by Pride, Mia
“Come with me. Now!” James shouted, his face turning red, and tears welled up in her eyes. Humiliation and shame would be all that was left of her after this.
“Who is this man?” William asked with an edge of danger in his tone, quickly pulling a knife out of his boot and pointing it at the intruders, glaring at Robert who stood behind the man and wondering why he would allow a stranger to barge into Mary’s room. Shaking his head, Robert made a face that told William he had had no choice, yet he could not fathom why.
“Tell him who I am Mary. I wish him to ken me before I gut him.”
Tears blurred her vision and she crumbled to the floor, no longer having the will to fight for her pride. There was none left. “William, this is my brother, Sir James Hamilton, Laird and Baron of Cadzow.”
“And who is the man defiling my sister?” James spat and stepped forward to grab Mary’s shoulder, making her yelp in fear.
William grabbed her brother and pushed him back. “Hurt her again and I will kill ye. I dinnae care how many titles ye hold.”
“Will… he didnae hurt me. He never would, I vow.”
“Will?” James growled. “Has he a surname? A title?”
Archibald Douglas stepped forward with a pompous air. Marjorie was by his side, scowling at Mary as if she had taken a sweet treat from her collection of many. “That man is Sir William Keith, Laird of Dunnottar and Marischal of Scotland.”
“Marischal?” James narrowed his eyes on William and clenched his teeth. “I ken who ye are now. Yer sister is married to the Laird of Drum, aye?” William nodded but did not loosen his grip on his blade as he continued to shield Mary. “Ye come to visit for the Yule, bringing Miss Marjorie Douglas along with ye as yer bride, then abandon her for my sister, who carries the previous Laird of Drum’s bastard in her womb? Have I got my details correct?”
“Aye!” Marjorie shouted. “He was betrothed to me!”
“Shut yer mouth, lass!” Archibald roared and smacked her across the face, making her fall to the ground with a squeal of pain resembling that of an injured animal, and Mary flinched. “I have had enough of ye! I will gladly marry ye to any man at this point, even the lad who shovels the shite in the byres!”
Mary watched in horror as Marjorie’s ear began to bleed from the blow, but she could not move to help the lass without exposing her breasts to every onlooker in the hall. The Douglas was truly black in the heart, and Mary felt pity for his daughter. James was angry and she was frightened what he would decide to do with her, mayhap cast her out of the clan even, but he would never harm her.
“Nay, James, that isnae the truth. William and I are betrothed, I vow!”
Marjorie gasped while she sat on the stone floor holding her ear, the red of her blood matching the silk of her fine gown, yet she still had the spirit to continue the fight. “That isnae true! He is one of my champions! Tell them, Father! He is mine!”
“Marjorie, I warn ye!” Archibald drew his hand back, threatening to hit her once more, and his daughter shrunk away, scooting back against the far wall. “He never wanted ye, ye stupid lass! Why do ye think he pawned ye off on Reginald? They werenae fighting over ye. They were fighting to be rid of ye!” Marjorie released a wail that rivaled that of a banshee’s and somehow managed to get back on her feet, only to run down the tower stairs and disappear.
Lowering his weapon, William looked at her brother and spoke calmly. “Sir James. I am betrothed to yer sister. I am in love with Mary, and will raise her child as my own, I vow it on my honor. She and the child will want for naught at Dunnottar.” Mary looked up at him and felt a constriction in her heart when she heard his words. Were they true, or lies to placate her brother? There was no way of truly knowing, but she prayed he meant what he said.
“What honor has a man who would plant his seed in my sister’s belly and wait this long to wed her?” James seemed to be calming down, but only marginally. “Ye are the cursed Marischal of Scotland. Fortunate for ye, I cannae kill ye. I will have to petition to the regent and allow him to decide what to do with ye,” he snarled.
“That willnae be necessary. I plan on marrying her immediately. I would have sooner if not for this ridiculous situation with Marjorie and the cursed tournament. The Douglas killed one of my best warriors while he slept and I willnae be going anywhere until I get my vengeance!” William spat and narrowed his eyes at The Douglas.
“What?” Archibald sputtered and turned red, stepping forward and clenching his fist. “How could I have? I was at the lists with Marjorie!”
“Then ye had one of yer men do it!” William shouted. “Dinnae ye deny it!”
“I do deny it! A Black Douglas will slit a man with his eyes wide open! Never in his sleep.” The words were so forthright that Mary believed the man. He had turned nearly purple with rage at the accusation.
“None of this makes any sense!” Removing his Hamilton plaid, James wrapped it around Mary who had begun to shiver from both the draft and her shaken nerves. “If ye are the father of my sister’s child, why did ye wait so long? And why did ye arrive with Marjorie? Mary is coming with me until I can figure out what to do with her… and with ye, Sir William. Ye willnae hide behind yer rank!” James spat at William’s feet and scooped Mary up from the ground as if she were naught but a sack of grain.
All Mary could do was lean into her brother’s shoulder and sob into his plaid, inhaling his safe, familiar scent and wishing she had not disappointed him and dishonored their name. She could not bear to look at William and allow him to witness the shame in her eyes or the moment of her ruination.
“Where are ye taking my betrothed?” William stepped in front of James, stopping him in his tracks. “She is ready to give birth any day. Ye cannae just take her away.”
“She is no longer yer betrothed. Ye have dishonored my sister and ye are fortunate ye are so important to our king, or else ye would be bleeding out yer brains on these stone floors at this verra moment, Sir William. Dinnae ye fash over my sister. She is my blood. I shall care for her and her child and take her to a place that is safe for her delivery. She loved her Irvine Laird so well, she can spend some time with him, lamenting her sins.”
Shoving past William, Robert, Reginald, and Archibald, James exited her chamber, and Mary pulled the Keith plaid over her head so the entire castle of Drum did not witness her disgrace. “How did ye ken about the bairn?” she whispered near his ear as she felt him carrying her down the spiral staircase, jostling her with each step.
“I received a missive from a concerned member of the Irvine Clan. I am grateful at least one of them has the honor to inform me of my sister’s sinful behavior,” he scolded.
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her belly. Who would have done such a thing? Her shame was shared with the Irvines and everyone had loved her and protected her as family, never wishing to disgrace her and risk losing their Hamilton connections. “Who sent it to ye, Brother?”
“A man named Stephan who was concerned for yer soul. He offered to marry ye and claim the bairn, saving ye from ruin. I daresay I am considering the match even more after seeing what sort of man ye prefer to wed and what ye do with him when ye are alone in yer chamber. I thought better of ye, Mary. I thought better of the Irvines. This isnae over. I must reconsider our peace with their clan and defend yer honor.”
“James… ye must listen to me. Ye are making a mistake!”
“The only mistake I made was allowing ye to stay on their lands all these years. I am going to remedy that. I am taking ye to the kirk outside Aberdeen where Alexander is buried. Ye can unburden yer sins to him, Sister, for I ken the child is his, not William’s. After that, ye can stay and take the cloister, or ye can marry Stephan Irvine, the only man worthy of yer hand.”
Her life was over. She was ruined, for if she must choose the life of a nun or marriage to Stephan, then she would remain at the kirk forever, alone, with only her child, Alexander’s ghost, and her shame to keep her company. William would n
ever know where to find her, nor did she expect he would try after witnessing her downfall.
Chapter Eight
“Ye’re going to allow him to walk into yer keep and carry Mary out of here like this?” William yelled at Robert and pushed him away before storming down the hall toward the stairs.
“Will!” He heard Robert calling to him and his heavy footsteps following behind, but William was shaking all over with an uncontrollable rage, fearful he may become violent if he got too close to Robert. “Will! Ye must stop.”
Stopping at the top of the stairs, he turned and glared at Robert, seeing Elizabeth running toward them both from the other side. “What have ye to say? Be quick because I’m not allowing him to leave with her.”
“Aye, ye are. She is his sister, William. She is unwed and he is still her guardian. He has every right to be angry, and every right to take her away. I feared this day would come the moment I learned she was with child and Alex was dead.” Robert closed his eyes and lowered his head. “We failed her. This is why I needed her married!”
“I was going to marry her, ye cursed fool! And then ye made me be in that tournament and act as if I were courting Marjorie! I would have married her by now!”
“Ye are right. This ends now. Reginald, call the guards. Have Archibald locked in the cellar and well-guarded until we can weed out Brian’s murderer. He cannae be trusted and has caused enough trouble. This is my cursed home and I am done trying to keep the peace with a man who cannae be trusted to do the same.” Nodding, Reginald ran past William and down the stairs.
“We now have the Hamiltons on our land, along with Keith and Douglas men. I dinnae ken if we can trust the Hamiltons either, after what has happened. I need yer men to help keep an eye out for anything suspicious while I resolve these issues. We cannae afford a battle to erupt. Elizabeth, run to the village and make certain all women and children are in their homes. Then get the ones in the castle to the tower. Ye ken what to do.” His sister wrung her hands nervously but nodded and ran down the stairs after Reginald.
Just before Elizabeth married Robert last summer, a group of Macleans arrived on Irvine land, including the son of the man who had killed Alexander. Fearing a violent outbreak, Robert had Elizabeth barricade all innocents into the tower while he, Reginald, and William dealt with the Macleans. That had worked out in the end, resulting in a call for peace, but William was not at all certain the same could be said of this situation.
“Where is Alexander buried? That is where he is taking Elizabeth. I must get to her!” Panic was not a feeling he was accustomed to, but the terror and angst in Mary’s eyes before she buried her head in her brother’s shoulder was enough to set William over the edge. Damn her brother if the man thought he would keep her away from him. He was going after her and would kill any man who stood in his way.
“St. Nicholas. ’Tis the closest kirk to here, just northwest, about an hour’s ride on horseback. Go get her, Will, but ken ye will have to deal with her brother.”
He never told Mary how he felt about her. All he’d had the courage to say was that he loved her. Cursed coward. He told her brother and she heard it, aye, but he needed to tell her, to make her know how much she meant to him.
“Not even the devil himself shall stop me,” William said with determination. “And certainly not Sir James Hamilton.”
The cart’s wheels creaked against the uneven stone path they traveled and Mary cursed her brother for the hundredth time since he verily tossed her into the back. It was covered at least and shielded her from the snow falling from the dark sky. Time eluded her, but it had to be close to matins by now.
The scene in her chamber repeated in her mind and, each time, her shame deepened, sinking into her bones. She knew she was in love with William. She knew they were betrothed. There had been naught wrong with her sharing a private moment with him, at least in her own mind. And yet, to the rest of the world, she appeared to be the very whore so many accused her of being. Her brother would never forgive her.
Curse him. She did not care if he forgave her or not. If only he would listen to what she had to say instead of tossing her about like she was still the wee lassie he used to bounce on his knee then mayhap he would understand.
The sound of his horse’s hooves clacking rhythmically against the uneven stones blended with those of the two horses pulling her cart, guided by her brother’s trusted messenger who knew the Scottish lands better than anyone she knew. At least that was a comfort. She was certain he was riding behind the cart to protect the rear and, finally, her ire got the best of her.
Pulling the linen cover of the cart to the side, Mary stuck her head out and felt the snow falling on her head and the frigid wind instantly nipping at her nose. James lowered his head and scowled at her, before looking past her once more. “Why will ye not just let me speak?” James was being a stubborn fool and though she knew he had every right to be angry and disappointed, it was unlike him to completely disregard her.
“Ye have lost yer right to be heard, Sister.”
“I willnae marry Stephan. Ye have lost yer mind! I am going to deliver this bairn any day! Please take me back to Drum, James! Please!”
Turning back to look at her, James shook his head and frowned. “There may well be no Drum left for ye to go back to when I am finished with it. Ye think the Irvines will get away with allowing their laird to defile ye, keeping yer condition a secret from yer kin, and allowing ye to remain unwed? I willnae allow it. Both the Irvine and Keith lairds have misused ye. If ye willnae marry Stephan, then ye can remain at St. Nicholas and spend yer life repenting.”
Panic gripped her. She had never seen James so angry. “Ye dinnae mean that, James! What would Father say?”
“Dinnae speak of Father, Mary! He would bloody yer hide if he discovered ye carried one man’s child and found ye half-naked with another man! Ye have sold yer soul to the devil, lass! I will make certain ye are cleared of yer sins before ye burn in hell.”
Mary had heard enough. Spitting at her brother and missing entirely, the cart hit a bump and she yelped, feeling a pain in her womb and gripping her belly. “Are ye are right, Mary?”
“Nay, I’m not bloody all right! I am going to give birth to my child inside this cart, and if I die or lose my child, the blood is on yer stubborn hands, James! I willnae burn in hell for loving a man! I willnae! I loved Alexander! I have mourned his loss for months! Ye never wrote to me, never asked if I was well. The only comfort I had was his family! The Irvines took care of me, ye arse. They tried to make me marry, and I refused… until William.”
Her voice cracked and she felt tears begin to stream down her cheeks. “I love him, James.” Her brother looked at her once more and she saw the softness in his eyes before he turned to stone once more.
“Then ye will love him from afar. Ye will never see him again, Mary. Ye will take the cloister or marry Stephan and live on Hamilton lands. There are no other options for ye.”
It was no use. Hopelessness was all she had left. This child would be born in this cart if they did not arrive at St. Nicholas Kirk soon. Giving up on her brother, Mary enclosed herself once more in the cart and covered her face with her hands, feeling herself crumble to pieces. “Oh, Alexander. How did I end up here?”
Though the hay beneath her felt abrasive on her flesh, the rocking of the cart and the stinging of her tired eyes soon had her eyes fluttering shut. If she fell asleep, at least she would be out of her misery until they arrived. Laying back, Mary shoved James’ plaid beneath her neck and wrapped the remaining wool fabric around her body to stave off the chill that seeped into her flesh. Closing her eyes, she allowed sleep to pull her away from her pathetic reality.
Unsure how much time had passed, Mary sat up and rubbed her aching backside when the cart came to a sudden stop. The cover was pushed aside and James climbed up the back, putting his hand out to her. “We are here.”
Smacking his hand away, Mary pushed herself to her feet. “I dinna
e want yer help.”
“Ye dinnae want it, but ye will need it.”
Scoffing, Mary shook her head and swung a leg over the edge of the cart. “I need nothing from ye. Ye have done enough.” James frowned and crossed his arms as he watched her awkwardly swing her other leg over the edge and feel around with her foot until she felt the solid lip of the wooden edge beneath her thin slippers.
Carefully stepping down, she winced when a splinter pierced her middle finger but refused to give up. “Ye have always been a stubborn lass, Mary.”
“Thank ye.” Landing both feet on the ground safely, she adjusted her skirts and scowled at her brother.
“I wasnae complimenting ye.”
“Well, I take it as one, nonetheless.” Not waiting for him to escort her, Mary looked up at the towering kirk walls, already hundreds of years old and built out of solid wood in an early gothic style that felt foreboding, yet breathtaking. The bell tower seemed to disappear in the haze of low clouds and the blur of snow, adding to its intimidating presence. Alexander was buried here. A chill unlike any other she had ever felt flowed up her body, starting at her toes and prickling up to her scalp.
“I… I cannae.” Mary started to turn away, but James grabbed her and hugged her close to his body.
“Ye must, Mary.”
Shaking her head, she looked up at James’ towering height and grimaced. “Why? Why are ye doing this to me? ’Tis cruel.”
Sighing, James kissed the top of her forehead. “Ye ken why I must. Ye cannae stay at Drum. Ye heard Robert. A man was killed. This is the closest kirk. Ye must stay here to remain safe.”
“I was safe with William!” she cried. “I cannae be here. Alexander…” she hiccupped and tears fell down her face as snow fell into her hair. “I willnae go in. I willnae give birth alone!” The thoughts of dying in childbirth without Elizabeth by her side to aid the delivery and never seeing William again made panic rise into her throat.