“Ye canna have a tub,” she said quietly. “We get one hot bath a month and she had hers yesterday.”
Frederick felt the sudden urge to toss the woman out the window. “I do no’ care if she had a bath this morn. I said to bring a tub and hot water.”
Clair blinked up at him. “Ye do no’ understand. The McLaren will no’ allow it. We have little wood fer fire as it is. We canna go wasting it on bathin’. He’ll fly into a rage if ye bring her a bath.”
He could not tell if the woman was genuinely concerned over angering her laird or if she simply used it as an excuse to continue to be mean to his wife. At the moment, he cared not which it was that motivated her.
Frederick stepped toward the woman, his jaw clenched. “What is yer job here?” he asked.
Clair looked up, her face still devoid of any emotion or feeling. “I work in the kitchens.”
“Ye’ve just been reassigned, Clair. Yer now in charge of firewood.”
Her eyes grew wide. She was clearly insulted by his directive. “I’ll be glad to get ye firewood, m’laird. I have no problem with doin’ that. I was simply tryin’ to warn ye that the McLaren will fly into a rage if he finds out.”
Frederick had heard enough. “I do no’ care what the McLaren thinks. If he flies into a rage ye come to see me and I’ll take care of it. Now off with ye.”
Clair was clearly insulted at the manner in which Frederick had dismissed her. She left in a huff, with her chin lifted and looking quite insulted.
THE FOG OF disorientation began to slowly ebb away. Faces were no longer blurry and unrecognizable. Voices were no longer muffled nor did they sound like disjointed apparitions. The pain was unbearable. Her back burned, her muscles ached.
Aggie wished she could have stayed hidden in the dark recesses of her mind for a while longer. It was safe there. The pain far less intense and no humiliation to bear. Out of the darkness and into the light, ’twas agony.
She paid little notice to the men who kept entering her room and leaving. None spoke a word to her and why they were there she had neither the strength nor inclination to ask. Several times she had attempted to close her eyes and pretend she was alone, but each time her lids shut she was overwhelmed with nausea. Her pulse pounded in her head and she began to wonder if she hadn’t taken a blow to it.
Aggie focused her mind on a small spot near the window, instead of her burning back. It was difficult not to wince each time she felt Rose—no matter how gentle her ministrations—swipe away the blood from her skin.
The chattering of her teeth began to subside and her body trembled slightly instead of shaking with such ferocity she rocked the bed. Someone had built a fire and draped furs over her body, still neither did much to dampen the cold that seemed to have settled into her bones.
Rose had finished cleaning Aggie’s wounds as best she could. Rinsing out the bloody cloths, she spoke to Aggie in a low voice. “Mrs. McCurdy is makin’ ye somethin’ fer the pain, Aggie.”
Mayhap a full barrel of whisky would help dull the pain. Aggie doubted Mrs. McCurdy could come up with any magical concoction to help dull the agony.
“I ken it hurts to move much,” Rose said as she came around to the other side of the bed. She knelt down to look Aggie straight on. “Can ye manage to sit? We’ll get ye undressed and into the bath.”
Aggie raised a quizzical brow.
“Aye, a bath,” Rose said as she carefully helped Aggie to sit up. “Yer husband insisted on it.” Rose chuckled softly. “He made Clair go to gather wood!”
Mayhap I did take a blow to the head and this is all but an addle-headed hallucination, Aggie mused. She grunted, but managed to sit up and swing her feet over the edge of the bed.
“Aye, I ken what yer thinkin’!” Rose said with a smile. “But I tell the truth. We’ve a bath fer ye in front of the fire. Frederick insisted.”
The word cowardice entered her mind. She vaguely remembered hearing someone speak the word earlier, but could not say with any certainty who had accused her of it. More likely than not, ’twas her husband. Mayhap he wants to wash the stench of cowardice and shame from me.
“He be wracked with guilt over what happened to ye, Aggie,” Rose said as she helped Aggie to her feet. “Do ye remember what happened?”
Aggie shook her head nay. She remembered the first few strikes of the whip, could remember Donnel’s laughter and her father’s insults, and that odd sensation of being underwater. After that, everything was but a blur.
“Well, I can tell ye that ’twere it no’ fer Frederick, ye’d be dead right now. I didna see it with me own eyes, ye ken, but Ian told me that Frederick picked Donnel up and tossed him across the room! And yer da? Och! He tossed him across the table and against the wall!”
Aggie drew her brows inward. No one had ever acted as her champion before and certainly, no one had ever raised a hand to stop her da.
“’Tis true, Aggie. He was so enraged with yer da that it took six of his men to hold him back, to keep him from killin’ Mermadak.”
Why? Why would Frederick care what her father had done? Her stomach tightened with a terrifying thought. Mayhap he wants the pleasure of beatin’ me all to his own?
Her teeth began to chatter again as Rose pulled down the remnants of her dress and chemise before helping her into the tub.
Steam rose from the tub and Aggie sighed as she sank into it. Hot water was a luxury and one she wished she could enjoy far more often. She would have loved to have sunk all the way in, let the water cover her from head to toe, but it stung at her cuts.
For a brief moment, she worried over what her father might say or do if he learned there was a tub in her room, filled with luxuriously hot water. I might as well enjoy it whilst I can. ’Twill save Rose the trouble of havin’ to bathe me after I die.
“Do no’ worry over yer da, Aggie,” Rose said as she brought the small stool over and set it down beside her. “Yer husband has vowed to protect ye from him.”
A vow of protection from the same man who was so angry with me just last eve? Nay, ’twas not possible. Ye embarrassed him in front of his men, in front of yer clan. He hates ye. A man wouldna vow to protect something he most assuredly despises.
Aggie tried to lean back in the tub, but the hot water stung at her cuts and gashes. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
“I ken it be difficult fer ye to believe, Aggie, but I tell ye true. Frederick will no’ hurt ye. He was furious with Mermadak and Donnel. I heard him speak with his brother Ian and the others. They were appalled, furious, and ready to kill. I was able to learn that where Frederick and his men come from, men do no’ beat their wives. Me heart tells me that Frederick will always show ye a gentle hand, Aggie.”
Rose carefully poured a pitcher of water over Aggie’s head. Grabbing a jar of marigold scented soap, Rose scooped a small dollop out and began to gently wash Aggie’s hair. “I ken ye be afraid, Aggie, and I canna say that I blame ye. Ye ken that I’d never lead ye astray and I’m no’ one to give in to romantic notions. But Frederick does seem genuine in his concern fer ye. He’ll do everythin’ he can to protect ye.”
What a novel concept, Aggie thought. Men who protect instead of hurt. ’Twas a fanciful notion and one she could not quite grasp, even though it wasn’t a completely foreign concept. Aggie knew that Rose’s father had never treated her the way Mermadak treated Aggie. Nay, Rose’s father had always been kind and patient with his children and his wife. But the rest of the men Aggie had known throughout her life? Cruel bastards every one.
Rose was careful to rinse the soap from Aggie’s hair, still, some of it made its way into the cuts. Aggie winced and held her breath while Rose gently poured clean water over the cuts to rinse away the soap.
“I need to go below stairs to see how Mrs. McCurdy fares with the poultice and the brew. Will ye be all right fer a bit?”
Aggie nodded her head in affirmation and closed her eyes. She listened as Rose quit t
he room, gently closing the door behind her.
The hot water did soothe away some of the ache in her muscles and bones. She wished it could have the same effect on her heart.
Could Rose be right? Could the Mackintosh be different? Could he truly wish me no ill will? Could it truly be possible that he wishes to protect me? Aye, he could fer now. But will his opinion be the same when he learns just what he has married and bargained fer? Doubtful.
Aggie doubted any man would be able to look beyond the ugliness of it all. Aye, Frederick may have good intentions now. Her heart desperately wanted to believe that he would not be ashamed, would not turn and run away if he should learn her secrets.
She contemplated her options. Find a way to tell the truth and risk losing the closest thing to a protector that she’d had since her mother’s death or keep her dark secrets buried. She had done a good job at keeping the truth hidden for more than ten years now. Her mother was the only one who knew the whole sordid tale and she had taken that knowledge to her grave.
The secrets had eaten at her soul for so long. Not even Rose knew. There were so many times she wished she could have unburdened herself to her friend but the risk of her father learning was too great. The only way to keep a secret was to tell no one. So bury it, she did.
But what if somehow Frederick found out the truth? What if years went by and they had developed some kind of mutual respect for one another? What then?
No matter how she sliced it, in the end, she risked everything.
FREDERICK HAD MET Rose in the hallway near the kitchens. Rose quietly provided Frederick with a report on how Aggie fared. He listened intently and when she was done, he gave a nod of his head. “I’ll see to her now, Rose. I thank ye kindly fer takin’ such good care of her.”
“She’s me friend, Frederick. My one and only true friend. She is verra afraid right now and knows not if she can trust ye. It’s verra difficult fer her to believe anyone, least of all a man, would care what happens to her. Please, be patient with her.”
It took no great effort to understand how terrified his wife must be. He also knew that after his own mistreatment of her the night before, she would be afraid of him. Thus far, he’d done nothing to earn her trust. When he considered the kind of life Aggie must have had, he could not blame her for being afraid or unable to trust anyone.
“I promise ye, I’ll do me best to earn her trust and her respect. I ken it be me own fault what happened to her this morn. Had I no’ been such an ass last eve, she’d no’ have been hurt this morn.”
Humor flashed behind Rose’s eyes. “It takes a verra big man to admit when he’s wrong. An even bigger man to admit he’s been an ass.”
He chuckled softly and found he was grateful for Rose’s blunt honesty. “I be glad me wife has a friend in ye, Rose. Now, ye go do what ye must and I’ll go do what I must.”
Rose gave a tilt of her head. “What must ye do?”
“Beg me wife’s fergiveness,” he answered.
“Be careful how ye do that, Frederick, fer Aggie be no’ used to any man askin’ her such a thing. Might throw her back into a state of shock again.”
Frederick rolled his eyes and smiled as Rose walked away. He took a deep breath before heading to his room.
AGGIE FELT HER chest constrict when she saw Frederick standing in the doorway. She was still in the tub with her arms wrapped around her knees. It wasn’t the tepid water that caused her to shiver. It was the odd expression his face held.
Closing her eyes, she turned away and rested her cheek against her knees. He’s coming to say his goodbyes. She cursed the tears that trailed down her cheeks. Just once before I die, I’d like to no’ be afraid.
She heard the door close and then the faint sound of his boots as he walked toward her. Why am I cursed to live this life? Why does God hate me so?
“Aggie,” Frederick spoke her name softly. “I be so terribly sorry.”
She did not believe she had heard him correctly. The tears made her feel weak and ashamed. Weak only because her father took them as just that, a sign of weakness and a reason to deliver more punishment. Ashamed because she had no control over the longing for something more in this life. Ashamed for hoping, for dreaming, when deep down she knew such fanciful things would never lead to anything but heartache.
She kept her head turned away for she did not want to see Frederick’s face when he told her goodbye. She was certain that no amount of tears would get him to change his mind anyway. If he had any decency at all, he would leave her alone now and just be gone.
“Aggie, won’t ye please look at me?” he pleaded in a low, warm voice. She couldn’t fathom why he was speaking in such a soothing tone. He certainly hadn’t been at all soothing last night when she needed it the most. She had embarrassed him in front of his men. Had humiliated him to the point where he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her.
Years of abuse had taught her how to cope with men who were easy to anger and quick to curse and shout. Mayhap he was just as deranged as her father. He’d be calm and kind just before striking out. Please, do no’ let him be like da.
“I ken ye be upset with me, Aggie, and I canna blame ye.” There was a slight catch in his voice.
Swallowing back the fear and wretchedness, she took the chance to open her eyes and look at him, still certain she was not hearing him correctly.
“I ken I be no’ deservin’ of it, but I do ask that ye find it in yer heart to fergive me.”
Aggie tilted her head and looked at him quizzically as she wiped away tears with her fingertips. Was he truly asking her forgiveness? Nay. Either her mind was playing tricks or he was. Neither option was comforting.
“I was no’ there for ye,” he began. “Last night, I made assumptions that I had no right to make. Because I let me impatience and temper get the better of me,” he paused as if searching for the right words.
Aggie blinked several times. He was apologizing. To her. Tears pooled in her eyes and she fought hard to keep them at bay. Mayhap he was only seeking her forgiveness in order that he could leave her with his conscience clear. She studied his long face and sorrowful eyes for a short length of time. He looked as though he held some amount of guilt, but still, she could not be certain as to his true intent.
“Ye were made to suffer for me bad temper and poor assumptions. I beg ye, to please fergive me.”
No matter how badly her heart longed for him to be as sincere as he sounded, her mind gave warning. Men never apologize.
When she saw him raise his hand, she did not wait to see what his intent or purpose in doing so was. Self-preservation surged forward. In a flash, she crossed her arms over her face and turned away and held her breath. Water splashed over the edge of the tub as she braced for the impact of a hard, angry hand. See? Ye ken no man can be trusted, no matter how sweet his voice or temperament.
FREDERICK HAD SEEN the fear in Aggie’s eyes the moment he had stepped into the room. He’d done his best to sound calm and kind. In truth, he wanted to shout that he would avenge the wrong done to her this day. But in that brief moment, before she turned away from him, he saw such fear and apprehension in those damp golden brown eyes, that he found he wanted nothing more than to take that fear away. Ranting and raving on like a lunatic, no matter if his rage was directed at her father and the bastard Donnel who had done nothing to help her, would serve no purpose. Swallowing down the anger, he went to the tub and knelt before her.
He genuinely wanted her to forgive him for not being there to protect her. He wanted her to know that he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make it up for her.
But all the calm he had felt went flying out the window the instant she flinched and threw her arms up to cover her face. Aggie didn’t need to be able to speak in order for him to understand what she was feeling and probably thinking. She was afraid of him. She did not trust him. How could she? His gut lurched with the realization that they were strangers on a difficult journey and only one of
them could actually speak their mind on the matter.
Slowly, he pulled his hand away. His intention had been to wipe away her tears, to offer her some comfort and reassurance. Instead, he had frightened her. Frederick wondered how long it would be before he could reach out and touch this young woman without her flinching and ducking away in fear?
For a moment, he was tempted to quit the room for he did not want to see her so fearful. Deciding however, that running away from the problem now would serve no purpose other than delay that which he wanted—to quell her fears and earn her forgiveness—he pushed the temptation aside. His father had taught him that the only way to work out a problem was head on.
As gently as he could manage, he placed his big, trembling hands on hers. “Aggie, as God is me witness, I will never hurt ye. I meant only to wipe yer tears away.”
Either from fear or cold, or, he reckoned, both, Aggie shivered and trembled. Her eyes were closed tight, her chest rapidly rising and falling with each shaky breath that she took. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “I’ll never raise a hand to ye. I swear it.”
As patiently as he could, he remained beside her, holding her hands and waited. Tenderly, he rubbed his thumbs against top of her hands.
Ever so slowly, her breathing slowed and she began to relax, albeit only slightly. Like a spring coiled tightly and liable to unwind and strike out in the blink of an eye. He knew he must show great care with this young woman.
ENCASED IN FEAR, Aggie could not move. And seeing how she sat naked in the tub, fleeing wasn’t possible. The moments ticked by slowly as she waited for the blows to begin. Though why exactly he might want to beat her at the moment she could not reason. But she had learned over these past years that men never needed a good, sound reason to lash out, to punish or to hurt. They only needed the whim.
When he placed his hands atop hers, curling his fingers around them, she thought for certain her heart would seize from the fright. Frozen as she was, she still could not move, could barely find the means to breathe. She continued to brace her body for blows she was certain would come at any moment.
Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series Page 10