by Kara Griffin
Rhys joined her on the rock and stretched his muscular legs in front of him. “I could teach ye a thing or two about kissing, but you be a bit young.”
“I am not too young to kiss. Why I would be married by now if my father did not love me so. My lord will soon pick a husband for me, Rhys. I know he will.” Affronted by his rejection, Bree made sure he was aware of her intent to marry one day.
He laughed harshly. “Aye? ‘Tis doubtful he shall. Why would he want to send ye away when he’d have to replace ye?”
Bree’s chest tightened and a sudden solemnest came to her. “My father cares for me, Rhys. He only keeps me here because I am akin to a daughter.”
“Akin to a kitchen serf, I deem. Aye, that is all ye be to them. You forget yourself, Bree. Be not a daughter but a serf in their eyes. Your lady has never called you daughter and Melinda has never called you sister.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. His words hurt and she couldn’t hold back the tears. “You are the meanest, vilest creature, Rhys. Dare ye insult me?”
“I speak the truth. Bree, ye be a woman now and still ye cooks and slaves for them. Baron Champlain will not allow you to take a husband. Not now, not ever. Best ye forget about it.”
“Well, ye shan’t take a wife either.”
“I shall, when I earn my apprenticeship and my lord gives me position. I will then have the means to take a wife.” Rhys bumped her shoulder with his. “Bree, I apologize if I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to.” He took hold of her hand and squeezed it.
She wiped her tears away. “I know you didn’t. Do you really deem my father means to keep me as the cook forever? Will I ever …”
“I’ll always be here with ye, Bree.”
“Someone comes.” Bree stood quickly and hastily pulled her overdress over her head while Rhys began pulling on his leggings and tunic. She turned away when his bulge stuck out, which she couldn’t help noticing. The boy she’d played with no longer existed. One day he’d want to use his manly parts and that day was fast approaching.
“Bree, where are ye?”
“Oh, ‘tis only Cait. Here, by the water with Rhys,” she called. Bree continued to fasten the ties of her overdress and slipped her feet into her worn shoes. “What goes? Have you come to join us in the lake?”
Cait burst through the column of trees and bent over, trying to catch her breath. When her breathing calmed she shouted, “Baron and my lady return! Frederick rode ahead to warn us so we might ready for their arrival. They are close. We must hurry.”
Bree’s heart sunk. She hadn’t had much freedom. The Champlain’s had traveled to Berwickshire to attend the yearly festival. For weeks, many would gather to participate in the events and to trade goods. Berwickshire by the border drew clans from high and low regions. Border barons attended in support of their crofters, selling the crops and gaining funds. Bree never liked attending the festivals. There was always too many people, too many tents, too many chores to be done.
And in this summer heat, she would have been forced to stay beside the fire tending to the meals. She especially disliked the smells from the festivals, all those people confined brought forth rancid odors from pottage pots, and lord knew what else. The respite from the Champlains hadn’t lasted long and she wondered why they had come home so soon.
Lady Champlain had insisted on going so she could purchase spices for their suppers. Likely she had filled an entire trunk with items for which Bree would concoct delicious meals. Her lady would have it no other way. Lady Millie had taken her sister, Melinda, who was ten years younger. Melinda had pled to go and Bree was thankful her lord relented and allowed her to go. The household was quite calm for the few days they’d been gone. Bree hoped they were well and had not come down with an illness.
“Why have they returned? They must’ve only spent a few days at the festival.”
“I know not, but we best return ere they come. Ye have a lot of work to do and I must make sure their chamber is clean. Melinda is likely having fits from traveling. God save our ears.”
Bree laughed at Cait’s retort. Her sister was famous for her temper and tantrums.
As they walked home, Bree considered what she’d make to eat. Midday had only just past and a light fare would suffice, and for supper she could make a stew of venison from the stag brought down that morning. She was wont to sing a song to make their walk more enjoyable and smiled when Cait and Rhys joined in. High tree canopies shaded them from the blazing sun, yet she felt the heat on her cheeks and realized she’d gotten a little burned.
Half an hour later, they approached the field beyond the large manor home. Bree noticed dust from the carts and horses in the distance.
“They come! Oh, we must hasten.” Picking up her skirts, she made a dash for the back entrance of the manor. She left Cait and Rhys behind and quickened her pace. Once inside, she stood by the door, rasping for breath, knowing she would hear complaint from her lady. That was the last thing she needed this day. It was far too hot to be bothered with a lecture.
In the great room, voices rose and Bree went to listen to determine if her parents were of a good nature. She approached and stood at the opening of the room, watching as four large men entered behind Baron Champlain. Her mother retreated to the upper floor with Melinda who fussed the entire way about having to take a bath. She shouted and cried, causing Bree’s ears to ring. Poor Cait awaited to attend them and would have to contend with her sister’s whining.
The Scotsmen who followed farther into the room, did not seem agreeable and had angst in their voices. Her father looked uncomfortable, his face reddened.
“I expected ye much sooner. Yet no word came. I did not anticipate to receive you after all these years. By God ye have come.” Her father looked downcast, but he quickly averted his gaze. “I cannot lose her, not my sweet girl. Not yet.”
The messenger, a strapping lad, stepped forward. “I come from Laird MacHeth.”
Four others stood with the messenger, each looking more fearsome than the next. They stood tall, formidable, and had an obstinacy about them, given the glare from their dark eyes.
Bree suspected all Highlanders bore those traits since all she’d met held a similar appearance. Her father didn’t seem to take insult at their demeanor. He waved a hand and bade him to hand over the message.
“I have a direct missive from our laird. I’m to repeat it word for word,” the messenger said.
“So speak you then and let us hear this message.”
“Our laird instructed ye to ready the lass. She’s to be sent with a contingent of your guard for her protection to his lands. The time has come for the revolt. MacHeth said there will be forfeiture if she is not delivered timely. She will wed in one month and then ye shall ready your arms in support.”
Bree was surprised to hear his words in English and had expected the heaviness of Gaelic brogue. Yet the man-at-arms spoke English well. They didn’t appear to be of the border clans and wore the attire of the northern regions. Long tartans reached their knees, and their feet were covered by leather footwear constructed into boots. They wore tunics covered by their clan’s plaid, with the colors to show who they belonged to. Most had hair below the nape of their necks, except for the messenger who wore his a bit longer.
“So it begins. I will send word to my king. Who is she betrothed to?”
“’Tis no business of yours, Champlain. No other words were conveyed. We will take our leave. MacHeth will be awaiting.” The Highlanders left as vociferously as they came, whooping and hollering as they made their way through the manor and courtyard.
Her father stood with his man-at-arms. They spoke low and Bree snuck behind the buttery to listen. “I feel most guilty for what I am about to do, Johnny. I didn’t realize then what I agreed to. How can I send her away?”
Baron Thomas’ closest confidant nodded.
“I should have refused the Highlander, but then I had not been in such a power position.”
“Nay
, my lord, ye didn’t have the backing of the king and the prosperity of such a rich fief. If the revolt is a success ye shall be in great favor with their new king.”
“It matters not to me who rules Scotland, but being here by the border makes the issue a slight concern. She was so small and needed our help then. I cannot negate the pact now, Johnny. Though I wish with all my heart I could. My wife’s going to be inconsolable.”
Bree’s chest tightened as she watched them closely, noting the forlorn look on their faces. She knew they spoke of her, because she was the only child who had lived at the fief for many years. They certainly weren’t discussing Melinda, who was still in her tender years and unmarriageable yet. There was no time to ponder it now, her lord and lady would be expecting refreshment from travel.
Retreating to the kitchens, she began making a light fare of cheese and bread, and filled a tankard with ale. She took the meal to her father’s chamber and used her foot to knock at the door. Her father bid her entry with a shout and she used her hip open the door wide enough to move inside. Bree set the tray on a table where her mother sat. She waited for her lady’s command, knowing she would want something more.
“Bree, ye look bright. Were ye outside this day?”
She curtseyed and smiled, trying to be amiable. “Aye, I took a nice long walk early this morn. Can I get you anything else, my lady? Shall I get you a cool cloth to ease the heat?”
“Is she not the most obedient, dutiful child, Thomas?”
Her father turned from the window casement and approached. “The most of any, Millie.” He had sadness in his eyes. Bree had never once been reprimanded by him, and she maintained he cared for her. Were he her true father, she would not have to worry about what was to come. Yet he was the only father she’d ever known.
Bree turned to leave, but he stopped her.
“A moment, Bree. Would that we speak with you?”
“Aye, Father?” Bree’s stomach did a flip, churning a nervous flutter in her belly. She wasn’t wont to hear what he would say.
“Sit, pray, and listen, daughter.” He motioned to her to sit in the chair next to his wife’s.
Bree sat on the edge of the seat and waited. Her father paced with folded hands in front of him, eyeing the floorboards. He didn’t speak for several seconds, making Bree take notice of the silence in the chamber.
“Bree, ye do know you are not our daughter in the sense that we bore you.”
“Aye, but you will always be mother and father to me.” She spoke verily, because in truth, they were the only parents she’d ever known. It mattered not to her since they had taken her in and gave her a home.
“You came to us when you were so young. I remember that day as if it happened yesterday. You are pure of heart. Millie and I think of you as a daughter and always will. We would hope our Melinda is as kind and true as you ere she comes of age.”
She couldn’t speak. Never had either of them spoken such kindly words to her. A knot formed in Bree’s throat and she averted her gaze from Lady Champlain, who most likely wept.
“I regret I’ve not made a worthy match for you sooner, but such affairs have been settled. We shall miss you fiercely.”
“Have I done something to displease ye? You know that I—”
“Oh, nay, dearest, you could never displease us. There’s been a request for your hand. ‘Tis a good match and it is time you married.” Her father despaired and rubbed his forehead, a tell-tale sign he was bothered.
“I’ve displeased ye. You mean to send me away.” Tears shimmered in her eyes and her voice grew thick with emotion. She tried to compose herself by taking a deep breath.
Her father knelt next to her. “I have never seen ye so distraught and it pains me. Nay, I wish we could keep you here forever. But ye must go, Bree. You’ll be well protected.”
“Protected? I dislike hearing that word, my lord. Who am I to marry?”
“You are called home to your family. They have made the arrangement. We promised to keep you safe until they came for you. The laird will tell you whom ye shall marry upon your arrival. He has sent a messenger and requested the wedding be in one month. We shall prepare for your departure.”
Bree began twisting her hands and fidgeting, yet reason made her unemotional. “I know not of my family. Why do they come for me now?”
“There were matters which concerned them and for your protection, you were given to us for safekeeping. Now that you have reached womanhood, they’ll want ye to marry someone of import, someone within their clan.”
Bree sniffed back a cry. The mention of her family brought mixed emotions. On one hand, she was nervous about meeting them, and on the other, she found herself excited about the prospect of knowing where she’d come from.
“I knew I’d marry eventually. I am most pleased, my lord. Will you and my lady travel with me?”
“Nay, we cannot. I have many important matters to see to here. You will be well, Bree, a married woman. You won’t need us.”
“I shall be alone?” Her heart crushed from the pain of his words. For as long as she could remember, she disliked being alone and often felt as though she had no one. Bree wanted to sink to her knees and beg him not to send her away, but she wouldn’t demean herself in such a way. She had always thought she would marry a man who lived close to her lord and lady, someone like Rhys. The thought of marrying someone unknown worried her.
“Nay, not alone. Cait will go with you. Will that make you feel better?”
“Aye, my lord, it does. I thank you. Will I see you again? Will I live afar?”
He took her hand, gently squeezing it. “Aye, very far. The Highlanders are unusual people. They don’t like outsiders and keep to themselves. We would not be welcomed. You’ll be one of them and therefore not accessible to us. We are assured of your care and won’t worry for ye.”
Bree inferred there was more to what he had told her. “I heard you speaking with the soldiers, and I …”
“The laird wouldn’t have called for you if there was danger.” His voice rose in agitation. “I know the reason you were placed with us, Bree, until the lairds were ready … Yet I must have faith you will be safe.”
“What readiness do you speak of?”
“These are matters of men and do not concern you.” He patted her hand.
“I’m to leave then and never return,” Bree said dejectedly.
“My lady, pray, can you not offer comfort to the girl?” he said to his wife with a bit of bite to his words.
She heard her mother’s quiet sobs and Bree knew if she dared to look at her, she too would lose her decorum and weep as well. Seeing someone cry always brought tears to Bree’s eyes. She couldn’t help feeling sorrow when someone wept. Alas, Lady Millie’s sorrow was not caused by Bree’s marriage announcement or the woe of sending a daughter away. Her sorrow was caused by her own selfishness. She’d never once comforted Bree in all the years she’d lived there, except to assure herself of a lavish meal and food with which all others envied. If Lady Millie had adoration for her, it was certainly not because of her love of Bree, but for her talent in the kitchens.
“I shall go and ready then for my departure.” Bree didn’t wait to be dismissed. She hastened to the door and ran down the stairs to her chamber at the back of the manor. Tears streamed her cheeks and she released all her heartbreak.
After opening the hide covering on the window casement inside her chamber, she leaned on the stone ledge and looked out at the view. The summer dusk hadn’t cooled the land and still the heat warmed the stone. Bree was fond of the manor, for it was the only home she’d ever known. As if to memorize every tree, every slope of the land, every rock, she gazed and swore never to forget where she had been raised.
How she came to be with the Champlains was unknown to her. She didn’t remember where she came from or who her parents were. Accepting her fate, she never questioned it. Her earliest memory was of Cait giving her a bath in the kitchens.
B
ree was sure she’d done something dreadful to have caused her family’s banishment. Because of that, she vowed to be as good as she could be so she wouldn’t be sent away again. Lady Champlain’s acceptance came with pride when Bree had shown a talent for making delicious meals. From a young age, Bree learned to curb any yearning for affection from her mother. She hid her carefree spirit from everyone, well except for Rhys and Cait.
As she began to pack a trunk to take with her, she realized she hadn’t much of belongings. The trunk was half full with two overdresses, a cloak, and three pairs of stockings, all given to her by the baron. She had no jewels or mementos, or anything of real value. Switching the trunk for a satchel, she placed the items inside.
Cait entered her room and closed the door with a quiet thud. She leaned back against it and scoffed. “I brought ye some food. Ye must be starved.”
“I cannot eat a thing.”
“You shall waste away. Come and at least eat some fruit. Verily, I don’t know how you can be such a marvelous cook, when you hardly taste what you make.”
“If I ate everything I cooked, I’d be much rounder than I already am.”
Cait set the food beside her. “Och ye have a lovely body. I see the way the men look at ye. You have turned into a beautiful woman.”
“They don’t look at me like anything. You see what ye want to see.” Bree giggled at her friend’s comment.
“Well, I never heard such bawling in all my days. Lady Millie is beside herself weeping and carrying on. Serves her well for being so selfish and cruel to ye. All she keeps saying is that she will like to wither away from lack of decent food. Mayhap she should’ve learned to cook. ‘Tis doubtful anyone will come to fill your position.”
Bree took a piece of bread and broke it in two, and handed a piece to Cait. “She wasn’t cruel, Cait. She was kind to let me stay here all these years. I should be grateful.”
“Bah, grateful. Gracious, you deserve to be away from here. I must discuss with you what I overheard the baron speaking of. At first they argued over your departure, but then my lady had no choice but to understand the baron’s command.”