His Bonnie Bride

by Hannah Howell

  She shrugged. "I have had one or two before. They were late wedding for Papa was off to battle, but ere I saw the light of day they had taken their vows. My mama was beautiful and a lady."

  "'I'm sure she was," Tavis murmured as he continued to bathe her face.

  With that fine sense a child often has, Storm realized the man was murmuring soothing nothings. "Well," she drawled, "I cannot see what her being Irish has to do with it."

  Tavis paused in his ministrations, saw her dancing gaze and grew wary. "Quite right."

  "After all," she looked at him, appearing quite innocent save for the twinkle in her unusual eyes, "she could have been Scottish." She met his disgusted look with a peal of laughter so light, carefree and lovely to the ear that many a mouth smiled in response to it.

  Unraveling what remained of her braids so that he could free her hair of twigs and leaves, Tavis grinned at her. "You are a wretched wee lass that ought to have been beaten thrice a day."

  " 'Tis what Papa says, yet he never does it." She eyed him as he combed his fingers through her hair, ridding it of foreign clutter, and began to adeptly rebraid her hair. " 'Tis a skill ye have for that. Do ye have a wife then?" Tavis shook his head, and she looked at Colin with a grin. "Frisky, is he?"

  "Sit still." Tavis gently yanked on her hair as his family laughed. "Why the name Storm?"

  " 'Twas the weather the night I was born. They had expected a son, so had no girl's name chosen. So, too, did my Mama believe that as I was born midday on the summer's solstice in the midst of thunder, lightning, wind and rain that my character, perhaps even my life, would be stormy so 'twas a fitting name. I fear I have too oft proven her right." She looked down at her dirty, tattered dress and sighed. " 'Tis plain for all to see that I have been in a tussle. Papa will be angry."

  "I think your papa will note little save that his bairns are well and whole," Tavis predicted.

  Chapter Two

  The great hall at Hagaleah was the scene of hectic activity as the highest-ranking men of the Eldon and Foster households gathered in various states of health. The squires saw to the care of the armor and the weary men relaxed in their shirts and breeches. Conversation centered around what had gone wrong in the battle.

  "Leave it be," Lord Eldon snapped at the young maidservant who had started to see to his small wounds. "Find my daughter. Storm has the touch I need, and where the hell is my wife? Find her." When the young girl fled to do as he commanded Lord Eldon turned his brown eyes upon Lord Foster. "Did they catch many of our men? A heavy ransom would be unwelcome at this time."

  "Not many, and few of any standing." Lord Foster ran a grimy hand through his blond hair. "We may have lost the battle, Eldon, but our loss of men was not as high as I had feared," he said half-heartedly, and the talk turned to trying to recall exactly who had fallen that day.

  "What mean you her ladyship cannot come?" bellowed Lord Eldon when the maid returned with no one. "Where is my daughter then? Or Robin? He e'er rushes to his father when the man returns."

  "I cannot find them, m'lord. The ladies are abed and looking pale. Aye, as are their maids. I cannot find Hilda, nay, nor none o' the wee ones. They weren't any o' the places they oft go."

  "Get her ladyship and Lord Foster's fiancee down here, wench, if you have to drag them. Now," Lord Eldon snarled and watched the girl race off before turning to Lord Foster. "I cannot like it. Not at all."

  He liked it even less when the ladies arrived. They looked ill and terrified. Their personal servants huddled near them, acting as if they were headed to the gallows. He exchanged a look with Lord Foster, and they both began to tense, especially when the women began to weep piteously.

  "Where are the children?" demanded Lord Eldon in a voice that silenced everyone. "Cease that damnable caterwauling and answer me."

  "We do not know," whimpered Mary, and she cringed when her husband leapt to his feet.

  "When did you last see them?" Lord Foster barked as he moved to tower over the women.

  "On the knoll near to the battle." The dark looks growing on the men's begrimed faces caused Mary to cringe and begin to babble. "We just wished to watch the battle. All was well until suddenly the Scots were coming from all sides. We fled for our lives but, once safe, Hilda and the children were gone." Her words ended on a scream as her husband's open hand connected with her cheek, snapped her head back and sent her sprawling into the other women. "There was nothing we could do," she wept as she shielded herself behind the others.

  "Sweet Mother of God! Nothing you could do?" he bellowed. "Your recklessness has handed the enemy our heirs. My brother-in-law's as well. If they let the children live, the ransom they will ask could ruin us. You managed to save your own precious neck though, didn't you?"

  "It all happened so quickly." In an attempt to pacify him, Mary moved closer, saying softly, "I am so sorry, but you can have other children. I can give you children."

  He grabbed her by the hair and hissed, "Have no fear, wife, you will an I can stomach seeding you." With an oath he flung her away. "Heed me, if my children are returned, they, and any future ones I may have, will not come into your care. I will choose who cares for them and they will answer only to me."

  Lord Foster strove to shake free of his shock. "Are you sure Hilda is with them?"

  "We think so, m'lord," replied one of the maids. "Mistress Storm kept the wee ones to the back near the shrubs, and they were gone when the heathens stormed the knoll. Hilda was with us, but when she saw that the children were not she was like a madwoman. She leapt from the cart whilst it was moving and disappeared." The girl began to weep quietly. "Lord, it looked as if she ran straight into the enemy."

  "Be gone," roared Lord Eldon, sending the errant ladies scurrying for their quarters. "My God," he groaned as he sat down, "how could I have wed such a woman? If she were not so incapable of thought, I would wonder if this action was planned to rid her of the obstacles 'twixt my estate and any children she and I may have. I hope old Hilda comes to no harm."

  Nodding, Lord Foster sat down next to him. "If she and Storm are with the babes, they'll not be so afraid." A smile suddenly broke out on his face. "Now, I wonder what the Scots make of Storm?"

  A laugh, weak but true, broke from Lord Eldon. "Sweet Jesus, she no doubt told them in great detail of the many ways she would alter their anatomy." A sadness came and went in his eyes. "She is so very much like her mother. 'Tis glad I am she is but a child and not a woman grown."

  Thinking of Storm as a woman grown, Lord Foster shuddered, knowing full well how the girl would be used. "God, yes. Even now a man can see that the lass will be a true beauty."

  "I pray they do not harm them. I feel a wretch for I seem more worried for Storm than the others, but there is no denying she is dearer to my heart. Mayhaps 'tis the matter of her birth, that I was there to help her into the world. Ah, then, too, there's that temper of hers, her healing touch, the way she can cut to the heart of a matter, be so adult one minute then so delightfully childlike the next."

  "I know. Feel no guilt, my friend, she touches us all. Even I, though she will insist on shaming me by thrashing Robin." He exchanged a weak grin with Lord Eldon. "Come let us decide what we have to meet the ransom demands that must come soon."

  They were working hard on that when the MacLagan messenger arrived. Both men ground their teeth as the Scot was ushered in. It was hard not to race up to him, demanding to know the children's fate.

  "The children are unharmed?" Lord Eldon demanded before the man had begun to speak.

  "Aye, m'lord, as is the nurse, though there was no need o' the woman rushin' at us and demandin' tae be taken tae the bairns. The wee lass with the odd-colored hair was managing. The demands?"

  "Aye, aye. Tell us what is asked for." Lord Foster frowned as the messenger related all that was asked for the safe return of all whom they held; although it was not as bad as they had feared, it was steep. "Tell MacLagan he shall have it. We will deliver what he asks on the m
orrow, an hour after first light."

  "We will be left sorely strapped after the morrow," Lord Eldon sighed after the messenger had left.

  "For now, but we can call in debts owed us, Eldon, and recoup nicely. Mayhaps, if that fails, we can appeal for a contribution from all our kin as we have oft aided them in the past."

  Little rest was found at Hagaleah that night. By the light of torches and a full moon, the ransom was gathered. The tale of how the ladies from the south had placed the children of both castles into the hands of their ancestral enemies spread to the lowliest peasant. Even the townspeople, so often protected by the men of both houses, contributed. What worries were held about how such a loss of goods and money would affect them over the winter if not replaced were not aired. One look at the lords' faces told them that the men had enough on their minds for the moment.

  A few knights suggested a rescue attempt, but the idea never took hold. The paying of ransom was custom and, once agreed to, it would not be honorable to do other than peaceably deliver it. There was also the fear of harming the children. It was galling to hand over so much to their enemy, but there was no other way.

  The gray light of dawn found Lord Eldon, Lord Foster and a select group of knights on their way to the enemy camp under a flag of truce. Many a person watched grimly as a large slice of their livelihood was led away; although starvation was not really a specter on the horizon, winter could turn out to be very hard indeed. It was especially hard to think on the fact that their enemies would doubtless be very comfortable.

  "They're coming, and it looks as if they have fully met our every demand." Sholto grinned.

  Colin grinned back. "Ye and Iain take a few men and start a tally. Their lairdships can come and sit with their bairns if they've a mind to."

  Storm's eyes widened as she saw what her father had brought, and she looked at Tavis, who had the role of guard. "This could mean a lean winter for our people. Ye have asked for a lot."

  He gave one of her braids a tug. "Consider what we hold, lass. We could have taken it all."

  She nodded. " 'Twould be fitting and just if they went and claimed from the lands of their ladies' kin."

  There was a touching moment of confusion as Lord Eldon and Lord Foster were reunited with the children. Lord Eldon was slightly unbalanced as his own two offspring plus his two nephews hurled themselves at him. When things quieted down a little both men noticed the state of their eldest children.

  "Have you taken to brutalizing children then, MacLagan?" snarled Lord Eldon, causing an immediate rise in tension at the camp.

  "Oh no, Papa!" Storm gasped, gripping her father's hand which had gone to his sword. "Robin and I did this to ourselves. Truly we did. These men have been all that is kind. My word on it."

  "What did you and Robin fight about this time?" Eldon asked with weary patience.

  Knowing she could not tell the truth, Storm put her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers. "Robin called me a sharp-tongued, nasty-tempered hag who would no doubt end up as a wizened, bitter old maid, for no sane man would take me to wife. So I fought him to a draw."

  Lord Eldon had a strong feeling she was lying, for she looked far too angelic. His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything Lord Foster drawled, "To a draw you say, Storm?"

  "Aye, m'lord." Storm hoped the overly bland faces of all who had heard her lie would not give her away.

  "Strange, is it not, that Robin looks in a poorer state than you?"

  "Not at all, m'lord. Being the gentleman he is, he was hindered in the fight for, of course, he felt he would not strike me as hard or as oft as I would him. I took unfair advantage of that."

  "Ah, aye, of course, I should have recalled that from the last draw between you." Lord Foster did not need the sudden epidemic of averted eyes and coughing to tell him he was being fooled.

  "I wish to talk to you, Storm. Excuse us, Foster." Lord Eldon led his eldest child out of earshot, accepted the stool offered him by Sholto MacLagan and then looked at Storm, who stood calmly before him. "While it is clear in my mind and we are idle as they tally up the ransom, I feel I must speak to you. You must cease this brawling, Storm. 'Tis unbecoming. Ladies do not resort to fists. Think of how many enemies you could make. No lad likes to be thrashed by a bit of a girl. That could well be a sore point in the years to come, a shame they long remember. I want you to give me your word that this will cease. Your word, Storm."

  "I fear I cannot give it, Papa," Storm said quietly. "My temper is such that I would break my word, and that would grieve me as much as displeasing you. I will promise to try not to get in any more lights, to try to control my temper." She kissed his cheek. "Will that suit, Papa?"

  Trying to ignore the amusement of the MacLagans who stood close by, Lord Eldon said, "I gather it must. You are a wretched wee lass whom I should have beaten with far more regularity."

  Storm smiled. "I know, Papa. That man said the same thing. Do ye know he fixed my braids as well as Hilda ever did, but he is not married. Now where do you suppose he learned?"

  Grinning, Lord Eldon tugged one of her braids. "Impertinent little wench." He stood up and took her by the hand. "Come, we will sit with the others and pray that Hilda ceases her wailing."

  Glancing back at Iain, Storm said accusingly, "You have not changed his dressing yet."

  Watching Lord Eldon and Storm rejoin the others, Sholto mused, "I cannae say I like seeing how the mon is when we arenae fighting. I'll feel it sorely an I run my sword through him, for now I ken the ones that will be left greeting for him if he dies afield."

  " 'Twill nay stop ye, though, will it, lad." Colin understood his son's sentiments well.

  "Nay, just grieve me to deprive the bonnie wee lass of her father." Sholto started to move away. "I'll see that the tally is being done right. We left Robbie doing it."

  The tally was soon done and the English party prepared to depart. Lord Foster took his daughter up before him and his son behind. Hilda was set in a cart, along with the wounded. Lord Eldon tossed his nephews up with two of his escorts before putting his son on his horse. He then mounted and helped Storm swing up behind him, something she did nimbly.

  "It cost me," Lord Eldon said to the MacLagans, "but I thank you for not harming the children."

  "We do not make war on bairns, m'lord." Colin suddenly grinned. "Then, too, the lass was all set to skewer me eldest if I didnae give me word not to harm them."

  Lord Eldon groaned and held out his hand, into which Storm dutifully placed her knife. "Storm, you should have been a boy." He tucked the knife away.

  "I have oft told ye that, Papa," she said with an unrepentant grin as they started off. "Good morrow to ye," she gaily saluted her former captors.

  "Lass, you must not be so amiable toward the enemy," Lord Eldon admonished genially.

  "Oh, then I gather I should not have tended to the laird's wounds."

  "You what?!" her father bellowed, but she laughed and winked at the MacLagans, grinning when Tavis winked back.

  Despite the hefty ransom felt by all at the manor and surrounding it, there was much rejoicing when the children were returned. The houses of Foster and Eldon had always done well by their people, protecting them and caring for them as few other lords did. It was a relief to all to see that the direct lines were once again assured. They would continue to have as good a life as one could expect in such troubled times. Hagaleah resounded with cheers as the troupe arrived.

  Only two people felt no joy. Mary Eldon watched her husband's return with a set face, and Lord Foster's fiancee slept, having wept herself into exhaustion for fear that her nuptials would be canceled. Once the shock of what she had done had faded, Mary began to feel herself ill-used. She felt her husband lacked understanding, was too harsh in his judgment, for, after all, she was born and bred in Sussex and did not understand the way of life along the border. Now, instead of being allowed to learn from her error, she was to be forever punished for it, her standing at Hagaleah
greatly reduced.

  Briefly she thought of seducing her husband into a gentler attitude, but soon forgot that. Even before they had wed she had guessed that his children by his first wife, an Irish nobody, were as important to him as the blood in his veins. By putting them at risk she had lost what little place she had managed to grasp in his affections. Now he would treat her as little more than a brood mare, a vessel to bear him more sons to act as insurance, to guarantee that the line would pass to one of his own blood, and she would not even be able to regain her stature through her children, for she did not doubt that he would keep them from her as he had sworn to.

  Her gaze settled upon the bright head of the one she considered the root of her troubles, the one who had caused her problems from the start. Jealousy raged through Mary as she thought of how strong a hold Storm had upon the lord of Hagaleah. The bitterness Mary felt over the destruction of her plans to be the grand lady of such a powerful holding was directed at the little girl. Logic and rationality had little to do with her thoughts as Mary swore that someday Storm would pay for her disgrace.

  Storm settled down in her bed, unaware of the malevolence directed toward her. She felt content, for she was home again, her father had survived the battle, Hilda was again her nurse and she had had an adventure. Caring little for the woman, Storm had not noticed her new mother's absence from the festivities. She felt no real animosity toward her, but had known from the start that they would never be friends. Therefore, Storm made an effort to have as little to do with her stepmother as possible.

  "Hilda?" she called softly before the woman could leave the room.

  "What is it, lass?" Hilda moved to the side of the bed, her eyes soft with honest affection.

  "Why do we fight the Scots?"

  "Ah, well, I think 'tis for the land mostly. They think 'tis theirs and we say 'tis ours. Of course we have fought and raided each other for so long I don't think anyone really knows or even thinks about the why of it. What's made ye ask that, child?"