Highland Belle

by Patricia H. Grasso

  “Och!” Glenda cried innocently. “I didna’ hear ye callin'."

  Biting her bottom lip, Brigette swallowed her laughter. Glenda had been practicing her “good” lies. Most diligently, it appeared.

  “Come along,” Glenda bade the fox. “It's time for our lessons."

  “No,” Moireach ordered. “Ye know verra well Father Kaplan banished him from yer lessons. He's too disruptive."

  When Glenda left, the fox climbed onto his mistress's lap. Absently, Brigette scratched him behind the ears, and Sly sighed contentedly.

  “My thanks for insisting Jamie and I wed,” Spring said, her cheeks pinkening. “You wouldn't really have sent me home, would you?"

  Brigette grinned impishly. “I never said I would."

  “What?"

  “Apparently, the earl is a master at handling his men.” The two cousins dissolved into laughter.

  Alone in her chamber, Antonia fumed. The Sassenach will not be so smug when Finlay snatches her, she thought with some satisfaction. I'd love to see the expression on her face when he does. I'd dispatch her myself on this very day, but then I'd be obligated to give Iain an heir.

  While Antonia hid in her chamber, the days passed peacefully at Dunridge. Accompanied by her two favorites, Brigette meandered about the garden on the eventful day that Antonia emerged unexpectedly. Glenda, frightened by the determined glint in her mother's eyes, grabbed Brigette's hand.

  “I want to spend time wi’ my daughter,” Antonia announced imperiously. “Ye arena’ welcome to join us.” She held out her hand to the child. “Come."

  Glenda's grip on Brigette's hand tightened. “No."

  “You're trying to cause trouble,” Brigette accused, positioning herself between them. “You've never shown any interest in Glenda before."

  “How dare ye come between my daughter and me!” Antonia's expression was murderous. “Release her."

  “No.” Brigette's expression was just as murderous. The two beautiful adversaries stood nose to nose, neither willing to retreat.

  “What's this aboot?” Black Jack thundered, arriving for his daily stroll with his granddaughter.

  “Sly!” Glenda cried.

  Three sets of eyes darted to the child, then followed her horrified gaze. Sly's hind leg was raised as he urinated on Antonia's skirt.

  “Oh!” Antonia leaped back. Enraged, she turned on the fox and tried to kick him. Sly crouched low, bared his fangs, and growled threateningly.

  Antonia fled the garden. Black Jack, Brigette, and Glenda burst out laughing. The earl held out his hand in invitation to his granddaughter, then winked at Brigette and said, “I knew the damned beast was good for somethin'."

  As harvest neared, Iain's days were spent defending MacArthur territory or invading Menzies's. Although she missed his almost constant presence, Brigette was also busy. She redecorated the nursery beside their chamber and was forever sewing, either baby clothes or the seams on her gowns.

  One afternoon in early October, Brigette passed through the great hall. Surprisingly, Iain was there, eating an unusually early supper with a group of his men. Brigette's smile radiated happiness as she rushed to his side.

  “What a rare treat to see you so early in the day,” she gushed.

  Iain patted her swollen stomach. “Seein’ yer lovely face is, indeed, the rarest of treats. I do believe yer body's nearin’ ponderous, hinny."

  “But why are you eating supper now?” For once Brigette ignored her husband's teasing.

  “I willna’ be eatin’ supper later. We're raidin’ tonight and willna’ return ‘til mornin'."

  Brigette paled.

  “It isna’ dangerous, sweetie,” Iain lied, “only a considerable distance from here."

  “You know I don't like being alone in the night,” she cried.

  “Ye know I'd never willin'ly leave ye alone, dearheart”—he spoke as if to a child—“but I've nae choice in the matter. Why dinna ye invite Glenda and Sly to share the bed?"

  “My worrying would keep them awake all night.” Brigette burst into tears, and Iain held her close, trying to console her.

  There's nothing I can do to prevent his leaving, she realized with a start. If I cry, his mind will be here instead of concentrating on whatever he does while raiding. Brigette forced a watery chuckle, wiped her tears, and lied, “Ignore me, my love, the baby makes me weepy."

  Iain smiled, then kissed her lingeringly. Finally, he lifted her off his lap and stood. His men followed him out of the hall.

  Alone, Brigette sat in a chair in front of the hearth. Resting her elbows on her thighs, she covered her face with her hands and wept quietly.

  Slurp! Something wet tickled her hand. Brigette peeked through parted fingers. Slurp! Sly's tongue slipped in between and licked her salty tears. As Brigette stroked him, Sly rested his head on what little lap she still possessed and sighed in beastly contentment.

  Sleepless anxiety was Brigette's companion when she retired that night. After lighting the dozen candles she'd commandeered, Brigette began to pace. What if Iain is injured? Or worse? she wondered, nearly frantic for his safety.

  The hour grew late. Brigette knelt beside the bed to pray and promptly fell asleep. Much later, she lifted her head and stood, every muscle in her body stiffly protesting the movement. One by one, she snuffed the candles, leaving only the one on the bedside table.

  Brigette crossed the chamber and looked out the window. The night sky had brightened to gray. Placing her hands on her stomach, she felt the baby moving inside and, after making a final appeal to Whomever, lay on the bed and slept.

  Iain and his men dismounted in the courtyard and went directly to the great hall, crowded with family and retainers breaking their fast. Brigette's seat was empty.

  “All went as planned,” Iain told his father. Weary, he rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes. “Where's Brie?"

  “She hasna’ come down yet,” Black Jack answered. “Go on and rest. We'll speak later."

  Iain nodded and left the hall. He paused outside his bedchamber, but heard only silence from within, then opened the door quietly and walked in. Brigette was asleep.

  Iain's nose twitched; the chamber smelled like one of Father Kaplan's solemn high masses. He looked around and smiled at the sight of all the candles, now extinguished. His fearless wife was afraid of the dark.

  Undressing quickly, Iain slipped into bed and was shocked when he glanced at Brigette's face. Purple smudges of fatigue lay beneath her eyes, and even in sleep, her expression was pinched.

  An anxious woman births an anxious baby. His pregnant wife had kept a lonely vigil awaiting his safe return, and a lump of constricting emotion rose in Iain's throat. “Brie,” he whispered, drawing her into his arms.

  Green eyes fluttered open. Smiling tiredly, Brigette reached up to touch his face, and Iain kissed the palm of her hand. Then they snuggled together and slept.

  * * * *

  October waned and Brigette waxed. By All Hallow's Eve, she was outrageously large and ached to be harvested like the barley. Two months of waiting stretched endlessly before her.

  As she grew in size, Brigette retreated from the petty squabbles and frustrations of the daily life swirling around her. Instead, she wrapped herself in a cocoon of pregnancy; her world revolved around the birth of her child.

  Iain became uncharacteristically patient and solicitous of Brigette. Concerned for her health, he steered clear of unpleasant subjects. “Checking the watches” was his euphemism for raiding and defensive skirmishes.

  On the morning of All Hallow's Eve, Brigette sat between her husband and father-in-law at the high table. She was tired, depressed, and cranky. A mug of milk and a bowl of porridge were set on the table before her, but she pushed them away.

  I want ale, Brigette thought mutinously. Never again will I eat porridge or milk or haggis.

  And my gowns! she continued torturing herself. I want to wear my beautiful gowns. Brigette's apparel was now limited to shapeless sh
ifts, albeit of the finest fabric to be had. Necessity had forced her to use the fabrics acquired in Edinburgh, and her heart had nearly broken.

  Brigette sighed. It was ill luck to be enormous so soon. Peaceful sleep even eluded her. Each time she lay down to rest, the baby would kick, pummeling her insides as if to punish her laziness. The babe was as infuriating as his sire.

  “Raidin’ season is almost over,” Iain was saying to his father.

  “Menzies's winter willna’ be lean,” Black Jack remarked, “but liftin’ his cattle grazin’ in the shadow of Weem was a severe blow to the mon's pride."

  “We must be alert until the first snow falls."

  “Mark my words,” Black Jack said, forgetting Brigette's presence. “He'll retaliate wi’ somethin’ equally devastatin'."

  Brigette gasped and paled. Nervously, she looked from one to the other.

  “I wasna’ speaking of anythin’ life-threatenin'.” Black Jack patted her hand. “I meant he'll try to wound our pride by hittin’ close to Dunridge."

  Brigette looked at Iain. He nodded, verifying his father's words, but suspicion nagged at her mind.

  “I'll ride out to check the watches along the perimeters,” Iain said, rising.

  “I'll come wi’ ye.” Black Jack stood with his son.

  “Ye havena’ eaten much,” Iain chided Brigette, “but if yer finished, I'll help ye up."

  “Why should I leave this chair?” she snapped. “I cannot do anything."

  Iain grinned at her waspishness.

  “You dare to laugh at me? This is all your fault!"

  “Guilty as charged.” His good humor did nothing to restore hers.

  “I know your men are betting on the number of babies in my belly,” Brigette told him. “If there's more than one, I won't forgive you. Ever."

  “Dinna ye want a lad for me and a lassie for yerself?"

  “I don't want two,” she wailed, her eyes filling with tears. “I don't even want one."

  “Ye know ye dinna mean that, hinny,” Iain cajoled, fighting to keep a straight face.

  “Look at me. I'm grotesque!"

  “Ye've never been more bonnie, sweetheart.” Iain leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Why dinna I help ye up?"

  “I'm not an invalid.” Brigette shrugged off his helping hand. “If I can't rise on my own, I'll sit here until I give birth."

  “So be it—if ye dinna mind a blistered rump."

  After Iain left, Brigette reached for his ale and gulped it down quickly. There was no sense in aggravating Moireach; Brigette offered the mug of milk to Sly, who never refused anything.

  With her stomach leading the way, Brigette surveyed the garden. Autumn had already bared the trees and added a crisp bite to the air. The wild shrieks and madcap scamperings of playtime continued in spite of pregnancy, but only Glenda and Sly delighted in running about. Brigette followed at a more sedate pace.

  “Fetch it,” Glenda ordered, pitching a stick across the garden. With a flash of yellow collar, the fox dashed away. “Father Kaplan says everyone must attend mass in the mornin',” she told Brigette. “It's All Saints’ Day."

  “That means tonight is All Hallow's Eve,” Brigette replied. “It's magical."

  “Magical?"

  “Tomorrow we celebrate all the saints in heaven,” Brigette explained, “but between the hours of dusk and midnight tonight, evil roams the land."

  “Evil, ye say?” Glenda shivered. “Spirits?"

  “The demons make merry,” Brigette embellished, “because at the stroke of midnight, they must return to their place of eternal damnation."

  “D-d-demons?"

  “Yes."

  Sly ran up to them and dropped two sticks in front of Glenda. He sat down, cocked his head to one side, and wagged his tail expectantly. In spite of his great feat, the fox was ignored.

  Glenda reached for Brigette's hand. “Dinna ye think we should go inside?"

  “Why?"

  “The d-demons might c-come early."

  “I'm certain that won't happen,” Brigette assured her. “Spirits are punctual."

  “Oh.” Unconvinced, Glenda clung to her hand. “Uncle Iain has great love for ye."

  “What?” Brigette was surprised by the abrupt change in topic.

  “Yer belly's grown verra large. Ye look like ye swallowed somethin’ whole."

  “Thank you,” Brigette said drily.

  “Do ye think Grandfather's angry wi’ me?” Glenda asked. “He didna’ walk wi’ me today."

  “Uncle Iain and he rode out earlier. He'll be home shortly.” Brigette glanced at Glenda. Teardrops were sliding down the child's face. “Why are you weeping?"

  “The d-demons are goin’ to hurt Grandfather!"

  “No.” Sorry she'd frightened Glenda, Brigette tried to console the child, but was incapable of kneeling to gather her close. “Uncle Iain and your grandfather will be home long before dusk ... Shh!"

  Muffled shouts and sounds of alarm from the front courtyard were carried on the wind to Brigette's ears. “Come."

  As fast as her bulk would allow, Brigette pulled Glenda through the garden door and raced down the main corridor to the front foyer. Filled with men-at-arms and servants, the foyer was in an uproar.

  “Sweet Jesu!” Brigette cried, rushing forward.

  With Iain and Jamie holding him up, Black Jack staggered across the foyer. An arrow protruded from his shoulder blade and chest. Seeping blood stained his shirt.

  “Grandfather!” Glenda shrieked.

  “Get her away,” Moireach shouted, racing across the foyer to help the earl.

  “'Twas those evil demons!” Glenda screamed at Brigette, who stared dumbfounded at her. Spring materialized and dragged the hysterical child into the great hall.

  Recalling her father's untimely demise, Brigette trembled with fear, but stepped closer to watch Moireach examine Black Jack. Her unborn child kicked hard, seeming to protest the furor, and Brigette gasped, clutching her stomach.

  “Dinna consider goin’ into early labor,” the housekeeper warned, catching the sudden movement from the corner of her eye. She lightly slapped Black Jack's face and asked, “Who are ye?"

  “Good God, woman!” he bellowed. “I'm stuck like a pig and ye ask who I am? Have ye taken leave of yer senses?"

  “He isna’ muddled from the loss of blood,” Moireach said to Iain. “Let's take him upstairs to remove the arrow."

  With the earl between them, Iain and Jamie started up the stairs. Dazed, Brigette followed them to the earl's chamber.

  “Set him here,” Moireach ordered. “Jamie, stoke the hearth so I can see what I'm doin'."

  “It's my fault.” Brigette moaned. “I conjured the evil ones by speaking of them."

  Black Jack looked at her and smiled faintly. “Nae evil spirit did this. I never imagined Menzies would go this far."

  “Dinna speak,” Iain cautioned. “Ye've lost a lot of blood."

  Black Jack caught the housekeeper's eye and glanced at Brigette. She was as white as a person can get and still be breathing.

  “Go downstairs, Lady Brigette,” Moireach ordered. “Boil water and collect as many candles as ye can.” Eager to help, Brigette hurried from the chamber.

  “Hold him steady,” Moireach said. “Give me yer knife, Iain, and keep the damned arrow from jigglin’ aboot."

  With a minimum of movement, Moireach cut the head and tail of the arrow and, after a careful inspection, threw them aside. With a steady hand, she pulled out the stem. Black Jack groaned, and blood flowed from both ends of his wound. After cutting his shirt away, Moireach lifted her skirt, tore off a section of her petticoat, and gingerly dabbed at the wounds.

  “Jamie, fetch hot water, poultice ingredients, and strips of clean cloth. And dinna let Lady Brie return until ye come back."

  “Why?"

  “Dinna question me—yer wastin’ precious time."

  Held steady by Iain, Black Jack sat on the edge of the bed. Moireach knelt in front o
f him and tried to staunch the bleeding. With his eyes, Black Jack questioned the housekeeper, who answered with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  “What is it?” Iain asked.

  “Tell him before the others return,” Black Jack said.

  Moireach retrieved the head of the arrow and held it out for Iain's inspection. “See there. It was dipped in poison. Probably neither quick nor terribly painful, it will prove fatal all the same."

  “Nae!” Iain railed. “Is there nae cure?"

  Moireach shook her head.

  “I'll slay the craven bastard wi’ my bare hands!"

  “I've nae doubt ye'll eventually kill him, son.” Black Jack's voice was resigned. “At the moment, however, ye must take charge of Dunridge.” He looked at Moireach and asked, “How much time do I have?"

  The housekeeper's eyes were blurry with tears. “Long enough to see Iain on the high road."

  “Good.” Black Jack smiled with grim satisfaction. “Time enough to see my first grandson?"

  Unable to meet his searching gaze, Moireach shrugged, saying, “If Lady Brigette's time comes early."

  An expression of unutterable sadness crossed the earl's face, but was quickly replaced by solemn resignation. “So be it,” Black Jack said, accepting his fate. “When the wounds have been dressed, Iain, bring Father Kaplan. I've the need to confess my sins. Promise what's passed between us here will go nae farther. I dinna want anyone mournin’ before I'm gone. Moireach?"

  “I swear."

  “What aboot Percy?” Iain asked.

  “Send for yer brother, but as soon as I'm buried, he's to return to Edinburgh. Sheena Menzies is too valuable a prize to lose."

  Iain gazed at his father's face, which had aged immeasurably in the span of one short day. “I swear."

  “Ye've been a good son and will make a fine earl.” Iain was not so sure. “If I'm still breathin’ in the mornin',” Black Jack added, “bring Glenda to me."

  Jamie and Spring raced into the chamber. They were followed a moment later by a slightly breathless Brigette.

  “I want ye to stay wi’ Glenda,” Moireach instructed Jamie and Spring as she began washing the earl's wounds. “The puir thin’ must be sick wi’ fright, and her mother willna’ offer comfort. The earl will be fine and has invited her to visit him in the mornin'. Off wi’ ye also, Lady Brigette."