Another Man's Bride

by Ariel MacArran

  “What is it, poppet?” Katherine cried. “Is the castle under attack?”

  “I do not know! I can hardly see.”

  As Isabella turned from the window she saw that Mary was awake, standing by her pallet and wringing her hands.

  “Mary!” Isabella pushed the girl toward the door. “Quickly! Go, find out what is happening!”

  Isabella and Katherine donned their gowns and slippers quickly, each helping the other. Isabella’s hands shook as she dressed. Had the king’s men come to take her by force? James was a brutal man.

  “My lady, your hair!” Katherine protested as Isabella threw the door open, her hair unbound and streaming behind her.

  “Leave it!” Isabella called, already in the hallway, Kat following. She was at the stairs, ready to run down, when Mary ran up in tears.

  “What is it?” Isabella demanded. “What is happening?”

  “It’s the laird! Oh, my lady, the MacLaulachs have cut him to the quick!”

  Isabella’s breath rushed out of her lungs. She swayed on her feet.

  “Are you faint?” Katherine asked, her hand on Isabella’s arm.

  She shook off Kat’s hand and turned to change direction, heading now for the solar. Caitrina would be there, she thought, lifting her skirts as she broke into a run. Caitrina would not let him die.

  The solar was a storm of activity. Malcolm bellowed with a blood-soaked cloth to his face. Jamie tended to his father, trying to keep him still while he cringed and cursed. Angus leaned against the door, his exhausted face streaked with dirt and sweat, his tunic stained with blood. Isabella pushed her way into the room, her lips parting at the sight of him.

  Colyne’s face was contorted with pain as the clansmen lowered him into a half-seated position on the pallet. His shirt was bloody, torn away from his left shoulder, his hair drying into sweat and dirt-encrusted tangles. Isabella made a strangled sound to see the cloth he held to his left arm already soaked through with blood.

  He looked up and glowered at her.

  Caitrina was busy at the fireplace, frantically blowing on a cup as she worked. She continued to cool the concoction with her breath as she limped across the room to her brother.

  “What’s done this?” Caitrina asked, lifting the cloth to examine the gash. “Sword or dirk?”

  “Sword,” Colyne gritted out. “A couple of the bastards came swinging. I cut two but one of the lads went after me like a demon.”

  Caitrina froze. “Did ye kill any of them?”

  “I dinna know! Malcolm had me and we were runnin’ for the horses with the MacLaulach demons followin’ behind us.”

  “’Tis a bit hot to drink yet,” Caitrina said worriedly, checking the cup again. “Can ye try?”

  “Give it to Malcolm,” Colyne said shortly. “And get me arm sewn!”

  “The sleepin’ draught will make it easier for ye,” she replied. “’Twill be painful, to sew yer arm.”

  He gave her a cold, hard look. Caitrina put that cup down, picked up another.

  She hesitated. “Are ye sure, Colyne?”

  “I need a clear head. Get on with it!”

  “I need to clean it.” She glanced at the clansmen beside him. “Hold him.”

  The men held him steady and she poured the contents of the cup over his arm. He released an agonized cry and bared his teeth. The cords of his neck bulged and he breathed hard, his fist clenching against the pain.

  Their task complete, Caitrina waved the men out. Isabella took a step back, intending to leave Caitrina to her work. She was neither needed nor wanted here.

  Her movement attracted Colyne’s attention. He turned his scowl her way.

  “Are ye recovered then?” he demanded sharply.

  She started at the sound of his voice. He had not spoken to her in weeks.

  “Recovered?”

  “After bein’ overwrought and tormented at me hands,” he gritted out. “Ye’ve had more ‘an a fortnight unburdened by me despicable company. Are ye recovered now? Or does yet another headache drive ye here tonight?”

  “No.” She hesitated, surprised and chagrined he knew of her complaints. “Mary said you were dying.”

  “Oh, aye?” He grimaced as Caitrina used the thread to stitch his arm and he fairly bit out his words. “Sorry to disappoint ye yet again.”

  “I see you are quite yourself, and in no danger,” Isabella returned. “I will therefore withdraw and leave you to mend.”

  “Dinna worry yerself over me! I’ll nae be the cause of yer hysterics agin’.”

  “You never were. But since you will reveal nothing of how or when I am to be free of this accursed place, I am unwillingly invested in your continued good health.”

  “I will live long enough to be free of ye,” he growled. “Dinna fear!”

  “I very much doubt it if you are determined to provoke your enemies in this foolhardy way.”

  “I am nae like yer Douglas, lass. Careless enough to let another man take what’s his!”

  Isabella felt the blood drain from her face. She turned and pushed her way out of the solar.

  “God’s wounds, poppet!” Katherine exclaimed, following her into the corridor. “That man has a tongue like an asp!”

  Before Isabella could form an answer she found herself looking Colyne’s mistress full in the face.

  In an instant Alisoun’s surprised expression melted into a knowing, malicious smile.

  “Lady Isabella, is the laird finished with ye so quickly?”

  “Your laird is badly injured,” Isabella said coldly, and the woman’s eyes flickered in the direction of the solar at the sound of his cry. Caitrina was no doubt stitching his arm. “I should think you would be more concerned about him than me.”

  “Aye, an’ I should like to look in and see for meself how he fares. I’ll thank ye nae to keep me talkin’ here, my lady.” She scarce dipped a courtesy and walked by with slow insolence, her hips swinging. At the moment of passing, she flicked her skirt in Isabella’s direction.

  Katherine made a sound of disgust but Isabella gritted her teeth and mumbled, “Come along, Kat. Let us to bed.”

  “Who was that piece of common baggage to treat you thus?”

  “The MacKimzie’s whore,” Isabella replied shortly.

  “How has she the gall to speak to you in such a manner?”

  “I expect because she knows she will not be punished for it.”

  “I will to the MacKimzie myself. To think that such a common jade should treat you so!”

  Isabella waved impatiently. “She is a churl’s doxy and I, an earl’s daughter. I shall sit at the queen’s side with all the pleasures of the court before me. She will be lucky if he keeps her a year before marrying her off to a cottier. He is a deceitful villain and they a well-suited pair!” She linked her arm in Kat’s and said, “Come. Let us to bed.”

  Colyne summoned her and Katherine to the solar the next morning.

  Had his harlot made some petty complaint about her? Isabella took her time in dressing before she went. When the MacKimzie saw her he would know her for an earl’s daughter.

  Isabella was surprised to see Sir William had been summoned as well.

  Caitrina’s face was drawn and tired. She stood silent and grim-faced at her brother’s side, as if the visitors had come in the middle of an argument between them.

  Colyne was propped up on pillows, his arm neatly wrapped. His mouth was a tight line and his face had a gray tinge.

  Malcolm stood by the door and he indicated the bandage on his face to Isabella. “I think it shall be a verra fine scar, dinna ye, lady?”

  “Very fine,” she agreed. One of many, she thought.

  “Glad I am of it too! ’Tis nae easy for a man to be sae bonny and ’tis lucky I am to lay the burden down sae young.”

  Isabella smiled.

  “And it gives the lasses somethin’ to kiss better,” he continued with a wink. “I think that’s what Colyne had in mind. But next time,”
he said, to Colyne, “mind ye make it lower than the arm, lad—ye want to make it worth the lass’s time!”

  Katherine gave a short, shocked laugh, and Isabella’s smile vanished.

  “Still yer fool tongue!” Colyne barked, his tone sharp enough to pale Malcolm’s face.

  He glared at them all with shadows of sleeplessness under his eyes. “Caitrina wishes to go out to the well to offer prayers, as is her way. Since ’tis well within MacKimzie land she asks that the three of ye go with her.”

  Although Isabella did not want to go to the well, it would be a joy to leave the castle after such a lengthy stay, even for a short time.

  “I have told her no.”

  Isabella’s spirits tumbled. When she heard the small, disappointed sound from Katherine, she blurted, “Why did you bring us here, then? Was it only for the satisfaction of seeing us cast down and sorrowful before you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I canna let ye go, Lady Isabella. Caitrina wishes me nae to ride today and I canna let another bear the responsibility for you.” Colyne’s eyes went to William. “I know yer a man of honor, Sir William. Do ye hold yer vow to the queen higher than any? Would ye try to escape from here and return to her?”

  Sir William drew himself proudly. “I would, my lord.”

  Colyne nodded. “So I canna let ye go either.” He looked at Katherine. “I will allow ye to go, Mistress Katherine.”

  “You will?” Kat exclaimed.

  “Aye. Ye’ll be guarded by Angus and Jamie, but I ken I could send ye without guards at all and ye’d ride back alone rather than abandon yer lady.”

  Katherine nodded. “’Tis so.”

  Colyne settled back, a flicker of pain across his face as he moved.

  “That is why I brought ye here, sae ye could hear me decision and me reasons for yerselves. Caitrina and Katherine can ride at midday, after dinner.”

  “Oh,” Katherine exclaimed. “No, I could not go without my lady.”

  Isabella spoke quickly. “Please go, Kat. You have been confined inside the castle walls longer even than I.”

  “But I cannot leave you alone!”

  “Sir William will be with me,” she reminded. “Surely you can entrust my well-being to him for a short time.”

  “It is true, Mistress Katherine,” Sir William said stoutly. “I cannot offer your lady your wisdom and comfort but I would lay my life down for her sake.”

  Katherine’s face softened as she looked at him. Isabella pressed her advantage.

  “It will only be for a few hours, Kat. You have wanted to go for weeks.”

  Kat glanced between them and sighed. “All right, I will go. And I shall tell you of every branch and every snowflake when I return. I’faith, you will feel as if you had been there yourselves!”

  Isabella was relieved beyond words when at last Katherine rode out. The promise of riding out had her as excited as a child promised a sweet.

  Katherine could not decide what to wear, she could not decide what to take, she chattered happily about what she would see until Isabella was fair ready to push her out the castle gate to gain a moment’s peace.

  Colyne met them in the courtyard. He gave strict instructions to Angus and Jamie, reminded Caitrina not to dawdle overlong. He tersely told Kat she should obey her protectors’ instructions if she wanted to see the outside of the castle at any time again before she was ransomed.

  Having delivered his message with a glowering expression, the MacKimzie stepped back. Katherine embraced Isabella thrice, swearing she would not linger, gaining a promise that Isabella should display only in the most prudent and ladylike deportment, urging her to confide in Sir William if she had need.

  At the end of her patience, Isabella urged Katherine toward her mount.

  Isabella and Sir William answered Katherine’s jaunty wave with their own as she rode out, beaming. Isabella drew a breath of relief when Kat passed from sight.

  “What may I distract you with while your companion is gone?” Sir William asked. “I am possessed of a book of poetry from which I might read to you.”

  Isabella heard MacKimzie’s snort of disdain behind them. She quickly took the older man’s arm, urging him to walk with her.

  The last thing she wanted, now that she had escaped Katherine’s relentless good cheer, was to have to endure Sir William’s efforts to engage her.

  “I thought you were set on sword practice today.”

  He nodded. “It is true that I have been remiss in my efforts of late.”

  And due in no small part to Kat, Isabella thought, smiling inwardly.

  “I could not bear to think you had neglected your duty to Queen Joan merely to keep me company. Please do not let me distract you from your practice.”

  “Although the MacKimzie has only allowed me use of a wooden practice sword, I daresay I do grow stronger,” he allowed. “But I can delay my practice until Mistress Katherine returns.”

  “Oh, you must not!” Isabella protested, with some true alarm. “Kat will be eager to tell us both of her adventure. Think of how distressed she will be if you cannot attend to her.”

  The thought of disappointing Katherine seemed the final deciding factor and he nodded. “But what of you, my lady?”

  “Oh,” Isabella shrugged. “I shall occupy myself. Perhaps I shall take the time to rest. I expect that Mistress Katherine will make supper very lively tonight.”

  Sir William bowed to her and Isabella found herself without Katherine’s cheer, Sir William’s gallantry, Caitrina’s vigilance, or MacKimzie’s scowl for the first time in weeks.

  She was blissful with freedom.

  It was afternoon but she went to her rooms anyway and allowed Mary to swap out her outdoor boots for indoor slippers before sending the girl away. She wiggled her toes, enjoying the fire and the respite from constant conversation and forced merriment.

  She closed her eyes. Soon she would join the court and revel in all its distractions. The queen would welcome her, and King James, so harsh to his subjects, was known to be kindly and generous to his queen’s ladies.

  I shall be married soon, one of the queen’s ladies. I shall twirl in a new gown every night and dance with men of the finest manners. I expect I will not think of him once I leave here. I will not sit at his table, listening for that soft warm burr. Remember the way his voice sounded when he—

  Isabella stood quickly and threw her cloak around her shoulders.

  She encountered few others. After the many days of her cold stares and without Katherine to force pleasantries, none greeted her. She wandered aimlessly and found herself in the solar. It was empty now, left tidy and neat. Caitrina’s herbs were carefully stored and arranged. The room had been aired and sweet herbs mixed in with the floor rushes.

  Isabella idly touched the little book into which Caitrina made her records, envious of the Scotswoman’s vast healing knowledge. Caitrina carefully noted what she had used for what ailment, what herbs seemed to help or harm.

  Did Caitrina know what could bring a child, or prevent one?

  Isabella’s mind skittered away from thinking of that night.

  Why must every thought return again to him?

  Her courses were not late, not yet, she thought. Her time varied by as much as a fortnight sometimes. There was no sense in worrying and this was her first opportunity to enjoy some solitude.

  Isabella took in the herbs, the pots, the books. She could learn from Caitrina, could she not? How useful it would be in the running of her own household!

  The idea of being occupied in a task so interesting and useful, possibly for hours a day, brought her the first real pleasure she had known in weeks. She would speak to Caitrina immediately upon the woman’s return.

  Suddenly the herbs, the book—all of it—faded, retreating like the tide running out.

  A cloth fluttered in Kat’s hand. Angus and Jamie talked nearby but they were not close enough. Hidden men watched Caitrina tie her cloth to the tree. Swords were quietly draw
n. They edged closer. The women did not see—

  The book dropped from Isabella’s fingers as the solar rushed back into focus.

  “Kat,” she whispered.

  Isabella kicked Caitrina’s precious book in her haste to get out of the solar. She steadied herself against the stairwell’s cold stone, unmindful that she held her skirt higher than any lady should as she ran. She burst into to the great hall to discover that only servants lingered there.

  “Where is your laird?” she demanded. “Where is the MacKimzie?”

  The servants looked back at her blankly. None spoke.

  She dashed out, leaving them.

  The kitchens? His rooms?

  With Alisoun?

  She gambled, checking the courtyard first. A sob of relief rose from her throat when she spied his red-gold hair, bright in the winter sunlight.

  “Colyne!”

  She hoisted her skirts to run toward him. She still wore her indoor slippers, soft and decorative; they did nothing to protect her feet from the snow or the hard ground.

  He was running toward her now, alarmed.

  “What is it?” he demanded upon reaching her. “What’s happened?”

  She gripped his arms. “Ride after them! Ride to the well!”

  His glance went over her, his hands holding her arms in return. “Are ye hurt? Do ye need Caitrina?”

  “No! There are men, hiding nearby, watching them!”

  He blinked, his head rearing back a bit. “There’s—?”

  “Oh, please, listen to me!” she begged, her palms against his chest now. “They are in danger! You have to go now!”

  He shook his head. “What are ye on about, lass?”

  “Please, the men are there, they are armed, I saw them!”

  “Saw them? How could ye?”

  Isabella’s mouth suddenly went dry. She could think of nothing to say, no pat answer or excuse. There was no way she could know these things, but she did—and there was no time to explain.