The MacNaughton Bride Page 9

  “But, Sir – “ It was his own valet, Pierre, the traitor, who was the next person in line to be seen, apparently, “your wife issued the invitations herself for anyone who had a health complaint to come see her and she would see what she could do about it.”

  Some scullery maid he barely recognized stepped forward with her arm outstretched at him. Sile, he thought her name was. “Yes, Sir. She’s a right good healer, your sainted wife is. She fixed up my arm almost good as new, changing the dressing regular and making so sure not to hurt me much in the process. And she gave me some willow bark tea, she did, so as to ease off the pain when I can.” As if suddenly realizing to whom she was speaking, she shrunk back into line, mumbling. “The woman’s an angel. Anyone can see that.”

  Grunting angrily, Kell stalked past everyone and threw open the door, only to reveal his wife, bending over old Mrs. Fitzgerald’s foot as she wrapped it with some sort of ruffled material that looked like she’d ripped it from her under things . . . it looked like a petticoat, and the closer he got, the more and more it looked like just that.

  “Out!” he bellowed. It was not the usual for him to yell like that, but he was just overwhelmed by what he was finding.

  Aislinn looked up at him and scowled, making him feel as if he’d been scolded by some schoolmarm when she was the one who had wronged him in the first place, not the other way around, and she was the one causing this spectacle. She then proceeded to take her time finishing what she was doing, ignoring the fidgeting Mrs. Fitzgerald was doing as she gathered her things and prepared to do exactly as she was told. When she was finally finished, Aislinn assisted the older woman onto her feet, handing her her cane. “There you go. Keep it up and dry as much as you can, change the dressing every evening and use this as well as the cleanest cloths you can find to dress it, all right?” She pressed a bag of Kell didn’t know what into the woman’s hand as she saw her to the door.

  “Please give my husband and I a few minutes to talk, will you, everyone?” Aislinn asked in a sweet voice. Turning back into the room, she addressed her maid. “Jenny, would you go down to the kitchen to see if there’s some tea and biscuits we can give to them while they’re waiting?”

  Kell was incensed. “No! You stay right where you are, woman,” he roared as Jenny had hastened to do as she was bid by her mistress. “We’re not going to get into the habit of feeding the entire town. They’ll never go home.” Jenny stopped in her tracks, but didn’t move any further, frowning back at the man who had accused her wonderful girl of awful things and locked her away from those she loved. Why, Aislinn hadn’t seen Adelle in a terribly long time. It was unnatural – even in the worst times, they had seen each other almost daily, and spent long hours together. The sisters were very, very close.

  Jenny had gathered her wits about her and confronted Lord MacNaughton as soon as she’d heard about what had happened. She knew it was all her fault – if she’d left well enough alone, things would have worked out fine, but how was she to know? While he glowered at her – managing to look like he was looking down at her even though she was standing and he was sitting behind that huge desk of his – she spilled the whole story and admitted her guilt, begging him to believe that Aislinn had nothing to do with it and no knowledge whatsoever about the subject. That she was as innocent as the day she was born.

  He’d let the silence stretch to exceedingly uncomfortable proportions, then said, as he guided her to the door without touching her, “Apparently you don’t believe so, or you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

  Jenny was largely unimpressed by their Lord and Master, so she stood her ground.

  Kell’s attention had turned to his errant wife. He had deliberately stayed away from her for the past few days – he was just too angry. He didn’t trust himself not to strangle her with his bare hands. How could he have been so taken in by a pretty face? How could he have given the MacNaughton name to a woman of lose morals? A harlot? She was so damned beautiful – that was all he saw. And he could still see it, and, to his complete disgust, he could still become aroused by her. She was in a dress that was barely more than rags, stained with whatever concoctions she had been using on his people, the ragged hem of her petticoat peeping out from under her full skirt. Her hair was up, but several strands escaped the coiffure and curled around her face in a haphazard but entirely enchanting manner.

  He wanted her. Badly, and it made him hate himself almost as much as he hated her. Or tried to hate her. He never quite achieved the level of hatred his mind thought her actions warranted. His desire always interrupted him, settling into his loins and setting him to throbbing fit to drive a weaker man crazy. Alone in his chaste, monk-like room down the hall, he tossed and turned for want of her, dreaming about her all night and waking to find that he’d defiled himself in his sleep.

  Of late, he had come to the realization that what was done, was done. He decided that he would keep track of her monthly cycle, and once she was over her next one, and he knew she wasn’t pregnant, he’d come to her every night until she was pregnant with his son and heir. It would be a much different relationship from what he’d hoped for – what he’d pictured. Certainly nothing like what his parents’ had, which had been his dream for them, ultimately. He would use her so that he could get the heir he needed, but beyond that, she would remain locked in her room, and firmly locked out of his heart.

  He knew his brothers didn’t agree with what he was doing – that they believed in her innocence, despite that fact that he’d explained exactly what had happened and his reasons for his opinions. Somehow, she’d bewitched them. Too. He’d heard about their outing yesterday, and that her reception in town had been cool at first, but that she had redeemed herself considerably by dispensing medical advice and suggestions to those who were obviously ailing. There was little else that could ingratiate someone to the townsfolk faster than someone with doctoring skills.

  What he hadn’t realized was that she’d apparently set up shop in her room and invited the entire county to come by for an examination. He practically yelled this at her, but she didn’t so much as move in reaction.

  “Do you have nothing to say in your defense, woman?” he roared.

  Aislinn shrugged. “What do you want me to say? Aside from the fact that we’re occupying your house, what do you care what I do? I’m the lowest of the low in your eyes. You don’t want to be anywhere near me. Fine. I, on the other hand, can help some of your people with their ailments, and they apparently want me to. As I understand it, the nearest doctor is quite a ways away, and I’m not going to charge them an arm and leg. Besides, I’m glad to be of service to them in any way I can.”

  He wished she wouldn’t talk like that. It would be easier to sustain his hatred for her if she wouldn’t be so damned noble. Would a whore be noble? He wondered, then dismissed the thought. That didn’t matter. “This is my house not an almshouse. You are not a doctor. I do not want you to treat my people like this – “

  “You don’t want me to help them? Heal them? Give them any sort of relief from their pain?” Aislinn stood and met him, nose to chest, without so much as a whit of concern for her own safety. The people in the hall, who were beginning to realize that they probably should leave, hung around because they wanted to hear what the outcome of the fight would be, and if the Mistress won and was able to continue to see them, they didn’t want to lose their place in line. “My, now I see it’s not just me that you don’t like – you don’t even like your own people.”

  He wanted to slap her, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted to punch something or someone, but there wasn’t anyone or anything available for that purpose. “I do not need to explain myself to the likes of you.”

  “No,” she agreed with complete calm, surprising him not only by her words but her tone. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” She walked over to the door and opened it, revealing the mass of humanity that was still milling about. “You need to explain yourself to them. The
y’re the ones you’re hurting. Not me.”

  Kell raised his face to the heavens, praying for calm and peace, and the wisdom to deal with this completely aggravating woman. “All right then. You can see them. Lord knows I don’t want to be accused of consigning my people to lives of misery when there’s someone around who can apparently help.” A smattering of applause greeted his ears, but he wasn’t looking at them, he was looking at her. “But – only at certain times, and only when you’re properly chaperoned – so you’d better sweet talk my brothers into spending some time with you, because I don’t have the time to baby sit you.”

  He turned and made as if to leave her when she shot back, “Where?”

  “What?”

  “Where do you want me to see people? I am still confined to my room – “

  “Yes, you are.” He would be lenient with his staff and the townspeople. Not with her. He figured he might as well get some use for her, since she was living in his house and eating his – “And that’s another thing – I’ve heard that you’re not eating. I expect you to eat every morsel on every tray.” He wouldn’t have her dying on him just when he’d decided to use her to get an heir, despite her considerable shortcomings.

  “I wouldn’t feed that slop to a dog.”

  “Hey!”

  The outcry of indignation didn’t come from Kell, it came from behind him – from the cook, who was standing patiently in line to see if the Lady could help her with a nasty sore throat she had. “I do the best I can with what I have.”

  The rest of the household staff grumbled things along the lines of, “if that’s the best you can d0…“

  Kell turned back to Aislinn. “She’s a perfectly fine cook.”

  “Yes, but Sile would make a better one. She enjoys working with food. And if a person is happy in doing what they want, then the results are better. Cook?” Aislinn asked, trying to walk past her husband but finding herself blocked by his big body so that she couldn’t get out of the room. She craned her head around his side. “Are you happy cooking?”

  The older woman shuffled her feet. “N-no, Ma’am. I always wanted to be a lady’s maid.”

  “Well, then why don’t you begin training with Jenny while she cares for me – such as she’s able – “ Aislinn threw in as a dig to her husband, “and then Sile can cook. She told me once, when I was dressing her burn, that she used to cook for her whole family, and she’s won several contests at county fairs for her dishes.”

  “I am Master here, and I’ll thank you to stop issuing orders.”

  Aislinn pulled herself up to her full height. “And I am mistress here, supposedly. And apparently, you don’t even know good food from bad, or that your servants are miserable, or hurt or sick. Some Master you are. I’ve been here all of a week or so, and have been imprisoned for most of it, yet I know them better and take better care of them than you do. Your brothers said, before they walked me down the aisle, that Jenny could be my maid of honor because you treated your servants like family. Well, considering the way you’ve treated me, and the way you’ve treated them, I’m not sure it’s even healthy to be a member of your family.”

  Kell had never been so angry in his life. This little woman had the ability to insult his intelligence, assault his honor, and intimate that he was a bad overlord, all in one breath. He wasn’t sure that even if she had been entirely innocent that he wouldn’t have wanted to shake her till she rattled anyway, especially in a situation like this. He was so mad he was literally trembling, and he didn’t trust himself not to put her over his knee – and that would be getting much too close for comfort. If he had her over his lap, as he dearly wanted right about now, he knew he would end up inside her, and it was much too soon. He had to know that any child they produced was his, and no one else’s.

  “Do as you please. But except for when you’re chaperoned, you’re still to stay in this room. And all of you people get back to work. My brothers will let you know when she’s going to be available and where.” He stormed out of the room and out of the house, and Aislinn couldn’t resist running to the window to watch him stride across the courtyard.

  She sighed. She’d won, sort of. She hadn’t won her freedom, but the right to treat the villagers, and also, hopefully, bring the cuisine in this place to a somewhat higher standard. It was a small victory, but it was something.

  Too bad her husband still hated her.

  Within the next few days, the brothers, on her behalf, had commandeered a small cottage on the estate for her to use as an office. They picked that location because it was a ways away from the house, and she would be able to have a good walk to get there, spending some precious time out of doors. They rotated coming to get her, which was great. Grant and Burke were wonderful – it was too bad their older brother was such a pigheaded ass. She’d referred to him as just that in front of each of them, and they had both dissolved into giggles, which made her laugh, too, at such a high pitched sound coming out of such strapping lads.

  Chapter 8

  “Don’t say that around him, Aislinn lass. You’ll get a strapping like you’ve never felt before,” Grant imparted to her as if he was telling her a state secret. “I mistakenly said something I oughtn’t not too long after our Father died, and I couldn’t sit down for a month.” He absently began rubbing the offended part before he realized he was in polite company.

  Aislinn couldn’t resist. “I have a poultice for that, too . . .”

  Grant looked abashed, then laughed when she burst out giggling. “You are a bad, bad girl.”

  “Am not.”

  They laughed there way to the small house. As he helped her off with her cloak, Grant said, “I wish my brother would come to his senses, lass. I’m sorry he’s treating you so.”

  Aislinn tried to smile, but didn’t really accomplish her goal. “It’s okay, Grant. It will resolve itself, eventually.”

  She worked hard, every day, but it was one of the most fulfilling things she’d ever done. And the people were incredibly thankful, and almost always tried to pay her in some way. The food in the castle was getting better only because the women of the village were gifting her with breads and cakes and pies as a way to pay for her services. The men most often offered repairs to her “office,” and soon the run down little cottage sported real glass windows and a beautiful stone fireplace as each man repaid her by using his own skills to her benefit.

  Kell continued to ignore her, making sure that Sile and the cook, who were now assisting Jenny regularly in Aislinn’s care, knew to inform him when the Lady began her show of blood for the month. That hadn’t happened so far, but he questioned them occasionally, just to be sure they hadn’t forgotten. Eventually, it got to his ears that she had been venturing beyond her little station to treat some patients who couldn’t get to her, and that his brothers were gradually leaving her alone rather than staying with her while she worked. They had things to do themselves, but he needed to make sure that she wasn’t alone with any men. She couldn’t be trusted.

  One night, she didn’t come home on time. His brothers were nowhere to be found, but he knew for a fact that Grant was off on a trip to Edinburgh at his own behest and Burke had gone to visit the one and only lady that was a true rival to his devotion to the Church. For his part, despite what a travesty his marriage was, Kell hoped that Burke chose Tavia Douglas and had a hoarde of kids instead of spending his life in devotion. It just seemed more natural, and he wanted Burke to have a chance at the kind of happiness that he himself obviously wasn’t going to have.

  Kell spent the evening in an extremely uncomfortable chair in the shadows, lying in wait where he had a clear view of the door, a bottle of good – family brand – scotch by his feet and a half full glass in his hand. It was nearly midnight when she decided to come home, peeping in the door and looking around, obviously not seeing him in the shadows. She crept in on tiptoes, closing the door with nary a sound, then making her way slowly, so slowly, to the stairs. Kell was able to get up
and across the foyer just as quietly, and as she lifted her foot to use the first step, he leaned forward so that his mouth was inches from her ear, and said, “It’s nice of you to come home.”

  Her shriek hurt his ears, but he ignored it. Several servants came running, but Kell waved them away.

  “It’s especially nice since you shouldn’t have been out in the first place,” he hissed, grabbing her upper and pulling her up the stairs, then pushing her into her room ahead of him.

  She shirked out of her coat herself – her husband being the gentlemanly type that he was didn’t offer to help her – and threw it on the bed. She didn’t need this right now, but apparently she was going to get it anyway. “Yes, I was out. Yes, I was by myself. But – “

  “I don’t want to hear a ‘but’ – not from you. I don’t need those kinds of details rolling around in my head – I’ve already conjured enough of them from the morning after our wedding night, thanks to you and your maid.”

  Aislinn sighed and began to get ready for bed. There was nothing else she could do. She didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life defending herself against a charge that was bogus to a husband who really didn’t want to believe her anyway. So she disrobed as far as she could, but with no Jenny appearing, she had no way to get to the buttons that ran down the back of her dress. She walked up to him and turned around, piling her hair in her hand and lifting it out of his way. “Would you unbutton me, please?” He’d seen most of her already, she reasoned, and he was her husband anyway.

  Disconcerted by her request and her nearness, Kell did what she asked without thinking, watching the line of her back as it was revealed by the parting fabric. God, he wanted her. He thought he would give his left testicle to be able to throw her onto that bed right now and drive himself into her. His somewhat besotted mind – fogged not only by the fine, smokey liquor he’d consumed but by the teasing scent of her lilac perfume and the softness of her hair as it fell down onto his hand before he removed it.