Highland Captive

by Hannah Howell

  “Ye dinnae understand. I saw myself in him, saw what I could become.”

  “Nay, laddie. Ye are but misguided. Rory Fergueson is mad, totally mad and thoroughly evil.”

  “Aye, but when did he turn so? When did he stop but slapping a lass now and again and take to beating them, enjoying the pain he could inflict? When did he stop taking unwilling lasses because he let his lust rule him and begin to enjoy their unwillingness, their shame, and their hurt? I take unwilling lasses, let my lust rule me, and use my strength against them. When does that stop being the act of a drink-besotted, unthinking lad and become the sickness that infects Rory Fergueson?”

  Parlan frowned. He wanted to ease the fear he read in his brother’s face but could not find the right words. While he did not believe that the evil which tainted Rory could have the humble beginning Artair described, neither could he ignore the logic of Artair’s words. He simply did not know enough about such madness to give Artair the firm denial to his fears that he sought. However, neither could he believe that his brother held the seed of such evil.

  “I dinnae ken what turned Fergueson into the filth he has become or when he turned so. I cannae believe that ye could become like him. Ye do no more than many other men yet there are few Rory Ferguesons about. As I have said, there is a brutal side to every man. ‘Tis but something we must learn to control. The beast in Rory cannae be controlled; it just grows stronger. Rory cannae change what he is. The rot is too strong. I dinnae really think ye are so afflicted. Ye can change.”

  Seeing that the fear in Artair’s expression was only mildly lessened, Parlan desperately sought some other tact. “Here now, Artair, ye havenae coldly murdered some innocent have ye?”

  “Nay.” There was a hint of outrage in Artair’s voice.

  “Aye, and ye have no thought to do so. Rory has. He was younger than ye when he murdered Kirstie Mengue. I wouldnae be surprised to find that there were other deaths or near ones before that. I ken weel there were others after that. His kin or his man, Geordie, kept the truth weel hid. I would wager there were other signs of his madness, things to indicate the seed of it and more as the seed flowered. Aye, ye have been a woe at times, but there has never been any real meanness in ye.”

  “But ye said that to ignore a lass’s nays and to strike a woman is wrong.”

  “Aye, wrong and I heavily disapprove, but as I said ye do no more than many another man. ‘Tis legal for a man to beat his wife yet I think one who does try to rule his woman with his fist isnae much of a man. There is no honor in beating one who cannae really stop ye though they might try. And, I dinnae see it as my right to take a woman as I please or where I please. So too have I seen what rape and brutality can do to a lass and ‘tisnae right. Ye willnae find a lot that agree with me though.”

  “Nay, but I begin to. I have”—he took a deep breath and faced Parlan squarely—“weel, I have recognized the folly of wallowing in drink and the stews. There is naught there for me but the pox or death. I dinnae want to say I have had some sense beaten into me but, in a way, I have. I couldnae drink, ye ken, and being without it made me think a lot on what I have been doing.”

  “‘Tis glad I am to hear this though, I dinnae quite understand why ye say ye couldnae drink. There is plenty about.”

  “Aye, but it wasnae brought anywhere near my chambers. Malcolm and Lagan, aye, even Leith, felt it best if I suffered a clear head for a wee while. I wasnae too pleased at first but I ken they intended only good. I sorely wanted to drown in it too when I began to think too clearly and too much, when I began to see what a useless fool I have been acting.”

  He shrugged and attempted a smile. “I but came to say that I mean to change. T’will take some time, I ken, if only to gain some respect from the people here. I ken that I lost whatever I had by my own actions so I must win it back on my own.”

  Deeply moved and feeling hopeful for the first time in far too long, Parlan heartily embraced his brother. “Ye ken that I am willing to help in any way that I can.”

  “Aye, but I also ken that this is mostly my own fight. Weel,” Artair said, smiling faintly as Parlan released him, “that is that chore done. Now I have but one more to do.” Grimacing, he jested weakly, “Best I see to it whilst I still feel ready to be humble and to confess to fault and errors.”

  Parlan grinned briefly, then asked, “What is it?”

  “I must yet seek Aimil’s forgiveness.”

  Aimil sighed and stared into the flames of the fire. She found it tedious to sit alone, waiting for the heat of the fire to dry her newly-washed hair. When a rap came at the door of her chambers, she eagerly bade the visitor enter only to frown slightly when she saw that it was Artair. There had been whispers of a change in him, but she was not sure she wished to be alone with the young man. Although, for Parlan’s sake, she had tried to dismiss it she could not forget that he had intended, at one point, to beat and to rape her. To have him near when she was alone and wearing only a robe unsettled her.

  “I am quite sober,” he murmured as he approached her, “and I swear I willnae touch ye.”

  Determined to give him a chance since he was Parlan’s only close kin, she indicated the other stool before the fire. “Sit down.”

  Somewhat stiffly he did so. “I have come to ask forgiveness for my attack upon ye.”

  “Ye were drunk, verra fou, in truth.”

  “Aye, but I cannae hide behind that any longer. I will confess that it took me some time to see what I had done as wrong. To me, ye were naught but some captive, and I could do as I wished. Beyond that, ye were also just a lass. I believed the ones who called Parlan a soft-hearted fool for his beliefs about how women should be treated. Few think as he does. Weel, now I see the right of his thinking. A lass has a right to say nay, and ‘tis naught but a weakness in a man to use his greater strength over the weaker to bend them to his will. ‘Tis a strong man who kens when not to use his fists.”

  “Then ye have learned a great deal and, aye, ye have my forgiveness. I give it fully and easily.”

  “Ye say that because ‘tis what ye think will please Parlan.”

  “In part, aye. What I did because ye are Parlan’s only brother, his nearest kin, was to let ye speak to me at all. ‘Tis for Parlan that ye even got inside the door. The rest is my own doing. I wasnae but mouthing words for Parlan’s ears but from the heart.”

  “Then I thank ye—from the heart. ‘Tis a comfort to ken that I willnae be starting this change in my ways with what little kin I do have set against me. I think t’will be quite hard enough as it is.”

  “Change is never easy. Ye have seen your weaknesses and your errors. That is the hardest step to take. Have ye spoken to Parlan?”

  “Aye, and it proved a two-edged sword. I was pleased to make him happy yet to see how happy simply speaking of changing made him caused me to see how unhappy I have made him in the past. I was keenly aware of how I had failed him.”

  “Weel, he is happy now and that is what matters most. Ye cannae brood too long upon the past. ‘Tis the future ye must look to. To think too long on what ye could have done or should have done will take time better used to see what ye must do now.”

  Before he could make any reply, a rap came at the chamber door. When Aimil bid the person to enter, she had to bite back a smile. Giorsal entered with a big smile on her face only to stop and glare at Artair who smiled crookedly.

  “Ye told her.”

  “Aye, Artair, I did and now I will tell her that all is forgiven.” She looked sternly at Giorsal.

  “And I am to fall into step with that?” Giorsal moved to stand next to Aimil.

  “Aye, t’would be nice.”

  “Oh, verra weel then.”

  “A most grudging forgiveness but sincere for all that.” She met Giorsal’s glare with a smile.

  Artair laughed softly as he stood to leave. “The time for the wedding must draw near. I will go to see if I can be of any help.”

  “Ye forgive verr
a easily,” Giorsal said as soon as Artair was gone. “I dinnae think I would do so.”

  “He means to change and now sees that he acted wrongly. I couldnae reward that by refusing to understand and to forgive. If naught else, I couldnae bear to be the one to hinder his changing. If he returned to the alehouses and whorehouses to wallow in that filth, I would always wonder if t’was my inability to forgive that caused him to stumble. Right now he needs the strength friendship can give.”

  “Aye, ye are right in that. Come now, ‘tis time to dress for your wedding.” She took Aimil by the hand and urged her to her feet.

  “Ah, so the time does indeed draw near.”

  “Ye dinnae look as happy as I thought ye would be. Dinnae ye wish to wed Parlan?”

  “Aye, I do but I do not. There shines a contrary nature, eh?” She tried to smile but felt sure it was a miserable effort.

  “A troubled nature to be certain. Come, ye can tell me all that frets ye as I help ye dress, and I shall tell ye what a foolish, wee lass ye are.”

  “I think I have been told that quite enough, thank ye kindly.” Aimil shed her robe.

  “Clearly ye havenae been listening or ye wouldnae be so dowie when ye are soon to get what I ken weel ye want.”

  “Does my back look verra unsightly?”

  “Nay, it doesnae as I am certain ye ken weel. Dinnae try to divert me. Talk, child. ‘Tis the best way.”

  Aimil knew that was true. She simply was not sure of how to explain all that troubled her. As Giorsal helped her dress, she struggled to find the right words, words that would make Giorsal understand her worries and fears.

  “I do want to be Parlan’s wife. ‘Tis something I have wanted for a verra long time. ‘Tis just that I wished him to ask me for reasons other than what sets in my womb. He weds me because I carry his heir.”

  “To get an heir is the reason most men wed. If t’was allowed, I wouldnae be surprised if most of them waited to stand before a priest until their seed took root in some woman’s belly.”

  “Most likely that is true, but ‘tis not why I wish to be stood before a priest.”

  “Did Parlan say t’was naught but the bairn that he was wedding ye for?”

  “Weel, nay.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said I was the first to carry his bairn, that he was always careful in the past to keep his seed from taking root. He said he didnae want to take such care with me, that he liked and trusted me. No lover’s vows those.”

  “Mayhaps not in your eyes but ‘tis no small thing for a man to feel so for a woman. Some wives never gain as much.”

  “I ken it. It doesnae stop me from wanting more though. I am friend and lover to him and weel I ken the value of that. Though I curse myself for a greedy, ungrateful wretch, I still want more.”

  “Ye want him to love ye, love ye as ye love him and that is a lot, isnae it, Aimil?” Giorsal gently bade Aimil to sit down and began to brush out her hair.

  “I never said so.”

  “Nay, not plainly but it shone through each word whenever ye spoke of Parlan. I kenned it from the first.”

  “Do ye think Parlan has seen it?” Aimil was dismayed by the thought that her feelings could be so easily read.

  “Most likely not. Men can be verra blind about such things. Och, listen to me. So can women. Look at me. I ken now that Iain has loved me from the start, but I never heeded it. I see only now, after all the years we have been together, what he has shown me so clearly in all he did. I had to discover my own love for him before I saw his love for me, before he even dared speak it aloud.”

  Shaking her head, Giorsal continued, “When I first realized ye had fallen in love with the man, I was sore worried for ye. There were some verra dark things said about him, and he looked dark and fierce enough for them to be true. I soon realized that he had been sorely slandered by rumor, but I still worried over ye for he is, weel, as Iain says, ‘such a great lad.’” She smiled faintly when Aimil laughed. “It took awhile before I saw that ye arenae troubled or afeard, that ye can manage what seems to be a great deal of man.”

  “Aye, manage him, but can I hold him? Can I keep his hungers sated so that he doesnae answer the lure of others?”

  “Has he been unfaithful to ye?” Finished with Aimil’s hair, Giorsal sat down to face her sister.

  “I think not. Nay, I ken he hasnae been. He didnae even tumble Catarine though she did all in her power to draw him to her bed. He did travel to the Dunmore keep, but even in that short while he was out of my sight, I dinnae feel he turned elsewhere.”

  “Then why do ye fash yourself over it? He has been faithful when he wasnae bound by any oath or vow to be.”

  “Aye, but the passion between us is still hot and new. What happens when that wanes as it will do, if only in some ways? ‘Tis love that keeps one person trying to stay faithful to another. He hasnae given me any words to make me even think he loves me.”

  “Ah, Giorsal, I love him so much that, at times, it frightens me. I daren’t even think of him with another. I fear it would tear me to pieces if he began to seek his pleasures elsewhere, if he decided that my being his lover, his friend, and the mother of his bairns was not enough to satisfy all his needs. Worse, I fear I would tear us apart in my pain.”

  Taking Aimil’s hand in hers, Giorsal sought words to soothe her sister’s worries. “Aye, he could turn to other women, but then what he already feels for ye could turn to love. Look again at what happened in my marriage. Iain loved me but I didnae love him at all. For five long years he was patient, quietly loved me, and has gained what he sought. I now love him back and dearly so. I am loath to admit it, but I was not even a good friend and lover to him though he tried to be to me.”

  “Could not the same happen with ye and Parlan? Ye already have a firm place for yourself here, already are so important to him though I do understand why it isnae quite enough. He trusts ye, likes ye, and soon ye will share a child. Build upon that, child. Give him all your love, and the chances are verra good that ye can draw the same from him. Ye have already gained a lot.”

  Staring at their joined hands, Aimil thought upon all Giorsal had said. There was a great deal of sense to it. While it might be easier for a good, kind man like Iain MacVern to make Giorsal love him than for her to make a man like Parlan love her, that did not mean that it was impossible. She certainly had a greater chance of doing so than any other woman in his life had ever had.

  “Aye, I see the sense of what ye say. I must cease using time and strength to bemoan what I dinnae have and use it to try and gain what I want. Aye, to gain what I need.”

  After briefly hugging Aimil, Giorsal stood and tugged Aimil to her feet. “And be patient, dinnae lose heart.”

  “I will try verra hard not to, but ‘tis a thing far easier to speak of than to do.”

  “True enough, but I think ye can do most anything ye set your mind to. Come, now, there is a wedding to attend.”

  Parlan scowled toward the door of the hall. “Where is the lass?”

  Doing a poor job of hiding a smile, Lagan shook his head. “Takes a lass time to ready herself for her wedding.”

  “Weel, if she isnae here soon, I will go and fetch her down. The priest grows impatient,” Parlan added a little pompously.

  “Och, aye. ‘Tis why he sets there sipping his mead and quietly talking to Lachlan. A sure sign of displeasure.”

  After glaring at Leith, Malcolm, and Artair who snickered, Parlan frowned at Lagan. “I will concede that I grow a wee bit restless.”

  “Quite. Just a wee bit.”

  “Ye can sore try a man’s good humor, Lagan Dunmore.” He swore softly when Lagan just laughed.

  Parlan was about to complain that it should not take any woman so long to don a gown when Aimil finally entered the hall. He caught his breath at the sight of her. Her gown was loose and flowing, not only to keep anything from aggravating her nearly-healed wounds but because he and Old Meg were firm believers t
hat no tight clothing should restrict the growth of his child in Aimil’s womb. The rich blue of her gown made her eyes seem even bluer. What truly caught his admiration was her long, bright hair, its thick length glistening and festooned with blue and gold ribbons. He had never seen her look lovelier.

  “Ah, Parlan, ye rogue, ye are gaining a fair, wee lass.”

  “Aye, Lagan, that I am.” Parlan immediately strode toward Aimil.

  Aimil was a little taken aback by her first sight of Parlan. She had never seen him dressed in such finery, in clothes worthy of an appearance at the king’s court. The black and silver seemed to heighten the imposing cast of his dark looks. She felt in awe of him and decided it was not a feeling she was particularly fond of. It certainly shook what little confidence she had.

  How could she expect to hold such a man? She was but a small Lowland lass with a short temper and a sharp tongue. At the moment, Parlan looked every inch the fierce Highland laird, a man to make women far prettier than her pursue him. He looked a man no woman could hold for long. Inwardly, she sighed as he took her by the hand and raised her fingers to his lips.

  “Ye are lovely beyond words, Aimil Mengue.” He was puzzled by the hint of sadness in her eyes. “Can ye nae add to it with a wee smile?”

  She tried but suspected that it was a poor, weak one that finally shaped her mouth. “I am a wee bit nervous, ‘tis all, Parlan.”

  He did not really believe that was all of it but did not press her. It was neither the time nor the place. So too was there an urgency within him to get the vows said and done, to claim her and the child she carried as his. There would be plenty of time later to sort out her various moods and understand what lay behind them he decided. With a smile he hoped would soothe her, he tugged her toward the priest who was now ready to perform the marriage service.

  As he knelt before the priest holding her faintly trembling hand in his, Parlan searched his heart one last time for any doubts or regrets about the step he was about to take. It did not really surprise him to find none for he had expected that, having found none since the moment he had decided to take her as his wife. There was a concern or two, even a few things that could be termed fears, but he pushed them aside. He did not really understand them but knew that they made no difference to what he did now. Instinct told him that they would be somewhat eased once Aimil was legally his.