The Maiden Switch

by Allie Borne

  “Ahhhhh,” Merianne sighed blissfully as she plopped down on the soft packed earth and pulled down the first of her woolen tights. “How can you stand to wear such common colors, Mary? I must say, I feel a right mouse in this get-up. The only high point is that this cap covers all of my copper coils. No one has stared at me since we have left the manor house.”

  “You never cease to amaze me, Merianne,” her hand maiden laughed and shook her black satin bonnet. “Any woman would kill to have your hair and you act as if those red curls were venomous snakes.”

  “I do not like being overly noticed. Yet, I have decided I detest being overlooked. I want to be attractive, but not alarmingly so. My hair is lurid. Some love it; some hate it. I would rather be a nice blonde, like you, Mary. It is a very British color.”

  “Oh, please, Merianne, do not begin with this again!”

  “Very well, I will not. I am resigned to marry this uncivilized beast. In return, you have promised not to leave me,” Merianne wrapped her arm around her companion's waist and leaned her head against a firm shoulder. “Have you noticed how big all of these men are? Why our escorts are giants! I am not a large woman, Mary. I will look ridiculous along side a man of that stature.”

  “I am sure your betrothed sent large men to escort you as they will make excellent guards. Now, can we stop speaking of this?” Mary whispered wearily, “It does us no good to switch places if you are going to go about harping over getting married within their ear shot.”

  “Yes, Mary,” Merianne agreed, patting her friend’s knee. “I just hope that none of them notice that my dress is too long and yours is too short. I do not see why we couldn’t have told them, but Sir Daniel insisted. He said that he did not trust the stability of the region and would feel safer if we did not advertise which of us was the betrothed lady.”

  Merianne tilted her chin to look up into the clear blue eyes of her dearest friend. “It seems that my betrothed has made some enemies, Mary. I dislike not knowing to what I am committed. I do not like playing the coward and allowing you to risk yourself for me, either. I would not have agreed to do so, if you hadn’t threatened to stay and leave me alone to face the barbarians,” Merianne sighed, squeezing her friends hand for emphasis.

  “Ye’ needn’t be so dramatic,” Mary retorted, squeezing Merianne's hand in return. “It only makes sense. If we are to be attacked by another clan, it will be your job to hide yourself. They will likely kidnap me, not harm me. You will be in more danger if you do not stay by Sir Daniel’s man. He knows to escort you away from the melee. Promise me that you will do just that, Miss Warren.”

  “We have been over this, Mary…I promise that I will get away. Yet, this is all silly talk of attacks and kidnapping. Why on Earth would any one care about such things? What benefit could there be in risking it? We have three strong escorts, drab clothing, and no money. I am not concerned. Come, let us return to the men before they seek us out.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Bryan shaded his eyes to check the progress of the sun. It was well past noon. According to the last communication from his men, the party should have arrived by now. It was possible that they had stopped along the way to freshen up before meeting here, but they should have been only about a five hour’s ride away.

  Something did not feel right. Bryan’s horse, Silkey, sensed his owner’s ill ease and stamped his foot impatiently. Bryan wished to ride out to meet them, yet he did not want to appear too eager. It was important that his new bride see him in all of his intimidating glory. It was for this reason that he had positioned himself with his five advisors upon the top of the hill a mile or so before the keep. They were an impressive group, in all their Highland finery, and the castle backdrop would add to the indelible impression of power. He might be forced to marry a Brit for her social and political ties; this did not mean that he would cower to her.

  Finally, he thought, as Arthur crested the hill below. Now we will hear of their progress. Satisfaction turned to alarm as he noted Arthur’s haste. The small pony frothed from the breakneck pace. Bryan did not hesitate to goad Silkey into a canter.

  “What news?” he barked upon their meeting. “What has happened?”

  “The party has been attacked. Your betrothed appears to have been taken-the men murdered. We have discovered Miss Warren’s maid servant, beaten and unconscious. Aiden has taken her home to his mother to be tended.”

  “And did the abductors leave behind any evidence of their identity?”

  “Nay. I expect that they will be contacting you with a ransom demand. It is probably some vagrant troop. I doubt any of the other clans would dare take such a bold move against ye, My Lord.”

  “We shall see. Take me to Aiden and the Mrs. Fraser. I would hear from this hand maiden what has happened.”

  “She was insensible when we found her, My Lord. I doubt she will be of any help.”

  “As of right now, she is our only source of information. I will speak with her.” Turning to his brother, Bryan directed. “Andrew, ride to the keep and prepare for possible attack. If any demands are presented for Miss Warren’s return, send word to me right away.”

  “Of course, Brother,” the golden-haired Andrew inclined his head solemnly and rode to his charge.

  “Let us make haste, Arthur. I will not have my plans destroyed by a group of wastrels. My betrothed must be recovered if we are to ensure the future of our clan. I can’t help but think this is too much of a coincidence to be a random act of violence.”

  Arthur said nothing. Leading the way to Mrs. Fraser’s cottage, he silently agreed. Anyone could have been behind the attack. Many friends of the clan would not take kindly to the repercussions of a British mistress; many enemies would not either. Perhaps this abduction was for the best. Not that he wished the chit harm, but the problem she would create for the clan just made itself abundantly clear. It did no good for Lord Redland to protect the clan from threats from the South when his own people would take offense at the union.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Beggin your pardon, Laird but ye’ll not be getting in to see the lass today. She’s not up fer it.”

  “Nonsense, Martha, I’ll see her immediately. Time is of the essence. The chit will 'ave seen her attackers. I have no other way of tracking my betrothed. She’ll speak with me now.”

  “I mean no offense, Laird, but the lass has yet to stir and I’d jest as well not 'ave it be yer face she sees upon waking. Yer like to give her another fright, poor Dear.”

  “Just what is that supposed to mean?!” barked Bryan, affronted by the idea that his countenance would be so alarming.

  “Oh, yer good enough to look at, fer certain. But you must think, Laird, how it would seem to the poor Miss, just attacked by a brute and then ye, being the big mon that ye are...Were she to come round with ye leanin over her, why, she’d likely take a fright. I’d just as well be the one to tend to her, until she feels more the thing.”

  “Ach! She may be British and of poor constitution, but she is a servant, Martha. It is her duty to serve her mistress and she will do so now by rousing herself and telling me what I need to know. There will be time enough for rest and comfort when her mistress is recovered. Now, let me pass.” Glaring down at the stout form of Mrs. Fraser, Bryan waited for her to assess her options and step to the side.

  Striding from the kitchen and into the tiny bed chamber, Bryan stopped short. No matronly nurse maid lay in the simple pine bed before him. No mousey maiden, either. One soft, pink cheek peeked at him about the sheet, inviting him to run his hand down its arc and along her well formed chin. A cascade of fiery curls poured over the pillow and across the bed at her back. The young maid's silhouette revealed firm curves beneath the thin wool blanket. Even this small bed seemed to swallow her tiny frame. She lay so still, the very air about her seemed palpable-the silence absolute. Why, a veritable fairy nymph seemed to have taken shape before him.

  If he were to reach out and touch her, Bryan couldn’t help but fear t
hat she would vanish, or worse, take him from his place and time. She seemed at once soft and firm, as if she were carved from some warm, yet fragile marble. For the first time in his life, Bryan was captivated by a woman. He stood, looking at the figure in the bed, afraid to wake the young woman and break the spell she had cast.

  Wake her, he must, though, if he was to discover the identity of his betrothed’s kidnappers. The sooner the better, Bryan thought. I can’t be allowing myself to think impure thoughts about my wife’s servant. What has gotten in to me? I’ll wake her, she will be less than perfect and the spell will be broken.

  Stepping purposefully to the side of the bed towards which the young maid was facing, Bryan leaned to grasp her shoulder gently. Prodded by the light touch, Meri flopped her arm to the opposite side of the bed, causing her to roll onto her back. Moaning softly, she squinted against the rays of sun streaming through the bedroom’s small window and turned to face the other direction.

  Bryan was aghast at what he saw. The tiny pink cheek, the one that should have been the twin of her right, was marred by an ugly purple mark. Red blotches appeared around the great dark bruise and a tiny cut rose in the center of her cheek bone. Anger rose and boiled in Bryan for the evidence of the cruel treatment this fairy woman had received. These men would pay for their treachery. A cold foreboding stole over the laird as he realized just what he was up against. Getting his betrothed back unharmed would be a tricky maneuver indeed. He must wake her maid to do so.

  Leaning over Merianne once more, Bryan squeezed her shoulder firmly, then released the pressure. Her eyelids fluttered and then flew open. Sitting up quickly, Merianne grabbed at her head and screamed. Pulling her blanket up to her chin she scooted against the bed board and called out, “Dear Mary, mother of Jesus, preserve me.”

  “Calm yerself, Miss. I am not here to harm ye’.”

  Gathering her wits, and taking in her surroundings, Merianne thought about the fact that she was warm and neatly sequestered in a tidy room. Tilting her chin and looking at the man in front of her, she inquired cooly, “And just who might you be, Sir?”

  “I am Lord Redland, the Baron and Laird of these lands. I am happy to see that you have survived yer encounter with no permanent damage.”

  Merianne stared at the large figure before her, and her heart raced, causing words to tumble quickly from her mouth. “Thank you, My Lord. It is true, I seem to be more shaken by the incident than my injuries would warrant. Have you any word of Mary?”

  Lord Redland's eyebrow lifted appraisingly. “You must mean your mistress, Merianne Warren. We have not discovered her whereabouts, no. This is precisely why I disrupted your rest, in hopes of discovering the identity of her abductors.”

  “Merianne?”

  “Yes, my betrothed, that has been kidnapped.”

  “Y-you believe that it is your betrothed that has been kidnapped?”

  “You are from Sir Daniel’s estate, correct? It was you who traveled with ‘Meri’ as you call her to meet with her betrothed?”

  “I...aye. I am what you say, a member of Sir Daniel’s household. And, you are the betrothed of Merianne Warren?”

  “As I have said, yes.”

  Merianne gazed up at the impressive figure before her. Such a specimen of manhood she had never before seen. This Lord Redland was nothing like she had envisioned. No bristly beard covered his face, no course red or black hair curled about his scalp. Why, he was tow headed! Forsooth, his hair was a type of silvery blonde that she had seen rarely but reverently admired. Long past his shoulders, with a few small braids about his face, he should have appeared the perfect barbarian; but instead, seemed like God’s own Gabrielle.

  His smooth, sculpted features would have seemed inhuman, if it weren’t for the thin, silver scar that ran from just below his nose to just past the right corner of his mouth. An avenging angel; that is what he was, what he would be.

  She longed to tell him that she was his intended wife. But something held her back. Some niggling in the back of her mind stayed her words. He thought she was Mary Luke and Mary was Marianne Warren. If she were to correct his misconception now, how would he react?

  Was he, a Baron, likely to ride out, hell-bent to rescue the likes of her maid servant? Unlikely. She was much more inclined to believe that he would have a good laugh over the mistake of those rogues. He’d likely whisk her off to the keep, relieved that his responsibilities were taken care of by marrying her. Mary, a penniless orphan, would not be a concern for a man such as him. Or would she? Merianne decided to find out.

  “The-the men that attacked our camp... I did not get a good look at them. I heard the leader’s voice,” shivering from the memory, Merianne continued. “I know that I would recognize it again, if I were to hear it.”

  “And the others?”

  “I saw my attacker’s face...for a moment. My memory is a bit blurred. He was large and dark-haired. He wore a black jacket and a dark tunic. There was a pattern I had seen before but I can't quite describe it.”

  “Would you know it from another? Could you recognize the pattern if you saw it again?”

  “Aye.”

  “So, these men that took my bride, they were Scots?”

  “Highlanders. Of that, I am certain. The brogue in the leader’s voice, was that of a Highlander.”

  “Are you absolutely certain that the men were not from the low lands?”

  “Aye. I can tell. My grandmother was a Highlander,” Merianne could not help but keep the scorn from her voice, although she had not intended to reveal so much in so few words.

  “You disapprove of us?”

  “I did not say so.”

  “But I can hear it in thy tone. Ye must not have been very happy to be accompanying thy mistress to such a place as this. I had taken from the look of ye to be a Scot. Yet, by thy sound and demeanor, ye are a Brit through and through,” Bryan spat the words as if giving her the meanest of affronts.

  Merianne did not rise to the bait. Straightening in the narrow bed, she responded proudly, “Aye, I am very British and of that I take pride. The British understand couth and are a civilized lot. They do not carry off defenseless maids and murder their protectors in their sleep like lowly cowards.” The venom sprayed from each word that Merianne hissed. In her extreme state of ire, she was able to forget the pounding of her head and lean forward towards this loathsome man who detested all that she aspired to be.

  “Do not be so sure of that, Wee Lassie,” Bryan retorted, leaning to meet her unspoken challenge. Sighing, Bryan changed tactics. “Yet, whomever has done this is a coward. On that score we are of one accord. Come let us set aside our differences and work together to recover 'Meri,' shall we?”

  “Yes,” Merianne admitted. “On this we are agreed. We must work together to save Mary. What can we do? How can I help?”

  "Tell me, how is it that you happened to be so far away from the camp during the attack? How did you escape with only a few scrapes?"

  Merianne blushed from embarrassment and resentment. It was clear that he was not fully willing to trust her any more than she was willing to trust him. Fair enough. "I could not sleep and woke up early to bathe. On my way back I noticed that the camp had grown silent. I waited and heard the rough brogue of a man demanding that Mary tell him where I was and then he sent someone named Nigel to find me."

  Sighing Bryan stood from his seat by the bed. “You did not see as much as I had hoped...Yet, this Scot’s colors are as good as a calling card. Each family, or clan, identifies itself with the colors they wear. Some, even with a pattern. Not many wear the blue and black...I will gather as many patterns as I am able and bring them to you to examine. If we are lucky, you will recognize one.”

  “I will recognize the pattern, I am sure of that. I am surprised part of it wasn’t pried from my grasp when they found me. I am sure I took a piece of that fellow. The nasty cad looks worse than me, I’d wager.”

  Bryan laughed heartily at the chit’s unexpect
ed gumption. A snooty witch she might be, but she was clever and brave and, oh, what a beauty. If he weren’t careful he might forget that she was the miss and not the mistress. He mustn't let their new-found partnership muddle his mind too much. He could admire her and her talents on a purely platonic level. Surely it was not sinful to appreciate another person, as long as his thoughts were pure.

  Dear God help me keep my thoughts pure! Bryan thought at he rode his stallion back to the keep. Luckily, the maid’s bags had not been bothered. They had taken the lady’s clothing, however, which Bryan thought to be an excellent sign that they merely intended to ransom the chit. If robbery were their goal, they would have removed all of the camp's valuable items and not just Miss Warren's belongings.

  On that thought, Bryan realized, the abductors must be of some means. What mercenary would kidnap for money and not take other valuable goods as well? An uncomfortable churning began within his gut once again. If they were not kidnapping his bride strictly to make a cash ransom, then what goal had they in mind? Bryan began to think. With the details so far presented, the attackers were of a serious inclination to harm or control him. Who else would bother to murder three men and attack an innocent maid?

  “Arthur, as soon as we return to the keep, I want you to gather samples of as many clan colors as possible. Do not bother with ours, as she would have recognized the pattern. Also, I would like the bedroom adjoining the master chamber to be prepared for Miss Luke.”

  “Laird?” Arthur asked incredulously. “I know it is not my place, but I got a peek of the girl myself and she is right nice to look at. Do you think it is proper to be moving her in this way, with your betrothed missing? What will the clan think?”

  “I care not what people think. She is my bride’s companion and she and I will be working together to bring home Miss Warren. Without Mary’s help, I will not be able to properly prepare the master chamber or locate my future wife. Besides, the chamber was to be her room, afore her mistress went missing. It only makes sense that she get settled where she belongs.”