by Allie Borne
Racing to the door, Merianne pounded and screamed for help for all she was worth.
“Father, forgive me,” she muttered as she shrieked out, “Fire! Fire! The bed is on Fire!” Several moments passed before a page ran to her door and opened it quickly.
Rushing past him, she called, “Lord Redland is in trouble! He and Arthur approach on foot!”
The page pursued her closely. “There is no fire! Thou hast tricked me!”
Placing his arms about her waist, he attempted to haul her backwards, up the stairs. Merianne wasted no time stomping on the top of his foot and dashing ahead as he fell. Who would believe her? She knew no one here! She would have to warn the gate keeper and ready him to open for the master.
Running silently in her slippered feet, Merianne made it halfway across the courtyard before the alarm went up. “She is trying to make her escape!” someone yelled.
Meri picked up her gown and ran faster. Banging on the gatekeeper’s door for all she was worth, she was overcome by a stable boy and a milk maid. They each grabbed an arm and attempted to contain her flailing limbs as the gate keeper opened his door.
“Redland is coming! He approaches. For the love of God! Open the door or they will all be killed!”
“Likely story, Miss. Ye’ll have me open for the likes of the Cumyns I’d wager. Yer words no good here anymore,” the man spat in her face and slammed the door.
Twas all Meri could do not to collapse on the ground and sob. Never in her life had she been treated so. Never had anyone so reviled her person. This was Bryan’s doing. Having his own wife treated like a lecherous whore in her own home.
“Thou must look and see! I’ll have you hung if he is killed. Do you hear me? I’ll have you hung you worthless piece of flesh. I am Merianne Murray, your mistress and superior. I was raised in a proper English home and I know how to make my servants suffer. You will open this door and walk up to check the tower. If he dies, so will you, so help me God!”
The vehemence of her reaction had the two youths beside her dropping their arms. “Go and get help! Men may break through the gate! We must fight! Get the healer! They might be hurt!”
Looking at one another, the two quickly did as they were bid. So followed the gate keeper. “He comes! Jared hollered, aghast. Prepare to fight! He is pursued!”
Jared lowered the pulley and the great doors creaked open. Within moments, Arthur, Bryan, Aiden, Jason, and James slipped through the gate. “Close the gate! rasped Bryan, but it was too late. Three men on horse back, galloped in, swords swinging.
Before he could turn, Sir Phillip slashed down at Bryan’s head. He had just enough time to lean past the blade, taking the blow along his rib cage. Merianne shrieked in rage.
Pulling her dagger from her boot, she ran and stabbed Phillip in the calf, pulling the blade down toward his ankle. Sir Phillip bellowed in pain, turning his rage filled black eyes on his attacker. Grabbing her by the hair, he held his sword at her throat. The motley crew of pitch forked and sword wielding servants stopped in their tracks.
Silence reigned. Bryan looked up from his prostrate position and realized the source for the stand off. Merianne looked into her husband’s eyes, desperate to see love and acceptance there. Bryan’s blue eyes were clouded with pain.
“I’ll slit her throat!” yelled Phillip. No one moved. “Ye’ll let us leave with the girl. Ye will no’ pursue us! If ye do, your mistress dies!”
“She’s not our mistress,” a brash kitchen maid yelled.
“Slit her throat,” another hissed.
“We’re gonna gut you, Cumyn!” Sir Phillip pressed the sword more deeply.
“Nay!” croaked Bryan.
“Let them go.” The others looked at their master in surprise. Jared did not hesitate. He opened the door slightly, enough for them to leave, single file.
“Adam! Hand her up to me!” Sir Phillip croaked, horse from the strain. Adam dismounted quickly and grasped Merianne beneath the arms. The moment that Sir Phillip sheathed his sword, reaching for the dagger, Merianne kicked out, bloodying Adam’s mouth.
Spitting blood, a tooth fell out. He threw her across the saddle before his master. Merianne landed on her stomach, the breath knocked from her. Before she knew what was happening, Sir Phillip had guided the horse from the gate and was riding at break neck pace from the castle grounds. She struggled to push herself from the saddle but Phillip knocked her on the temple and dizziness stunned her.
Merianne’s eyes watered, more from the pain of being rejected by those she had felt a part of than from the certainty of her impending death. If Sir Phillip had his way, Mary and Andrew would also soon die. She would fight with her last breath to keep that from happening.
Hoof beats approached. Merianne played opossum, pretending to be unconscious in an instinctive ploy to keep her head. Both groups of horses came to a halt.
“Ye have the Warren chit?” a familiar man’s voice asked. “I do,” Sir Phillip responded. “Good. I will take her,” the voice insisted. “No’ until I get what I was promised,” Sir Phillip grumbled. “I’ll deliver the Mary chit to ye when I secure my position in the keep. I ken no’ the location of the cabin. I will wait for her to come to me.”
“Verra well. I want money. This endeavor has proven quite expensive.”
Merianne nearly started when she realized the source of the voice. Twas Sir Robert! Robert threw a bag of coins at Phillip. They hit her backside and plopped to the ground. Cursing, Sir Phillip dismounted and knelt to pick up the coins.
Merianne nearly screamed when Sir Phillip's head was promptly sliced from his shoulders and rolled beneath the hooves of the horse. His black eyes caught wide in surprise, stared up at her. Merianne bit her lip, willing her body to remain slack.
A feminine squeal sounded behind her, distracting her from the spectacle. “Robert, my dear. You told me I would be your bride. Are you not going to kill the chit?”
“I will return her, Dear, claim she is the impostor, and be the considerate hero. You will be Merianne Warren. You will lull Bryan and Andrew into a false sense of security and drug them. If you make me Laird, I will make thee my wife.”
“Verra well. Twill be as simple as swaddling a bairn.”
Merianne was astonished. While the two talked calmly of murder and treason, Robert’s soldiers slayed Phillip's remaining two men. Wet gurgles assaulted her ears, making it difficult for her to concentrate. Merianne cared not for herself, now. She must remain alive long enough to warn Bryan, to save Mary and Sir Andrew.
“Redland would no’ like it if I rode in on his stallion. Tie his mount to my saddle. We’ll pile the bodies atop the other horses. My men can bring them in.”
It seemed a life time before the gruesome crew reached the gates of the keep.
“Who goes there?” called Jared from his watch.
“Sir Robert! Open up!” The doors creaked open and the horses plodded in. From her prostrate position atop Silkey, Merianne could only hear the murmurs and see the gathering feet.
“I come bearing gifts!” Sir Robert yelled out joyously. “A traitor, a stallion, a bride, and your enemies slain!”
Had Merianne not been ill with fright, she would have rolled her eyes at the obvious pageantry. Instead she remained motionless. The crowd cleared and Bryan’s voice boomed out.
“Report!”
“As requested, I have fetched thy bride. Lord Redland, might I introduce thee to Miss Merianne Warren?”
Merianne could take it no longer. She slid from the horse and rasped out. “Liar! She is a pretender! I am Merianne Warren. He is a traitorous bastard, Bryan! He killed Sir Phillip and his men to cover up for the fact that he has been in league with them all along.”
Bryan looked at Merianne and back at Sir Robert. He looked at the lovely lady sitting astride the elegant mare beside Robert.
Her hair must have been brown, Merianne thought, afore she had washed it with henna. Now, auburn strands gleamed from beneath her jeweled
head dress. The last thing she thought before she passed out was, A man would not know a whore if she was staring him in the face.
“The woman lies,” chuckled Robert, dismounting and tapping Merianne’s form with his boot. “I have returned thy bride.” Walking to the pale faced woman beside him, Robert lifted her from the horse and walked her over to Bryan. Bryan peered at her curiously and nodded his head.
“Tell me, Miss Warren, hast thou suffered greatly?”
“Oh, nay, My Lord. I thank thee for thy concern. I have been quite safe, awaiting thy rescue.” She smiled sweetly at him.
Too sweetly, Bryan thought. The woman has just witnessed untold carnage. Another woman lies passed out at her feet and she does not bat an eye, but at me. Robert seemed dreadfully pleased with himself.
Arthur caught Bryan’s eye and Bryan nodded. “Arthur, take this Miss Warren to her room and lock her in.” Redland motioned toward his wife at his feet.
“I should think the dungeon too good for her,” Sir Robert scoffed.
“Aye...thou wouldst think,” the Laird continued. “Now, let us all go in and have our meal. Ye can tell me all about how thy victory was won.” Ignoring his seeping ribs, Bryan wrapped his arm around Sir Robert’s shoulder, squeezing his neck in a manner that might be considered brotherly, or menacing, depending upon who was watching.
The servants sensed that all was not what it seemed. They tread lightly, watching Bryan to see how they were to respond. All sat, making stunted conversation as the food was prepared.
“Miss Warren, how is thy aunt? In thy last letter, thee implied that she was ailing,” Bryan grinned, showing his canine teeth to best advantage.
Without breaking her grin, the lady to his left leaned in and whispered, “Why Lord Redland, you know very well my aunt is dead. We have exchanged not one letter as we have had no courtship. Ours is a wedding of convenience, dear Redland.
“I am who I say I am. That will not change,” she cooed sweetly. “Feel free to question me, however. I can understand thy lack of trust, circumstances being what they are.”
Bryan’s face blushed in spite of himself. This woman had put him in his place without so much as a change in expression or tone. She certainly was sophisticated in ways that his Meri was not. His Meri? What was he thinking? This Merianne was very possibly his true bride.
Yet, in the time he had been patched up, Jared and the stable staff had come forward to tell him how Meri had fought to get the gate opened for him. Had she been Sir Phillip’s, why would she have not let him be cut down?
On the other hand, she had also succeeded in getting Sir Phillip admitted into the keep. Sir Phillip had taken her hostage, rather than kill her...this woman came to him with a lovely gown, on a lovely horse. She was elegant and restrained.
It did not add up. It had to add up. Bryan would not act until it did. How could he know his enemy from his lover? How many “Meri”s might their be? Mary! That was it. Mary Luke might be able to shed some light on the subject.
He would like to ride out-to fetch his brother and the damsel himself, but he dared not leave the keep with so many uncertain characters within its walls. He might come back to realize he was without a home. Instead, he would send Arthur, the one man present he felt sure enough to trust.
As the courses wore on and the silence lengthened, the current Miss Warren seemed to wilt. “Thou art weary,” Bryan noted. “I will see that thou art set up in a room.”
“Thank you,” she smiled demurely. “It has been a long day.”
“Of that, I have nay doubt.”
“Ye, Cousin, will nay doubt wish to return to thy estate. Ye have been away for so long.”
“I thank thee for thy concern, Cousin, but I have sent a message ahead, saying I will be staying here for a few days longer. My sister can cope quite well without me. If ye don’t mind, I would like to wash up and rest, as well.”
Bryan nodded. Beckoning his man servant, “Wade,” Bryan ordered, “see to it that Miss Warren be given the second floor bed chamber. Sir Robert can stay in Arthur’s room. I am certain that Arthur won’t mind, as he is to keep watch tonight, aye, Arthur?”
“Aye, My Lord. The rescuer of Miss Warren may sleep in my bed any day. Woe to those who cause her harm,” raising his glass in a toast, the others followed suit. Wade ushered ‘Miss Warren’ to bed. Sir Robert was left to fend for himself. She threw a backwards glance at Bryan, surprised that he had not offered to escort her.
“What is it ye’ll ‘ave me do, My Lord?” Arthur asked the moment the two had left the table.
“Ride out tonight to the cabin. Tell Andrew of the day’s events. Bring them back with ye at dawn. First, find out about this ‘Mary.' I would know the truth of this matter.”
Arthur nodded. He finished his food at a leisurely pace, chatting with Bryan. Both left the table to complete their tasks. Bryan slowly climbed the stairs to his chamber. His side ached. Twas all he could do to avoid slouching and allowing the blood from his bandage to seep through onto his shirt.
He did no’ wish Robert to know he was injured. If his suspicions were true, his cousin was plotting to take over as Thane to the Murray clan. The faux Miss Warren would be another pawn in his game. She would soon be relegated to the side lines, so that Robert could marry the truly titled lady and secure his position.
Eventually, Robert might rid himself even of her, if his pretty lady proved resourceful enough. How could he think that way? Robert had been nothing but a joy since he could walk. Everyone loved him. Why would he turn now?
Bryan sat on the bed as his valet redressed the wound. Sliding an invalid’s night gown over his head, Bryan shuttered as he crawled into bed. Rest was the best thing for him now.
“Wouldst thou like a night cap, my Lord?” Wade asked, concern etched on his face.
“Nay, thank you, Wade. I can sleep without it.”
Wade nodded and exited the room. Rising, Bryan turned his key in the lock. Withdrawing it, he moved to the small adjoining door and pushed the key in. Bryan stood for several minutes, listening for movement. He heard nothing. Turning the key, Bryan entered the small chamber.
Huddled in a dark mass upon the top of the small bed, lay his Meri. Staring down at her as he had the first time they met, Bryan thought back to the last time they had seen each other. Had it just been this morning that he accused her of betraying him and being Sir Phillip’s mistress?
Had it just been the previous night that he had made love to the woman as if she would be the one he would hold for the rest of his days? How this day had changed everything! Everything, it seemed, but the way he felt for her. She made such a tiny package, curled atop the quilt, shivering with the cold from the unlit fire.
Bryan stepped further into the room. Kneeling by the grate, he added peat, then struck the flint from the tinder box. Within a couple tries, the tender lit. The peat caught. Bryan was relieved. His ribs would not have allowed him to have knelt much longer.
Rising, Bryan pulled the extra quilt from beneath Merianne’s feet and lay it across her form. She did not stir. Bryan placed his hand on her back and was relieved to feel the steady rise and fall of her chest. She felt slightly warm, but not alarmingly so. She was likely overwrought and sleeping off the worst of her trauma.
Bryan wanted her to be Merianne Warren. He wanted her to be his lovely, exasperating, trustworthy wife. Leaving the bedroom, he shut the door and turned the key in the lock. He wanted her, but he was not willing to risk trusting her.
~ ~ ~
Merianne stirred, hearing the lock turn to the adjoining door. A quilt lay over her and the fire had been lit. Bryan’s scent still lingered about the small chamber. She pulled the quilt closer about her, imagining that it was him that comforted her and not the weight of the blanket.
He loves me, she thought. He had called out for them to let Sir Phillip leave, even though he was convinced she had betrayed him. Even though he suspected her of being untrue, he had kept her safe and warm. He i
s a good man, she thought, tears returning to her eyes for the first time since that morning.
As much as it hurt that he did not trust her, she would forgive him. She had given him reasons to be distrustful. He had reasons of his own. She only hoped that for once in his life, he would follow his heart and not his mind, his gut and not his sense of hierarchy. With a prayer on her lips for her husband and all those under his care, Merianne fell into a deep, bottomless sleep.
~ ~ ~
Andrew looked at Mary as she sliced an apple at the small cottage table. God, how he wished those long, elegant fingers would be cupping him as she cupped the apple just now. She was driving him mad with her fluid movements and politely reserved demeanor. Even sitting there upon that spindly wooden chair, her back was as erect as a queen.
His admiration had become tantamount to goddess worship. Part of him wondered if she was a goddess. So calm she had been in the face of controversy. She was everything he admired about women. Serene and soft and beautiful. The only women Andrew had met with her demeanor had taken the veil.
“Ye’re not planning on becoming a nun, are ye?” Andrew asked, suddenly concerned.
Mary looked up, surprised. She laughed.
“My father was a minister, Sir Andrew. I grew up a Protestant.”
Andrew’s heart stilled. “A P-Protestant!” He spit out the word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Ye mean ye’re no’ Catholic?!”
“N-no....is that a problem?” Mary asked. “Will Lord Redland not allow a Protestant within his home? I-I had intended to go to mass. I have since I came to live with Merianne.”
Andrew looked at Mary with new eyes. No wonder he had sensed she was not like the other lasses. She was not a devout nun-like. On the contrary, she was little better than a pagan. She was a heretical Protestant.