His Bonnie Bride

by Hannah Howell

  Phelan looked her over as they mounted. "Ye do not look much like a boy, cousin."

  "Thank ye, Phelan," she said with a grin. " 'Tis a relief to me to know that."

  "Do not take them too far, Angus. 'Tis her first ride since her wounding," Tavis advised.

  Angus nodded, and Tavis watched them ride out. Storm rode well, and Tavis recognized that she was plainly well accustomed to riding astride. She was rapidly destroying his conceptions about proper English ladies. Lord Eldon had clearly raised his daughter with a light and loving hand. It was a side of the man Tavis was not sure he wanted to know.

  A short gallop was all Angus allowed, but Storm did not mind. She realized she had not regained the full strength she needed to control a racing horse for any distance. It was pleasant just to be riding. Angus was a lenient guard, for he had their promise not to try and escape while out on their rides, and he knew their word was bond enough.

  When they reached the shores of a loch they dismounted, save for Phelan. With Angus's permission, he disappeared to survey as much of the shore as possible.

  The boy was still gone when Angus's and Storm's childish game of skipping stones was rudely interrupted by a highly unwelcome source. For the first time in her life, Storm was not pleased to see a rescue party from Hagaleah. Instinct told her she would be far safer staying with the Eldons' old enemy.

  There was no time to mount and flee. She and Angus were quickly encircled and Angus, with his sword drawn against the dozen well-armed men, stood protectively before Storm. Storm wondered how Sir Hugh had known to come to the loch, their usual place to pause while on a ride, and the name Katerine MacBroth came to mind. It was the type of thing the woman would do for, with her gone, Storm felt sure Katerine was justified in thinking that she would soon be back in Tavis's bed. He was not a man to go very long without a woman.

  "Kill him," Sir Hugh ordered casually, nodding toward Angus.

  "Nay!" Storm put herself between the men of Hagaleah and Angus. "Ye don't need to kill him. Just take his horse and leave him bound. 'Twill be a fair long while ere he is found."

  "Where's the Irish brat?" asked Sir Hugh, signaling his men to do as Storm said, thinking it could be to his advantage to placate her in this matter.

  Storm watched as Angus gave up after a brief struggle and allowed himself to be tied up. It was a relief to know he would not be hurt. Plainly, he, too, had recalled that Phelan was near. With luck, the boy would continue to stay away. Phelan was definitely better off at Caraidland.

  "He stayed at the keep today. There were doings there that interested him."

  Sir Hugh looked Storm over with obvious contempt. "You dress the whore as well as act it. Get on your horse. An it were not for your fortune, I would leave you here to serve this border scum."

  Whatever resistance she felt was useless as one of Sir Hugh's men grabbed her and tossed her into the saddle, handing her reins to Sir Hugh. Before she could say any of the words that burned in her mouth they were off at a gallop. She had to fight to maintain her seat, and it was not long before her shoulder began to protest. This was not the way she wanted to come home to Hagaleah.

  Phelan appeared at Angus's side as soon as Sir Hugh had left. He had known to stay away, not only to aid Angus but to be free to help Storm. His stay at Hagaleah had shown him that she was not safe there. It was not only the dismal prospect of her being forced to wed Sir Hugh that troubled him. Phelan had the strongest feeling that Storm would never survive that marriage. Sir Hugh would enjoy the role of a rich widower.

  Tavis was just stepping into the bailey when Angus and Phelan returned astride one horse. "Sir Hugh?" he asked when they came up to him. "How in Hades did he know where and when to strike? I refuse to believe that any of our people told him, but I nay doubt that he was told."

  "Aye," agreed Angus. "It were too neat." He cleared his throat. "I was thinking jealousy could weel breed a traitor."

  A black scowl touched Tavis's handsome face. "Aye. Katerine would do it, burn her eyes." He turned on his heel and strode back into the tower house, Angus and Phelan right behind him, telling him all that had happened. " 'Tis glad I am ye suffered no hurt, Angus. It would all have been for naught." Entering the great hall, he told his brothers and father what had occurred. "There goes the ransom."

  "Are ye just going to leave her with Sir Hugh?" Phelan demanded as Tavis sprawled on a bench and got himself a large tankard of ale. "Ye don't know how it is. He will kill her. I know it."

  "Nay, laddie. The man wants to marry the lass. He is hot for her fortune. Aye, and a thing or twa otherwise." Colin noted the way Tavis's face tightened. "He will want his bride alive."

  "Aye, but not his wife." Phelan nodded vigorously when that remark caught their attention. "Once he has had a bit o' the other and tired of it, 'tis a widower he will be. That is not all. Ye do not know the man. After he is finished with my cousin she will be fair glad to be killed. Hagaleah abounds in the battered recipients of his sort of loving."

  "Lad, I cannae call the men out to bring an English lass back. They'll nay like risking their lives to restore some enemy wench to me son's bed, no matter what she has done." Colin sighed. "I am fair sorry, for I owe her, but I cannae send my men to arms for her."

  "Then I will get her out myself. Just give me the use of two mounts. I will return them."

  "What will ye do, Phelan? Go tirl at the pin and ask, 'Please may I have my cousin back?' " Tavis drawled sarcastically, already feeling his loss and in no good temper about it.

  "Nay. I know how to get in and out without them knowing. Just lend me the horses."

  Tavis sat up, glanced at his father, who nodded, and asked, "Ye can get into Hagaleah unseen?"

  "Aye, but I am not about to tell you how. 'Tis a bolt-hole and no use if ye learn of it."

  "Phelan," he growled, "if there be a way to get Storm out of Hagaleah, to get into the keep with little risk to the men, then I suspicion I can get a few together to do it." He tried to hold onto his temper when Phelan remained stubbornly silent. "We'll give ye our word of honor that we'll never use the knowledge agin Hagaleah. What is it to be, lad?"

  "Your word of honor ne'er to use the knowledge agin Hagaleah and the Eldons?"

  "'Ye have it, laddie. If we can get the lass away without risking much, we're willing." Colin looked at the ones gathered in the hall and they all nodded. " 'Twas a full battle I couldnae call for."

  "Well, I do not doubt I could use a bit of help. 'Tis a tunnel. It goes from the nether rooms of Hagaleah to just beyond the curtain wall. 'Tis for the women and children to flee if the battle is lost."

  "Aye. We have one." Colin shook his head. " 'Tis a wonder we ne'er thought to look for it at Hagaleah. Ah, well, come and take a seat, laddie. An all goes well we'll have the lass back here come the dawn."

  Tavis thought dawn too late but said nothing. The mere thought of Sir Hugh touching Storm was intolerable, twisting his insides into knots, but he struggled to keep all sign of it from showing in his face. That he would have her back would have to be enough for the time being. Later, he would make Sir Hugh pay for any abuse Storm suffered at his hands. He did not pause to review his feelings. Tavis had neither the time nor the inclination to do any soul searching. He had the fleeting wish that he could see inside the walls of Hagaleah, but decided it was probably for the best that he could not.

  * * * * *

  Storm sat on the bed in her room and watched Sir Hugh and Lady Mary with a calm she did not feel. They were angry, especially Sir Hugh. She had enough knowledge of them to know that that did not bode well for her. Despite that, she continued to refuse to marry the man. As Phelan had done, she guessed that Sir Hugh did not intend to spend a long life of connubial bliss with her, that her life was in greater danger if she wed him than if she did not. She continued to refuse him and risk his fury. Tavis MacLagan might be a border reiver, an old foe, a man of quick temper and little love and the man who had taken her innocence as well as a few other
things he was unaware of, but at the moment, he seemed a haven.

  "You cannot tell us you remain a maid," purred Lady Mary. " 'Tis gallant of Sir Hugh to still offer for you."

  A most unladylike snort escaped Storm. "Gallant, my eye. 'Tis my fortune he wants, well I know it."

  Hugh glared at Storm, his temper rapidly getting out of control. "You have little call to be so choosy, bitch. We all know you played the whore for the MacLagan heir."

  "Do ye now. May I be so bold as to ask how ye know what goes on at Caraidland?"

  Lady Mary shrugged. "We were given a full and very colorful report by the woman you replaced."

  "I thought as much." Storm wondered if Tavis would ever discover Katerine's treachery.

  "I see you do not deny it." Lady Mary wanted a few answers before Hugh's rage burst loose.

  "Why should I? E'en an it were not true, e'en an I denied it vehemently, ye would ne'er believe me. What matters what I have to say? Believe as ye will. I care not."

  "Do not bother to deny it. Nay, you need not speak at all. 'Tis easy to read upon your face." Lady Mary smiled coldly. "From the heat of the scorned woman's fury, the MacLagan heir must be some stallion, and he has ridden you hard these last weeks."

  "Vulgarity suits you, Mother." Storm reeled under the strength of the slap her stepmother dealt her but made no cry, only glared, her hatred of the woman nearly palpable.

  "The world will soon know you left your honor in Scotland, dearest daughter. There will be no more swains sniffing at the door. You will marry Sir Hugh and there will be no more nonsense about it."

  "Ye cannot wed me off. Only my father has that right. I will not wed Sir Hugh."

  "Curse you," Hugh snarled, dealing her a blow that sent her tumbling off her bed. "You may be carrying that bastard's spawn even now. Have you thought of that, slut?" He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "His seed that he regularly filled you with could even now be growing inside this smooth belly." He accentuated his words with a blow to that area.

  Above the pain of the blow, Storm felt fear. She had not thought of a baby yet, now that she did, she realized her time was past due. A very natural fear of being beaten was added to by the fear of what it could do to the child she could well be carrying. There was no time to think of the disgrace that would bring her. She had to convince Sir Hugh it was not possible so that whatever beating he gave her, was sure to give her, would be only one of rage, not one specifically aimed to make her miscarry. Storm was desperate to protect the possible life within her, the child of the man she loved.

  "Tavis MacLagan is no fool," she gasped as she fought to catch her breath. "The bitch that talked with ye has been with him for two years, yet has never born him a child. He spills his seed outside," Storm lied and then glared at Sir Hugh, her tongue her only weapon. "E'en an I am carrying the Scotsman's I'd nay wed ye. I'd not give ye a baseborn idiot to father."

  Hugh used his fist on her face instead of an open hand. Storm slammed up against the bedpost. Even though she feared for her teeth and her ears rang, her resolve only grew stronger. Now that she knew what she could have, even though that lacked a mutual love, she would never settle for less. Hugh's brutality only enforced her refusals. She was glad that Phelan had not been brought back, for she knew that the boy would have been used to make her say yes.

  Storm shook her head to clear it. "Ye do have a way with a proposal, Hugh."

  "I will get a yea from you whatever way I can. Give it now, slut, and save yourself some pain."

  "Pain? My dear Hugh, marriage to ye would make this seem like heaven." She turned as he swung, thus saving her teeth, but she clung to the bedpost a moment before saying, "Ye forget, I have known a man. The devil will drink holy water e'er I attach myself to an ewe-loving slug like ye." She dodged his swing. "Aye, and ye no doubt have the Crusader's disease."

  She was not so lucky the next time, nor the next. When Lady Mary and Sir Hugh stripped her of her clothes she was too groggy to stop them, although she fought them as best she could. They placed her face down upon the bed and tied her wrists to the posts. Storm soon learned not to turn away from the blows Hugh inflicted, for they only landed elsewhere. Her jaws ached from holding back her cries, but each time he asked her if her answer had changed she retorted with words that held all the venom helpless fury can inject.

  Soon she reached the stage where Hugh's efforts defeated themselves. Her mind retreated from the pain. A small part of her was aware that she hurt more than she thought was possible, but she paid it no mind, floating in a half-conscious state that brought a false numbness.

  "Enough, Hugh," Lady Mary said. "She no longer feels it. We will try again later."

  Storm wondered at the odd, husky note in her stepmother's voice. She turned her head to look at the couple only to see them through a blur, her half-shut eyes not focusing correctly. That made her wonder if what she saw was a dream conjured up by her shocked mind.

  " 'Tis an odd dream," she mused silently as she watched Mary kneel before a heavily breathing Hugh and, lifting his tunic, unlace his leather riding breeches. "I wonder how I can imagine her doing that to him when I did not know that people did that." She looked at Sir Hugh and saw that he looked as savage in his pleasure as he did in his fury. "At least that is consistent."

  "She is watching," Sir Hugh gritted as he caught Lady Mary beneath the arms, threw her onto the bed next to Storm and hoisted up her skirts.

  "Let her," Lady Mary purred as she firmly grasped his manhood. "Let her see that our Englishmen are the stallions and the Scots mere colts. Show her how a real man fills a woman."

  Their display at her side was not fully accepted by Storm's pain-drugged mind. She remained sure that she was dreaming. Disoriented as she was, she was only partly aware of the fact that dreams do not cause the bed to move nor do they usually come with all the appropriate, if exaggeratedly lewd, noises. She simply watched as they finished, rose, tidied their clothes and left.

  For a while she drifted in and out of consciousness. It was not only the pain that put her into such a state but the shock of what had happened to her. The most she had ever suffered, except in a fight as a child, had been a gentle cuff. Her father had used words to direct her, words and love. Even Tavis had never struck her. To be so badly abused in a place where she had known only love, gentleness and affection was hard for her to adjust to.

  At some point her spirit recovered. She was firstborn to Lord Eldon, a great power in his own right on the border marches and much respected at court. To lie groveling in her own misery and pain was no way for one who had the blood of both the Eldons and the O'Conners in her veins. "Nor," she thought with a slightly bitter humor, "the woman who could be carrying the child of Tavis MacLagan."

  Recalling vaguely that another session had been spoken of and probably another after that until they got the answer they wanted gave Storm the strength she needed. Shaking and sweating from pain and weakness, she edged her body forward and worked at the ropes on one wrist with her teeth. She had to rest often, but she finally freed her wrists. The pain caused by chaffing and too tight bonds was nothing compared to the agony in her body, and she easily ignored it.

  Dressing was even harder, for several times she nearly fainted. The muscles needed to don her clothes seemed to all be located in her ravished back. A warmth oozing down from her shoulder told her the knife wound had reopened, but she did not pause in her efforts. That was a problem that could be seen to later. Not knowing how long she had been unconscious made her worry about the others returning. Storm felt like weeping when Agnes entered the room.

  "Just what are ye about?" Agnes hissed as she put down the tray of broth, ale, bread and cheese she had brought and shut the door. "Ye should not be up and dressed."

  "Nay, I should be bound to the bedposts awaiting another flogging." Storm stood, her hand clutching the bedpost as she fought a wave of nauseating faintness. "I think not, Agnes."

  "How can ye get out? Ye'll b
e seen for sure."

  "Not by the route I mean to take. I must be gone. They will soon return, I am certain." Storm wavered as she started toward the door. "Hell and the Devil confound this weakness."

  Agnes caught her before Storm fell. "I will give ye a hand. Ye are not used to being afoot yet."

  "Just why will ye help me, Agnes? Ye are Lady Mary's maid," Storm said, her suspicions plain.

  "For myself. I want Sir Hugh. Ye and your fortune are in my way." Checking the hall and finding it empty, Agnes helped Storm out of the room and in the direction Storm indicated. "An I help ye escape, help ye get away from here, Sir Hugh will be mine again. I will get him to the altar yet."

  Storm had serious doubts about the sanity of any woman who wanted Sir Hugh, but exercised a little diplomacy and refrained from saying so. Until she could regain her equilibrium, she needed Agnes even if she did not trust her. She had more important things to worry about at the moment. Things such as where she was going and how she was going to get there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Damp oozed from the walls as they crept through the bowels of Hagaleah. Tavis had never liked the subterranean chambers of a keep. A glance at the grim faces of Iain, Sholto, Angus and Donald told him that they were none too fond of them either. Phelan, however, strode along with apparent calm, plainly at home within the labyrinth although they had barely quit the tunnel so there was still plenty of time to get thoroughly lost. Tavis wondered if he had been a fool to put his trust in a boy.

  Donald was wondering much the same thing and he said, "I cannae like this. The lad could be leading us into a trap. He is a Sassanach after all."