by Starla Kaye
He stood behind them, impatiently waiting while Agatha fumbled around to lift her skirts, tuck them under her, and bend over the desk next to Annabel. She shot a venomous look at Annabel. “’Tis all your fault. If you had just—”
Whack! The thick belt landed bitingly across Agatha’s buttocks.
Agatha shot straight up crying out, “God have mercy!”
Annabel had flinched as if she’d felt the first lash. She glanced toward Brodie and he gave her an I-must-do-this look, but his eyes softened in pity. He didn’t want to leather her, but she’d gone against his rule.
“I am sorry, Lord Urquhart.” She lowered her head to her crossed forearms and pushed her bottom out.
He quietly sighed in resignation. “Six stripes each, though it should be twelve.” He shoved Agatha back into position. “After this time, if ye fight me on a punishment, ye will get double. And if ye move out of position, ye will get two extra each time.”
Agatha dropped her head down, already crying. “I fear I am not going to like being married to you, Lord Urquhart.”
“We have nay choice,” he said sadly. “Stay in position.”
Annabel braced herself for the first lash. When it came a second later, it took her breath away. Whack!
He moved to Agatha. Whack! She cried out again.
Then he delivered two fierce Whacks! to each of them. The room echoed with the sound of the falling belt, with Agatha’s dramatic cries, with Annabel’s sucked in breaths.
“Ye shall both have a hard time sitting fer the sup, but sit ye will.” Two burning Whacks! fell to each quivering bottom.
He barely let their cries and their gasps fade away before he said, “Ye shall both sleep on yer stomachs this night.” And followed that with one final horrible Whack!
Annabel had struggled to remain still. Her bottom hurt so bad. She’d suffered more belt lashes before, but Brodie was delivering these firmly. Beside her Agatha had lost the drama part of her reaction. Now she was in real pain and crying it out.
“’Tis done.”
Each of them collapsed over the desk. Annabel lay there finally giving into the need to sob out her misery. She had no desire to let the skirt fall over her burning bottom. Yet she had no choice in that.
Brodie gently un-tucked her skirt and pulled it over her backside, whispering in her ear before he pulled her to her feet. “I must, lass. I am no’ that strong.”
Immediately her thoughts went back to when he’d said that to her before, just before she’d lost her innocence to him. She understood. She wasn’t so strong either. She faced him, hardly aware of Agatha still bent over the desk crying in misery.
“Can I go now, my lord?” Her hands were back on her bottom. She could feel the heat through the layers of fabric.
“Have ye learned yer lesson, sw…” He nearly said “sweet Anna” and she was glad he’d stopped himself. To hear the words again would be worse than this leathering.
“Aye.” He nodded and she hurried from the room.
* * *
Brodie stood rigidly next to a smiling Agatha as Annabel climbed up onto the high seat of her tinker’s wagon. The last of the days he’d insisted on her staying had passed. He’d heard nothing from The MacKay, which angered him. Mainly he was angry about having to let the woman he loved leave. Mayhap being honorable wasn’t always good. It was costing him a great deal.
He was not the only one upset with Annabel Henderson leaving Urquhart. On this cold, blustery day in early September, the bailey was filled with every one of his men, with every servant, with every page, with children, and with what seemed like every villager, freeman, and serf tied to Urquhart. She was loved by all and would be greatly missed.
The Campbells led their wagon out first and were given a fair number of cheerful good-byes. But when Annabel urged her horses forward, the responses varied from happy “good fortunes” to sobbing from women and children. If he weren’t a strong man, he would be sobbing as well. She took his heart with her.
She pulled her team up just in front of him and Agatha. He saw tears glistening in her eyes, but she held her chin up high.
“Good marriage to you both,” she said in a choked voice.
He couldn’t speak, simply nodded acknowledgment. He was afraid if he said anything, it would be to beg her to stay. But he had nothing to offer her, not even to be his mistress. He would be loyal to the woman he married; he’d take no mistresses.
“Be safe,” Agatha said, sounding oddly sad at Annabel leaving. He’d noticed that they had made some kind of peace in the last two days.
With a weak smile, Annabel urged her horses to follow the other wagon.
* * *
Annabel had been gone only a day and yet such sadness hung over the castle. Brodie barely spoke to anyone. Agatha kept her silence and gave him distance. She didn’t even talk about the wedding now, which he thought strange but was grateful for. He needed time to accept his loss and the future he faced.
He turned from watching the men practicing, remembering how not long ago Tavis and Douglas had tried to teach Annabel how to defend herself. He’d promised himself that night when she’d cried in his arms he would keep her safe, that no harm would ever come to her. And now she was gone. Now he could only hope that no harm came to her.
“Riders come, My Laird!” the sentry on the main gate yelled down to him. “MacKays. I ken their banner.”
Chapter Eight
The daylight was nearly gone, though in the valley thick with pines that they’d been going through most of the day it didn’t matter. Annabel followed faithfully after the Campbells’ wagon without giving it much thought. She simply didn’t care about anything right now. Not where they went or when they got there. Her future seemed dismal. The people of Urquhart she’d come to see almost as family were lost to her, for she would never go back there. She’d left the man she loved there. Soon he would marry another woman, forced by the king’s wishes and Brodie’s own honor. She wasn’t in his position where the king would demand that she wed anyone. King Edward wouldn’t even know she existed.
As the wagon rolled over a small branch, she jostled around and put a hand over her stomach. It was impossible to know this early, but somehow she knew she carried Brodie’s babe. At least she would have a child to love. Although lately she’d had thoughts of settling in some place, of marrying and having a family, now she thought differently. Having a baby would change her situation. She might be able to find a man to marry her anyway, possibly even pass herself off as a widow. But mayhap it would be best just to continue with her tinker trade.
Another bigger branch caused her to bounce about on the seat. She’d never traveled this way with her parents and she didn’t wish to go this route again. What she should do is change her plan to travel with the Campbells on their route and somehow find her way back to the route she was familiar with. Mayhap in the next village she came upon she could convince someone to go with her. She would gladly share the money gained in sales of the wares. Aye, it was time to come out of her doldrums and face her life ahead. Especially if she had a babe to be concerned about.
Callum craned his head around the side of his wagon. “We be pulling over here fer the night,” he called out.
“Here?” Annabel asked, glancing around in confusion. Her skin prickled with unease. “Is there not a clearing somewhere ahead? A stream or a loch close by?” She couldn’t smell water, only pine and the moldy needles on the forest floor. What little water she had in an oiled bag in the wagon bed wouldn’t last long. Her horses would be thirsty, she was thirsty.
“’Tis too far to travel this night to a clearing or to water. My bones are tired from the long ride today. And Sarabeth is done in.” He reined in his team of horses and pulled his wagon into a small spot in the forest just big enough for the two wagons.
Not knowing what else to do, Annabel guided her team close to the other wagon. They fidgeted around, appearing as unexcited about stopping here as she was.
She climbed down, glad to finally stretch her legs again. They had traveled a long way today, though it had been in a completely different direction than she’d expected they would go. Out of the Highlands and heading south. While earlier she hadn’t particularly cared, now she did.
As she headed for her horses, a shiver of discomfort ran up her spine. Something seemed odd. Yet when she looked around she couldn’t see anything other than the Campbells, their wagon, and towering pines and thick undergrowth. Still… She would sleep with her knife in the wagon bed this night instead of on a pallet of furs and linens beneath the wagon as she’d often done in the past. Tomorrow—if they got out of this forest—she would tell them she was grateful, but that she would be going her own way.
* * *
Brodie stood stiffly in the upper bailey, his stomach tightening at the upcoming confrontation. If only The MacKay had arrived yesterday. If only he’d sent word ahead that he was coming. It angered Brodie that the man showed up later than he’d expected and he’d had to let Annabel leave. He’d kept her here as long as he could, far longer than she’d wanted to stay. And she might not be the man’s missing daughter.
“Where is the lass?” Braden MacKay demanded, riding up directly in front of Brodie. The fifty-some men he’d brought with him were still crossing the drawbridge, the many hooves pounding loudly on the wood.
It took Brodie a second to respond as he looked at the powerful head of the MacKay clan. God’s teeth, it felt good to finally recognize someone. And then Rose MacKay rode up next to her husband and he recognized her as well. Tears misted his eyes and he looked away so they wouldn’t see them. Yet he was shaken to the bone.
“Are ye all right, Laird Urquhart?” Rose asked in clear concern. Her green eyes gentle when he glanced up at her.
“He is fine!” MacKay snapped, only to draw in a deep breath. When Brodie managed to look up at him, regret was in the older warrior’s eyes. Amber eyes so like Annabel’s. “I apologize. I ken yer…problem. But ye seemed to recognize me when I rode up.”
Brodie gave him a curt nod acknowledging the man’s unexpected softening. “The truth of it is that yer’s is the first name I remembered. The first faces that came from my faded memories.” He studied them both as they waited patiently. “I do recognize ye both. Though, of course, ye’ve both changed a bit since I last saw ye.”
Douglas walked next to him while Brodie’s men and MacKay men drew closer. “After all this time,” Douglas said with emotion, “ye finally ken someone from yer past. Thank the good Lord.”
Seeing the hopeful expressions on his men’s faces, Brodie said carefully, “The MacKays are the only faces I recognize as yet.” He noted that not a one of them appeared disheartened by his admission.
“’Tis a start, my laird,” Douglas countered, smiling. “A guid start.”
MacKay cleared his throat and drew their attention. “Naturally Rose and I are pleased at this news. Yer da was a guid friend to me.”
Brodie tensed, feeling the now familiar loss of both his father and the memories of him. The fleeting memory he’d had the other day in the tower house wasn’t enough. He wanted to remember more. So much more. In particular, he wanted to really remember his good friend Douglas…and Maggie, his sister who so badly wanted to help him.
Rose frowned at her husband, but looked anxiously at Brodie. “Can we see yer Annabel now?”
His Annabel. If only that could be so. His throat clogged and he couldn’t answer right away.
At that moment Agatha walked hurriedly to join him. She slipped her hand around Brodie’s arm and smiled. “You should have told me we were to have visitors, my lord.”
“She couldna be our Roseanna.” Rose’s expression was devastated and tears sprang to her eyes. “’Tis no’ possible.”
“Roseanna?” Agatha looked curiously to Brodie.
He tried to step away, but she wouldn’t allow it. Irritated, he focused on the MacKays. “Laird MacKay, Lady MacKay, this is Lady Agatha Stonewall.” He hesitated before adding, “My betrothed.”
They blinked in surprise, but Rose quickly asked, “Then where is Annabel?”
“Annabel Henderson? If that is who you seek, you have missed her. She left yesterday morn with the Campbells,” Agatha explained, clearly missing the strong emotions around her involving Annabel.
“Yesterday?” MacKay growled. He looked furiously at Brodie.
Brodie was having none of his bluster. “I sent word to ye long ago and heard nothing back. I kept her here as long as I could,” he snapped.
He ignored the way The MacKay glowered down at him. He might feel sorry for them, but it was Annabel who he protected. “I couldna be sure if she were really yer missing daughter. She has suffered enough, losing the people who raised her. She didna even suspect they werena her birth parents until her pa died. I couldna tell her ye might be her real parents. I couldna have it no’ be so and get her heart broken all over agin.”
“Yer message said ye and yer men found her traveling by wagon, alone. That ye brought her here. I dinna understand why she would leave. Why ye would let her leave.” MacKay looked upset, confused, determined. “Who are the Campbells? And why would she leave with them?”
“Tinkers. Like Annabel,” Agatha explained before Brodie could respond.
“My daughter is a tinker?” MacKay questioned in disbelief. No doubt, Brodie thought, because the man was a powerful laird, the leader of the MacKays.
“I do no’ know her whole story, only that she was raised by Katherine and Dougal Henderson. Tinkers who traveled all of Scotland and England her whole life.” He thought about how he’d found her, how he’d mistaken her for a thief. “Her da had just died when we came upon her. We buried him and I insisted she come here under my protection. I sent word to King Edward that she would be my ward until I found her a suitable husband. But she has wanted to leave from the moment she came here. Before, in truth. She wanted to continue her family’s tinker route.”
“I...I do no’ understand why or how you connected her to us,” Rose said quietly.
“She found a note one day.” He remembered the jumbled words, the threat. “I will tell ye more aboot it as we share sup. There is much more ye need to ken aboot Annabel.”
“I would go after her now instead of—” MacKay barked, stopping when Rose gave him an imploring look.
“Husband, the sun sets even now. ‘Twould be foolish to ride out and try to track them. Besides, we have all ridden hard to get here and yer men are tired, hungry. As am I.”
His broad shoulders slumped but he nodded. “Verra well. If Laird Urquhart will allow us all to stay the night, we will leave in the morn.”
Brodie nodded and glanced to Douglas. “Show The MacKay’s men where to bed down fer the night.” He then looked to Agatha. “See that Cook feeds them and gets them ale.”
He reached up to lift Rose off her horse. When she stood in front of him, he was struck by how much she looked like Annabel. God, he missed her.
Rose gently touched his face to capture his attention. “’Tis all verra confusing, my laird. It hurts me to hear she has suffered. And I thank ye fer trying to watch after her. Though it puzzles me why ye let her leave without a husband.”
Agatha bristled beside Brodie, but, thankfully, she didn’t say anything. They had already argued about his strong feelings for Annabel, about his finding fault with any man who even looked at her. He’d finally realized that he would never choose a man for her and that it was best to let her go on her way, let her find a husband on her own. Again, his gut knotted at the idea.
Rose seemed to push aside that matter and asked hopefully, “Do ye think Annabel looks like us, my laird?”
He nodded. “Aye. She has The MacKay’s hair, though hers is cut short for a woman. She has his eyes as well.” Brodie smiled gently at her. “Annabel is a wee bit of a thing, like ye. Strong and stubborn in spirit at times, softhearted and tender at others. Loved by all here, missed as well.”
Rose raised a knowing eyebrow and Brodie looked away. He knew instinctively that she’d heard in his words and in his tone how deeply he felt for Annabel. “Ye are a guid mon, Laird Urquhart.”
He didn’t feel all that good at the moment. He stood in front of these people and his betrothed and was fairly certain they knew how he felt as well. That he loved Annabel to his very soul. That he’d had to do the honorable thing and let her leave him.
Brodie made a sudden decision. He’d been worrying about Annabel, sensed something was wrong. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, but the concern wouldn’t go away. Now he could make sure for himself that she was all right. He looked straight at The MacKay. “I and some of my men will go with ye in the morn.”
“But surely you do not need to—” Agatha said unhappily.
“I will go with them.” Brodie smiled sadly at Rose. “I wish to see Annabel’s joy at meeting her blood parents.”
Yet as he watched the pleased look spread over Rose’s face, he also knew Annabel would be angry with him. He’d only meant to protect her in case the MacKays weren’t her real parents. But she would only see that he’d kept a precious secret from her.
* * *
Angus watched from a safe distance away as Callum and his wife bundled together in the bed of furs beneath their wagon. The small fire they had made earlier had died down to bare embers now. All four horses were tied a dozen feet from the wagons and appeared to be sleeping. Even Annabel had sought sleep, nestled in the bed of her wagon.
He frowned into the darkness of the forest, annoyed. The Campbells had done as he’d asked and finally gotten Annabel away from Urquhart, and they’d led her away from the Highlands. Sutherland had been very definite in his orders that she not go any farther north. In truth, she wasn’t to go anywhere beyond this point. And neither were the Campbells. He was to kill them all here.