Twelve #2
“You are punishing yourself…and it’s not your fault. It never was.”
“I know it wasn’t. It was yours. You should have taken care of me.” She came stomping toward him with every intention of pushing past, or running away, or any of her usual tricks.
Only this time Gordon wouldn’t let her. He stepped into her path. She pulled up short, her eyes widening not in surprise but in fear.
Gordon hated the fear. Fiona pivoted, ready to flee. He caught her arm. “Please, don’t run. Not any longer.”
“Let me go,” she said, her voice coming from deep within her. It was the voice of her anger, her loss, his betrayal.
“I can’t,” he said. “I won’t. Fiona, what the soldiers did was wrong, but you can’t let them beat you.”
Her body stiffened in alarm. “You don’t know anything—”
“I know they raped you.”
She pulled back, her eyes wild. “How did you find out?”
“I knew, Fee,” he admitted, ready to face all. “They made certain I would know.”
For a second she seemed paralyzed, and then she started to crumple as if overcome with shame. Gordon caught her in his arms before she fell.
“I’m not fit for anything any longer,” she whispered desperately. “I was to marry, to have a Season in London, a home and a place in society…”
“They were wrong, Fee, not you. You were the innocent. I would never have left if I’d thought such a heinous crime would be committed.”
For a second he thought he’d reached her, but then she pulled back. “Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” she said, her voice tight with hostility. “Because you did leave, Gordon. You went off to play at war. I had to live it.”
She was right. She had paid a terrible price.
“If I could go back, Fee—”
“Don’t say it.” She met his eye. “You wouldn’t have done one thing differently. I’m just another reason for all of this. You’ve set your course and you see no other way.”
He opened his mouth, ready to apologize again, then stopped.
“You are correct, Fee. There is no other way. I didn’t ask to lead a rebellion, but someone has to stand for justice.
Honor is more important to me than life itself.
Without it, the actions we go through day-today mean little.
But I didn’t shatter your childhood dreams. Perhaps if you had been born five years earlier or five years later, you could have gone to London, married a rich man, and ruled the world.
But it would be a very narrow world, Fiona, and a selfish one.
Trust me, someplace else there would be a Scottish lass being abused by a band of English buggers and no one would give a care.
But you’d have your shoes, and your dresses, and your silver. ”
She flinched at his words as if he had physically struck her.
He took a step back. “We are different, you and I. I don’t know how. We have the same sire, but you want to follow the English, while I can’t rest as long as there are soldiers in this country with the power to murder, to rape, to steal, and no one say nay.”
Gordon spread his hands, offering no solutions. “And as for you, this is where we are. I can’t erase the past. I hate them for what they did to you. I do love you, Fee. But I can’t change what is. The price would be my honor, and you are right—I can’t give it up.”
He dropped his hands, his heart heavy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and turned to leave.
He had not taken more than a few steps when he heard her whisper his name. He turned, uncertain.
She stood, so alone, and as defenseless as a sparrow.
They were all each other had. Whether he was right or wrong, he knew he couldn’t allow her pain, her anger, to stand between them any longer.
“Fee, come to me,” he pleaded. He took a step toward her, and that was all it took. She flew into his arms, sobs racking her body.
“God, Fee, I would that no harm had ever come to you. But you can’t let them beat you. You can’t let them rob you of your spirit.”
She cried so hard, it took her a moment to catch her breath. “I don’t know what to do,” she said into his shoulder, wet with her tears. “I have no future. I’m ruined. There’s no one who will want me.”
“Yes, there is,” he said quickly. “There is going to be a wonderful man for you. He’s going to be noble and love you more than life itself.”
She pulled back to look up at him. “And what do I have to offer him?”
“Your heart, Fee.”
Fiona shook her head. “I was scared, Gordon, so frightened—” “If I could find the man who did this to you, I’d have his head on a pike,” he vowed.
“I don’t know who it was. It was dark and the next morning—” She broke down again.
Gordon held her tight, letting her release all the sorrow, all the tension, all the regrets of the past months. “We shall see this through, Fee,” he promised. “Together, as a family. I will make it right.”
She pushed away to look up at him. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking this day?”
He shook his head.
“I’ve been thinking how I wish I was like Constance.” In answer to his obvious surprise, she said, “She’s a bit of a bully.”
Gordon had to smile, and was rewarded when his sister smiled with him. She wiped her wet cheek with the heel of her hand. “But she is brave and not afraid to say what she thinks or to defend herself. What if I’d tried to fight when the soldiers took me, Gordon? What if I had escaped?”
“You might have been hurt worse,” he said quietly. “We aren’t like the English. We don’t brutalize our hostages.”
“But we could be,” she answered. “Those soldiers acted on their own, Gordon. Can you control your men any better? I think not.”
He wanted to believe she was wrong, but then thought of Thomas.
“I can and I will,” he promised. He hugged her close.
“Fee, don’t let this defeat you. If you do, they’ve won.
Perhaps our fortunes have changed. I can’t promise you a Season in London or the hopes of marrying some duke.
But perhaps it’s time for new dreams. It’s a new world we live in. We must learn how to adjust.”
She contemplated the wisdom of his words. But when she spoke, it was not to say what he had expected. “You are right, Gordon. Our lives have changed, but if I am to accept the new, why can’t you? Why are you fighting a battle to keep the old ways?”
He released his hold. She’d caught him. He shook his head. “The rebellion is different,” he assured her.
“I’m not certain it is,” she said softly. “Perhaps we all need to learn a new life.”
He wanted to argue…couldn’t argue. If she didn’t understand—
A slurping noise interrupted their conversation. Both turned to see Tad greedily cleaning off their plates. He was standing on his hind legs, his front paws on the rock. His tail wagged until he noticed them. Then he had the grace to lower his head and slink off.
The moment broke the tension.
Both of them burst into laughter in a way neither had since a much happier time. It felt good. It reinforced this tenuous, still fragile connection between them.
Gordon took the plates. Tad had left a bit of the hare on one of them. “Here,” he said, offering it to the dog. Tad appeared chastened but stuck his tongue out anyway to take the last licks.
The stars were out now, and there was little fog yet across the loch. Gordon knew what Constance would think about a dog-licked plate, so he took one and tossed it out over the water as if skipping a rock. Turning to his sister, he said, “Do you want this one?”
Her lips curved into one of her rare smiles. She came over to take the plate and managed to throw it farther than he had, a point of great pride.
He took her arm. “We need to head back.”
They’d walked halfway to the camp, Tad trotting behind them, when Fiona slowed her step.
“There is something you should know,” she said. “I went to your tent this morning to release Constance. I tried to help her escape.”
And Constance hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity? “Why would you do that?”
“I feared for her.”
She’d been frightened of him. “Do you still?” It hurt to think Fee could throw him in with that bastard who had hurt her.
Fiona rolled her eyes. “No, she knows how to take care of herself. I watched her today and I was so jealous. It is as if she never lets anything stand in her way, even dumping fresh dirt in a latrine. And you should have seen the women, Gordon. They wanted to please her. Not one of them could do enough, and this after weeks of lazy idleness. Constance is strong and full of faith and life. She made me realize what I was doing to myself.”
“Did she say this to you?”
“She doesn’t have to. It comes from every pore of her body. She truly does feel she can accomplish anything, and right now, Gordon, she has decided to help us. She’s joined your rebellion. I think you should know. After what I saw today, tomorrow she’ll be drilling your men.”
“I don’t know whether to be alarmed or thankful.” He put his arm around his sister’s shoulders, uncertain what Constance’s new direction would mean. “At least, for now,” he murmured, “I needn’t worry about her running away.”
“You may be wishing she would,” Fiona answered, and they both laughed.
And suddenly he didn’t care what Constance had or hadn’t done or what new plan was brewing in that head of hers. She’d given him back his sister, the only family he had left, his only living bond with his father.
They’d reached the camp. Fiona turned in the direction of her tent. “Good night, Gordon,” she said, almost shyly giving him a sisterly peck on the cheek. “Thank you for coming after me tonight.”
“Fee, you’re strong. You haven’t let them break you.”
“Oh they did, Gordon. But I’m thinking differently now. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is better to fight.” She left for her bed.
Gordon waited until he could see she was safe before walking toward his own tent. It was only then that he wondered where Constance was.