by Mary McCall
She knew he sat thus to restrain her if she moved, but she derived an odd sense of comfort from his strength. Easing back against his chest, she braced herself and held his arm with both hands.
Cassie removed the needle and thread from the bowl and turned toward Hope's leg.
"Ouch!"
"I've not touched you yet."
"I was getting ready,” Hope muttered. “You do not have a delicate touch with a needle as I recall. And you left me with an ugly scar."
Cassie snorted. “'Twas your punishment for scaring me by going after the beast with a dagger instead of your bow when you knew ‘twould have been safer. And your touch isn't much lighter. You jab."
"Only because you deserved it for jumping that wall on those stubby legs."
"And who is the one that dared me?"
"Get on with it,” Leonce commanded tersely.
Cassie looked at Hope, who gulped, then nodded.
As Cassie plied the needle, Hope tightened her grip on his arm. She felt faint but was determined that Leonce would detect no other change in her expression or posture. He raised his free hand and massaged the tense muscles in her shoulder.
After cutting the last thread, Cassie looked at Hope and held out the flagon of whisky. “Drink some of this afore you pass out."
Hope shook her head. Leonce took the pitcher and held the rim to her lips. “Drink."
A large amount of fiery liquid scorched down her throat before he took away the flagon. Hope coughed, sputtered and wheezed and then glared at Cassie through watery eyes.
"Good.” Cassie nodded once. “Your color is back."
"I'll get even with you,” Hope rasped.
"Then you'd better do everything I say. ‘Tis good The MacPherson found you. Someone needs to take care of you whether you like it or not."
Hope released a disgusted snort.
"She'll do as you say,” Leonce said sternly.
Cassie smiled her approval. “Then let's put a poultice on that leg and bind it. She must stay off of it for four days with new packs twice a day so she will not get a fever. After that, she isn't to do stairs or walk without a cane until the stitches come out in another seven days."
"A cursed cane isn't necessary,” Hope argued. “And stairs will not be a problem once the poultices are off."
"You will do as the Lady Fraser says or deal with my temper,” Leonce ordered.
Hope retreated behind her serene mask.
"Good.” Cassie nodded once. “I will teach Freya how to make the poultices afore I leave."
Cassie bandaged the warm herbal pack in place and bathed the blood from the rest of the leg. Leonce picked up Hope, carried her across the room, and deposited her on the bed. Then he removed her belt.
"What are you doing?” Hope reached for her belt. “Give me my belt."
Leonce held the belt above her grasp. “Your weapons will remain out of your reach till I know you'll not use them on yourself. I'll not allow you to keep a vow that no longer has merit. And you, Lady MacPherson"—he tapped her nose with his index finger—"will remain in this bed for four days."
"I cannot."
"You will."
Hope burst into tears. “You made me marry you through trickery, and now you make me a cursed prisoner!"
"Your leg must mend. ‘Tis important,” Leonce said. Hope sensed he was unsure how to proceed and thought maybe he was confused as to how she could cry over spending a few days in bed, and yet remain dry-eyed while going through a stitching that would have made some warriors howl.
"So is our dinner. Freya and I planned everything, and you're making me miss it."
"You are crying over a meal?” Leonce grimaced.
"'Tis our cursed wedding feast!"
"Mayhap you could carry her down, MacPherson,” Cassie said. “We can prop her leg, and she should be all right for a while."
Hope bowed her head and knew she looked both dejected and angry at the same time. Did he really consider her feelings? Would he listen to Lady Fraser's suggestion?
"I will come for you when the meal is ready. You can have a few moments with Lady Fraser. Then I expect you to rest till dinner."
"I will. I promise.” Hope felt shocked, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Leonce shook his head and walked toward the door. Hesitating at the portal, he faced her. “The traps were set to catch the rogue. I will order them removed since you eliminated the threat."
* * * *
After he left, Freya silently cleaned the hearth area. Cassie perched on the edge of the bed. “Tears are never your response to anything. What troubles you?"
Hope stared at the closed portal. “I did not think I'd see you again. I tried to come once, but got scared and went back. I went to stay with the nuns, but I wasn't good enough for God.” She choked back a sob. “Oh, Cassie, what am I going to do? I cannot inflict myself on these people."
"First you must calm down. Then you—"
"You do not understand.” Hope dabbed at her eyes with her tattered hem. “The MacPherson was supposed to marry someone from another clan. This could mean war."
Cassie flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture. “If not this, they would find something else to feud about. ‘Tis a favored pastime up here."
"But his whole clan hates me and thinks I'm not good enough for him. I'm half Norman, and my cursed father is his worst enemy."
"You're being ridiculous. Your mother was the daughter of a Highland chief, and your father is a baron even if he is a pig. Besides, The MacPherson doesn't look like the kind of man to marry where he doesn't want to."
"He did it for revenge against my father."
"He told you that?” Cassie's eyes grew hard as Hope nodded. “He didn't beat you for yelling, and I do not think he likes that you are hurt."
Hope shrugged.
"Do you want to leave here? ‘Twould mean war betwixt the Frasers and MacPhersons, but I will find a way to help you if that is what you want."
"I do not know. I am so confused.” Hope massaged her brow and then dropped her hand to her lap. “'Tis like I'm not a part of this. I have taken care of myself since afore my mother died. Now I feel my whole life has been snatched from me. ‘Twas not even my decision to wed the man. He tricked me, and I do not understand why."
"You're a beautiful woman. ‘Tis not like men haven't wanted you afore.” Cassie pushed a fallen lock behind Hope's ear.
"Still makes no sense. I'm not trained to be a chieftain's wife. I asked him what he expects, and I cannot do any of the things he said. Just being around so many people bloody well sets my heart to pounding."
"You have been alone too long. Once the MacPhersons know you, they will love you, despite your father."
"I doubt they will love me. Look at me.” Hope flung her arms wide. “'Tis worse than sighting a bloody beggar. My possessions consist of a whip, a dirk, a bow and three arrows, a torn blanket, a broken-toothed comb and three gowns—two of which are ruined. The last is a rag I sleep in and not fit for a wedding feast. I know he will be ashamed of me."
"The MacPherson will understand and provide for you, just like Ian did for me. MacPherson knows the circumstances you were in when you fled. Just explain—"
"Nay. ‘Twould make him think I'm greedy and wanting things. And I do not want to depend on him. I want to take care of myself. Do you realize I have lost all control over my passions? Zounds!” She slapped a hand against her brow. “I just yelled at him like a shrew, and I never yell. I'm crying now, and I never cry. I couldn't even stitch my own leg."
"Most people couldn't."
"But I'm not most people, and I do not want to disappoint him."
"You care for him,” Cassie said with a knowing smile.
"Nay...aye...I don't know.” Hope glanced away. Cassie knew her too well. “He has been nice to me. I woke this morning feeling safe for the first time in years. But then he tricked me into wedding him. I don't know this man, and he can do anything he wants to me."
Cassie arched a brow. “Are you afraid of the marriage bed?"
Hope nodded. “He will kill me. I know he will. I saw his...man-thing. He is as big as Diable."
"What!"
"He is, and I told him so."
Cassie gurgled, stifling a laugh. “Oh Lord, Hope. What did he say?"
"He acted like I had given him a bloody compliment and said most women like his cursed size."
Cassie rolled her eyes and took Hope's hand in hers. “Listen to me. I was afraid the first time too, but ‘twas not so bad. It does hurt some, but it passes fast. I think you'll like it."
"But I do not think we will fit."
"You need to trust your man when it comes to that.” Cassie flashed her dimples. “Everything will work out, and you will be blessed with a wee bairn who looks like you. I was."
"Zounds, Cassie! When?” Hope smiled, happy for her friend.
"Six months ago. After your leg mends, you must come meet wee Ian."
"I will come now.” Hope covered her mouth and failed to suppress a yawn. Neither friend noticed Freya slip from the chamber.
"I best leave you to rest afore The MacPherson becomes angered and says we cannot see each other."
"Will you stay for dinner?” She clutched Cassie's hand. “I doubt if any of the MacPhersons will bother coming."
"I will stay if Ian allows it, but we'll not stay the night."
"You're close enough to travel home after a late supper?"
"We are about an hour away, so we can visit often."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Aye. There is much to be happy about.” Cassie placed her palm against Hope's cheek. “We both escaped to the Highlands. Now take a nap, and I will see you soon."
After a quick hug, Cassie departed, leaving Hope alone to stare at the door. “Aye, Cassie, we both made it, but we both bloody well got caught."
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Chapter Thirteen
* * * *
Leonce entered the hall, and conversation ceased among the many warriors. Irritated over their callous attitudes toward Hope, he ignored most of them and joined Aonghus and Ian at the high table.
"Well, lad?” Aonghus inquired.
Leonce raised a brow, daring the man he trusted most to say something derogatory about his wife.
"We heard no screams. Did the lass not need stitching?"
Leonce sighed. “She took eight without a moan."
A buzz zoomed through the hall, relaying that juicy bit about their enemy's daughter. A clanswoman set a tankard of heather ale in front of Leonce.
"Then the lady must be as brave as Cass said.” Ian grinned. “If not for her temper and mouth, you'd have a real paragon."
"Hope will do fine after she settles and quits fearing me.” Leonce took a pull off the ale.
Aonghus snorted. “Didn't appear afeared of you the last time I saw her."
"'Twas bluster.” Leonce stared speculatively toward the stairs. “I'm thinking her fright goes beyond her father's crimes and she is afraid of people."
Ian nodded. “Makes sense. She has been on her own for a long time."
"Damn good with a bow too,” Aonghus said. “The lass hit her mark right in that beady wee eye."
Leonce turned a gloating smile upon Ian. “You are welcome to stay for the feast. We'll have plenty of meat."
"Only if you promise I'll not have to battle brains with your wife,” Ian replied dryly. “I have enough trouble winning with my own."
"Papa?” Bertie approached, sporting a shining purple eye.
Leonce held out an arm to the boy. “Aye, son?"
"Is Mam all right?” Bertie asked, walking into his father's arm.
"She'll be fine after rest."
Bertie scratched the side of his nose. “Can I go see her?"
"Not now. Lady Fraser is helping her get comfortable so she can take a nap. You can join us for dinner and sit on her right side."
"Goshens!” Bertie glowed. “You mean I can bloody well sit at the table with you for a big meal and eat some of the cursed swine's rump?"
Leonce ruffled Bertie's hair. “Aye, and show off your shiner."
"Zounds! ‘Twill be a bloody good time. Wait!” Bertie's good eye widened. “She needs a present if she's hurt. I better find her a frog."
Bertie dashed away on his mission, and the men chuckled.
Ian shook his head good-naturedly. “Your son's mouth rivals your wife's. I didn't realize she had been here that long."
"Hope's father stole Bertie. She brought him back, so he spent a few weeks talking to no one else. He'll outgrow it."
"Do not count on it.” Aonghus grinned. “Bertie wants to learn how to ride Wildfire without a bridle, because that is how the lass rides her mount. He also wants his own bow."
"He is only six summers,” Leonce replied incredulously.
"The lass gave him a few lessons with hers.” Aonghus eyed Leonce shrewdly over the rim of his tankard. “You thought much about the cursed traps?"
"Take them up."
Aonghus nodded and took a drink, then set down his ale. “We have another problem you're not going to like. Simpkin has gone daft again. Keeps talking about ‘the angel.’ I had Bowyn and Darach take him to Hilda's old hut."
Leonce frowned, thinking about his unfortunate cousin. The disfigured lad had always been slow, but gentle. Only fifteen summers at the time of the slaughter, he had saved Aonghus and Leonce from certain death and then started talking about an angel. Hilda, their old healer, said Simpkin needed to be locked away, because people who see things often become violent. Eventually he quit talking about the angel, and, though he had never harmed anyone, most of the clan gave him a wide berth. Leonce didn't think there was an evil bone in Simpkin's entire body, but wasn't taking any chances with Hope here.
"Make sure he is well tended until this spell passes. He isn't to be harmed."
"Bowyn and I will keep an eye on him,” Aonghus promised.
"Chief MacPherson, I must speak to you,” Freya said, arriving at his side.
Leonce raised a brow at her holier-than-thou pose. “Speak."
Freya looked at Aonghus and Ian and shook her head. “Can we go to the buttery?"
Cassie entered the hall, drawing every eye with her petite, dark beauty. Not knowing her husband had already accepted a dinner invitation, she set about coaxing Ian into staying, and he appeared intent upon making her beg.
Smiling at his friend's game, Leonce rose and followed Freya behind the screen. He leaned against a counter where rows of trenchers awaited the evening meal. Folding his arms across his chest, he looked down at her. “I'm listening."
"As you know, Chief, I am not one to interfere in your life."
Leonce chuckled. “You have been interfering in my life since the day I sprang from my mother's womb, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Tell me what is fashing you."
"'Tis Lady MacPherson. She—"
"I'll speak to her if she's causing trouble. She isn't used to our ways."
"Nay. ‘Tis not her. ‘Tis you.” Freya twisted her apron in her hands.
Leonce scowled.
"'Tis me too. We did not consider...” She broke off, knitting her brows. “I overheard part of her conversation with Lady Fraser."
"Like the fly on the wall, you eavesdropped."
"Aye, I admit it, and I'm glad I did.” Freya dropped her wrinkled apron and nodded emphatically. “She is clan now. ‘Tis not right she feels as she does."
"How does she feel?"
"She fears you'll be ashamed of her."
Leonce frowned. “She told Lady Fraser this?"
"Aye. You know her father is a brute who never provided for her. She only has three gowns, and they are old and worn. One you cut from her the day she arrived. Another she tore today to bandage her leg. The last is worse than my cleaning rags, and she doesn't even own a shift or slippers."
"She should have told me.” He wiped a hand over his f
ace.
"She fears you'll think her greedy and already considers herself a burden."
"I will find her something to wear."
"I would not see her pride further bruised by emphasizing her lack, if it can be avoided,” Freya said in a stern voice few would dare with the chieftain.
"I do not see how it can be helped. I'll not allow her to wear rags,” Leonce replied, glad Hope had Freya for an ally.
"You can save her pride with your own."
Leonce raised a brow.
"For heaven's sake, Chief, the plaid,” she scolded. “She is the Lady MacPherson now. I could air out your mother's things till she can make some of her own. She is about the same size."
Taking Freya by her arms, Leonce kissed her cheek. “You are a jewel."
"Oh, get on with you. ‘Tis the least I could do for the young lady when she's so set on boosting your own sense of self-worth.” Freya patted his cheek, then turned and walked toward the end of the screen.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Freya kept walking and cackled over her shoulder. “Big as a horse!"
* * * *
Waking in the early evening, Hope faced two problems. Her leg throbbed enough so that she wasn't about to walk on it, but if she didn't find a way to the garderobe soon, she would swim.
She sat up on the side of the bed and judged the distance to the closet. She decided it wasn't too far and slipped her uninjured foot down to the floor. Then she hopped to the garderobe. After achieving relief, she reentered the chamber and leaned against the wall.
Zounds! That whisky left a horrid taste in her mouth. She located water upon a table across the room and groaned. She might feel more rested, but hopping could sap a person's strength.
Pushing away from the wall, she began a bumpy trek across the room. When she was near her prize, the door opened. She started and spun about. Her body teetered. She suddenly found herself swept from the floor and slammed against her husband's hard chest.
Leonce carried her across the room and deposited her on the bed. “What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I was planning to jump out the cursed window!” Hope snapped. “What do you think? I'm thirsty, so I was getting water."
"You are not to be out of bed unless I carry you.” Leonce towered over her, glowering like an angry bear.