by Lynsay Sands
All of this news was making her feel a bit more kindly toward her guards and their laird. She began to see that they had probably been watching her so closely and restricting her movements in an effort to keep her safe from the lady of the castle. It made her grateful that she hadn't run into that woman here on the beach.
A sudden sigh drew Kyla's gaze to her companion as the woman quit her floating and regained her feet in the water. "As much as I would enjoy continuing this, 'tis growing late in the day. 'Twill be time to sup soon. I suppose we should get out."
"Aye," Kyla murmured quietly and had started to follow Aelfread out of the water when her new friend suddenly gave a squeal and charged across the sand to her plaid. Glancing about, Kyla froze. There, astride his horse, the MacDonald waited upon the path. At first, she was so consumed with the fear of discovery that it took her a moment to realize that she was standing there wearing naught but her under-tunic.
Flushing brightly, she charged after Aelfread toward her own plaid as he started down the path toward them.
"Me laird." Aelfread had her gown on and a pained smile on her face by the time he reached them. Kyla, unable to pleat and don the thing quickly, had merely drawn it around her shoulders. She quickly scattered her damp hair with her fingers so that it hung half across her face, then she turned to meet the man whose hospitality she had been attempting to flee.
"Laird." Kyla dropped her head in pretended obeisance to hide her features.
"Ladies. 'Tis a fine day for a swim, but I fear now that I have returned, Robbie will be looking for ye, Aelfread."
Kyla glanced from beneath her lashes in time to see the petite woman blink in surprise, but then her gaze narrowed and her mouth tightened. Lifting her head, Aelfread gave him a stiff smile. "Aye, me laird. Yer right. Thank ye for telling me. Iseabal and I'll just be heading back, then."
Kyla nearly sighed aloud at that. For a moment she had feared the other woman would abandon her, leaving her alone with the MacDonald, to make her own excuses--a dangerous situation she was sure. She could hardly have continued to stare at the ground as she spoke and even had she done so, there was still the chance that the man would recognize her voice. Aside from that, the very sight of him seemed to have scared all thought right out of her head. She wasn't at all sure she could have thought up a viable excuse to leave. Her relief was short-lived.
"Iseabal, is it? Well, 'tis a pleasure to meet ye, Iseabal," he murmured, then glanced back at her new friend. "'Tis no need to wait for her, Aelfread. I'll be seeing her back meself."
Aelfread frowned over that and opened her mouth to try to extricate the girl once more but the hard glint in Galen's eyes made her think better of it. Nodding resignedly, she turned away, her anger growing with every step she took up the path. She had never thought to see the day that she would think badly of Galen MacDonald. Robbie had sung his praises to her since she'd known him and she had listened and accepted all he said. She would have a word or two to say on that subject now, however. Her dear Robbie was going to get an earful when he came home that night. Iseabal was an innocent young lass and the look in Galen's eyes as he had eyed her wet shift had been nothing short of lustful. And if he took advantage of that girl...
Chapter Eight
Silently cursing her luck, Kyla stared at the sand by her feet with feigned fascination as her friend left. She felt as bereft as an orphaned pup. A moment later she had no room for such emotion, panic filling her as the MacDonald chief urged his mount closer. "Shall we head back to the keep?"
"Oh, n-nay, I--" Kyla began nervously, only to gasp in surprise as she was suddenly plucked from the sand and hauled up before him on the horse. "All right," she squeaked, grasping frantically at the pommel of his saddle to balance herself as he turned the horse back toward the path he had taken to the beach.
"Iseabal."
Kyla stiffened as he murmured the name consideringly.
"A lovely name for a lovely lass."
"'Twas my mother's name, too," she muttered uncomfortably, shifting slightly in an effort to put a little space between herself and him. It was an impossible feat with them both sharing his mount. His legs were solid behind her thighs, his arms around her to hold the reins before them, and while her back wasn't touching his chest, she could feel the heat of his nearness through her damp shift and the plaid wrapped around her.
"Hmm. 'Tis fair amazing to me that I have no' noticed ye ere this, Iseabal. 'Tis sure I am, yer a fresh, shiny coin among so many dull and plain ones here."
"Oh, well, I do not get out much, my lord--laird," she said quickly, then heaved a sigh. For it was true. She did not get out much. Thanks to the very man at her back and his blasted rules. Or perhaps it was due to his wife's madness. Kyla frowned over that and shifted again, attempting to put a little more space between them without seeming obvious. He was as hot as a Midsummer's Eve fire. The flesh of her back was tingling something fierce in reaction to his heat. And he wasn't even touching her!
"Stop wiggling about," he instructed not un-gently.
"I am not wiggling about," she said quickly, sitting a little straighter before him.
"Ye are."
"I am not," Kyla insisted firmly, casting a glare at him over her shoulder to let him know how rude he was being by even suggesting such a thing.
Galen frowned right back. "Aye, ye are."
Kyla pursed her lips and gave him a dirty look. "'Tis obvious that you know nothing of good manners, my lord. A true gentleman would not deign to point out a woman's discomfort."
"I think I already told ye I'm no' a gentleman," he muttered, but this time he seemed irritated to have to make the admission.
Giving a harrumph, Kyla turned to face forward again, then whirled quickly back, her mouth a round "O" of dismay.
"What is it?" Galen asked with amusement.
"You know who I am," she realized aloud as his words sank in. The last time he had told her that he was no gentleman was when he had carried her up to his room. As Kyla.
Irritation covered his face briefly. "Of course I know who ye are. Did ye really think donning a plaid would fool anyone?"
Kyla flushed, but sat a little straighter before him. "It fooled your men," she pointed out stiffly, and he rolled his eyes.
"Nay. They weren't fooled."
"They were so," she insisted. He scowled at her. Rather than be intimidated, she scowled right back, then glanced away in confusion when his lips began to turn upward in a reluctant grin of amusement.
"My men knew it was you. They followed you down to the beach and kept an eye on you until I arrived."
Kyla frowned at that announcement, her back stiffening a bit more at the idea of having been spied on the whole time she had been enjoying her freedom. Damn these Scots anyway, she thought with sudden irritation. She could not wait for the arrival of her relative's men, whether it was her brother's men or her uncle's she would be happy to wish this place a "fare thee well."
Then she recalled the terrible troubles the man who rode behind her had and was ashamed of herself. The poor man had a madwoman for a wife. And he had assigned his men to guard Kyla only to keep her safe from that woman. Kyla was being terribly ungrateful over it, and troublesome to boot, by trying to escape the protection he offered.
On the other hand, he could have simply told her why she needed protection instead of just denying her freedom and setting guards on her. But then, men had never been known for sharing such vital bits of information. At least her brother and father had tended to keep such details to themselves, preferring to merely give orders and expecting them to be obeyed. Besides, she supposed it would be humiliating for the man to admit that his wife was deranged.
Clearing her throat, she glanced back at him and even managed to squeeze out a smile. "I am terribly sorry to be such a burden," she murmured. "I realize now that I should have stayed at the keep."
"Aye. Ye should have."
Kyla's good intentions fled under his easy agreement and
she snapped. "Well, mayhap I would have had you troubled to explain yourself."
"Explain myself?" he rumbled ominously.
"Aye." She sighed in exasperation, then tried for a conciliatory tone again. "It must be difficult for you.... Having an ailing wife, I mean," she clarified, sensing his confusion and trying to explain what she meant without offending him. When he stiffened at her words, she glanced back to see amazement on his face.
"You know?" he asked.
"Well, of course, I know." Her lips twisted slightly. "Did you really think I wouldn't hear about it?" She suddenly worried that she might be getting her new friend into trouble by revealing what she had been told. After all, if the men had followed to spy on her, they would know that Aelfread was the only person she had spoken to and therefore the source of the knowledge.
"Not that Aelfread told me, mind you," she said quickly, trying to protect the woman. "And even if she did, 'Twas only because she thought I knew--which I would have if you had troubled yourself to tell me, my lord," Her attempt to protect her friend turned into a lecture again as her irritation returned. "Really, my lord, you should have told me."
"Aye," he began on a sigh, but she continued right over him.
"I mean I can understand your reluctance to share such a shameful admission--" She saw his eyes widen incredulously at her words and quickly tried to amend their harshness. "Not that marrying a madwoman is shameful, mind you, especially if you didn't know about the madness ere the marriage--and I'm sure you didn't know else you surely wouldn't have gone through with the wedding, but really..." She paused briefly, taking in his expression with a frown. It had changed from surprise to upset to dismay, and now his features had settled into a sort of bemused stare as she babbled at him.
Considering the burdens he lived with daily, she felt her anger slip away, settling into sympathy again. "It must be hard for you. Never knowing when your own wife may again try to murder one of your men or a guest." She shook her head sadly, oblivious to the way he had stiffened in shock, then realized that they had ridden back through the gates and were now paused before the keep. "Oh, here we are. I should go inside and prepare for the sup, my lord." She slid off his mount as she spoke, then whirled back to flash him a brilliant smile. "Never fear my lord. Now that I know what is about, I shan't try to flee my guards again. Good day to you."
Then she was gone, skipping cheerfully up the steps to the keep and leaving a rather stunned Galen in her wake. What had she just told him, he wondered. That she knew about their marriage? Yes, it seemed Aelfread had told her, though she had obviously tried to protect her friend. Of course, there was nothing to protect her from; if anything, Galen was relieved that the burden of informing her had been removed. Nay, he was glad to be rid of that chore. He had expected hysterics, upset, mayhap even anger. But nay, she appeared not the least upset by the news. But what had she been talking about when she'd mentioned the burden of a mad wife? Did she fear she was mad? And that part about his never knowing when she might take it into her head to try to kill one of his men or a guest, had that been a threat? Good Lord, she wouldn't, would she? Nay, of course not. She wouldn't have dared warn him of the possibility were that the case...unless she were mad.
The men converged on Galen with questions the moment he reached the stables.
"Did ye tell her? What did she say?"
"What did Aelfread do when she realized who Kyla was?"
Galen waited until the stable master had moved off with his horse before turning to survey men that had ridden with him since he himself had been but a boy. In the end, he addressed Robbie's question first. "Aelfread doesn't know yet that the woman she spent the afternoon on the beach with was her mistress."
"She doesn't?" They all looked amazed at that announcement, but none more so than the giant. "How? Why not?"
"Because she gave Iseabal as her name and I didn't give her away."
"She lied!" Duncan appeared crushed by the discovery.
"I told ye she would have to lie," Angus said smugly.
"She didn't lie," Galen defended, though the Lord knew why. There was nothing wrong, in his mind, in giving a false name to gain escape. "Iseabal is her name. Her second name. I saw that when she signed the marriage decree."
"Hah!" Now Duncan looked smug. "I knew she wouldn't lie. Not entirely."
Angus rolled his eyes at that, then turned back to Galen. "So ye let her keep her secret until after Aelfread left," he concluded. "What did she say when ye let her know ye knew who she was and then told her she was yer wife?"
"I didn't."
"Ye didn't what?" Gavin asked slowly. "Tell her yer wed, or that ye knew who she was?"
"Tell her we were wed," Galen muttered, turning to move toward the keep.
"But why?" It was Robbie's voice rumbling to life as he and the other men rushed after him. "Do ye no' think it might have been better to tell her whilst the two of ye were alone? 'Tis no' me place to tell ye how to handle yer wife, but after three months with Aelfread, 'tis my experience that women tend to think 'tis fair important they learn things like this at the first possible opportunity. In fact, they tend to get quite testy should that not be so."
Galen paused at that and turned as his friend continued. "Why, I told ye about how she reacted when she found out about that little scratch yer wife gave me. I thought to spare her an upset, but when she found out, she fair near killed me with her screaming alone. First she was howling over the fact that I didn't tell her, then she was howling over the wee scratch itself."
"Mayhap yer wife just likes to howl," Tommy suggested with amusement.
Robbie considered that briefly. "Aye. That may be so. Aelfread tears a strip off me ear if I don't tell her even the most pesky of little things. Why, the other day she set up a'hollering over the fact that I hadn't mentioned 'Twas me day of birth. Still, I can't help but think ye'd best be telling her alone."
"There is no need. Aelfread had already told her."
The men gaped over that, then shifted around, glancing at each other briefly before Robbie cleared his throat. "And just how angry was she over finding out that way?"
"She wasn't."
There were more glances exchanged, then Angus murmured, "And you'd be sure about that, me laird? I mean you don't think she may have been hiding her upset?" When Galen began to scowl at that, he added quickly, "I only ask because, well, me sister, God bless her, I don't think she'd take news like that too well. I mean, I'm sure hearing it from a stranger would not please her one bit. If you see what I mean?"
Galen's expression turned thoughtful as he considered that. "Well, she seemed not to be upset. But then she did say that bit about killing one of you men."
There was a moment of shocked silence, then the men burst out, all trying to talk at the same time. Galen held up a hand for silence. "She didn't mean it, I'm sure. She just said that it must be hard having an ailing wife and never knowing when she might take it into her head to try to kill another one of me men." Leaving his men to chew over that, Galen turned and continued on toward the keep.
Pushing through the heavy keep doors, Kyla ignored the few people milling about the great hall, rushed up the stairs to the bedchambers, and into the one she had been using since awaking from her fevers.
"Thanks be to the saints!" Morag cried, pausing in her worried pacing to rush forward and embrace Kyla. "I thought ye'd up and fled."
"What?" Kyla pulled back slightly to frown at her. "And leave you behind? I would not do such a thing."
"Nay. I know you wouldn't." Releasing her, she stepped back to look over her plaid. "So that is how ye managed it."
"Aye." Kyla glanced down at the damp wrinkled garment wrapped around her torso and grimaced. "Not that it worked," she added grimly, then sighed and began to remove the damp material.
"Well, it must have worked a bit--it got you out of here. And the laird was fair furious to find ye gone, too, I can tell ye. He searched the entire keep and bailey, roaring and snapping
with worry. It didn't help that the men he left to guard ye were missing as well. He--"
"He is not angry anymore. It seems the men disappeared because they were following me," Kyla announced dryly as she let her plaid drop into a damp heap on the floor.
"Well--" Morag grabbed up the plaid and began to tend to it as Kyla set to work on her shift--"They could have let me know what was about," she muttered a bit irritably. "Duncan left shortly after ye retired. I thought he had gone to the privy, but he never returned. Then, there was no sign of him when the MacDonald arrived and you were discovered missing. There was no sign or word of the other two, either. You could have let us know what was about."
Kyla avoided her reproving glance for a moment, then sighed. "I am sorry you were worried. I guess I didn't really think this outing through. I just--I--"
"Ye just wanted to get out from under the thumb of yer guards fer a bit," the old woman finished for her calmly, setting the plaid aside and digging out a fresh shift for Kyla to don. "Ye aren't used to being restricted and I could tell ye were fretting under the burden of it. I should have realized what had happened as soon as it was known that ye were missing." Sighing, she turned back to dig through the chest again, straightening a moment later to study two gowns she now held in her hands. "Do ye wish to wear the gold or the green?"
Kyla shrugged slightly. "The green, I suppose," she murmured, then eyed the other woman solemnly. "Well, no matter the case, I am sorry you were worried. It won't happen again. Now that I know about this Lady MacDonald business, I shall stick close to my guards and not try to flee them."
Turning away and moving over to the fire to brush her still damp hair, she didn't notice the way Morag stiffened at her words or the burning look the nurse turned on her.
"This Lady MacDonald business?" Morag queried carefully.
"Aye." Kyla glanced around in surprise. "Surely you have heard about the MacDonaid laird's wife?" When the maid merely stared at her mutely, uncertainty in every line of her body, Kyla gasped in amazement. "You have not heard? Oh, my! Well, apparently he has one, and she is quite mad." When Morag's eyes widened incredulously, Kyla nodded emphatically. "It's true. Why, Aelfread says she actually tried to kill one of the MacDonald men."