Frederick came to stand beside the bed. “I think ye should rest now, lass,” he told her. “And please, do no’ call me m’laird. Ye may call me Frederick, or husband, or even ‘ye handsome devil’,” he said with a mirthful smile, “but please, no’ m’laird.”
He resisted the urge to smile or offer a humorous retort when he saw her face turn as red as a beet.
“C-can I a-ask s-somethin’ of ye?” she asked.
“Aye, ye can ask me anythin’ lass. If ’tis in me power to do it, I shall see it done.” He felt so sorry for her at the moment that he doubted he’d be able to deny her anything.
Aggie cleared her throat. “C-c-can ye see that Ailrig is w-well?”
That was easy enough a request. Her worry over her younger brother was endearing. “Aye, I will.”
He could sense there was more she wanted to say, but was holding back. Understanding that she had been mute for many years, had endured what he could only imagine was a form of hell on earth, Frederick couldn’t expect her to suddenly just speak whenever the mood struck her.
“D-da sometimes t-t-takes his anger out on Ailrig,” she explained, her fear and worry over her brother undeniably justified.
Frederick took a deep breath and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I shall make sure young Ailrig is safe and keep him away from yer da. Now please, rest.”
Relief swept over her, he could see it in her eyes and the way the tension left her shoulders. He was glad that he could put her mind at ease, at least for now. He had a sneaky suspicion she’d not rest comfortably however, until she saw for herself that the boy was well.
Crossing the room, he went to one of his trunks and opened it. Finding what he was looking for, he removed the tunic, shut the lid and returned to Aggie. “Ye can sleep in this,” he said.
“T-too fine,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Don’t be silly, lass. Ye need something warm to sleep in. I doubt ye’ll want anythin’ on yer back fer a day or two. I’ll no’ have ye catchin’ yer death from the cold.”
Aggie’s eyes widened when he lifted the tunic and pulled it down over her head. Carefully, without speaking, he pulled one arm through, then the other, before giving it a gentle tug to cover her torso.
“There ye be, lassie,” he chuckled. The tunic was far too big, but still, ’twas far better than her sleeping in nothing.
Aggie sighed contentedly and returned to lying on her belly, her head resting on her arms. Oh, how he wished he could take the pain away from her heart as well as her body. Hopefully Rose had the necessary herbs to concoct a sleeping draught for he knew rest would not come easy for several days.
As he waited for her to drift off to sleep, he made a mental list of all the things he would need to do. First, he must speak with Ian and explain what he had just learned. They had many challenges ahead of them and Frederick knew that his biggest obstacle would be Mermadak McLaren. Given another chance or opportunity, he doubted he’d be able to hold on to his temper and not kill the man.
FREDERICK STEPPED INTO the hallway and gently closed the door behind him. Ian and Findal were waiting for him and each man looked mightily concerned.
“How be Aggie?” Findal asked.
“Better. I fear she be in far more pain than she’ll admit to. I applied a salve and she rests now.”
Ian shook his head in disgust. “I still do no’ understand why her father would treat her so poorly.”
“I still do no’ understand why ye kept me from killin’ the whoreson,” Frederick said as he rolled his shoulders to loosen the kinks.
“Well, I didna think ‘twould go over well with the rest of yer new clan were ye to kill their chief after only a day of being married to his daughter,” Ian answered. He sounded as though he were beginning to regret his earlier decision. He couldn’t know it now, but once his older brother explained all that he had learned the past two hours, he’d regret the decision all the rest of his days.
“There is much I need to tell ye, but no’ here,” Frederick said before turning to Findal. “I want two men to guard me wife at all times, unless I am with her. Findal, would ye go and fetch Rognall and Peter fer me? I’ll have them begin the first watch.”
“Guards?” Findal asked. “Are ye afraid her da will try to hurt her again? Even after what ye did to him earlier?”
Frederick chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment. “Aye, I do. I’ll explain everything after ye return with the men.”
Findal gave a nod and set off to do as Frederick asked. As he walked away, Ailrig stepped from behind Ian. “I will help guard Aggie.”
There was no doubt in Frederick’s mind that the lad was quite serious. The boy stood with his shoulders back and a most solemn expression to his face. Frederick took note of the firm set of the boy’s jaw and the tears that brimmed in his brown eyes.
Frederick paused and looked at Ian. Ian leaned into his ear to whisper. “The poor lad’s been waitin’ here fer two hours, Frederick. He has been doin’ his best no’ to let us see him cry. He’s truly worried over Aggie.”
Frederick looked down at Ailrig for a moment. He set a hand on the boy’s shoulder and drew him away from the door. Once they were a good distance from Ian, Frederick leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. Ailrig eyed him suspiciously for a moment before he sat down beside Frederick.
“Aggie be restin’ now, Ailrig. She’ll be well verra soon.”
Ailrig crossed his wrists and rested them on his knees, just like Frederick.
“She’s worried over ye too. Says sometimes the McLaren takes his anger out on ye as well.”
Ailrig nodded, but remained silent.
“I made Aggie a promise this day, Ailrig.”
The boy gave a sideways glance at Frederick.
“I will make ye the same promise. I’ll no’ let any harm come to either of ye again. I’ll do whatever I can to see that neither the McLaren nor any of his men hurt either of ye.”
Tears welled in the lad’s eyes. “I hate the McLaren.”
Frederick could not blame the lad for hating the McLaren, for he felt much the same way.
Ailrig rested his head on his knees and was quiet for some time. Frederick placed a hand on the back of the boy’s head. He tried to imagine being an illegitimately born, orphaned nine year old boy, growing up amongst these hard people. It always amazed Frederick that the world oft times blamed children for the faults of their parents. ‘Twasn’t Ailrig’s fault he’d been born out of wedlock. The blame—if there was any—should rest with his parents. But who was to say that his parents hadn’t loved each other very much and this boy had been the result of that love? Unforeseen circumstances could have separated child from parent. Who knew? Either way, ’twas not the young boy’s fault.
Ailrig finally lifted his head and looked at Frederick. Tears streamed down the boy’s face. “When I grow up and I’m big like ye, I’m goin’ to kill the McLaren.”
“Why?” Frederick asked softly.
“Fer all he’s done to Aggie. He hurts her and she doesna deserve it. When I grow up and have children, I’ll never hurt them like he does.”
The lad didn’t seek revenge on his own behalf, but for what had been done to his sister. Frederick marveled at the fact that the lad had somehow managed to develop a strong sense of right versus wrong, in spite of all he’d witnessed growing up here. He could only attribute this streak of honor to Aggie’s influence. He shuddered to think of what this boy’s life might have been like without Aggie in it.
“He’s mean to everyone,” Ailrig said as he wiped his tears on his shoulders. “How can a man be so cruel?”
Frederick wished he had a good answer. He sighed heavily and thought on it before answering. “I dunna ken, lad. Hate can be born from many things and can cause a man to be cruel. The hate ye have fer the McLaren? Be careful of it lad. ’Tis a verra big feelin’ for someone so young. Do no’ let it fester, fer someday, it could take over yer heart completely.”
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Ailrig thought on it for a moment. “Aggie says the same thing. When the other children tease me fer bein’ bastard born, she says I should fergive them.”
Frederick raised a brow. “Fergive them?”
“Aye,” he said with a nod. “Because no one loves them enough to show them how to behave properly or how to love others even if they be different.”
Frederick turned his gaze toward the bedchamber door where his wife now slept. Remarkable, he thought. Even after all she’d been through, she was teaching the lad to forgive and to love.
“I fergive them fer teasin’ me, but ’tisna easy,” Ailrig said solemnly. “But ’tis verra hard to fergive the McLaren.”
Frederick turned his attention back to the lad. He could not very well ask the boy to forgive and forget when he knew he could not forgive the McLaren.
“I can help ye guard Aggie,” Ailrig said. “I ken I be small fer me age, but I’m verra smart. Ye can ask Aggie, she’ll tell ye. And I be verra good at helpin’ Aggie to hide when we have to.”
Frederick could not resist the urge to smile at Ailrig’s sincerity and tenacity. The lad would grow to be a fine man some day and he’d have no one to thank but Aggie.
“Have ye a sword, lad?” Frederick asked as he knelt in front of Ailrig.
“Nay,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Well, ye need a sword, laddie. Ye canna guard yer sister without one,” Frederick tousled the boy’s hair. “Wait here, Ailrig,” he instructed as he stepped back into his room.
Ailrig looked up at Ian with a questioning glance. Ian shrugged his shoulders. “He be right, laddie. Ye need a good sword.”
AILRIG LOOKED POSITIVELY deflated when he realized Ian agreed with Frederick. He remained still, quietly brooding. He didn’t think it should matter that he was but nine and had no sword. He could still protect Aggie. After all, he’d been doing it for as long as he could remember. Aye, he couldn’t pull a grown man off her but he could help her stay hidden until the worst of the storm passed.
FREDERICK RETURNED TO the hallway holding something wrapped in linen fabric. He knelt again in front of Ailrig.
“Ailrig, how old be ye?” Frederick asked.
“Nine,” Ailrig answered.
“Good, then ye be old enough fer this.” Frederick placed the object on one knee and carefully removed the cloth. ’Twas a small wooden sword, meant for a child. It had been a gift to Frederick from one of his uncles when he was but six years old. He had kept it all these years in hopes of someday giving it to his own son. After learning what he had about his wife, he doubted they’d be bringing any new bairns into the world at any time in the foreseeable future. It might take years before he could gain her trust for that to happen.
Ailrig’s eyes grew wide with awe and wonder as Frederick held it out for him. “This was mine when I was a lad. I give it to ye fer safe keeping, Ailrig. Use it only if ye must. When things settle down a bit, I’ll teach ye how to use it proper. Would ye like that?”
Wide, awe-filled eyes were glued to the sword. Ailrig nodded his head rapidly, his fingers just itching to take the sword into his hand.
“Are ye sure ye want me to have it, Frederick?” he asked warily.
“Aye, I am, laddie. But ye must promise to keep it safe. If I find it lyin’ about unattended, I shall take it back and keep it.”
“This be a big responsibility, aye?” Ailrig asked breathlessly.
“Aye, that it is.”
“I promise I’ll keep it with me at all times, Frederick. I’ll no’ let ye or Aggie down.”
Frederick stood to his full height and smiled at the boy. He placed the sword in Ailrig’s hands, tousled his dark locks and smiled. “Yer goin’ to be a fine warrior Ailrig. A fine warrior indeed.”
ROSE HAD RETURNED with a sleeping draught for Aggie. With assurances that Ailrig was well and would not be left alone, Aggie drank the tisane and soon fell asleep. Rose promised to stay by Aggie’s side until Frederick returned. With Ailrig watching over her from inside the bedchamber, and two of his best men outside the door, Frederick felt comfortable enough to leave.
She was an enigma, his wee wife. Outward appearances were deceiving. As he made his way out of the keep to find a place where he could speak to his men, he thought over the events of the past few days.
At nearly all times, Aggie kept her eyes cast to the ground, as if she were afraid to make eye contact with anyone. He supposed that was her way of avoiding being taunted and ridiculed. If she did not look at anyone then they would not look at her.
Refusing to speak was her only defense against these people who looked down at her. Remaining mute gave them less ammunition to use against her. To be certain it was a survival mechanism. She took their abuse in deafening silence. Never responding, never standing up for herself and never fighting back. He had worried that his wife was a meek, weak woman, but he had quickly learned that was not the truth.
Something inside her—willpower, resoluteness, strength, determination—had kept her not only living, but alive. Though it was barely discernible, there was a spark of something hidden in the depths of those gold brown eyes of hers. Hopefully, over time, that spark would continue to grow and she’d allow him to see the woman she should have been all along and the woman she could still be.
He and Ian found a quiet spot just outside the walls of the keep. They stood next to a lone tree that sat at the edge of a flat bit of land that would make a good place to train, once things settled down. Frederick explained to Ian what he had learned from Aggie.
“I should never have stopped ye from killin’ him,” Ian remarked.
Out of respect for Aggie, he did not share every sordid detail with his brother, just enough so that Ian could better understand Frederick’s decision to remain. He would not, under any circumstance, set the marriage or Aggie aside.
“I fear, brother, that Mermadak will give us more chances to break his neck before all is said and done,” Frederick said with a heavy sigh.
Ian leaned against the tree and looked out over McLaren lands. The keep was surrounded on three sides by large, rocky hills. From where he stood, it looked as though a giant had come through the area with a blade and cut the hills in half, scattering boulders and rock all around. To their west sat a large glen with a small band of trees lining one side. The keep stood in the middle of it all. The rocky terrain made it less than ideal for growing crops. Ian reckoned it better suited for raising sheep and cattle.
“Are ye sure ye want to fight fer this?” Ian asked with a hint of skepticism in his voice.
Frederick chuckled slightly at the question. “I must be mad, aye?”
“Is she worth it, Frederick?” Ian asked more seriously. “In the end, be this the woman ye want to build a life with? Ye might no’ ever have bairns, Frederick. She might no’ be able to get over the trauma of what happened to her as a wee lass.”
They were valid questions and concerns and Frederick had been wondering those same things. “I dunna ken yet, Ian. She is a bonny lass with a strong constitution. ’Tis true she’s been through hell and back these past years. Still, she’s done what she could to survive and I think that speaks highly of her character. I doubt I’d have been able to come through it with me mind intact, but Aggie has.”
“But what of children, Frederick? Are ye worried ye’ll not ever be able to consummate the marriage? Have ye no’ thought of that?”
“I think it be a wee early to be worryin’ over those things. We were just married yesterday, Ian.”
Ian gave him a look that said he thought perhaps his brother was too optimistic.
“Ian,” Frederick began. “’Tis true that I want children. But for the moment, ’tis no’ this most important thing. There be other things I need to focus on.”
“Such as?” Ian asked.
“Such as showin’ me wife she can trust me. I also need to focus on buildin’ this clan up. Repairin’ the keep, and findin’ ways to increase income.
But I think, fer now, we must focus on ways we can avoid starvin’ and freezin’ to death this winter.”
Though it was months away, if they did not start working now they’d not survive the winter.
Twelve
SULLEN AND ANGRY, Mermadak McLaren sat alone in his room, drinking whisky until his vision blurred. Slumped in a chair before a low burning fire with his feet propped on an overstuffed cassock, he mulled over the events of the past days and weeks.
Frederick Mackintosh was quickly turning out to be a great disappointment. He was not the man Mermadak had thought him to be, nothing like the other Mackintoshes that Mermadak knew. Nay, this fool, Frederick, was not the savage he’d hoped for.
The Mackintoshes were infamous for being hard, vicious men—both on and off the battlefield. That had been the sole reason Mermadak had agreed to the marriage between Aggie and Frederick. Had he thought for even the briefest moment that this Mackintosh possessed anything remotely akin to a heart, he would never have agreed to the marriage.
Damn the bastard. Mermadak thought as he took another pull of whisky. A spasm hit his chest triggering a coughing fit. Sweat broke out across his brow and down his back as he struggled to breath. A long time passed before he was able to get his breathing under control.
It wasn’t the whisky that made him cough and wheeze, ’twas the bloody lung disease. Some days were better than others. The good days were coming far less often than he liked and he knew that soon there would be no more good days left. Soon, he would have to struggle for every breath he took.
His jaw still hurt from the blow the bastard Mackintosh had given him that morning, but not nearly as bad as his pride. Were he still in his prime, he could have taken the Mackintosh easily enough. Had he not been so focused on beating the life out of Aggie, the Mackintosh fool would not have caught him so unaware.
At the moment, Mermadak was not sure with whom he was most angry. Himself for allowing Frederick Mackintosh to step in and stop him from killing Aggie or his dead wife for having made a fool out of him all those many years ago?
Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series Page 13