The Great Scottish Devil

by Starla Kaye

  She spun around and stomped from the chamber. He curled his hands into fists and wanted to rage back, but she was right. He didn't feel worthy of Annabel. Even Agatha didn't deserve the man he was, a man with only a few of his memories, a man who may never be whole again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Varrich Castle, Tongue Bay, Scotland

  A month later

  By the time Annabel, her new family, and her father’s men reached Varrich Castle in the far north of the Highlands, she was ready to take her tinker wagon and go far, far away by herself. Her father had complained nearly every day of the month long journey. Why did she insist on bringing the wagon? It slowed them down. Why couldn’t she be happy about finally coming home? The Hendersons had never given her a proper home, she should be grateful to at long last have a real one. Why did she have to be so brooding? Why did she appear near tears all of the time? And why was she looking paler every day, not eating, running off to be sick every time they stopped? The questions—complaints—rolled over in her mind again as they rode through the outer gate.

  When they rode into the inner bailey, she felt nauseous again. These last few days she hadn’t been as sick as when they’d first left Urquhart. Then it had to do with being pregnant. Lately it had more to do with nerves. Everything she’d known about herself had been a lie. The people who she had believed to be her parents weren’t. She was in truth the only daughter of the proud, powerful, Scottish chief of clan MacKay. These people who had rushed out from the keep and castle buildings to greet them watched her so curiously, warily…hopefully. She feared not being judged worthy in their eyes. She feared that eventually she would prove to be a grave disappointment to Braden and Rose. Especially when she found the courage to admit that she carried Brodie’s baby. What would they think of her? The worst, no doubt.

  Trying not to think of that problem, she sat stiffly on the high seat of her wagon, reluctant to get down. She felt uncomfortable, alone among all of these strangers. The wagon had been her home and carried the memories of what had been her life. Somehow she felt the love of the Hendersons wrapping around her here.

  The day had turned cold and snow was spitting. Everyone—except her—was anxious to get inside the warm keep. She heard her father boldly commanding the cooks prepare a grand feast in celebration. Again, her stomach felt queasy and she put a hand over the small lump there. Oh, my precious babe, what am I doing here? We do not belong here. We do not belong anywhere now. And, oh, how very much she missed Brodie.

  As Rose hurried in her direction, Annabel blinked back tears. Her mother had been smiling when she’d approached, but now she said in concern, “Ye are feeling poorly agin. We need to get ye inside, get ye warm.” Her expression turned serious, knowing. “We must have a talk, daughter. Soon.”

  Annabel’s heart pounded and the tears threatened to fall once more. She shifted her long skirt to climb down and whispered, “Aye. Soon.” It was indeed necessary, but she dreaded the conversation.

  Braden strode over to them, snagged Annabel’s arm, and held her in front of him to face the people gathered around. His deep voice boomed over her head. “’Tis verra glad I am to have finally found our precious Roseanna. She hasna had an easy time and will take a bit to adjust. Be patient with her.”

  She trembled within his hold. She wanted to find a place to run off to and hide for a while, somewhere to gather her thoughts and gather her courage to face so many changes.

  “Say something to yer people, Roseanna,” her father commanded, clearly unaware of her concerns. “Let them ken ye are pleased to at last be home.”

  She trembled even more and, to her embarrassment, the tears finally slid down her cheeks. “I…I…”

  He glanced down at her in annoyance and would have prodded her again, but Rose rushed up to them. She glowered at Braden and pulled her from his grasp. “It has been a long, hard journey here, husband. Yer daughter is exhausted.”

  “As are we all.”

  Rose blew out a put-upon sigh. “She knows no one here; she is wary. She will speak to everyone when she has rested, when she is more comfortable.” She ignored his dark frown and tugged Annabel through the crowd and toward the steps to the keep.

  “But the celebration?” Braden said on a growl of disapproval.

  Rose stopped at the top of the steps and faced him, as well as the others. “The celebration can be on the morrow. The cooks need more time to prepare. And yer men need to rest as well. The celebration can wait.”

  He didn’t look pleased, but he gave a curt nod. With that, Rose bustled Annabel inside the torch-lit great hall. After allowing a few seconds for their eyes to adjust, Rose led her directly toward the fireplace.

  Annabel felt the immediate warmth from the fire blazing in the massive fireplace. It seemed like she hadn’t been warm for weeks. But her legs threatened to give out on her and she would have fallen to the rushes if Rose hadn’t held onto her.

  “Ye have me worried, daughter. Ye need to eat better and ye will, even if I have to feed ye myself.” Rose glanced down for a second before adding, “Yer babe needs ye to take care of yerself.”

  “My babe?” Annabel questioned in a loud whisper. “How do…”

  Rose smiled at her. “A woman kens. Another mother kens.”

  Annabel looked worriedly toward the door where Braden was now walking inside. “Does Braden know?”

  “He is a man. They dinna ken these matters as easily as a woman. And I havena mentioned it to him.” She met Annabel’s gaze. “But ye must tell him soon.”

  Braden walked up, frowning. “Tell me what?”

  Instead of answering him, Rose firmly said, “Yer daughter is beyond tired, husband. Mayhap it would be best if ye carried her up the stairs to her bedchamber.”

  His frown deepened. “Ye are tired, too, wife.”

  She tapped her slippered foot. “Canna ye jist do as I asked fer once? Ye’ve all these big muscles. Use them. Carry yer daughter up the stairs.”

  He blinked at her insistence, gave a crooked smile at her reference to his muscles. Then he scooped Annabel off her feet so quickly she gave a squeak of dismay. This was the first time he’d actually touched her and it surprised her, pleased her, too. She was too struck by a mixture of emotions to speak, to complain that she could have walked by herself. He seemed struck by emotions as well and simply held her tightly and carried her up the stairs as if she weighed nothing at all.

  The bedchamber they took her to was larger than the one she’d used at Urquhart. There were two windows covered with furs to keep out the cold air, and someone had already lit candles on the pair of tables on both sides of the bed. A tapestry depicting a woman sitting in the grass beside a lake, holding a dark-haired, grinning baby hung on the stone wall opposite the bed. Annabel knew immediately that Rose had created the tapestry. She felt certain Rose had cried painful tears with each delicate stitch. Tears filled Annabel’s eyes now as she glanced from it to her mother.

  “What is that doing in here?” Braden asked in anger. He set Annabel down and glowered at his wife. “I thought it was put away long ago.”

  Rose lifted her chin in defiance. “It was, but after getting word from Brodie, I asked Marybeth to hang it in here.”

  “Ye shouldna have—”

  “’Tis beautiful,” Annabel interrupted. “Thank you.”

  The bluster went out of her father. He turned to leave, looking back. “Rest now. Ye will join us for sup later.”

  Rose rolled her eyes as he left the chamber. “He is mostly bark, ye ken. He worries aboot ye, jist doesna ken what to say.”

  Annabel shed her coat and sat down on the side of the bed. “I really am tired. In truth, I can hardly keep my eyes open. Mayhap we can speak later?” Please later.

  Her mother studied her for a second before relenting. “Aye. Ye can rest fer now, Roseanna, but we will discuss this matter. It canna be avoided any longer.” With that she walked out and closed the door behind her.

  * *
*

  Urquhart Castle

  Brodie paced the solar, just as he’d often done since Annabel left with the MacKays. He had too much nervous energy and yet not the energy to pay attention to his duties. His mood had soured once more, the headaches returning, too. His men had started avoiding him and he couldn’t blame them. The servants watched him warily and stayed out of his way. This had to stop! What kind of laird didn’t handle his responsibilities? His father would be rolling over in his grave, cursing him for not acting the man he’d been raised to be. Annabel’s leaving had knocked the wind out of him, darkened his outlook on everything. And he hated feeling this way. So walk out of this damn chamber and act the laird! She is gone and ye canna do anything aboot it.

  He sucked in a deep breath and tried to force her from his thoughts. There was no forcing her from his heart that much he knew. Agatha should be his focus now. By rights, he should already be wed to her. But since his return from dealing with Sutherland, she hadn’t pushed the wedding and he’d been grateful. Yet it was time he moved on with his life. He might not love her—barely like her—but they would get along. Now that she understood he wouldn’t put up with certain misbehaviors and would turn her over his knee, her attitude had much improved. That much he had noticed.

  He turned to head for the door with the intention of finding Agatha when suddenly Sir Douglas stepped into the doorway. His first knight and friend looked hesitantly at him. “Ye have guests, my laird. Maggie and her husband jist arrived with two dozen of Lord Middleham’s men.”

  “Without sending a message that they were coming?” Still, Brodie found he was eager to see the sister he had finally started remembering. His depression lifted and he strode past Douglas without saying another word.

  The instant he stepped off the staircase a blonde whirlwind of tearful woman flew into his arms. As he easily embraced her, she hugged him with all her might.

  “I have missed ye so much, dear Brodie.” She couldn’t seem to let go of him. “I have worried day and night since ye left Middleham.”

  Enormously pleased by her concern, he held her almost as tightly. Then he realized what kind of weather they’d been having, how winter seemed to be fast approaching. He shifted his gaze to the resigned-looking warrior she’d married. “Why did ye make such a long trip this time of year? There is a guid chance ye will be stuck on this side of the mountains a while.”

  Nicholas gave a helpless smile and stared lovingly at his wife. “I find it near impossible to deny your sister anything. Believe me, I tried to put off the trip here until spring. But she is a most stubborn woman.”

  “A true Scot.” Brodie eased her back and looked down into her beautiful face. A face he now remembered even as a child. “I ken ye, Maggie. I ken ye were such a brat at times to me and Fergus.”

  Her eyes rounded and she blubbered, “Ye remember me? Truly?” Then she reached out to tug Nicholas closer, practically bouncing in her excitement. “My brother knows me now! My many prayers have been answered.”

  Brodie watched her look curiously around the hall slowly filling with her clan and servants happy at her return. She studied him with a small frown. “I heard that ye were to marry. Where is yer wife? I must meet my new sister-in-law.”

  The people who had started easing toward them quickly turned to walk away, many giving Brodie an uneasy glance. He wasn’t sure what to say and he had no idea where Agatha had gotten off to. He had actually seen very little of her the last couple of weeks and they spoke little at the shared meals. None of that had bothered him, until now.

  “We havena shared the vows yet,” he finally said and couldn’t meet her eye when she gaped at him. “Soon, though. Mayhap we will say them while ye and Nicholas are visiting.” The thought made his stomach clench.

  Before she could question him, Agatha walked quietly over from where she’d evidently been sitting next to the fireplace. She appeared as uncomfortable with the subject as he felt. Odd, that.

  She forced a smile and stopped a few feet from them. “Lady Agatha Stonewall,” she stated and gazed at Brodie, then straightened her shoulders and looked back to Maggie. “Actually, I am thinking about letting your brother out of the agreement.”

  Maggie blinked in shock. Nicholas raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  Brodie gasped, “What talk is this?” His heart pounded. He would never back out of his agreement. He could not dishonor her. But if she were to… No, it wouldn’t be right. “’Tis nonsense.”

  Agatha bristled, showing the first real spirit she’d shown in weeks. “We will discuss this in private, Lord Urquhart. But ‘tis naught nonsense.” Surprising them all again, she walked briskly toward the staircase and ignored Brodie when he tried to call her back.

  “What have ye done to her, brother?” Maggie faced him, her expression less than pleased. “Are ye still being disagreeable with everyone?”

  “Maggie, do not—” Nicholas said in warning.

  She leveled an angry look at him. “Do naught tell me naught to interfere, husband. ‘Tis my brother and his happiness we are talking aboot here. I will fix whatever problem he has created. I will see him happy!”

  Brodie’s shoulders slumped. “There are too many problems fer ye to fix, lass. My life has become far more complicated than when I last saw ye.”

  “More complicated? How can that be? Ye already have nay memory.” She hesitated, cocked her head and her long hair swayed around her shoulders. “Well…mayhap naught all yer memories.”

  He didn’t want to talk about this, especially not here where far too many ears were avidly listening. His people couldn’t understand why he and Agatha hadn’t already married. They didn’t particularly like her, but their feelings toward her seemed to have turned more sympathetic, because he wasn’t doing right by her.

  Maggie tapped her foot. “I am waiting fer an explanation, Brodie.”

  Again Nicholas frowned at his wife. “Maggie, do naught harass the man.”

  Brodie shot his brother-in-law a grateful look. “I will have the maids prepare a room fer ye. I am sure ye want to rest a bit after yer ride here. A bed will be nice, I am sure.”

  “Aye, I am a bit weary.” Maggie craned her head to focus directly on his face, her expression determined. “We will talk later today. I must insist upon it.”

  * * *

  What was she going to do? His sister and her husband were here now. Certainly their arrival was a surprise… and yet not. Agatha had heard how worried Maggie was about her brother, the only family she had left. Her husband had probably fought to keep from coming as long as he could. Poor man. Married to another of the stubborn Scottish Durwards. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. She had enough problems with her betrothed: The Great Scottish Devil—a name well earned.

  She held the fur covering her window aside and looked out at the dismal weather. Thick gray clouds looked ready to dump more misery upon them all. The air felt bitterly cold, too. Only a dozen or so men walked the parapets to guard the castle grounds and moved here and there about the bailey. She had no desire to go outside, either. Traveling here had to have been a trial. Leaving would be, too. But she dearly wished she was leaving. In fact, she wished she’d never come here.

  Loud voices rose up from the great hall. Ale was no doubt passing freely around by now. The men getting deeper in their cups would begin taunting and teasing each other robustly. Eventually good-natured fights would break out. Men were such silly creatures at times. She didn’t like being around them when they got that way. She could just stay up here, miss sup. She wasn’t hungry anyway. And she didn’t want to have to sit next to Maggie and be questioned about why she and Brodie weren’t already married. In truth, she didn’t want to talk about or even think about marrying him.

  She shivered against the cold, feeling chilled to the bone, from the situation she was in more than the coldness in the room. What am I going to do? She had mentioned that she was considering letting Brodie out of the arrangement made for their mar
riage. And that certainly hadn’t gone over well with him. But, in reality, could she do such a thing? The betrothal had been commanded by the king—partly due to her maneuvering. What had she been thinking? Foolish, foolish, woman that she was! She’d wanted Jonathan, couldn’t have him, and so had set her eye on a powerful man she could show off at Edward’s court. Foolish woman! She should have known Brodie wasn’t a lord who would spend much time at court at the balls. He was a Highlander, a warrior, not a man to enjoy the fanciness of the royal scene. Jonathan, however…

  “Lady Stonewall,” Brodie said curtly from the doorway to her bedchamber. “We must talk.”

  She nearly jerked the fur covering from the window in her surprise. Her heart pounded, her stomach roiled. “I…I….” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to talk to him.

  He boldly stepped into the chamber and glowered at her from across the room. “We canna go against Edward’s command. Ye must marry me, especially after ye have been here in my home all this time.”

  He made her nervous. The last time he had been in here hadn’t been pleasant. He had spanked her. A memory which made her buttocks clench and dread spread through her. Getting spanked had been humiliating. Jonathan would never…

  “Are ye even listening to me?” he asked on a growl.

  “Aye, I heard you. But—”

  His shoulders stiffened as did his expression. “I have put this ceremony off too long already. So much was happening, but matters are settled now. It is time.”

  She studied him, this hardened warrior who would become her husband. They saw matters so differently. They had little in common. But she was getting older. She needed a husband and if her only choice was Brodie, then she would have to learn to live with him. Still, she found herself saying, “You do naught want to marry me, Brodie. I know you do naught.” She twisted her hands in front of her as tears filled her eyes.