Chapter 14
H unger drove Beth to the great hall. She’d spent a futile two hours in the solar hoping Duncan would come and apologize. Her monumental relief in learning she hadn’t made love with a raving lunatic had bolstered her spirits and her hope for their relationship. She just wished someone had had the foresight to enlighten her about Duncan’s second and third wives earlier. Had she known, she definitely would have responded to his fury differently.
Deep in thought she stepped into the unusually quiet hall, and found all eyes turned toward her. All but the children then developed a sudden interest in the trenchers or ale before them.
They know. Everybody had apparently heard the argument.
Appearing before them for the first time with a naked face couldn’t compare to the embarrassment she now felt. Duncan owed her for this. Big time. And where is he?
Back straight, she crossed the hall to the tightly wound staircase that would take her down to the bailey.
Outside, people again stopped what they were doing to stare. When she stared back, they quickly averted their gaze as if she were naked. Feeling an outcast just by being among them, her discomfort grew as she made her way toward the chapel, the place Duncan had spoken of with fondness during the night, in the hopes of finding him there. She wanted—-no, the operative word here was needed —him to apologize and then he had to rectify the good people of Blackstone’s opinion of her. Once that had been accomplished, he could kiss her if he liked. But only once. She was still mad at him.
Not twenty feet from the chapel’s arched doorway a blond child of three or so darted out from between two casts chasing after a huge gray cat and nearly tripped her. Apparently unaware of the danger, the child followed the cat out the open portcullis. Expecting to find a frantic mother chasing behind, Beth scanned the women and realized no one had noticed the child’s exit.
She ran after him, hoping one of the guards had already captured the dirty-faced urchin and given him a good dressing down while at it.
But outside the gate she saw to her horror that no one stood between the sea and the child as he raced after the cat. Not knowing his name she yelled, “No baby! Get back. Baby get back!”
She ran. Only feet from grabbing him, the cat jumped onto a tethered boat and the child, reaching for the boat, lost his balance and toppled over the quay’s edge and out of sight.
Beth heard a woman’s scream just as she plunged feet first into the frigid water after the boy.
Slipping below the churning waves, Beth felt the icy cold hit her with the force of a solid fist. She almost gasped from shock and hoped the child had enough sense not to. Tossed between the quay and the boat, she felt rather than saw the frantic child. She latched on to the wavering fabric of his shirt and kicked for the light. A breaking wave knocked her against a hull as she broke the surface with the child, his shirt still locked in her fist.
Someone lifted the child up and out of the water and then strong hands reached for her. Beth heard the child’s wet cough and then a mother’s cooing and admonishing as she made it to her feet. Teeth chattering, Beth pushed dripping hair out of her eyes to find the child—now wrapped in tartan—a bit blue around the lips, but otherwise okay. Relief flooded her.
She tipped her face to the sun. Thank you, God.
Deciding the child was none the worse for the experience and in good hands, Beth hunched against the wind and pushed through the crowd now gathered on the quay. One man silently offered her his cloak as she passed. She gave him a wane smile, shook her head, and hurried toward the keep. She desperately needed to get out of her clothing before she turned to a block of ice.
Before she made it to the keep’s door someone tapped her shoulder.
“My lady?”
Beth stopped and managed a grin for the panting, apple-cheeked woman holding the drenched boy.
“Thank ye for saving me lad.”
“You’re most welcome.” She studied the chattering child clutched to the woman’s chest. “What’s his name?”
Double dimples bracketed the woman’s semi-toothless grin like quotation marks. “Miles.”
“Hello, Miles.” To the woman Beth said, “He’s a lovely—bonnie lad. How many years is he?”
The woman’s chambray eyes assessed Beth for a long moment. “Soon four, my lady.”
“An inquisitive age.” Several more women edged closer to them, obviously curious. Beth held out her hand. “My name is Beth, Mrs….?”
The woman hesitated for a brief moment before taking Beth’s hand. As she did, one woman gasped and another giggled nervously.
“MacDougall, my lady, Kari MacDougall.”
“Kari, it’s a pleasure meeting you. I just wish-—luste—it had been under more pleasant circumstances.” Beth’s teeth began to chatter in earnest. “I’d love to chat, but I need to change.” She gave the child’s arm a pat. “Bye, and no more chasing kitties onto the quay, you hear?”
The child smiled, displaying dimples identical to his mother’s. Beth waved and ran up the stairs, her goal the solar. Climbing on stiff legs, she pondered the possibility—should she remained locked in this world—of she and Duncan someday having a child so easily identifiable as theirs. Would her son have Duncan’s steel blue eyes and black hair? She prayed if she had a daughter the child would have her height and build but her father’s features and coloring.
As she rounded the second floor landing, Beth came to an abrupt halt. Her hands flew to her mouth.
Not fifteen feet before her in the darkened hallway stood her husband and Miss I’m Too Sexy for My Clothes Flora Campbell locked in an embrace. Something sharp contracted around Beth’s chest seeing Flora leaning into Duncan, the woman’s palms splayed on his chest as he casually leaned against the wall.
When they turned as one to look at her, Beth’s body infused with blistering heat. She didn’t wait for an explanation. Matters were clear enough for a blind man to see. Her husband loved another.
Without a word, she spun and tore up the stairs wanting only to get behind a closed door before she shamed herself by allowing him to see that he’d made her cry.
“Beth! Wait! This isna—”
Duncan grabbed Flora’s upper arms and shoved her back. “God’s teeth, Flora, back off with ye!” Damn all and the little fishes. Beth’s expression had turned from startled to painful recognition in only a heartbeat as she had stared at them. Damn!
“Oops,” Flora murmured tightening her grip on his sleeve. “Ignore her, my lord. As I was saying—”
“Flora, away with ye. Now!”
Beth already thought him a beast after he’d tossed her about the solar in a rage. He had nay doubt that her thinking she’d caught him in an adulterous clutch would do naught for his plea of understanding about his earlier behavior.
He raced down the corridor after her and then flew up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. Why was fate so determined to blast his life down the garderobe slew? All he needed now was a raid by the Bruce and his life would be a total ruin.
At the top of the stairs he found the solar door closed. He lifted the latch and shoved. It didn’t budge. He pounded a fist on the thick wood.
“Beth, open the door.” He could hear her muffled sobbing.
“ Go to hell! ”
He raked his hands through his hair and growled in frustration. He’d not been able to lock her in for lack of a lock, but she’d locked him out by simply propping something under the latch. He pressed his forehead to the door. “Lass, please. ‘Tis not as ye think. Flora waylaid me, ‘twas all. I wouldna do that to ye.”
He waited for a response and heard more muffled sobs.
Damnation! And why did she cry so? ‘Twas naught as if she loved him. Women! They’d be the death of him.
A great murmuring rose from the hall and Duncan’s attention began to vacillate between his sobbing wife and discovering what now had the clan in an uproar. He should stay and plead his case, but what was wrong below? The conversation escalated in volume and he stared down the hall toward the stairs.
Surely, if given time to ponder his words, Beth would see he spoke the truth. No? He had, after all, pledged his fealty to her before God and his clan just a week past, and all knew him to be a man of his word. Aye, ‘tis best she found the right of it in her own good time.
He cast a final glance at the barred solar door before starting down the steps. Mayhap, he could coerce Rachael into helping Beth to see reason. He was, after all, a peaceful man and did not want his life at sixes and sevens any longer than need be.
In the hall Duncan couldn’t make heads or tails of what his clansmen were saying about Beth whilst everyone talked at once. To all he shouted, “I just left my ladywife. She’s in the solar so how can this be?”
“‘Tis true, my lord,” Clive MacDougall, an able solider chimed in. “I was up on the battlement, above the portcullis and saw the bairn racing after the cat with ye lady fast on his heels. I shouted as she did, but to no avail. The lad toppled in. By the time I got down to the quay Lady Beth had jumped in after the lad. Ye can understand my distress; the wee lad canna swim and me not knowing if yer lady could?”
“‘Tis as he says, my lord,” Kari interrupted.
Duncan waved the bairn’s mother forward.
“Just moments ago…” Kari wrung her hands, “…I looked about for Miles and then saw yer lady running through the gate yelling, ‘No, baby, no!’ With my sweet babe gone, I gave chase. I near died seeing him fall into the sea.” Tears sprang into her eyes. “Drown he would have if not for yer Lady Beth. I canna swim and Clive couldna have reached him before…” She gulped as tears coursed down her ruddy cheeks. “Yer lady just disappeared into the sea after my Miles and then rose with him in her hands.”
All who claimed to have seen the astonishing event nodded as one. Someone muttered, “Like in the tale of the Lady of the Lake, my lord. Only ‘twas not a sword but the bairn she rose up with clutched to her breast.”
Duncan mentally pictured Beth standing in the hall—beyond the shock and dismay he’d originally noticed on her visage, he now realized she had looked like a ewe caught in a hard rain. Why hadn’t he noticed before this?
Ack! ‘Twas little wonder she’d told him to go to hell. He’d not be the least surprised if she now plotted his demise. Good thing he’d ordered all the sgian dubhs away or he might find one buried to the hilt between his ribs. What a dreadful day his poor addled Beth has had.
‘Twas past time for him to humble himself before her and beg for reconciliation. On his knees, if need be, before the solar door.
As he turned to the stairs, he heard Angus hail him.
“My lord, a word if ye please.”
Duncan studied his second in command’s stern countenance as he approached. “Ye return earlier than expected. Is something amiss?”
Angus dropped his voice to a whisper. “‘Tis the Bruce. We need speak of in private.”
Duncan, irked by life’s timing, nodded. He would just have to speak with Beth after discovering what his enemy planned.
#
God, if you don’t get me out of this time warp soon I’m going to kill him.
Of all the woman in the keep, why Flora? Why not someone with a sweet disposition, some widow with six children she couldn’t hate so much? But no. Instead, “plain-as-pudding Pudding” has to find her man in the arms of a woman with a snide attitude, a supermodel face and great boobs. And lest we forget, one who also speaks fluent French. Talk about finding oneself on the short end of life’s equation! She mopped away her tears with her palms.
Enough!
She’d done nothing but cry herself sick for two solid hours. She’d been foolish to think she could have life otherwise. And worse than foolish for letting her guard down while in Duncan’s arms last night. She’d acted stupid, pushing aside the harsh lessons she’d learned growing up as she was shuffled from one disastrous situation to another. “Lesson Number One,” she muttered, “Love is beyond your grasp. Lesson Two; nowhere is it written that you’re guaranteed fairness. And Three; there’s only right and wrong.”
And Duncan was, by God, in the wrong.
At the windows she hiccupped, sniffed and studied the activity in the bailey and across the bay in Drasmoor. All of it—-the keep, the castle, even the village—-belonged to her by marriage and by law, both in this time and in her own. Amazing. Dashing the tears from her cheeks, she marveled at how life went on all around her, without her, while she huddled above it all.
Get a grip on your heart and pride, girl. Nobody has or ever will give a damn whether you’re happy or not.
She heaved a sigh. She couldn’t continue to lick her wounds in the solar. If the fates had decided she was to remain here indefinitely, then for her sanity’s sake things had to change. For starters, she would not live in a pig’s sty.
Marshalling her pride and installing what she hoped was now an impregnable shield about her battered heart, she straightened. Though her body felt like she’d gone three rounds with a prizefighter thanks to the abuses she’d suffered at Duncan’s hand and the battering she’d taken by the waves, she rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. None of that matter.
The only thing mattered. She, by marriage and heredity, was the lady of the keep-—the mistress of Castle Blackstone—and it was about time she let everyone know it. It was time to kick ass and take names.