The MacNaughton Bride Read online

  It was Jenny’s turn to bite her lip. “I’m sorry. That was my fault. I wanted to let you know about it and explain how to use it, but I didn’t – I couldn’t. It – it – “

  “You left it? Why?” the word shot back at Jenny accusatorily. “Explain everything to me. All of it,” Aislinn demanded.

  Her face flaming the entire time, and completely unable to meet the other woman’s eye, Jenny got the story out in fits and starts – but enough that Aislinn had a good idea why Kell had reacted like that. Of course, it would have been nice if he’d given her a chance to explain as much as she could and not just jump to conclusions, but the evidence against her was quite damning.

  Better armed and informed about what had happened and what would happen between herself and her husband – if he ever spoke to her again – Aislinn felt sure she could explain the situation to Kell calmly and quietly, so that he would understand that she hadn’t known what Jenny had done, and that she had no idea what it was for even after he discovered it.

  The only way to prove her virginity to him seemed to be to let him do what Jenny had very reluctantly described the bare bones of as what transpired between a married man and his wife. Personally, Aislinn couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do something that disgusting, but she would go along with it to clear her name and restore her husband’s faith in her, she supposed. Although she wasn’t very happy that he was so quick to jump to conclusions about her with only that small amount of proof. As Jenny had described, he could easily have done an examination of her person – however humiliating it would be to her, she was sure he wouldn’t have hesitated if he’d thought of it – to determine her innocence.

  But instead he decided to believe that she would participate in some sort of a conspiracy to dupe him into accepting her as his wife, even though she was – according to his conclusions – a soiled woman. Well, Aislinn thought, he didn’t know her very well, but he would. And he should have given her the benefit of the doubt – should have sat down with her and discussed what had happened and heard her side of the story rather than jumping to incorrect conclusions and making her a veritable prisoner in this room.

  If she couldn’t get out of the house without and escort, then she was going to have to rely on Jenny and Arthur to take care of Adelle and explain to her that Aislinn was all right, just in dutch with her new husband already because of a misunderstanding.

  It was almost a week before she was able to get out of that bedroom, and if it hadn’t been for Jenny and the servants who brought her meals, Aislinn would have gone stark raving crazy. As it was, Jenny spent as much time as she dared with her – apparently their new master had decided that since Aislinn wasn’t going anywhere, that Jenny needed other tasks to occupy her time, so she had been consigned to the kitchen a lot of the time, but she had been able to steal some books from himself’s library, on the sly. Aislinn had never been so happy to see books in her life, and she loved them more than most people.

  Although his library was apparently very well stocked with all sorts of classic literature, Aislinn was slowly becoming of a mind that the rest of the household in general needed some work. Having spent innumerable hours in that bedroom, she noticed early on that there was quite a bit of dusty on every flat surface, and that the rugs badly needed beating. The room became stuffy and smelly very quickly . . . and that wasn’t saying anything about the quality of the food – or rather the distinct lack thereof.

  She had had some of it at the reception, but it had all tasted like so much sludge to her, anyway at that point. The food wasn’t the high point of the day, as far as she was concerned. It wasn’t any part of that day. But now, eating it three meals a day, she realized very quickly that it wasn’t up to snuff. Especially not for something from the kitchen of a Highland Chieftan and a man with a British title to his name. His food should have been impeccable.

  After two days of eating that slop, Aislinn declined to ingest one more ounce of that horrid fair. Jenny was nowhere to be found when she decided that, and wasn’t the one who brought her her evening tray. Instead, it was a small, mousy woman she’d seen before – Sile. She scurried in, obviously nervous, and set the tray down on Aislinn’s bedside table, turning immediately to go.

  “Sile?”

  The woman jumped when Aislinn said her name, even though she deliberately used her softest tone possible. “Yes, Ma’am?” Aislinn could see her shake as she turned back towards her.

  Aislinn’s gaze settled on a dirty bandage that decorated the small woman’s forearm. Gliding forward, Aislinn exclaimed, “Oh, you’ve hurt yourself! What happened?” as she reached out to the girl, who shrank back immediately.

  Sighing, Aislinn sat down on the bed, ignoring the offensive stench that wafted to her nose from the tray to her side. “Sile, I’d like to help you. Please come here so that I can look at your arm.”

  It didn’t take the frightened girl very long to decide to that obeying her was probably better than the consequences of not, but she moved forward very reluctantly, until she was barely within Aislinn’s reach. Aislinn patted her lap. “Put your arm right here, please.”

  But Sile snatched her arm back instead. “I couldna do that, Ma’am.”

  “And why not?”

  “I’d be getting your pretty dress all dirty . . . “

  Aislinn snuffed. “No need to worry about that, Sile. It’s been much dirtier, believe me.” She deliberately caught the girl’s eye, and smiled broadly, holding out her hand.

  Sile again approached her like she was going to certain death, but eventually Aislinn was able to position that pathetically thin arm on her lap. When she began to untie the dirty rags that were covering the wound, Sile began to wail, as if in anticipation of terrible pain, although Aislinn was going as slowly and being as careful as she could. The closer she got to the burn, the worse the pain, because the rags were sticking to the seeping skin, and removing them was tugging and tearing the flesh.

  “Shhahhh, shahhh, shahhhhhh,” Aislinn soothed wordlessly, automatically the way Jenny used to soothe her many hurts when she was a rambunctious little girl. What was revealed was an oval burn, about two inches wide and four inches long – not too deep, but wicked looking and extremely painful. The initial blister had burst, leaving raw, tortured skin that had just been tugged and ripped. It was bleeding and seeping fluid.

  Aislinn looked over at her dinner – some sort of unrecognizable meat and a runny, tasteless gravy, as well as over boiled potatoes. “Sile, go down to the kitchen and bring me two good handfuls of the potato scraps – the skins that were peeled off them. Nothing else, just the skins. Oh, and a hot cup of water.” She looked at the tea cup on the tray and new it was lukewarm at best.

  Sile looked at Aislinn like she’d just commanded her to scale Everest. “But, Ma’am . . .”

  Aislinn stood and said again, firmly, “Potato skins and a cup of hot water. Go now and come right back.”

  Sile left quickly, mainly because she was glad to get away from the Lady MacNaughton. She was terrified, but she knew she must do as she was told. So she skulked about as carefully as she could, but not one was much bothering the kitchen scraps at this point – eventually they’d be fed to the animals, but they were still in a pile outside. The cup of water was harder, but she managed to get it once the cook left to use the necessary.

  When she returned, Lady MacNaughton was sitting on the side of the bed again, rummaging in some sort of valise, pulling out various small jars of things. She took the cup from Sile and poured some sort of powder and chunks of something into the steaming water, stirring it around a little with the spoon, then presenting it to Sile. “Drink it slowly. It will ease your pain.”

  Sile tried to back away, but Aislinn had a hold of her hand. “No, Ma’am, I couldn’t drink from a cup like that – “

  Aislinn brought the cup to the young woman’s lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a cup.”

  Sile swallowed a little, then said,
“A cup like that’s not for the likes of me, Ma’am.”

  With a small smile, Aislinn answered, “It’s not for the likes of me, either, Sile. Believe me. Now hold this cup while I work on your arm.”

  She did as she was told, pondering both the strange woman who was her new mistress and why she might want kitchen scraps to help heal a servant’s burn. Aislinn lifted her dress and ripped several strips of cloth from one of her petticoats. Sile opened her mouth to protest, but decided not to. It hadn’t gotten her anywhere so far. She watched intently as her mistress cleaned the wound with some water from her own private pitcher, then carefully spread some sort of poultice or ointment directly onto the wound. Sile knew that the woman who was helping her was doing her best not to hurt her, but she squealed and whimpered occasionally anyway.

  Chapter 7

  Amazingly, Lady MacNaughton apologized the entire time she was dressing the wound for the pain she knew she was causing, and whenever she looked up at the other woman, there were tears in her eyes. Sile had never known anyone to sympathize so with a servant. It just wasn’t done, in her experience, unless one was a lady’s maid or a valet. The serving girls and scullery maids didn’t as much attention or affection as was engendered by close contact with the Lord or Lady they all served. Not that they were treated badly – just the opposite. Working for Lord MacNaughton and his brothers was considered a very prestigious post, no matter what the capacity. They were given good food, warm shelter, and were treated better here – less like slaves – than in a lot of other of the gentrys’ households.

  But still, the new mistress was going above and beyond the usual courtesies extended to the household help. After she’d dabbed on the ointment as gently as possible, she put down a layer of skins, meat side down, to cover the wound, then wrapped it again in her much cleaner petticoat strips.

  Tying it in a nice bow, Aislinn said, “There. Keep it clean and dry, and come back to me in two days and we’ll do this again. Bring skins and water with you when you come. Make a tea out of this,” she pressed a small container of powder and bits into Sile’s hand, “when you can, and it’ll help ease the pain.”

  Indeed, her arm was already beginning to feel better. “Thank you, Ma’am,” Sile whispered through tears. No one in her hard life had taken such an interest in her, or cared so much that she was in pain.

  Squeezing her eyelids tight so that the tears wouldn’t fall, Aislinn whispered back just as gutturally, “You’re welcome, Sile. Now take this tray back to the kitchen. I’m not at all hungry, and even if I was, I wouldn’t eat that for love nor money.”

  Sile grabbed up the train quickly, willing to do pretty much anything for this woman who had cared for her so gently. “Yes, Ma’am.” She curtsied and skittered towards the door where she paused for a second, staring at the ground as she whispered, “Thank you, Ma’am. I – I know I don’t have no right to say it, but I don’t think it’s right that his Lordship has you all bottled up here. If there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll try to get your trays for you as much as I can, so if there’s anything extra or special you want, I’ll do my best to get it.” It was the longest speech Sile had ever made in her life, but she meant every word.

  The woman on the bed smiled at her softly. “You’re welcome, Sile. And thank you.”

  Bowing and scraping all the way, Sile left Aislinn alone in her room.

  Sile was as good as her word – either she or Jenny brought her trays from that point on, but Aislinn was refusing to eat to protest the poor quality of the food. She didn’t think the ingredients were necessarily bad, but the way they were prepared was horrid. Besides, she thought that not eating might get her husband’s attention. He seemed entirely prepared to ignore her for the rest of their lives, but Aislinn wasn’t interested in spending the rest of her life in this room. She could see him sometimes, striding off on business, those impossibly broad shoulders set, purpose in every stride. Sometimes he was mounted, and that was even more of a treat. The man rode like a centaur. His horse was a gorgeous black stallion who puffed and reared in the cold, but he kept his seat as if it was his own idea to try to buck him off.

  Aislinn didn’t like that she took such enjoyment at just looking at the man – she should have hated the very sight of him, stubborn, wrongheaded cur that he was. Didn’t even give her a chance to defend herself before imprisoning her here, all alone and in disgrace, as far as he was concerned.

  Then an unexpected knock came at the door. Aislinn put down her book and came to stand at the end of her bed. “Come in.” It was too early for dinner and she’d already sent the lunch plate back without her compliments. Jenny wouldn’t have bothered to knock . . . She wondered who it was. “Come in?” she called out tentatively.

  She was pleasantly surprised to see his brother, Grant in the doorway. He conspicuously left the door open, but came well into the room, looking her over anxiously. “I – I’ll understand it if you don’t want to see me.”

  Aislinn smiled hesitantly. “Don’t be silly,” she walked over and gave him a gentle hug. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  To his own horror, Grant blushed. “Well, I thought you might be getting a little cabin fever. Would you like to go for a walk?” As if they were in a grand ballroom, he bowed and offered her his arm.

  Aislinn chuckled for the first time in what seemed like ages. “I do believe I would love to take a stroll with you, kind Sir.” She curtsied deeply back to him, then they set off through the house, collecting amused and amazed stares from everyone they encountered. They met Burke on the way, and he gleefully abandoned the stuffy paperwork his brother had set him to and assumed his own post on her other arm.

  Sile saw them going out the front door, and flitted up to the room to grab a shawl for her Mistress, fussing about her like she was a stray chick. The other servants were amazed to see mousy Sile doing much of anything beyond that which she was directly told to do, but Sile had become devoted to the new mistress, despite the rumors that were flying about just why the Master had locked her up. No one could say a word against the mistress within Sile’s hearing, or they’d see a side of her they never dreamed existed.

  Aislinn thanked Sile for the wrap, then set off again with her seethingly masculine escort. As they walked, they danced completely around the elephant that had accompanied them. They discussed the weather, the crops, the flora and fauna of the area . . . everything but the situation between their brother and the tiny woman on their arms.

  Until Grant stopped dead in his tracks and turned her to him, holding both of her hands in his. “We – my brother and I – just wanted to tell you that we don’t subscribe to the eldest’s opinion of you, Madame.”

  Those tears that were never very far beneath the surface lately, it seemed, flooded her eyes and trickled down her cheeks at his words. They believed in her innocence. Her own husband didn’t, but they did. She squeezed Grant’s fingers, whispering a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

  Burke turned her back to him, blushing furiously. “We believe in your – your innocence, Ma’am, even if our brother doesn’t. It’s as plain as can be, and he’s that much an idiot for not seeing it, regardless of any evidence to the contrary.”

  Aislinn didn’t know what to say or do, and she knew she was blushing at least as brightly as they were. “Thank you both, so much,” she sniffled. “And, please, call me Aislinn.” She started walking again, staring at the ground beneath her feet. The brothers caught up with her and fell into stride beside her. “But don’t be too harsh on your brother. There was – evidence against me, and he doesn’t really know me.”

  The men nodded. “But neither do we – but we believe you.”

  This conversation was very strange, and they shouldn’t even have been having it. But it was nice all the same to hear that someone was on her side besides Jenny and Sile. Aislinn grabbed each of their hands. “Thank you. You’ll never know how much this means to me.”

  The threesome wandered through to
wn, making the introductions that Kell should have. Despite the fact that not every reception was glowing, Aislinn was wonderful with everyone in town – exclaiming over their children and any wares or services they offered. It was a thriving place, and she knew that that would have been due to her husband’s hard work. She also offered advice to anyone who had a health problem, and by the end of their rounds, several people had asked if she might see to some of their ailments. Because she wasn’t allowed to leave her room without her escorts, she invited them to come to her tomorrow.

  Grant and Burke looked over her head when she suggested this – entirely out of the kindness of her heart, they were sure. But finding most of the town at his wife’s door wasn’t going to make Kell feel any better about her.

  ***

  And it didn’t. He tromped into the house at about eleven the next day, just a half hour before he was to meet a business man up from Edinburgh to discuss the price of some land he was looking at acquiring near the boarders of their current lot. But the sight that greeted his eyes made him blink furiously. For some reason, there was a line of townspeople – all of whom he recognized – men, women, and children, in the great hall, and lined right up the stairs and as far as the eyes could see.

  “What’s going on here?” he bellowed.

  Suddenly, there was silence, and the women in the line clutched their children a little closer. Simon, the blacksmith, stood where he was in line – not wanting to lose his spot – and answered as politely and succinctly as he could, “We’re here to see your lady, Sir.”

  Kell’s eyes widened as he dismissed an evil thought that she was entertaining men in her room. There were only a few men in line, anyway. He took the steps two at a time, watching the line wrap around the stairs, right down the hall to her – his – their – room. The closer he got to the door, the fewer towns folk and the more household servants he saw. “What are you all doing here? Go back to work?”