye’ll no touch a single thing which has no’ been given to ye so long as I am in charge of this house!” Fenella declared between blows.
Tears streamed down Rhedyn’s face as she struggled against the hold on her wrists. But the Butler was strong, pulling until she felt like her wrists were going to be ripped clean off her arms. She was helpless.
“That’s ten now,” Tyree surprised Rhedyn by speaking.
The Butler started to release her, but Fenella gasped.
“Ye’ll be next if ye let her loose!” she declared. “This Lindsey needs to learn her place.”
The rod came down again. Fenella was peppering the blows up and down Rhedyn’s arms. The Head-of-House was breathing hard as she wielded the rod without mercy.
“She’ll get ten across the back as well!” Fenella informed those watching. The rod descended several more times.
The snickers of the maids watching horrified Rhedyn more than the pain. Turning her head, she gazed at Fenella. There was a sick look of satisfaction on the woman’s face as she lifted the rod and brought it down again. This time, she struck Rhedyn across the shoulders. The impact sent the breath out of her.
She’d lost count of the blows, and her vision began to waver. She felt blackness approaching and welcomed it. What was the point of enduring when all there was to experience was more pain? Her pride wasn’t going to grant her relief from the agony being inflicted on her body.
She sunk down into the welcoming fold of unconsciousness only to be awakened by a splash of cold water. Rhedyn was laying across the table top still, water soaking into her hair and back.
“Think ye’ll be escaping by fainting? Ye’ll feel every last blow,” Fenella declared ominously. “Hold her, Tyree.”
“Enough now, mistress,” the Butler argued. “Ye’ve given her near to twenty blows. Take it to the laird if ye feel she needs more punishment.”
“I am the Head-of-House.” Her tone was edged with grief and fury. “Me only son was cut down with Iain! I’ll not suffer this Lindsey thief!”
“Hold!”
Fenella hesitated but seemed too far gone in her anger to heed the command. The rod landed again, this time making a wet sound as it hit her drenched clothing. But the Butler was no longer holding her down. Rhedyn rolled across the table in a tangle of skirts and hair. Her body was pulsing with pain, every twist and turn releasing new points of agony.
She wouldn’t whimper.
The pain fed her determination. She kept going until she went over the side of the table and landed on her feet. Straightening up took more resolve as her back protested. But she suffered the hurt, lifting her head in case Fenella was intent on continuing.
By Christ, Rhedyn would show her how much grit a Lindsey had.
But Fenella was standing still, her expression sullen like a child who was being denied a treat.
“Laird,” Fenella said.
“Fenella,” Buchanan answered as he stepped closer.
The kitchen was silent. The air was so still, when the fire popped, Rhedyn was certain she felt it.
“Yer service to this house is greatly appreciated,” Buchanan stated. “However, ye would have leave to mourn yer son, I gladly grant it.”
“I do nae need to be sitting around,” Fenella said. “I never would have risen to be Head-of-House if idleness was something I favored.” She drew herself up, the expression on her face easing as she regained her confidence. She pointed the rod toward Rhedyn. “This Lindsey ye saddled me with keeping made free use of rabbit pelts which she was no’ granted permission to make her own.”
“Ye care not if I shiver with naught but a spring linen dress on me back?” Rhedyn lost the battle to bite her lip.
“The pelts were given as rent.” The Head-of-House looked at her laird. “I can nae have such a matter going unpunished. Every maid under me will know she is not to make free with the stores in the storage rooms. That will get us naught but fat bellies in the autumn, and naught to sustain us when the snow has us trapped inside.”
The silence returned as the staff waited to hear what Buchanan would say. No one was so dense as to miss the fact that Fenella had overstepped her duties. But Buchanan didn’t dare dismiss the woman, not unless he wanted a hall full of hungry Retainers and no supper to lay on the tables. A competent Head-of-House could demand a hefty ransom in the highlands.
Buchanan looked at the blanket. His expression gave little away, but he appeared to be weighing his next words carefully. In spite of the pain coursing through her body, Rhedyn clasped her hands together and held her silence. Hurling insults at one another wasn’t going to do anything but incite a mob which would likely hang her in retribution for the men lost with Iain Mackenzie.
“Being Head-of-House is demanding,” Buchanan said. “Forgive me for leaving another task to add to yer burden. I will settle Mistress Lindsey in the north tower.”
The kitchens were silent. Buchanan stood firm, suffering the glowering coming from his clanswomen. He was making a public stand for her, making it clear that he’d not allow her to be at Fenella’s mercy. It was a risky move, for the need for vengeance was running high among the women who had suffered losses.
Buchanan reached over and clasped her gently around the upper arm. “Ye shall no’ have to deal with Mistress Lindsey again.”
Now there were gasps. Several of the maids were unable to contain their astonishment. Buchanan sent them all a final look which had Rhedyn nervous.
He was standing up for her?
Or at least between her and his people.
She’d had some wild thoughts abovestairs but never had she imagined the Makenzie laird might shelter her against his own kin. It was a bold move. Many would say a foolish one, for if Buchanan had a half-brother, there were likely other close blood kin as well. Siding with the daughter of an enemy could see him stripped of the lairdship and hanged right along beside her.
But he didn’t hesitate. Buchanan turned her around and sent her out of the doorway of the kitchen as he placed his back to the people who would likely cheer as she was fitted with a noose.
Chapter Three
A chamber.
There was a bed with a thick comforter and a chair by the window.
And…
And…so many comforts that Rhedyn stopped just inside the doorway because she wanted to look at it all and savor what she had always taken for granted.
“If ye’d yelled…” Buchanan began behind her. “Someone might have heard ye.”
She turned and shot him a disgruntled look. “I can endure quite well. Ye will no’ have the pleasure of hearing me cry.”
She’d never realized there could be so much agony in her body all at the same time. The simple act of walking and climbing stairs seemed to have left her h
urting even more. The sight of the bed was a torment, for she desperately wanted the comfort of it and yet, climbing up on it was something she didn’t believe she might accomplish without crying out.
Buchanan was still in the chamber, his keen, amber eyes focused on her. Like a raptor contemplating prey.
She’d offer him nothing to indicate how much she suffered. But she was shaking. Her body wasn’t obedient to her pride. Instead, the walk from the kitchens to the north tower had cost her almost all of her strength. A chill made her think her toes were frozen. She had her hands buried in the folds of her skirt.
The bed offered sanctuary. A haven where she could find relief from at least part of her suffering. She’d not climb into it until she was alone.
“What are ye waiting for, Laird Mackenzie?”
His eyes narrowed. “I want yer promise that ye will tell me if there is abuse being done to ye.”
“Did ye no’ bring me here to extract vengeance?”
His face darkened. “Did ye no’ implore me to spare yer father when he made to face me in combat?”
She had. Rhedyn looked away from him. But he caught her chin. He used just two fingers and his thumb, but the contact was jarring. She felt it all the way to her toes.
“Ye are not simple minded Rhedyn. Ye have been raised as I was. To think before ye act and to understand the weight which is on yer shoulders. Hamish and his men were looking for blood. Yer father’s blood. I took ye to avoid giving it to them. Such makes ye a target for me kin. I locked ye away to protect ye from them.”
Rhedyn stepped back to break his grip. “I understand well enough.”
“Do ye?” Buchanan demanded softly. “I have me doubts.”
“Because I would nae please yer Head-of-House by screaming?” Rhedyn lifted her chin in defiance. “Ye’d no’ have muttered a sound if ye were locked in the Lindsey dungeon, Buchanan Mackenzie.”
His lips twitched. “I am no’ a lass.”
Rhedyn shot him a fuming look. “I…”
Buchanan smothered her argument with his hand. He reached down and caught a handful of her skirt to keep her from stepping back again.
“What ye are is me responsibility, Rhedyn Lindsey. I took ye because there was no other means of keeping the peace.”
He suddenly shook his head and backed away from her. There was a flicker of disgust in his eyes, and she realized it was directed at himself. He let out a sound of frustration.
“Ye’ll tell me everything,” he began sternly. “Ye will no’ suffer abuse silently. Do ye understand me? Taking ye is enough guilt for me to shoulder.”
She nodded, still stunned. Her mind was truly having difficulty processing the way he seemed determined to shelter her from his staff. “I see ye are serious.”
Her response didn’t please him.
“I suppose I should expect ye would no’ trust in me sincerity,” he said. “Still…” He looked around the chamber before he nodded. “Fenella’s disobedience affords me the chance to place ye here. Do nae be unwise, lass. Me kin is still angry, and some of them unwilling to not vent their temper on ye. Mind where ye go. Please.” Buchanan stared at her for a long moment before he turned and left. The door closed, but there was no sound of a chain.
Please…
Rhedyn felt her knees weakening. It was her resolve as well, for she truly was at a loss as to how to see Buchanan now.
He was her captor.
Yet now, he’d become her protector.
Oh, for certain her pride wanted to baulk and declare that she didn’t need his help, but the pain in her back and arms was all too real a reminder of just how dire her fate might be if Buchanan didn’t care about her suffering.
So now what?
Buchanan would have her turn to him for help. The concept was daunting. And too much to contemplate while standing.
Rhedyn turned and made her way to the bed. It was a large one, made for two people.
Or an esteemed guest.
She smiled at the idea of Fenella hearing that she, the Lindsey bitch, was sleeping in so grand a chamber. Surely the lord wouldn’t begrudge her a bit of pleasure over such a thought. Not when her arms and back still felt like they were on fire from the blows the Head-of-House had rained down on her.
As far as sins went, it had to be minuscule.
She stopped at the side of the bed and tried to give herself that little bit of a jump to get onto the mattress.
But she failed.
A sound of anguish got past her lips, and Rhedyn found herself sagging against the side of the bed, because it seemed the only thing she had the strength left to do.
Apparently, there was something worse than the chamber above the kitchens with naught but a blanket of pelts against the chill of the night.
*
Buchanan stood in the passageway.
Rhedyn had kept silent.
Of course she had. The lass had strength. It wasn’t the first time he’d noted the trait but now, his awareness of it was far stronger. No one used the north tower during the winter. The stone walls took the brunt of the winter winds.
“Ye’d no’ have muttered a sound if ye were locked in the Lindsey dungeon, Buchanan Makenzie.”
Was that the first time Rhedyn had used his name?
The sensation the thought sent through him was odd. He remained in place for a long time, attempting to decipher the way his emotions seemed to be reacting to her voice echoing inside his skull.
So formal.
Proper.
Neither of those ideas should have surprised him and yet, Buchanan discovered himself feeling as though she’d pushed him back.
Can ye blame her, lad?
He felt guilt slicing at him once again. No, by right, Rhedyn should spit on him at the least.
But what he was certain of in that moment was that he didn’t like it. Not one bit. The animosity between them was something he had a sudden urge to tear down. The problem was, he wasn’t sure of how to even begin such a process. Fate had placed them both so firmly on opposing sides.
A muffled sound came through the door. He was turning around and pushing it open before he thought the matter through.
“Christ, woman,” he exclaimed as he spied her clinging to the side of the bed. He was across the space between them in a few strides, scooping her up in his arms. But the bedding was tucked up to the headboard beneath the pillows, so he stood for a moment with her cradled against his chest. It was among one of the longest moments in his life. Time seemed to have slowed down, just so he might notice the way she fit in his arms so perfectly.
“A moment, Laird.”
A smooth voice issued the comment from the doorway. Buchanan turned his head to see Shona, the mistress of the towers, entering the chamber. She set a small tray down on the table beside the chair in front of the hearth before she was hurrying around the bed to the other side where she tugged at the bedding.
“Put me down,” Rhedyn whispered.
Buchanan looked back at her, but only for a moment before she tucked her chin and averted her eyes. She drew in a breath, shuddering. Something inside him responded to that involuntary motion. A feeling he’d never experienced before. Naming it seemed impossible, but he stood in place, unwilling to let her go before he understood the strange reaction to her.
“Laird?” Shona patted the sheet.
It made no sense.
None at all.
Yet the impulse was there, a surge of determination to maintain his hold on her. Rhedyn looked back at him, her startled gaze offering him an unexpected glimpse of appreciation in the strange moment. Something passed between them, the intensity of which shocked him with just how deep it ran.
But she was pushing against his chest. Pain flickered in her eyes as she stiffened. His own impulse was to hold onto her and show her that she wasn’t the only one with resolve.
“Me guest is wet,” Buchanan informed Shona. He lowered her to a chair as Shona went toward a wardrobe and p
ulled the doors open. “I will wait,” Buchanan announced before he turned and headed back toward the door.
“There is no need,” Rhedyn responded tartly. Her cheeks were blazing with a blush which was completely misplaced.
Buchanan turned and shot her a look. “I’ll see ye settled into bed.”
If her face hadn’t already felt like it was on fire, it did after his words sunk in. The knowing look on Shona’s face as she helped Rhedyn from her clothing only intensified everything.
Why was she blushing for Buchanan Makenzie? Rolfe Munro had spent several hours in an attempt to grant her time to become accustomed to him. He had displayed kindness and…and…she was blushing for Buchanan!
Shona peeled away the layers of her springtime dress. Doing it with expertise until Rhedyn was dressed in a fresh smock and a dressing robe.
“I can manage,” Rhedyn declared as she stood.
But where her mind was willing, her strength couldn’t be found. Her knees were weak, too much so to support her. Too many days of little food and cold had taken their toll.
She would have preferred the floor to the way Buchanan reappeared and scooped her up.
Foolish…
“Settle her carefully, Laird,” Shona muttered. “Fenella was putting her back into those blows.”
“I am quite well, I assure ye.” Rhedyn sat straight, pushing Buchanan back as the new woman adjusted the pillows behind her.
There was no hiding the way relief surged through her as she felt the bed give just the right amount beneath her weight. There was a slight groan from the bed ropes and the scent of rosemary from the bedding as it was tucked up to her chest.
Whatever else Rhedyn might have thought about, it all evaporated as Shona tucked the bedding up to her chin. Truly warm for the first time in too many days to count, Rhedyn slipped away into sleep.
*
Edinburgh…
“Yer Grace…”
The arch bishop held up his hand. His subordinate closed his mouth, even if he commenced with glowering after he obeyed his superior.
“Our Lord was the Prince of Peace,” the Archbishop stated. “Colum Lindsey claims he declared to Heaven and God that he took Brenna McLeod as his wife. We will acknowledge it.”