McBain's Bride

by Tara Hill

  We discussed this into the night as we both had been raised on this coast though miles and miles apart. Neither of us had ever heard of this network of Frenchmen living in our midst although Maryse had become friendly with a few fellow countrymen. Ian’s sharp mind and wit were in marked contrast to his poor opinion of me and it was difficult for me to put the two sides of Ian together. Soon we were in a spirited conversation regarding the treatment of tenant farmers, mass education and the new steam engine and what changes it could bring to our economies. Ian had some unconventional ideas compared to my brothers and I wondered how McBain’s Doom was managed. I finally asked him flat out if he was the estate manager.

  “Yes, one could call me that,” Ian agreed.

  “And what else could one call you?” I teased.

  “I like lord and master.”

  “In your dreams I imagine.”

  “Or in yours,” his voice deepened. I blushed and turned away. He walked not in my dreams but did live in my waking thoughts. I left the clearing heading for the stream to wash my fishy fingers, taking a blanket with me. The clear cold water tasted divine. I splashed water on my face. I couldn’t stand another minute in these clothes so I stripped them off, took off my necklace, tucking it in a pocket and walked naked into the stream. Thor was tethered nearby and contently munched on a branch. Finally, as clean as I could be without the advantage of lavender soap, I stepped out of the stream and over to the blanket. The evening was finally warm, a promise of summer, on this spring evening. I lay naked on the blanket to dry and watched the clouds drift by, my thoughts drifted to Ian’s thighs as he proudly sat on his horse. What an amusing thought. I wondered briefly where it had come from and drifted off into sleep.

  I awoke to an evening sky with Ian seated beside me. He had covered me with a second blanket. He reached over and moved a tendril of hair away from my face, “You are utterly beautiful. What was it made you smile in your dreams?”

  “Your thighs,” I answered sleepily before coming fully awake. I froze as I stared at him. “No, your eyes, I can’t imagine why I said thighs, no, I wouldn’t think of your thighs, your thighs aren’t proper…” Ian silenced me with two fingers laid against my lips. He stroked them back and forth and leaned down close to me. He replaced his fingers with his lips, gentle as they lightly touched mine. Frozen stock still I thought of leaning into those beautiful lips, to taste them and then the proper part of me thought to keep perfectly still so as to not encourage him nor to dislodge a blanket. After debating with myself for a minute I pushed him away and stood up keeping the blanket close.

  “You mustn’t ever do that again. It was very nice and it made my stomach turn.”

  “I’m repulsive to you then,” Ian smiled.

  “Turn isn’t the correct word, more like a flutter-like feeling, quite unusual, most probably not a good thing, I must be allergic to kisses.”

  “You want to try again?” Ian asked.

  “Most certainly not! I am not one of your little strumpets!”

  “You are alone in the woods, traveling with me as a free woman with no chaperon. You are not a lady and I have seen all of you. Let’s play.”

  “You beast!” I slapped him. The sound reverberated in the forest. I turned away from the brute. Grasping the blanket, I gathered up my clothes and bag and stomped back to camp. I put on the nasty clothes. I stood for a few minutes to calm down. All he did was kiss me and ask to play. I felt my necklace in my pocket. I clasped it around my neck. Feeling dejected, I saddled Thor and kicked dirt over our fire. Ian came up to me but I held him off with a shake of my head and held up my hand to keep him away. I mounted Thor and headed north. I cared not if Ian followed. All my happiness at spending time with him vanished. Our heady discussions tainted by his mistreatment. What a brute and what a fool I was to have thought him as fine as my brothers. When I was mistress of McBain’s Doom I would have him flogged or chained to a moldy wall or some equally nasty place.

  I rode north. The Doom was north. I just wanted this to end. At each rock, tree stump, boulder, copse of trees, any obstacle, I turned left. I could hear Ian behind me, laughing at me at times, trying to start conversation at others. I ignored him. It was full dark by the time I found the road. I eased Thor up a bit and waited listening for sounds of Ian following. I turned around; no sign of him or Bruce could be seen or heard. Dismounting, I pulled Thor to the other side of the road behind a couple of boulders to wait for the big oaf to catch up with me. It wasn’t long before I heard the voices of a large company of soldiers coming up from the south. I quickly dragged Thor deeper into the woods and slightly up a hill. The boulders provided great cover and I had a clear view of the road from this vantage. The full moon provided quite a bit of light. I prayed Ian wouldn’t blunder into the company.

  The leading soldier called a halt and the company spread out in the clearing on the other side of the road. Merciful heavens, the entire troop relaxed between Ian and myself. If the troop behaved as the one that bivouacked in our gardens, they would send out pickets and I was close enough to be inside of that picket line. I prayed Thor could walk quietly and turned to take him deeper into the woods above the troop, now spreading out to camp for the night. We made it some distance into the trees before turning south. I hoped to cross back over the road to warn Ian when I heard a commotion from the camp. I hid Thor behind more boulders and tied him firmly to a tree. I crept back towards the troop keeping as silent as I could. I dashed from rock to rock keeping well hidden. From my vantage point I could make out the troop, now spread out around several small campfires. The officers were seated around the central fire and there with them was Ian. His hands were hidden from me but I imagined he was tied and I feared he’d been beaten. He hunched over the fire. I retreated behind the rocks and tried to think. I could do nothing at this point but listen. Gradually the sounds of the soldiers quieted. I tried to pick out a single conversation. I heard a noise above me in the woods and saw the scouts. I was neatly trapped between the host and the scouts. I settled in for a long night. How was I going to rescue Ian?

  The night wore on and I started each time the guards called out to each other. They were a finely trained troop and never shirked their duties leaving me no option but to wait for morning and pray they would not catch me as they mustered in the dawn. I huddled down closer to the damp cold soil placing my breast neatly in the mud to hide the white muslin of my shirt and the pale skin of my face. My dark green jacket and brown breeches blended in well and I could but hope to escape their watchful eyes. I slept not a wink and shivered through the night. As dawn crept into the sky, my guards, Brickmen and Sykes left their posts and returned to camp. I used that time to creep a bit higher into the brush along the edge of the wood, fighting not to cough or sneeze. I made it to a safer cover and collapsed onto drier soil. I listened as faint sounds of the soldiers drifted up. Soon all was quiet as the troop continued their northward march.

  “Ian, I am so sorry,” I cried. Ian captured, being marched to the gallows. I pictured his bloody face and hands, beaten by his captors. “It’s all my fault.” I rolled into a ball on my side and cried until at last I slept.

  ~~~~~

  Listening to the birds, the songs from the birds and Thor snorting at his new friend Bruce, I opened my eyes. I smelled a fire, and something roasting. I pictured my camp with Ian and rolled over coming wide awake as memories of Ian’s capture flooded my consciousness.

  “You sleep deeply, lass,” Ian stated.

  “You!” I sputtered, “You were captured! I saw you by the fire last night. They beat you. I was going to figure out a way to rescue you.”

  “No they didn’t, they offered me cold roast and ale. We shared a warm campfire and told lies.”

  “I cried for you.”

  “A waste of tears, lassy”

  I sneezed, “Obviously a waste. What is there to eat? I am a full meal behind you.” I sneezed again.

  “A chill you’ve got.”

&nbs
p; “No, I am fine. I spent a damp night, needlessly worried about your well being. I feel so cheated.” I sneezed and shivered.

  A warm and slightly stinky horse blanket settled over my shoulders and a piece of rabbit thrust into my hands.

  “We’ve got to get you warm.” Ian pressed a flask to my mouth. A warm liquid passed my lips.

  “Just feed me and let me sleep but first tell me why you weren’t beaten and hanged.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Not a’tall. But why did they welcome you into their camp. I could have stayed dry and hidden farther away if I hadn’t been so worried.”

  “You worried? About me?” More warm liquid passed my lips.

  “Do stay focused for a bit before I pass out. What happened?”

  “Lie down and I will tell you, Robin.”

  I settled down with the blanket about me, I’d started shivering and Ian cast more wood on the fire. The warmth did little for me; I was cold down to my bones.

  “They recognized me from the castle and asked me to join them for a meal. I told them I was heading south on a task for the castle. They told me to watch for highwaymen as they had heard of some in the area. I think they are missing one of their own but are reluctant to announce it. The officers hinted loudly for information on relations here about between the crown and the locals.”

  “They leave you with any ale?” I asked.

  “No ale but some stronger spirits.”

  “Keep sharing,” I licked my lips in anticipation.

  “Aye, lass, you’ve a need.”

  “You have no idea.”

  My eyes drifted shut as Ian, for the third time, let me drink from a leather bag. I was close to sleep. “Talk to me Ian. I need to hear your voice. How did they recognize you and did you miss me?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Miss me, I missed you and I missed your voice and your thighs….”

  “Oh my little lassy, you’ve a need for sleep. We can discuss this obsession you have for my thighs when you’ve your wits about you.”

  “My tits are just fine,” I mumbled.

  “Aye, that they are, now sleep before I….” I fell asleep before Ian finished his thought or at least that is my recollection of the conversation.

  I awoke sore and stiff, an unusual event for me. My head ached from the spirits Ian forced on me. I added another fault to his growing list. Sneezing, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My back ached, my head ached, everything ached. Little Robbie had shared the ague, blasted child. Ian thrust the flask at me, now filled with steaming liquid that smelled faintly of nuts.

  “Drink, lass, it will help.”

  “This is your fault you know.”

  “Can’t see how, you're the one that slept in the mud and caught a chill.”

  “No, my head aches from whatever the soldiers gave you, stop yelling.” Ian’s hand pressed up against my forehead.

  “You’ve a fever, lass, a strong one. We have to get you warm and dry and in bed.”

  “Alone?” I asked laying back down. I curled up on my side, “Always alone, that’s me.”

  “You’re making no sense lass. Come on, up you get. We’ve a bit of a ride but I know somewhere close.” Ian pulled me to my feet and somehow got me up onto his horse in his lap. I turned to look for Thor to be sure he wasn’t left behind.

  “Stop worrying about your horse,” Ian commanded.

  “Where’re we going?” I mumbled. “Is it nice?”

  “Nice enough, hush now.” I settled against his huge chest and sneezed some more. I tried to rub his shirt clean but got rather interested in exploring his chest. His muscles tensed beneath my fingers as they roamed across his well muscled expanse.

  “Achh, stop that lass.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re injured?”

  “No, but aching apparently.”

  “You want me to rub something? My grandmother taught me the eastern arts and I can ease an ache with just my fingers.”

  “I imagine you can.” Ian’s voice sounded strained, “But hush now, be still.”

  My thoughts wandered but eventually I slept.

  A sneeze and the shivers woke me in the early evening. We were still deep in the forest and darkness was spreading beneath the trees. Ian spoke to me of how close we were to some destination. I listened silently trying to burrow deeper into his chest, seeking warmth. Finally we came out of the woods onto a farm. I could see the lights in the windows of a large comfortable looking farmhouse.

  “Is this yours?”

  Ian grunted. I took that to be an affirmative. I tried to pay attention in the gathering dark to the surroundings. Neat and tidy gardens surrounded the crisp white house with its freshly thatched roof. A large barn filled my vision, a few farm hands waved at Ian as we passed dipping their heads to us. We came around to the front of the house, the light from the windows welcoming us home. Ian handed me down to an older farm hand and gathered me back into his arms after he dismounted. We entered the home; I felt as if I might finally find warmth. The housekeeper, I assumed, helped me settle onto a settee in the great room. I shut my eyes and breathed in the smells of stew and fresh bread, my stomach protested its present state loudly. I was too tired to be embarrassed.

  “Have ye not fed the wee lad, Ian?”

  “Yes, we've been eating but the wee lad, as you say, has taken a chill and I think has a fever. We need some of your tender care and that vile tasting medicine you so often pumped down my throat when I was a wee one.”

  She muttered and headed off after covering me with another blanket. Someone handed me a mug of the nut tea and I sipped it while stealing glances around. Ian's home was lovely. Flowers in crockery bowls abounded. Light glowed from shiny brass lanterns and stairs led up to a gallery along one wall most likely leading to bedrooms. A very prosperous farm did my Ian own. Soon, the housekeeper delivered a bowl of stew. I balanced the bowl on my lap and appreciated the warmth that seeped into my hands. I took a few grateful bites but was just too tired. I sneezed again and started to lose the bowl off my lap. Ian grabbed the bowl away from me with a curse. I found myself rearranged onto his lap and being spoon fed. I got but a few mouthfuls before drifting off. I started crying. It caused great consternation.

  “Lassy, what is it?” Ian asked.

  “I can't,” I sobbed.

  “Can't what?”

  “I can't marry you and this house.”

  “Robin, lassy, why do you want to marry the house?”

  “Don't call me Robin.”

  Ian tried to say more but the housekeeper arrived with her vile tea and shooed him away. Ian moved out from under me and settled me back down and gave way before the woman.

  “Now laddy, you must drink all of this. It will help you sleep and douse your fever; me own mother taught me to brew it and it has never failed me. You do what old Ennis says.” She continued in that vein until I had gagged down the entire mug. She didn’t look particularly old. She looked about the same age or maybe younger than my own mother with her kind eyes and warm smile. She removed my hat with a gasp of surprise as my braids tumbled out.

  “Well, Master Ian, what have ye been up too, I'd like ta know?” She worked on removing my sodden vest and my necklace tumbled out from the chemise. I knew that the family crest would give me away, the twin lions on a field of green was known in these parts as being the Garnet family shield. My small necklace with its miniature lions sported tiny garnets in their eyes. I cried harder and turned away from Ennis to hide my embarrassment. I heard their voices and felt a strong hand stroking my back soothing me in my misery. Ian's low voice once again brought comfort to me and finally sleep overcame me.

  I woke to misery; my throat raw, my mouth parched. I tried to sit up but hands held me down as cool water splashed across my brow and neck. I slept again and again woke to a fevered state. Deep in my mind I must have known how sick I was. I remember trying to drink the liquid that was offered. I knew somehow I had to cooperate for Ian's s
ake. Not quite sure why I cared, but I did. The third time I woke I was coherent. Ian sat by my side. I looked around and found myself in a white washed room, sunny, bright and tidy. Ian looked not so tidy, his lovely hair hanging limp around his face. I reached up to cup his cheek. He leaned into my hand, warmth spread clear through me.

  “You look like something the dogs refused,” my voiced didn't sound like my own.

  “And you look like the Thames at dawn”

  “I thought that was a compliment.”

  “Why on earth would that be a compliment? Have you ever seen the Thames?”

  “No, I am but a simple lass,” I whispered.

  “Not so simple, my love.”

  “How long have I been ill?”

  “Just two days. Your fever broke last night and Ennis finally left your side to sleep.”

  “But you didn't.”

  “You don't know that, I could have been to the Doom and back for all you know.”

  “I'd know.” I touched his cheek again and he planted a kiss in my palm. It warmed my heart in ways I couldn't explain. Only one suitor had ever tried to kiss me and his attempt at the wrist kiss left me in giggles rather than this unnatural warmth spreading across my loins. Such sensations from one little kiss in my palm, I must still have the fever. I dropped my hand and held the kiss next to my chest protecting it and closed my eyes.

  Once again, my stomach announced its presence and I awoke to the aroma of stewed lamb and potatoes. Finally, a meal that was not broth and not stale bread. I sat up. My head spun with a wave of dizziness but I wanted that lamb stew.

  “Lass, you may eat some now and gain back your strength.” Ennis sat the tray next to me. I looked for Ian but he wasn’t in the room.

  “You wore the poor lad out. He is asleep. He says that you have to leave tomorrow morning. I want you to stay with me a few more days but he insists that his family is waiting for him.” I nodded at her as I shoveled food in as fast as I could; I was afraid she would take it away. “You will have a nice hot bath after your dinner.” I put the spoon down and stood up. The lure of the hot bath was even more tempting than the lure of her delicious stew.