by Allie Borne
“Have mercy, Lady, Dear God, have mercy!” the man sobbed, grasping at her skirts with his ironclad hands.
“Promise me you will return my servant,” Merianne pressed.
“I-I promise, My Lady.”
“Promise me she will remain unharmed. She was a maid when you took her. For you and your laird to maintain your manhood, she must be a maid when she is returned. Do you understand, Wastrel?”
“Aye, My Lady, I ken. She'll not be 'armed,” Ian wheedled.
“As much as I doubt you have any say in that, whatsoever, I will release you with the understanding that I will hunt you if you disappoint me. I am an excellent huntress. I can track a clever fox on a foggy day. I can track you.”
“Arthur, keep his vest, so that the dogs will have his scent. He will return my maid to me or he will become my hounds’ breakfast.”
“Aye, My Lady.”
Merianne turned as if to leave, then faced her captive. Slowly, she reached down and pulled an emerald-encrusted dagger from her boot. “You may use this to remove his vest but please wash it before you return it. The man smells as if he soiled himself.”
Merianne waited for Arthur at the foot of the stairs. She hoped that the role she played as the ruthless witch had been the proper approach. She would never forgive herself if her actions caused Mary harm.
When Arthur returned, vest in hand, he looked at Merianne, assessing. “You nearly scared me into soiling my tunic, M’Lady. I mean, Miss Luke,” Arthur laughed, shakily. “Do you really know how to use that thing?”
“I make it a point to not lie, Arthur.” Merianne retorted dryly, as she shakily accepted the small knife and slid it back into its sheath within her boot. “I can use a dagger to remove a thorn, splinter, or most any other thing that gets imbedded beneath the skin. It is not comfortable, but it is effective.”
Arthur seemed relieved that he had not been misled by the lady’s beautiful exterior. She was indeed a warrior princess. God help the man that threatened those she cared for!
“Do you think that I have done more damage than good? I would hate to have encouraged those heathens to harm Mary,” Merianne queried.
“Miss Warren, you mean,” Arthur corrected, searching Merianne’s grey eyes with his sage.
Merianne simply shrugged and began to climb the stairs. Arthur allowed her to reach the servant’s level, then grasped her elbow. “It is Miss Merianne Warren that is in the Cumyn's keep, correct?”
“It is Mary in the keep, Arthur, why do you ask?”
“I ask because it seems to me that you are a lady, born and bred. The ruthlessness with which you wielded your authority just now proves that you have had to act as protectress and you are accustomed to commanding respect.”
“Please do not question me, Arthur. I am under too much stress already. I have had a hard day. In the end, it should matter little whether you believe me to be the maid or the mistress. What matters is what the Cumyn clan believes.”
“And what of what Laird Redland thinks?”
Merianne hung her head. “I find that it also matters not what the laird believes. I am either a maid, beneath his notice or a lady and a deceitful liar, undeserving of his respect. Either way, Mary's return will mean the end of our current rapport.”
Arthur looked at Meri with new eyes. Her unwillingness to commit to one story very clearly indicated that she was Merianne Warren and did not wish to outright lie about her identity. So, why not tell everyone? Why hide her identity then pretend to impersonate herself?
“Why not be a lady outright?” Arthur pressed.
“And then who would care about a maid locked away is some distant keep? Who would risk life or limb for a servant?”
“Lord Redland would,” Arthur readily claimed.
“Servants die for their Lairds, not the other way around,” Merianne dismissed.
“Perhaps where you come from, but not here, my lady. Here, the laird is the protector of his people.”
“Then you will understand why a lady would risk much for her servant?”
“You must tell Lord Redland, My Lady.”
“I must ask you not to say anything. I promise I will tell him upon the safe return of Mary. Please do not ask me to risk her life for the sake of what is “right.” I long ago passed that chance. I will take responsibility for my actions.”
“Ye place me in an impossible position, Miss Warren.”
“Meri,” she corrected obstinately.
“I will not lie to him. I disapprove of yer deceit; yet I feel that ye should be the one to tell him. He will not take kindly to my interference.”
“Thank you, Arthur. I will tell him as soon as Mary has been recovered,” Merianne attempted to take Arthur’s hand in gratitude.
“Do not thank me, Miss Warren. I said I would not tell the laird. I did not say that I would sit back and allow him to act under the assumption that his betrothed is in the hands of the likes of Phillip Cumyn. Too much is at stake. Come with me. Ye will tell him of yer deceit.” Arthur grasped Merianne’s elbow but she yanked it from him.
“I am sorry Arthur, but I cannot allow you to undermine everything. Mary risked her very life by impersonating me. I will not stand by and let her come to harm. Merianne rushed past Arthur and through the door to the servant’s wing. The row of rooms stood empty as Merianne ran down them, towards the kitchens. A few startled gasps escaped the scullery maid and cook as Merianne darted around the table and hearth to reach the outside door.
Luck held, as Arthur was unable to get past the two ladies without explaining his pursuit. Straight ahead, Merianne ran to the stables and slowed her pace. Slipping in the side door, Merianne squinted through the darkness. Mary’s pony should be in one of the stalls. He would recognize her and allow her to ride him from this place. A plan had formed the moment that Arthur’s questions began to indicate he had discovered her true identity.
Merianne would return to the Frasers. She would stay there, saying she felt uncomfortable being in the keep without Mary. This would not be a lie. Time would pass before Lord Redland would see to visiting her in the cottage. He had bigger concerns than a maid servant to attend to.
If she was lucky, she could avoid the man until he recovered her maid. By then, it would not matter that she had to tell him the truth. He would be relieved to have a legitimate reason to rid himself of his English bride. Mary would be safe. No harm would be done, other than to my heart, she thought bitterly as she led the mare out into the moon light.
Leading Molly from the barn to a nearby stone wall, Merianne stepped onto the ledge and mounted the swayback animal without the aid of a saddle. Her red hair, tousled by her escape, fell down her back like a beacon in the night. Too late to bother with such things, Merianne thought to herself. Her heart raced as she made her way, by memory, towards the Frasers’ cottage.
~ ~ ~
“My Lord, may I speak with thee in private?” Arthur asked Redland. He had approached Bryan while he sat entertaining his cousin, playing a game of chess in the hall. It had taken all of Arthur’s restraint to walk calmly across the hall and approach Bryan with the decorum expected of the lord’s advisor.
“Sir Robert is kin, Arthur. Ye may speak freely before him,” Redland continued, not looking up from his rook.
“I do no’ intend to offend Sir Robert, Laird. It is jest that there are a few insights into the abduction that I believe ye might wish me to share only with ye, at the moment. I wish to know how to proceed.”
Slowly, Bryan looked up from his board to search the expression on his trusted advisor’s face. The man’s visage was mottled and red. He appeared to be suppressing the fact that he had just ran for a distance. Evidently the information he wished to depart had some relevance to time.
“Verra well, Arthur. Meet me in my study in a few moments. I believe that I have just captured Sir Robert’s queen. His king is sure to follow.”
Bryan smiled at the scowl on his young cousin’s face. The man wor
e his heart on his sleeve. Luckily, he was much better trained. Whatever could have gone wrong with Mary’s interrogation of the suspect? She must not have been dreadfully harmed or Arthur would have said so immediately. What then?
“Check mate!” Sir Robert crowed, having taken advantage of Bryan’s distraction to corner his king. “The problem with thee, Bryan is that ye are all too willing to sacrifice yer king in protection of yer queen. Ye must be willing to risk even the most valuable player to secure yer victory.”
“Thou art right, Robert. I risk much with the way I play the game. Still, though I risk it all, I win nine games out of ten, and with my queen intact. What good is it for the King to win, if he has no one with which to share his victory?”
Sir Robert shook his raven head at the obviously befuddled Laird. “But what if it is a pawn whom ye truly aim to protect? Will ye risk it all for her, my Lord? I doubt yer queen would find such devotion endearing.”
Lord Redland stood, his white blonde hair flowing well past his shoulders as he adjusted the sword at his waist. “Enough talk of chess. I must meet with my advisor. Good even’, cousin.”
“Good even’,” Sir Robert returned, not bothering to hide the smirk from his face or rise in any indication of deference. “I wish ye well, my Laird. May your risks prove fortuitous fer all involved.”
“Thank ye, Sir Robert,” Bryan strolled from the hall as he had entered it, full of a natural, languid authority that Robert admired. The man reeked of power and strength, self-confidence and authority. He was handsome, wealthy, and intelligent. No wonder The Cumyn Laird envied Bryan. Robert couldn’t help but feel a bit green about the gills himself.
He had nearly thrown himself at the Mary lass and she had barely blinked in his direction. Bryan need only acknowledge her existence and the woman grants him her undying love and affection. Not that she had admitted this in so many words, but it was obvious enough. She had no chance with the laird and yet she devoured him with her eyes.
What he wouldn’t give for a woman such as she to look at him in that way. He would consider marrying a woman such as that. Bryan might be wise to do the same.
~ ~ ~
“What is it that you need to tell me, Arthur?” Bryan asked the moment the door latched behind him.
Arthur moved from his position at the study window to face his laird. “The lady and I met with the Cumyn man. She frightened the man nigh to death, with her talk of using a knife and what not. Truth be told, she frightened me more than a little too.”
“Mary? Why that sylph of a child couldn’t hurt a fly. What nonsense! Is this what ye wanted to tell me? That ye were frightened by a mere girl?” Bryan laughed mirthlessly at his advisor. The man was prey to over dramatization but this was a bit ridiculous.
“Ach, nay. That is no' what I came to tell ye’,” Arthur ground out, coloring a bit as he attempted to maintain his aplomb.
“She explained to him that she was yer wife and that the Cumyns had the wrong girl. She threatened to hunt him down and gut him if anything untoward were to happen to her maid servant. The man believed 'er, as did I.”
“So the plan worked. And ye released him, then?”
“Nay,” Arthur responded clutching his cap tightly in front of him.
“Nay?! Why ever not? Are ye unable to follow orders?” Bryan barked, beyond frustrated with his advisor.
“It is just, well, I wanted to speak with ye first.”
“Spit it out, Arthur. Do ye think the young miss a witch or something? What is it this time?”
“I am not a half-wit, Lord Redland. I am not so easily frightened by superstition as are the peasants, nay. She is an intriguing lady, however. I questioned her after we left the Cumyn man.”
“And?”
“And she, well she and I came to an agreement that she would tell ye something she’d been keeping from ye’.”
“I don’t have time for this, Arthur. Jest tell me what it is she is hiding or bring the chit in here and have her tell me herself.”
“That is just it! I was bringing her to tell you and she ran from me. I pursued her through the kitchens and outside but she has taken your bride’s pony and ridden off!”
“Then whatever it was ye were to tell me can no’ wait. Tell me what you ken.”
“I said I would no'. Can we no' just pursue 'er and force 'er to tell ye’ herself?”
“This is nonsense, Arthur. Ye have taken a vow of loyalty to me, not to some low born servant. Now, out with it!”
“It seems that the lass is no’ what she appears. Ye see, she went into that cell with all the authority of a duchess. She questioned that man as if she had done so a million times a'fore. When I asked her outright if she was Miss Warren, she did not deny it. I told her she must tell you, that it was her duty.”
“She begged me to let her wait until you recovered her maid servant, said she would not risk Mary’s welfare by telling you she was truly your betrothed. Then, she ran.” Arthur’s face paled a bit as he watched Redland’s reaction. The man was angry, nay, he was seething.
“Ye mean to tell me that Mary, the red haired maid servant is in reality Merianne Warren, my bride-to-be?”
“Aye, Laird. I do.”
“The senseless, selfish, little brat has lied to me this entire time, in order to ensure that I will fetch her maid servant?”
“Well, I don’t know if-”
“How dare she!” Bryan stormed from the study and down the stairs.
“Lord! Wait just a-Redland! Tis no’ as it seems! She cares deeply for the miss!” Bryan took himself from the keep and into the stable in a matter of minutes, leaving Arthur again to follow in the wake, gasping for breath and pleading for reasoning. Silkey was saddled and mounted in a few minutes more. Just as Arthur entered the stable, Bryan pounded out.
“But where ever will ye go?” Arthur protested. “Ye can hardly track the lady in this dark night.”
“She will have gone to the Frasers. Where else can she go? I will take care of this problem swiftly, Arthur. Expect me back within the hour.”
As Lord Redland galloped off, Arthur sighed. He had allowed himself to hope that he might bring these two together. Now, with their pride and lethal wit, they would tear one another apart. Little would be left to salvage by morning.
As Arthur retreated to his quarters, shoulders stooped, he wondered what would become of the poor miss, locked away in Cumyn’s keep. Certainly Redland would not allow his anger to affect his judgment in that regard. Something would have to be done for the girl.
~ ~ ~
Merianne need not have worried about how she would explain her presence at the Frasers'. The moment her pony’s hooves clomped onto the dry packed earth before the small cottage, Mrs. Fraser was out and cooing over, “the poor dear.”
“Oh, ye and the Laird have had a falling out,” Martha tisked, wrapping her arm around Merianne and ushering her into her home. “I can tell by the trembling in yer lip and yer sudden arrival. Never ye mind. All will look better in the morning. I still have yer bed prepared. Ye can sleep here tonight.”
Aiden stood as the two small women entered, truly startled and delighted to see his fair lady again. “Let me get yer cloak, why ye have none! What has happened Miss Luke? How is it that ye come to be wearing your mistresses’ plaid? Fair thee well?”
“I am well, Aiden, thank you. If you do not mind, I would like to retire for the evening. I have had a trying day and could benefit from some rest.”
“Of course,” the two answered in unison, leaving her to her solitude within the familiar room. Merianne shook at realizing the woolen red and black fabric still clung to her form. Meri took only the time to remove it and her outer tunic before she climbed beneath the chilled covers. The plaid leaned against the small wooden chair at the foot of the bed, long-limbed lengths folded across it's middle, reproachfully. Merianne pulled the covers above her head as would a scolded child, and was thus able to fall into an exhausted sleep.
; Not an hour had passed, with Martha knitting in her rocker and Aiden fiddling with his fox trap that a heavy handed knock sounded on the door. Martha hurried to answer it but Aiden stepped in front of his mother. Hand on sword, he moved to answer the door.
Lord Redland stood, arms crossed and legs spread defiantly, to stare down at the cottage’s inhabitants. “Are ye harboring a certain red-haired vixen within this house?” Bryan asked, his voice threateningly quiet.
Aiden responded defiantly, “Laird, we have done as our conscience dictates. The lass arrived exhausted and upset. We offered her refuge. Would my laird have expected less?”
“Nay,” Bryan responded, a bit deflated by the young man’s tact. “I suppose ye did what any decent persons might. Now, if ye'll just allow me to speak with the lady, so that we might straighten out a misunderstanding-”
“I am sorry, My Lord,” Martha interjected, “but the lass has been in bed an hour past. She was truly fatigued. She did no’ stir, even when I entered the room to add peat to the fire.”
“Well, wake her. It is essential that we speak.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Laird, but is it something that might wait until morning? I fear fer the poor dear’s health. She really should have remained in bed today, rather than leaving fer the keep. Today’s activities might see her on bed rest fer days. If she could but sleep the night, I am certain that she would be better rested and able to speak with ye at morning’s light.”
Bryan did not wish to wait. He wished to punish the lady for lying to him, for leading him to believe she was nothing more than a maid servant, for leading him to feel guilty for his attraction to her. He wanted to flip her over his knee and spank her for the rotten brat that she was.
On the other hand, he had pushed her beyond the limits of someone who had already endured so much. She was young and acting in a manner that she was bound to interpret as loyal and selfless. She was unable to see how her actions affected more than just herself and her maid servant. She was risking his clan and his title in risking their betrothal. He could not let that happen. He would retreat, leave her to feel safe here, then close in for the capture tomorrow. He could wait. She was on his lands, with his people. Whatever her plan, he would prevail. They would be married on the morrow.