McBain's Bride

by Tara Hill

  “I’ll let this one go,” Ian said, “I have to; you know I am marrying to right the McBain’s Mistake.”

  At that I turned and went into the inn. Pieces of my heart fell and shattered against the stone of the stable yard. From the kitchen I watched the two of them, thinking, McBain’s Mistake?! Do they name everything here? Ian heatedly gestured at Fergus and then looked for me. Our eyes locked and he just stared, his eyes like ice, cold hearted bastard. I felt hot tears well up and turned away quickly so that Ian wouldn’t know I’d heard his heartless statement to Fergus.

  I stumbled into the kitchen and fell into a chair. Ennis was at my side in a heartbeat and took one look at my face and started plotting Ian’s slow painful death. I waved her away.

  “No. I am fine, just need some tea if you’ve got some.”

  “Of course dear, what did he do to you?”

  “Nothing really,” I stated.

  “Nothing? Now that’s not a bit like Ian.”

  “Oh really? He does a bit of something with every lass he brings here? That’s what your Fergus was saying out there.”

  “No, it’s not like that Robin. Ian is a fair man to look at and a fine man to touch, if you get my meaning.”

  “Aye, I know that.”

  “And there’s a fair number of young lassies around here that would love to have Ian pay them attention and possibly even court them official–like.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “And then there are those that throw themselves on Ian, some older women, the ones that never married because of their wildness as girls or a couple of widows, they follow him around.”

  “This is getting more and more educational but if you don’t mind, I am quite finished with Ian and I have a life that I must return to with a family who must be frantic as to my whereabouts.” I stopped hiding my clipped speech but that didn’t seem to affect Ennis a bit.

  “Well then, you’d be wanting to go up to the Doom to see the Garnets, they are all here now for the wedding. Are you a cousin Robin?”

  “You know I am a Garnet? Since when? Does Ian know?”

  “Calm yourself, I guessed after I saw the necklace when you were ill, but I knew for sure when I heard you speaking French with the little girl. It was beautiful. Your accent is excellent. Are you related to Lord Robert’s little French wife?” Ennis place a cup of tea in front of each of us and sat down at the table with me.

  “You could say that,” I fumbled.

  “That’s all right my dear, we’re not all bumpkins here.”

  “No, I knew that, that’s why I love being here with you, its charming and invigorating to run an inn, it’s like being at home with the family, everyone knows so much about so many things, there’s always something to talk about, I never meant any disrespect to any of you, please understand that.”

  “I know child. But you are lying to Ian about who you are and I have to wonder about that.”

  “Does Fergus know I am a member of the Garnet family?”

  “He knows you are not some simpleton. It’s Ian who is thick brained about it.”

  “Ian is thick brained in general.”

  “Not necessarily, but he looks at you and sees something he’s never seen before. You are smart, well educated, not fawning over him. You challenge him, he also sees something else.”

  “What does he see?”

  “He sees his true love.”

  “Oh no Ennis!”

  “Yes, and it confuses him since his life is planned out and you are unexpected.”

  “I love him but I can’t have him. What will he do?” I started to cry. Ennis gently wiped my tears.

  “I don’t know but our Ian, thick as he is will eventually worry down a problem and solve it.”

  “What will I be worrying down?” Ian thundered.

  I whipped around wondering how much he had heard. Ian loomed in the doorway, a chill wind blew in and I realized he had heard very little. Good. I stood up and made my way out of the kitchen and did not look back.

  “Lassie!” he called, I ignored him.

  “Wench!” He hollered and I strode out the door to Ennis’ laughter and Ian’s bellowing.

  ~~~~~

  The tavern was full of people this morning. I picked up a tray from the bar at Tom’s arm and went off in the direction he pointed passing out ales and ciders. I had orders aplenty before long and spent some time free from thinking about Ian as I talked to the patrons. This morning I spoke in both languages and took no pains to hide my fluency from anyone. Much laughter was had at my expense and my sudden understanding of French but it was all in good fun. The French men in the corner were so engulfed in their conversation that they were unaware of my presence in the bar. They were planning something so I stepped nearer them and wiped down an empty table that was already clean.

  “I hear there’s a ship to be waiting below the town.” Someone whispered as I stared down at the gleaming wood.

  “It will take us to Brittany and from there we can make our way back to Bordeaux, that’s where my family is waiting.”

  “Bordeaux is held by the nobility now?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s talk of an army and support of the Spanish crown to restore the monarchy in Paris.”

  This talk went round and round, these people were so full of hope and desperate to return to their lives, their home. But it was not to be. How could I tell them it was a plot, they might be killed on the roads or on the ship. Ian had to find out the plans.

  A crash boomed from the kitchen, everyone in the room turned. Ennis yelled for help. I dropped my tray and told the seated guests nearest me to stay where they were. Surprisingly, they listened. As I got to the kitchen door, I could see that Ennis was trying to open the back door and out the window, I could see men sprinting away. I heard another crash out front. I ran over to the plotting men in the corner and pointed to the front door.

  “Try to get it open, the back door has been locked shut from the outside.”

  Three men ran to the front door and found it too was jammed shut. A woman screamed and pointed at smoke curling down the stairs from the rooms above us. I grabbed a small bucket and ran to the stairs and started up but black smoke filled the upper hall. More smoke came from the kitchen. We were trapped. The families wouldn’t be killed on the road to the ship; the plan was to kill us all here.

  “Tom, soak all the towels!” He threw them to various folks as soon as he could get them wet enough. Some men went upstairs to beat the flames with the wet towels, other continued to pull at the doors. I hustled the women and children against an outside wall, seating them on the floor. I ran back to the bar to retrieve a small ax I had seen when cleaning earlier.

  “Back away,” I called out as I hacked at what I hoped was the thinnest wall in the building. The wall sported an odd archway; it may have been an entry port for barrels years ago and had been covered over.

  “Good girl!” someone called out to me. A man picked up a table and smashed it to the ground and brandished the table leg at me. I pointed at the small leaded window and he began hammering as well. I heard shouts from outside and could hear someone hacking with an ax on the door. Another man took the axe from me and continued my work. I looked over my shoulder to see flames at the top of the stairs, smoked filled the room and those without wet towels around their faces were coughing something terrible. The man at the window finally broke it open, but it was too small for any of us to get through, he started pushing any small children he could grab through the tiny opening. The fire pulled in the fresh air giving us all a breather but the flames above our heads whipped higher. The man with the ax continued to chop at the old arch. I could hear answering blows from outside the inn.

  “Hurry!” I called.

  The hole became an opening; hands reached in pulling fragments away. As soon as it was big enough to crawl through, we shoved out the remaining children.

  “Stand back, let us make it larger.”

&nbs
p; “Mon Dieu! Hurry!”

  A large chunk tore away; daylight poured into the smoke filled room. More of us got out. I pushed people through, over and over, until finally it was Tom the barman and me.

  “Go on lass, it’s done.” He leaned over and leaped through. I started through and stopped for a brief look around the bar. Flaming ash curled around the room, dancing in the smoke. I heard a cry from the bar and ran across the room. Arms reached for me nearly choking me, it was the little French girl Isabelle. In French I said, “Climb on, we’ll get out of here.” She clambered up my back and held on, coughing and coughing.

  A timber crashed from the ceiling, knocking us sideways. Overturned tables jammed against each other tripped me; I was blinded by the black smoke. I threw Isabelle over the tables and shouted at her to run. I clambered over them behind her and ran toward the light. I was grabbed by mighty and hands and pulled out the hole in the wall.

  I looked up to see Isabelle in her mother’s arms. I did not see her father in the crowd. Many were doubled over coughing the foul air from their lungs. I joined them. The pressure on my back continued. After retching for a bit, I accepted the water offered and stood up. Ian towered over me. Soot stained, his arm looked burned.

  “I waited and waited for you, you were the last out.” Ian fairly shouted at me.

  “I heard the baby and had to go find her.”

  “You could have been killed.”

  “As if it matters to you?” I screamed.

  “Aye, lass, it matters,” He folded me in his arms and I briefly hugged him taking in his strength; it was sorely needed for what was to be done. I shoved him away shortly and said, “It matters not to me.” I looked around and pointed, “Where is her father?”

  “Why?” Ian asked.

  “The French were duped into thinking they could take one of Max’s ships to the north coast of their former country. They can’t. There is no ship.”

  “And you know this how?” Ian sounded a bit brisk. I ignored him.

  “The letters we read, they spoke of this trap, we just didn’t know, the fire was the trap, get everybody here and then set fire to the inn. They were promised a safe trip home, they were promised they had a home. That monster you had in our …I mean your lodge the other night, he knew the truth.”

  “And you knew he knew how?” Ian’s voice became a bit strident but I ignored it and went on.

  “When I went to get the wine, I read some papers Max had left in the other room. They were in French but I read that quite fluently.”

  “So I noticed,” Ian drolled. Men ran back and forth with buckets, the smoke was thick and we moved out of the way. My heart ached for Ennis and Fergus, their inn was their life. We stood watching the bucket brigade toss bucket after bucket of water, the steam turned to fog as the flames died down. I hoped the inn could be spared total destruction. Ian’s arm snaked up and wrapped around my shoulder, I took a step away into coldness.

  “And then when we went to the camp, the men over by the tents talked among themselves about today, not tomorrow as we had thought. It is all making sense now. They talked about the noose being drawn tighter. This must have been the noose. They got all the families in here together and barricaded the doors. How did you get out?”

  “I didn’t enter the kitchen after you left. I turned back to go outside and Ennis followed me, offering her opinions as to my lack of intelligence. Fergus was out there too and then the door slammed shut and we heard a crash. Someone inside must have blocked the door. It is still blocked. We ran around to the front and that too was wedged shut from the inside.”

  “No, I was on the inside and it was blocked from the outside, that is why I started hacking at the wall with the little hand ax Tom keeps behind the bar.”

  No, definitely from the inside, I saw wedges along the floor of the door when I was bringing you out.”

  “That means whoever did this was trapped inside with us. He must have toed in the wedges and as the men struggled with the door after he started the fire upstairs, they were actually making things worse.” Realization dawned on me and I grabbed Ian. “That means he was inside when we escaped, that he got out with us.”

  Ian and I looked around at the crowd.

  “Who went upstairs before the fire and then returned down after you started on the wall?” Ian whispered harshly into my ear.

  “I don’t think it was someone who came down the stairs.” I whispered back to him. “I think it was someone who was with us and made sure all the families were inside and then he went upstairs to start the fire after he wedged the doors shut. I’m sure he jumped out a window to escape the trap he created. But where is he? What happened to him?”

  “Did you see anyone go upstairs after the fire started?”

  “No.” I frantically whispered while looking around.

  “Look for someone who has little to no smoke damage on their clothes, more soot free and not coughing as much.” Ian instructed.

  Ian and I separated and walked around through the crowd. I looked at fathers and mothers wiping their little children’s faces, no, not them. I looked at people of the town, hauling the buckets back down toward the wells for more water, no, not them. I turned around and became aware of two men staring at me, pointing, they were from the camp. It was them. I raised my voice to shout to Ian when a grimy hand clamped down over my mouth and I was hauled back against someone’s chest.

  ~~~~~

  “If it isn’t Ian’s wench from the lodge, not caught along with the pigeons inside or did you let my pigeons free, ma petite?” A sibilant French voice hissed in my ear. He continued to drag me backwards. I couldn’t breathe. We turned a corner and he dragged me down a little ally between stables, covered over with a rough roof, creating a dark tunnel in the daylight. He was taking me away, away from the crowd and Ian. Turning he flung me away from him; my shoulder hit a wall and I staggered. Max came after me with his knife, the same knife from the other night that he intended to slit Isabelle’s throat. I shrank away.

  “What is this? Fear?”

  Max hauled me to my feet and hustled me in front of him down the alley and around another corner into a deserted street. The town’s people all were back at the inn fighting the fire. His men had a couple of horses saddled. Max handed me off to his men and mounted a huge black beast. They practically tossed me up to him. They mounted their horses and quickly we wheeled and rode hard out of town. Behind me I heard Ian’s roar. Please follow, I prayed.

  The horses’ hooves pounded across the wooden bridge and we passed by groups of men running to help contain the fire. I let drop my scarf, my ploy to stall him earned me a hard cuff across the back of my head. Dizzy, I swayed. Max slowed a bit to resettle me against him; I prayed I bought Ian some time to find our trail. I hoped the men we practically ran down on the bridge could point out the coast rode as the one we took. My scarf might also point the way. The road headed through the trees well hidden from view from the town. We turned off the road into the trees after a bit. The men slowed briefly.

  “Where are we heading Max? Back to camp?”

  “No, the smuggler and his brother have both been there, they’ll go there first.”

  “Where then?”

  “To an abandoned castle, a ruin. I can lure the smuggler there, lay a trap, with this as bait,” he shook me and I cried out, my head and shoulder sore,

  “I do not believe this is just a wench he hired.”

  I knew where we were heading having just had my heart broken there. Part of me thought it was appropriate to lure the big oaf back to the castle where he would have to fight this idiot. Max had to be an idiot, he burned the town's best inn and he had Ian after him. He should be running for his life. Max appeared to appreciate it when I pointed this fact out to him, if appreciation was demonstrated by another hard cuff across my head. The woods sped by and the land rose as we made our way to the castle. This was a more indirect route than the path Ian and I traveled this morning. I was not abo
ut to point out this error to Max. This idiot could tire his horse and his men and it would be to my advantage. I slumped against him and he hugged me tighter. He might think I desired his arms about me when really I just needed to rest. I could feel bruises forming on my arms and shoulders from his not so gentle ministrations. My head continued to throb and I let my eyes fall shut. The idiot could do all the work, so I pretended to doze.

  I never really slept but I kept my eyes shut and my body relaxed. Max continually readjusted to keep me in his arms. I had to keep from cringing but knew I needed to keep up this act. As the horses slowed, I stirred and sat up away from Max only to be dragged back against him. He sunk his teeth into my neck. I screamed and twisted away from him falling to the ground. I slammed into the dirt and new aches sprang up across my body. One hand covered my neck as I checked for blood. My hand stayed dry and I glared up at Max as he giggled. That was the first time I felt scared, really scared. What if Ian never caught up? I had to think for myself here. Max dismounted and stood over me.

  His soot covered breeches were tucked into old leather boots; one boot had a hole. My mind went back to the forest the night the soldier wanted to rape me, the one I shot. I took his boots off of him before we buried him. Those boots had the same hole, those were the same boots! I scooted back away from him to get a better view of what he wore. I was sure we had buried the boots. The socks I remember tossing in the stream a mile below our camp but I couldn’t recall what we had done with his boots. Max really was an idiot, he had been chasing us for days not knowing who we were or that we had discovered the dispatches on his dead friend. He bent over and grabbed my sore arm; I gasped with shock and pain. Max seemed to enjoy my moans and cries. This was not going well for me. I attempted to gain my feet to ease the pain in my arm from his tugging and I did help myself a little. Max told his men to spread out, one on each side of the ruined entrance.

  The front of Caerlaverock had once been mighty and imposing, now it was picturesque. Moss covered stones, a portico open to the blue sky, grassy paths between the stone arches. I enjoyed my morning with Ian and now I struggled to recall the layout. We had entered from a different side last night. Max took me straight through the courtyard. He turned me and we watched his men leap down into a depression, possibly the old moat, now filled with reeds, to lay in wait for Ian.