“With that mouth, she’ll survive just fine. So what if she detests me? I need only get a son on her and be done with her.”
Eoin halted and pushed at his brother’s shoulder, so they stood facing one another. “You don’t mean that, and we both know it. Have you stopped to consider that she’s terrified?”
“Of what?” Ewan demanded. “I never gave her the impression I would beat her.”
“No. But you scared her into thinking you’d rape her and pass her off to me to finish the job. You gave her the impression that she’s worthless. You gave her the impression that you will humiliate her in front of a clan that she must join and who will judge her regardless of her relationship with you. You gave everyone the impression that you, and by default me, have no honor to speak of. What man admits that he’ll commit adultery in front of his own father, the bride’s father, and the bluidy King of Scotland? I hope you won’t, but our reputation doesn’t exactly speak otherwise.”
Ewan ran his hand through his blond hair and looked into the emerald eyes that matched his own. He saw the shame and disgust on his brother’s face that he shared. He’d gone much too far in his self-defense and caused greater damage than if he’d accepted her initial accusations and kept quiet.
“What do I do now? How do I make it right without coming across as a cad who’s trying to manipulate her?”
“Pray,” Eoin huffed before breaking into a grin.
“You’re enjoying this far too much. Wait until it’s your turn.”
“That shall be a long wait. I’m only your second, not our father’s heir.”
“You’re not ‘only’ aught. Don’t say that.” Ewan was always quick to come to his brother’s defense, especially when he was trying to convince Eoin that no one thought less of him for being the younger twin. More often than not, Ewan wished he could hand over the burden of becoming laird to someone else–anyone else. But he would never put it on his brother’s shoulders. He struggled with the persistent fear that he would never fill his father’s boots, and his behavior in the Privy Council proved he might be right to possess those concerns. Ewan recognized he hadn’t behaved in a way befitting a laird. He’d been a petulant arse. “I still don’t know what to do to make this right.”
“I’d begin with convincing Father not to rush the marriage. You have an uphill battle ahead of you. You’d do well to come to a truce before the wedding rather than once she’s convinced she’s trapped. You need to court your bride.”
“Court her? I’ll be lucky to get within a league of her without her pulling a blade on me.”
“True,” Eoin admitted.
Ewan looked at Eoin and shook his head. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as he tried to calm his frazzled nerves. He ran his hands through his hair before scrubbing his face. He needed to devise a plan to woo Allyson without coming across as phony and conniving. He wasn’t prepared to change, but he understood he’d have to be more discreet so his betrothed didn’t stumble upon his liaisons again.
Chapter Three
Allyson arrived at the evening meal as the servants presented the third course. She’d hurried to change, but had spent the better part of a half an hour with her head hanging over the chamber pot as she retched over and over. She failed to ease the tension between her shoulder blades. Her stomach remained in knots as fear of the unknown threatened to drown her until she soothed her frazzled nerves with several drams of whisky smuggled to her by her maid. She felt calm with a cheery warmth in her chest and belly as she approached the table where the other ladies sat. She slipped into her seat but poked at the food placed in front of her. She joined in the conversation when it became unavoidable, but she wasn’t her normally talkative self. The other ladies sensed something was amiss, but no one commented on it.
The longer Allyson sat without eating, the stronger the effects of the whisky took hold. By the time the dancing began, she recognized she was tipsy and should retire for the evening, but when she caught several courtiers smiling in her direction, she stayed. Allyson became aware of the Gordon twins as soon as she entered the Great Hall, and she was aware Ewan kept looking in her direction. She didn’t understand his expression—it appeared to be a combination of guilt, uncertainty, and speculation—and she wasn’t interested in deciphering it. She disliked being on the receiving end.
As one man after another asked Allyson to dance, she allowed them to twirl her about the dance floor. She tipped her head back and laughed when they attempted humor, she flirted when they attempted to tease her, and she redirected their attention when they attempted to seduce her. Allyson moved from one partner to another throughout the night, but steered clear of either of the Gordon brothers. When a member of the Maxwell emissary suggested they step outside for a breath of air, she agreed. The temperature was still frigid, and she didn’t have a cloak with her. She suspected the man would attempt to kiss her, and as long as they remained near the doors, she was confident that she could control the situation.
The bracing air bit into her cheeks and neck as the perspiration turned into ice water against her temples and between her breasts. She looked back at the Great Hall and decided she needed to return, lest she turn into an ice figure rather than a lady.
“It’s quite a bit colder than I realized, and I didn’t bring my cloak. I don’t think I will last long out here. I’m sufficiently cooled, so I believe I will return.”
“I’ll keep you warm, lass.” The young man wrapped a band of steel around her waist, and she realized she’d underestimated the man’s strength. She didn’t even recall his name, as the effects of the whisky had made her forgetful, but the brisk air had sobered her.
“I must return before my father wonders where I’ve gone. He arrived at court today and is keeping a close eye on me.”
“What I intend won’t take long.” He pressed a kiss against her throat. Its gentleness eased her fear, and she relented as his hand caressed her back. He pulled her closer as his lips traveled to her jaw, then cheek, before resting at the corner of her mouth. He paused for a heartbeat before pouncing. He caught Allyson off guard as he pressed his lips against hers, persistently swiping his tongue across her lips. Allyson tried to jerk away, but his steely arm had her locked in place. She grasped fistfuls of his leine as she attempted to push him away. She had no intention of allowing his tongue into her mouth, and didn’t understand why he kept pressing it against her lips. When her attempts to break free failed, she reverted to what she’d done as a child when her older siblings tormented her. She grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked as hard as she could. The thwarted swain bellowed and lashed out. Allyson ducked under his hand as it swung toward where her cheek had been a moment ago. She didn’t hesitate to stomp on his foot and dashed into the dark toward a door she recalled would be unlocked. She heard heavy footsteps following her, but once she reached the hidden door, she sprinted through the passageways, taking the shortest route to her chamber. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it as she struggled to catch her breath. Allyson lambasted herself for being so foolish as to go out into the dark with the man. The other times she’d allowed a man to kiss her had been quick pecks in the gardens, with daylight and discovery as incentives to keep the interludes brief. She’d been a fool to take such a chance, and she admitted she’d given the man a mixed message. But she also was certain he hadn’t misunderstood her when she struggled to break free. He’d disregarded her attempt to say no, and that was unforgivable to her.
Is that what it will be like once I’m married? Will Ewan force me? Will he give me a chance to say no, or will he take what he wants?
The fear from earlier in the day, both in the passageway and in the Privy Council, returned. Allyson moved to sit on the foot of her bed as she looked around her chamber. Her roommates would return that night, but she intended to be asleep, or would at least appear to be asleep, by the time they arrived. She assessed her armoire and chests, considering what lay inside. She eased off the mattress and opened one of her chests to pull out a satchel and flipped it open, looking inside for a long moment before glancing at the other contents of the chest. She retrieved a plain kirtle she hadn’t touched since before she returned to court the previous year after spending Christmas with her clan. She’d worn it the last day of the journey to court and then retired it to her chest, acknowledging that it would never meet the standards of courtly attire. She ran her hand over the stitching around the hem, remembering how she’d labored over it, pulling it apart and redoing it until she was certain no one would find fault with it. Her thumbnail picked at the one tiny imperfection where the left side seam met the bottom hem. She remembered how her mother chastised her for the uneven stitching even though it was in a place no one else would notice.
Allyson heaved a deep sigh as she set the gown on the bed and pulled out two older chemises that she’d also worn while traveling. They were sturdily made, but again not the quality expected of a lady-in-waiting. She placed one on top of the kirtle and the other in the satchel, then dug through the chest, pulling out three pairs of stockings, a pair of gloves, and a scarf. These were of superior quality, but the colors were subdued, unlike what she wore in Stirling. They were the clothes of a country laird’s daughter, not a courtier. They were what she preferred, what she felt most comfortable in. Once she’d placed the clothing and her Elliot plaid in the satchel, she lifted what remained in the chest and placed it on the floor beside her. She pried the false bottom from the chest and removed a pouch that filled her palm.
She’d tucked away coins for years and kept them in the suede bag. Anything she’d received for her saint’s day, Christmas, Hogmanay, Beltane, or any other feast, she hoarded. While her sisters had frivolously spent their money at the markets and fairs, purchasing ribbons and sweet treats, Allyson had only bought enough to keep her family from questioning her, anticipating she would one day need the coins after leaving home. She understood as well as any woman that anything she possessed when she wed would become her husband’s, but she also understood a woman should have a nest egg in case her husband failed to provide for her. She’d seen it with her oldest sister, married to a man twice her age who hoped to beget a son. He died of a heart attack in their bed, leaving her sister destitute with her new clan deep in debt. She hadn’t the money to even buy food for herself or her maid on their return to Elliot land. She’d had to rely on the meager contingent of guardsmen loaned to her from her husband’s garrison, and their father had to repay the men for what they’d spent on her sister and the maid. Allyson had sworn to never find herself relying on someone else for a meal and a blanket. She could always provide at least that much for herself. Now she would need the coins when she left Stirling.
Allyson considered her friend Elizabeth Fraser, who had been a lady-in-waiting before her marriage to Edward Bruce, the adopted brother, not blood brother, of King Robert. She and her husband left court and made a home at Inverlochy Castle after a threat to Edward’s life nearly killed Elizabeth.Dare I go to Elizabeth and Edward at Inverlochy? Would they take me? If I can make my way there, I think Elizabeth would allow me to stay until I can figure out what to do next.Doubt niggled at her mind that Edward might send her straight back to Stirling once he learned that she’d disregarded Robert’s order for her to marry Ewan.
I wish Isabella still lived on Dunbar land. At least I know my way around the Lowlands, even if we’re from opposite sides. But she and her husband have gone to the Sinclairs. There’s no way that I could travel that far north on my own. I barely know aught about the Highlands that border the southern portion of Scotland. I won’t make it in the wilds alone. A man or a beast is more likely to attack me than I am to survive.
Allyson remembered how to reach Elliot land from Stirling, but it would be the first place anyone searched. She might go to their neighbors, the Kerrs or the Douglases, but they would turn her over to her father. Desperation set in, but Allyson refused to allow it to dominate her. She hurried her packing and hid the satchel in her chest before undressing and crawling into bed. The candle had just finished smoking when the door creaked open and her roommates entered. They eased through the door and moved about the quiet chamber as they readied themselves for bed. Allyson forced herself to remain still and regulate her breathing despite her mind jumping from one idea to another.
