One of Dunridge's apprentice cooks marched into the courtyard. Moireach followed behind, irately protesting all the way. Approaching the earl, Kevin held a mutilated chicken high in the air for all to see. “'Tis the third one this week,” he announced. “None has been eaten, just killed."
“I'm verra sorry,” Moireach apologized, “but he wouldna’ listen to me."
“It's all right,” Black Jack assured her, then looked at Kevin. “Well, lad, do ye've any idea who did this?"
“I've been keepin’ a close watch,” the young man answered, “but whoever's doin’ it is as sly as a fox."
At Kevin's words, silence enveloped the group. Each glanced nervously at Sly and then his mistress.
“Do ye know anythin’ aboot this?” Iain asked his wife.
"Me?" Brigette exclaimed. “Why would I kill a chicken?"
“I dinna mean ye, personally,” he returned, his expression grim. “Someone ye know, perhaps?"
Brigette was bewildered for a moment, but then her husband's meaning dawned on her. “How dare you suggest such a vile thing!” she cried. “Sly would not kill for pleasure, and he's certainly not hungry."
“Can ye vouch for his whereaboots every minute of the past week?” Iain countered.
“Yes."
“Brigette."
"All right!" Brigette shouted. “No, but that does not mean—"
“Enough!” he interrupted. “Bringin’ him here was against my better judgment. I'll rectify the matter now."
Iain stooped to lift the fox into his arms, but Brigette was faster. She scooped Sly up and ran. Iain reached out and would have caught her, but Glenda kicked his shins viciously, giving the woman and the fox a headstart.
Brigette dashed into the outer courtyard. Iain was close on her heels.
"Run, Sly!" she screamed, and nearing the gate, flung the fox from her arms. Frightened, Sly flew through the gate into the world beyond Dunridge Castle.
Brigette whirled around to face her husband. His expression mirrored his terrible rage, and she trembled, doubting the wisdom of her actions. Iain slapped her hard, leaving a reddened imprint on her cheek, then grabbed her before she fell. He caught her upper arm in a cruel, bruising grip and dragged her back to the inner courtyard. Without a word or glance, Iain forced her past the earl and the others.
"Dinna touch her!" Glenda screeched, charging at Iain. Percy captured the child and swung her up into his arms.
Iain pulled Brigette into the foyer. At the base of the stairs, he gave her a rough shove. “Get upstairs. I'll deal wi’ ye later."
With her spine proudly straight, Brigette climbed the stairs to their chamber. Iain watched her, then headed for his father's study. If he went upstairs now, he might strike her again. He needed to calm down, get his anger under control.
Iain poured himself a whiskey and downed it quickly. Then he poured another. How dare she publicly defy me, he raged, then slammed the whiskey down and left the study. As Iain started up the stairs to his chamber, Black Jack and Percy walked into the foyer.
“Iain,” Percy called, hoping to speak in his sister-in-law's defense.
“Shut yer mouth,” Black Jack growled. “His wife isna’ yer business."
Ignoring them, Iain climbed the stairs to his bedchamber. He turned the knob, but the door would not open. His wife had locked herself in, adding fuel to his blazing temper. Iain knocked. Silence was his answer.
“Brigette,” he shouted. “Open this door."
“Begone, you heartless bastard!” she shouted back.
Iain banged savagely on the door. “Mark my words, Brigette. If ye force me to break the door, ye'll regret it."
After a silent moment, Iain steeled himself to kick the door in, then heard the sound of the bolt being thrown. The door remained closed.
Iain opened it and walked in, then stopped short in surprised disbelief. A few paces away stood his wife, one of his own gleaming daggers in her hand. He growled menacingly and advanced.
“Whatever you've come to say, have done with it,” Brigette ordered, waving the dagger at him. “Keep your distance or I'll tickle your ribs with this steel."
Iain held out his hand. “Give it to me."
“Where would you like it, my lord?"
“I amna’ jestin', lassie."
“I amna’ jestin’ either, laddie,” she mimicked his burr. “Speak and leave."
When I get my hands on her, Iain thought, I'll spank her within an inch of her life. “I'd nae other choice out in the courtyard,” he explained, inching closer to her. “Sly's guilty. It's what happens, sweetheart, when ye harness a wild thin'."
“Sly is innocent,” Brigette countered icily. “Besides, you struck me."
“Ye publicly defied me and were deservin’ of a public reprimand.” Iain's voice was deceptively low and gentle as he inched closer and closer.
Suddenly, Iain lunged forward and kicked the dagger from her hand. Brigette screamed and scrambled to retrieve it, but he yanked her back, warning, “Dinna point another dagger at me unless ye plan to use it."
Lashing out, Brigette whacked his face with her fist. More annoyed than hurt, Iain shoved her onto the bed and fell on top of her. Frantically, she thrashed and bucked, seeking escape, but he held her easily and waited for her to tire. Then nose to nose, he warned, “Yer duties are to bear my sons and see to my every comfort. If ye dinna ken that, wife, yer life will be less than worthless and death will be a blessin'. Remember, the one wi’ the cock gives the orders, and the one wi'out obeys."
Iain stood and stared down at her, then, without another word, turned on his heels and left.
Outside his chamber, Iain paused to calm himself and leaned against the door. The muffled sound of his wife's sobbing assailed him, and guilty remorse coiled itself around his heart and mind, nearly felling him. Sweet Jesu! How could I have struck her? he castigated himself. Though my anger was justified, my actions were not. If only Brie considered the consequences before opening her mouth!
Serving supper at the high table that evening was a thankless chore. Brigette's chair was conspicuously empty and Iain's expression was black. Almost glumly, Black Jack and Percy spoke quietly to each other. Brigette's absence had cast a shadow over the entire hall, even subduing the MacArthur warriors. Only Lady Antonia was in excellent spirits, eating her supper with obvious gusto.
Disgusted by the day's events, Moireach marched into the kitchen. Cruelly, she captured Kevin by his ear and pulled him toward the great hall.
“Ye dolt,” Moireach snarled. “Look what mischief ye've wrought. What did the death of a few worthless chickens matter when our lady's happiness was at risk? Ye ken?"
Kevin stared at the high board. His expression became morose when he saw Brigette's empty place and Iain's forbidding countenance.
“I see ye finally do ken.” The housekeeper sneered. “Lady Brigette is upstairs sobbin’ in her sleep cuz Lord Iain hit her."
“It isna’ my fault,” Kevin insisted. “I was duped."
“Duped? What're ye sayin', lad?"
“I'd prefer no’ to be overheard,” Kevin whispered, then glanced around.
With her lips curled in disgust, Moireach led him through the foyer to the courtyard. “Now, pray tell, how were ye duped?"
“Ye willna’ breathe a word of this, will ye?"
“Tell me quickly,” Moireach threatened, “or I'll sharpen my butcherin’ knife on yer hide."
“'Twas Lady Antonia!” Kevin blurted, then continued in a rush. “She told me to kill the chickens and blame the fox. I didna’ want to do it, but she said she'd have me sent away. Please, ye must believe me."
“I believe ye."
“If Lord Iain learns the truth,” Kevin moaned, “I'll be sent away. Or worse."
“The truth willna’ rectify matters now and will only cause more strife in the family,” Moireach said. “Let me think.” She paced back and forth in front of Kevin like a general. “I've an idea, but nae faith ye could ca
rry it off. Wait here while I fetch my Jamie."
“Jamie?” Kevin gulped nervously. The man was fierce with a sword.
“My son has a fondness for Lady Brigette's tirewoman and will do my biddin'."
A few minutes later, Moireach returned with Jamie and Spring. “Kevin, lad, tell Jamie yer tale."
“Lady Antonia ordered me to kill the chickens and blame the fox. She threatened to dismiss me if I didna’ do it."
“Damn,” Jamie cursed.
“Double damn,” Spring echoed.
“I've a scheme to help set thin's aright,” Moireach said. “Will ye help yer sweet mother, laddie?"
Jamie grinned. “Need ye ask such a foolish question?"
Moireach smiled. “Ye must kill a fox, then bring the puir thin’ back here. Kevin will take it to Lord Iain and say it's the fox that killed the chickens. Can ye do it?"
“Yes."
“Ye must be verra careful,” she cautioned. “Sly's wearin’ a yellow collar, so avoidin’ him shouldna’ be too difficult."
“Killing another fox,” Spring commented, “will not return Sly to Brigette."
“Yer correct,” Moireach agreed, “but it could begin mendin’ thin's between them."
“It won't change the fact that Lord Iain abused her."
“'Twas his right,” Jamie interjected hotly. “She defied her husband and got exactly what she deserved!"
“Oh!” Spring was aghast at his words. Her lips tightened whitely in anger.
“Silence!” Moireach ordered. “Arguin’ amongst ourselves willna’ help the laird and his lady. What do ye think of the plan, Spring?"
“Well,” she relented, “it cannot cause harm, and there is a small chance it could help."
“It's settled, then,” Moireach said. “Jamie, get yerself on this in the mornin'."
* * * *
The next week passed wretchedly for the lord and his lady. The fox conspirators were none too happy either. Apparently, killing a fox was more difficult than they had assumed. The only truly happy person at Dunridge was Lady Antonia. Her mood and temper improved by leaps and bounds each day that Iain and Brigette remained estranged. And estranged they were.
When his anger faded, Iain sought a reconciliation with his wife. Unfortunately, Brigette had other ideas and coldly rebuffed his overtures of renewed friendship. Unused to resisting women, Iain became frustrated, especially disliking this new experience of being rejected. Brigette could not, however, be faulted for disobedience.
No disobedience there, Iain thought more than once. My wife obeys my smallest command and places my merest whim above her own comfort. In fact, she treated him with a frigid politeness that was beginning to grate on his nerves, not to mention his pride. Being near Brigette was like being stranded in the midst of a Highland blizzard.
One morning, Iain happened to pass Brigette in the courtyard and asked her to stop.
“Yes, my lord?"
“Would ye care to ride wi’ me today, hinny?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
“No, thank you,” she refused, but quickly added, “If you insist, I shall naturally obey."
Iain's expression dropped in obvious disappointment. “It was an invitation."
“In that case, please excuse me.” With that, Brigette walked away, leaving him in misery.
* * * *
The MacArthur brothers passed through the garden one afternoon during Glenda's playtime. Merry laughter and wild scamperings had vanished from these sessions as assuredly as Sly had vanished from Dunridge. The garden was silent as if deserted, but Iain saw them. Looking like fallen angels cast into a world of woe, Brigette and Glenda sat in the farthest corner of the winter-barren garden. Iain's heart caught in his throat. It was then he decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. Only one thing would bring his wife's smile back. In the meantime...
* * * *
Though Iain had sworn to himself that he'd not force her again, sleeping beside Brigette without touching her was proving the most tormenting of all his trials. Iain's frustration was running high and his patience dangerously low. If his wife was so determined to be obedient, would she grant him his husbandly rights? The time was ripe for seduction, one of his many talents.
Sliding into the bed, Iain decided to test the waters, in a manner of speaking. Brigette was lying on her side with her back to him. He turned slowly in her direction and touched her shoulder. Startled, she turned to look at him. Iain instantly pressed her back to the pillows and covered her lips with his in a desperate, hungry kiss. No response. Kissing his wife felt like kissing a corpse, albeit a warm one. Drawing back, Iain met her icy green eyes.
“Shall I spread my legs now?” she asked coldly. “Won't it be easier that way?"
Iain's desire shriveled. Muttering an oath, he rolled away and turned his back on her.
As she studied her husband's broad shoulders, Brigette's emotional pain was intense, almost physical. She loved him, but could she forgive his abuse of her or his cruelty to Sly?
* * * *
The fox conspiracy was set, and the action would commence as soon as supper was served. From their various places within the great hall, the conspirators anxiously watched those at the high board. Brigette sat sullenly between her husband and her father-in-law.
“Come the spring,” Iain was saying to his father, “I'd like to travel wi’ Brie to Edinburgh. If ye can spare me, that is."
Brigette's gaze darted to Iain. Black Jack arched a questioning brow at his son and wondered what the game was. “I dinna see why no'."
“I thought ye might like some new gowns and gewgaws,” Iain said to Brigette. “Edinburgh has many fine merchants. Perhaps ye'd like to purchase a few of those imported carpets from the East for our bedchamber?"
A bribe, she thought. Brigette stared expressionlessly at him, not exactly the reaction he'd expected. “As you wish, my lord."
“Damn it,” Iain growled, slamming his fist on the table. “What do ye wish?"
Unruffled, Brigette answered, “I wish only to serve you, my lord. As you so kindly explained, the one with the cock commands and the one without obeys.” She smiled without humor. “The last time I checked, I was still the one without."
Black Jack choked on his wine, Percy guffawed, and Iain's face darkened with rage. “Forget I mentioned it,” he hissed and turned away.
“As you wish, my lord."
It was then that Moireach approached. “Lord Iain, young Kevin must speak wi’ ye. It's urgent."
Glad to escape his wife, Iain walked to the entrance where Kevin was waiting. Brigette followed his progress and watched as he spoke to the young man. When Kevin lifted the fox high for Iain's inspection, Brigette gasped, horrified, and rose from her seat. Mesmerized by the dead animal, she crossed the chamber to her husband's side.
“This is the fox that killed the chickens,” Iain said, glancing at her.
“Sly wears a yellow collar."
With a nod, Iain dismissed Kevin. Brigette stared after him and his gruesome possession.
“Sly isna’ guilty. Are ye no’ happy?"
“Happy?” Brigette stared incredulously at him, then gestured at the crowded hall. “Sly is not among us, Iain. He is alone in the forest—if he even lives. I will never forgive you."
“Dinna be ridiculous,” Iain snapped, catching her arm. “Sly's a beast, no’ yer bairn. If ye've the need for motherin', I'll give ye a babe of our own."
Brigette yanked her arm away. “You may command me in anything, but even you cannot command a woman's love. I want no child of yours.” With that, she fled the hall.
The weeks that followed were even more wretched than before. The fox conspirators were disheartened by their failure to ease the strain between the lord and his lady. Moireach favored the formulation of another plan, but Jamie opposed her. They'd done their best, but it was time for Iain and Brigette to solve their own marital problems. Spring sided with Jamie and Moireach acquiesced reluctantly.
There seemed to be little chance of Iain and Brigette reconciling. Iain now returned his wife's coldness with his own. Each morning before she awakened, Iain rode out of Dunridge and returned at suppertime. He did not seek his own chamber at night until he was reasonably certain that Brigette slept.
After several days of being ignored, Brigette's vanity was ruffled. She was beginning to wonder where her husband went and whom he saw there, but refused to grant him the satisfaction of asking. Iain was leaving her alone, Brigette reasoned, and that was what she desired. Was it not?
Lady Antonia was beside herself with joy, and was the sole member of the MacArthur family eagerly anticipating Christmas. Almost nothing irritated her. She stopped scolding the servants and even smiled occasionally at Brigette, who became instantly suspicious. Were Antonia's smiles and Iain's disappearances somehow connected?
Christmas was only a week away. Iain returned home that evening as supper was being served. Sitting beside him, Brigette sensed a change in his demeanor. He seemed more relaxed than he'd been in weeks.
Brigette was furious. My husband has taken a lover, she fumed, and pushed her plate away. But vengeance shall be mine, she thought without satisfaction. He cannot get an heir from his mistress.
Finished with his meal, Iain stretched his legs out. He sipped his wine and watched Brigette, who became uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny.
“I'm tired,” she announced when she could endure no more. “I believe I'll retire."
“An excellent idea.” Iain yawned and stretched with exaggeration. “I'll join ye.” He took her arm, then bade good night to Black Jack and Percy, who smothered their merriment at Brigette's dismayed expression.
They climbed the stairs in silence. Iain's casual touch on Brigette's arm sent hot shivers coursing through her body, and her heartbeat quickened. Unwilling to yield to her husband, Brigette desperately missed what he did to her body. Merciful Christ, she cursed inwardly. A virgin's life was so much simpler!
Inside their chamber, Brigette hurried to don her nightshirt, but Iain stopped her. “Ye must sleep wi’ me as God created ye,” his amused voice sounded from behind her.
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