Highlander: Secrets (The Scottish series Book 1)

by Ceri Bladen

  The gaoler gave a brief look behind him before turning back towards her—a larger grin displaying his yellowed teeth. “In here, lassie, ye will dae as I say. And I say, ye will be washing more of the mud off ye.”

  Aileana couldn’t help but scream as he lunged forward, grabbing her arm harshly, and pulling her near to him. She knocked the bucket in her struggle, but he was too strong for her to get away. She turned her head away from his foul breath as his fingers closed tightly on the back of her neck.

  “And I said I’ll help ye.” He reached down to grab at her men’s trews.

  She heard the material rip. “Nae, don’t.”

  The hand holding her neck shook her, knocking her forehead on his chin. “Shut up, lassie, if ye ken what is good for ye.”

  “Hamish? Hamish? Where are ye? It’s Angus,” said a voice from along the corridor.

  Just as Aileana contemplated kicking the gaoler where it hurt, his hand dug painfully into her neck before he pushed her away and took a step back.

  He scowled at Aileana before he shouted back, “In here.”

  She listened to the footsteps coming nearer and gave a silent prayer to God for the interruption. If luck was on her side, it was someone to take her away. She dreaded to think what would happen if they were left alone again.

  “Ah, there ye are, Hamish. This is Morag—” Angus pointed to the short, stout woman behind him, “—the Laird sent her to escort this lassie back to the main castle for a bath.” He flicked a look at the upturned bucket and his eyebrows gathered together.

  “Aye, the Laird said he was going tae.” Hamish put his hands on his hips and glanced over his shoulder to see what Angus was looking at. He tilted his head. “She didnae want tae wash and tipped it over,” he lied. He couldn’t have Angus telling tales to the laird.

  “Fine. I’ll take her now.” Angus flicked his hand in her direction, urging her forward.

  She hesitated, not wanting to pass Hamish—even with witnesses.

  “Come this way, lassie. My name is Morag. I’m the main housekeeper here. Ye are going tae take a bath in our bathhouse behind the kitchens,” she said, stepping into the cell. “Come, I haven’t time tae waste, I have other things tae attend tae.”

  Aileana looked the stout woman up and down. From the number of keys, which hung from her belt, she was an important woman—one not to disobey. Only a highly valued staff member was trusted with the keys. She nodded and walked towards the opening, ignoring Hamish who gave her lecherous looks, hidden from Angus.

  Aileana only started to breathe properly when they left the tower and she heard the main door being re-locked.

  “Come, follow us, lassie.” Morag motioned as she walked her through the gaol, ignoring the pleas of the other men in the cells. They walked down the spiral stairs of the North tower and through the narrow, darkened corridors, lit with candles and scant light from the few open shutters letting in the late afternoon light.

  “I’ll leave ye now, Morag,” said Angus when they reached the entrance to the gate house. “I have tae go back and finish helping with the slaughter in the village. Tell the cook there will be carcasses brought in later.”

  “Aye, the salt will be ready for preserving it.”

  Angus nodded to her before turning and looking at Aileana. “If ye ken what’s good for ye, lassie, ye’ll listen tae Morag here.”

  Aileana nodded, keeping her gaze low, like a servant would. She didn’t want to raise suspicion about her status.

  “Och, well, I’ll leave ye, Morag. Good day.” He touched his bonnet before leaving.

  They carried on walking through the castle until she started to hear more noises and voices, Aileana felt her hands become clammy. “I can just wash. You dinnae have tae go tae this trouble for me tae bathe.” She heard Morag tut, but carried on following, as the housekeeper was evidently not stopping to chat. “Have ye clothes I can put on and then I can wash these in a loch?”

  This time, Morag did stop. She turned and gave her a withering look. “Ye are not wearing men’s clothes around this castle. We have a couple spare from the Laird’s sister.”

  She shook her head. “Nae, I will not wear the Laird’s sister’s clothes.”

  Morag sighed. “’Tis what he said. I’m not spending my time arguing with ye, lassie. Ye are going tae have a nice bath and wear clean clothes.” She started to walk away. “Follow.”

  Aileana’s brow furrowed as she followed the stout woman. By all rights, she was an outsider—a hated one at that—the kindness, although delivered briskly, in the woman’s voice, surprised her. She quickened her step to catch up. “Why dae ye treat me this way? I’m just a prisoner.” With her kinsmen raiding their land and killing their clan, they had no reason to treat her well. Her stomach churned—less so, when they found out who she really was.

  “The Laird said you were to be treated with respect, regardless of who ye are, ye are a guest here. For now,” said Morag over her shoulder.

  Aileana hesitated, her mind whirling. They might have to be kind in front of the laird, but it didn’t mean they all would be. She needed to get home to her clan, even though she dreaded what awaited her. She missed a step. She’d have to escape. If they treat me as a guest, they won’t watch me, and I can make a run for it? Her eyes narrowed as a plan of escape formed in her mind.

  Caught up in her thoughts, she bumped into Morag, who had stopped by the entrance of the warm, busy kitchen. She took a step back to right herself and heard Morag’s loud tut. Morag was looking at her intently. Embarrassed at her thoughts of escape, Aileana looked away from her.

  “Now, lassie. I wouldn’t be thinking that the Laird’s kindness tae ye is a weakness. Nae thinking ye can leave without his permission.” She indicated to the men and women behind her—all seemingly busy, but all listening to their conversation. “We have been told by the Laird that you are tae stay within the inner walls. You’ll nae be straying tae the outer ones, otherwise ye will be back in that prison with the rodents. And I nae mean just the furry ones.”

  Aileana stomach dropped with dread at being returned to the gaol and her cheeks heated at being caught out. Am I that easy tae read? “I was thinking nae such thoughts.” She huffed to hide her embarrassment.

  “One thing you will get tae ken about the Laird, when he promises something, ‘twill happen.” Morag partially turned before stopping and shrugging. “Although it would be no skin off most of the people’s noses here if a MacAlpin is in prison. Some think ye all should be.”

  The look on Morag’s face indicated she wasn’t one of them, but the maids and servants, straining to hear their conversation showed no such kindness on theirs. Aileana’s lips thinned. The servants would do the Laird’s bidding whatever he asked—just as she had been brought up to do. Their faces showed they hated the MacAlpins—there would be little friendship for her, here—but, she couldn’t blame them. She had to get away, somehow.

  “Come, we have tae bathe you before the food is served in the hall. We are running out of time. Follow me,” said Morag, this time, barely controlling the impatience in her voice.

  After they made their way through the busy kitchen and Morag had requested two young servants to follow, she led Aileana down a small set of stairs to a room. It was dark with the shutters closed and only one rushlight lighting the entrance until Morag lit another. Reeds covered the floor, but they didn’t smell musty from mud and damp as they did in her fort. They must have been changed recently—an unusual thing to do nearing winter as new ones were only available in spring. Whatever this room was, it was well looked after.

  “We have a grand bathhouse here, compared tae most. No steamie here, unless of course ye want tae use the communal wash-house, like the men who don’t enjoy bathing. I’m not sure what yours is like, but our Laird loves bathing and wanted it tae be easier tae use than lugging water up tae his room,” Morag said with pride in her voice as she pointed around. “We have a bath tub there, which we fill from this.” She po
inted to a cylindrical metal container with a small fire underneath. “We dinnae need much of a fire because the heat from this wall—” she leaned forward and patted the stone, “—which connects with the kitchen’s fireplaces, keeps the water inside warm.”

  “Oh.” Aileana was impressed with its design. Her brothers didn’t concern themselves with baths and when she requested one, she was usually given a small tub in her bedchamber—with cold water. The servants ceased to care for her comfort as soon as they realised her father, then her brothers, didn’t.

  “Watch this.”

  Aileana watched as Morag attached a trough to the container and open a small door where the water flowed out. She could see steam coming off it—that didn’t mean it was warm, as the room itself was frigid, but at least she wouldn’t be shivering.

  “Come on, lassie. We need tae undress ye.” She waved two other women forward. “No one will come in. If the door is shut, someone is bathing, and no one is to enter.”

  Unsure, Aileana glanced around, to make sure—privacy was a rare thing. A sense of dread clung to her as the women stepped forward and removed her dirty clothing. She shivered, and it wasn’t because the chill whistled through the boards of the shutters.

  “Why are you wearing men’s clothing, lassie?” The older of the women asked.

  “Because she was stealing from honest folk,” the younger woman replied.

  “Tsk, keep quiet, Thomasina. We dinnae know her circumstances and everyone should be given the benefit of the doubt until proved guilty,” Morag reprimanded as she added oils to the water.

  Aileana stuck her chin out. “It’s all right.” She looked at Thomasina, who was openly scowling at her. “I am. I am a MacAlpin thief.”

  “And proud of it?” Thomasina added sarcastically.

  She lowered her chin and shook her head “Nae.”

  “I said leave the lassie be. Us women dinnae have a say in what is required of us. Perchance she dinnae either.”

  Aileana felt Morag’s brown eyes move back to her. “What do ye want us tae be calling ye, lassie?”

  “Um,” she hesitated and looked around the women, who waited for her to answer. “Elspeth,” she told her mother’s name.

  “All right, Elspeth, let’s get ye bathed.”

  Within seconds, her dirty men’s clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, only her brown kilt was placed over a stool. Aileana turned around and used her hands to hide her nakedness. It wasn’t that she was overly modest, but no one had seen her bare form before. She’d always bathed in her bedchamber, alone. She got into the water.

  “We’ll wash that later, as it’s tae expensive tae be throwing away.” Morag pointed to the kilt before she turned, and her gaze narrowed on Aileana. “Although ye’ll nae be wearing it around here… or those men’s clothes. I’ll store the kilt, but the rest of the clothes, like those ripped trews, are past saving.”

  Aileana nodded. She didn’t care for the clothes her brother had thrown at her.

  “We have nice warm clothes and ghilley shoes for ye tae wear. The Laird has given ye permission tae use his sister’s clothes.”

  Aileana felt her insides burn as she panicked. “I’ll nae use his sister’s.”

  “And why not?”

  “’cause… um…” She wanted to blend in, so she tried to think of something that wouldn’t offend.

  “Tae good for us MacMahons? Tae good tae wear even the Laird’s sister’s clothes,” Thomasina interjected, a scornful look on her face.

  “Nae, nothing of the kind, I… um… um… have you any servant’s clothes I can wear? I’d feel more comfortable.”

  Morag didn’t answer straight away, just looked at her thoughtfully. She tapped her chin with a finger. “A pritty face suits the dish-cloot,” she mumbled before she turned to one of the servants. “Aye, we dae. Thomasina, go fetch some clothing from the chest in the store room.” She reached for her keys. “Remember tae lock it, though, otherwise those mice and rats will be making their homes in there.”

  “Aye, miss.”

  “And bring a shawl,” she swivelled to look at Aileana. “If ye not tae high and mighty, we have an earasaid, a MacMahon weave for ye tae use tae keep ye warm.” She added more hot water tae the bath. “Ye might be better off wearing it than yer own, as even with ye bright hair, ye won’t stand out so much.”

  “Thank ye,” she said, enjoying the added water, grateful for its warmth. Although she was enjoying the luxury of a bath after being caked in mud, she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding—even with Morag being kind to her.

  “Come, the laird said you must be fed properly, tonight.” Morag said after she’d finished brushing Aileana’s hair dry by the fire. She didn’t mention the rollicking she’d heard Laird Kameron give the cook when he found out that the prisoners were given rancid food. He must have been annoyed, for the laird or not, not many people upset the cook.

  Once again, Aileana followed without much choice. Fresh from the bath, she was led through more corridors, and rooms—some cold, empty, and sparse, evidently not in use; some decorated with tapestries and nice furniture, filled with people and a small peat fire burning in the hearths.

  “Here ye are, Elspeth,” Morag said indicating to the entrance of the main hall. “Go on in and get yerself food. I’ll be along later.”

  “Aren’t ye coming?” Aileana panicked. Although not over-friendly, she still felt safer with Morag by her side.

  “Nae, I have things tae dae first. Ye go on in.” She flicked a glance at the open door and nodded. “I’ll see ye later tae show ye where yer to sleep.”

  “All right.” As Morag turned to go, Aileana reached out to stop her. “Móran taing, I’m grateful for your help.”

  “Och, now, lassie. I dinnae need thanking. I’m just doing my job, like everyone around here.” Her eyes narrowed for a split second. “Just like the Laird.” With that, she turned and left Aileana alone.

  Taking a large breath, Aileana walked into the hall and faltered. Although, when she’d entered, the room had been alive with noise, she could detect the undertones immediately. She looked around, trying to muster up the look of confidence—even though her insides were shaking. She pushed her chin out and concentrated on the things inside the impressive hall, rather than the people—the large fireplace, rows of candles, lines of wooden trestle tables, the tapestries adorning the walls, and the smell of the food. Her stomach rumbled reminding her that she hadn’t been fed in the gaol.

  Although it was dark inside the hall—the fading outside light omitted due to the closed shutters—a large fire burned in an impressive hearth, and tallow candles burned upon the wooden tables, lighting the fare. She walked further into the room. She had arrived late, the food had been blessed, and the servants were busy serving the food to the hungry occupants. Suddenly, Aileana wished she hadn’t taken the servant’s clothes and taken the grand ones instead. It might give her confidence, and she didn’t think the people could hate her even more, despite her previous thoughts of blending in. But she couldn’t leave. Her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in a long time.

  When Kameron detected an unusual hush descend on the room, he looked up from his food. His throat constricted, and he had difficulty swallowing the pottage he’d been chewing. The lassie from the gaol was tentatively walking into the hall, looking lost, but breathtakingly pretty—even though she was wearing the most basic of clothing. He wasn’t expecting her to look so appealing under that mud and men’s clothing. And where did all that glorious red hair come from? A nudge in the ribs made him tear his eyes away.

  “Bonny wee package under the filth.”

  Kameron grunted. “Makes nae difference tae me.” He didn’t look at Donald, in case he noticed he wasn’t telling a truth.

  “Aye, but it might tae yer men.”

  He followed the gaze of his friend and noticed the attention from most of the men in the hall—it didn’t please him. She was sure to cause
trouble—trouble he could do without. He still hadn’t made up his mind what to do with her, all he knew is he wanted her to stay. Time would tell if that was the right decision, but did he accommodate her as a guest and invite her to eat with him at the main table or should she use the lower tables to eat with the others? He noticed the pinched faces of some of the women, not happy at her presence. She was a MacAlpin, that would cause disruption no matter what he did. He had to do something with her, as she couldn’t wander aimlessly around the castle. Did he make her a servant? She implied she was one, but he sensed that was below her station in life. He let out a large huff, not sure what to do with her. He watched as she entered further into the hall—ignoring the stares and whispers with her chin held high. Again, he was impressed with her spirit—but worried it would get her into trouble with the servants.

  “Dae ye want me tae get her tae sit with us?” Donald’s eyebrows knitted together.

  Kameron didn’t answer for a while, choosing to carry on studying her, before he shook his head. Something in his gut was telling him to keep her at a distance. “Nae, she dinnae get any preferential treatment. She said she was a servant. After a couple of days, if she’s still here, she’ll take on duties.”

  Donald shrugged and went back to his pottage. “As ye wish.”

  Aileana wasn’t silly, she could hear the murmurs and undertones of gossip get louder as she walked further into the room, but she couldn’t let them know they were upsetting her. She bit the inside of her cheek. Technically, she hadn’t done anything wrong, other than to be born into another clan, so she held her head high and walked past the blazing fire to a bench with a spare space on the end.

  As she reached it, the woman sitting on it scooted over to fill the gap, looking over her shoulder and giving Aileana a sly smile, evidently not wanting Aileana to sit there. Pulling her shoulders back, Aileana moved deeper into the room, and tried again. Time and again, the same thing happened. Her only choice now, other than leaving, was to sit next to one of the males in the room. Tentatively, she chose an old man with a friendly ruddy complexion and let out a breath of relief when he smiled and moved the other way to make room for her on the bench.