“If she’ll go with you then take her,” Willie Douglas said. “She’s a sour bitch, and I’m of a mind to take a new young wife. I would have sent her packing sooner than later, for my bride-to-be is healthy, unlike my last wife.
She will cook and care for my house. I have no more use for Margery, and do not wish to feed a useless mouth.
The kitchens are below. I hear you took the wench I sold you as a mistress. I hope she gave you more satisfaction than she gave me.”
“How long did it take you to heal?” the laird asked.
Then, as he turned, he said, “The lady is my wife now, Douglas. Speak of her with respect.” He left the trader openmouthed and descended into the kitchens.
“Margery, sister of Elsbeth, show yourself to me,” he called out into the darkened room. “I am the laird of Cleit, and I have come to take you home.”
Elsbeth’s sister crept from the shadows. She was gaunt to the point of starvation. Her hair was a dirty white, and she was clothed in rags. But there was still a fire in her eyes. “And where is home, my lord?” she demanded to know.
“Cleit, where your sister rules my kitchens, and the lady Adair is my wife,” Conal Bruce said with a small grin.
“You might have come sooner, my lord,” Margery told him bluntly. “Well, let’s go. I am more than ready to leave this place.”
“Get your things then,” he said.
“Things?” Margery said dryly. “I am wearing them, my lord.”
“God’s teeth, woman!” the laird swore softly. “You cannot ride as you are. If I miss my guess those ragged bits you are wearing are the same garments you were taken in from Stanton.”
“They are,” Margery said. “You didn’t expect the old miser upstairs to expend a ha’penny on a servant, did you? His wife, God assoil the poor soul, was about my size, but when she died he took her gowns and sold them all in the market. He might have given me one, for it would have cost him naught, and they were old and well-worn, but he could only think of what he might gain. I’d ride naked to your Cleit just to escape that man and this cold stone house of his.”
“You can have my cloak for modesty’s sake,” the laird said, taking it off and putting it about the woman’s shoulders. “Come along now. No need for good-byes.”
Margery followed him up the stairs and out into the sunshine, where Duncan sat upon his mount, holding two horses. The laird helped the older woman to mount, and then climbed into his own saddle. It wasn’t until they were several minutes past Willie Douglas’s house that he told his brother of what had transpired. Duncan was shocked.
“And the bastard says he’s going to remarry,” the laird noted. He looked to Margery. “Who is the unfortunate bride?” he asked her.
“The lass is the daughter of a farmer who owes Willie Douglas money,” Margery said. “She ran away once, but her father sent Douglas after the poor little wench. When he caught her he bedded her, with her da’s permission. To make certain, he said, that she didn’t run again, and understood she would be his wife whether she wished it or not. I can still hear her weeping after he had taken her virginity. And later he bragged to me that when he brought her home he and the lass’s father took turns beating her until she fainted. They are only waiting for her to heal enough so they can go to the priest. Between that devil’s rough lovemaking and the beating the girl received, she cannot yet walk.”
“Why did you remain?” Duncan asked curiously.
“When my service was up his wife still lived. She wasa good soul, and so happy to have another woman in the house to keep her company and look after her. And then she died six months ago, and where was I to go, my lord? I would not even know how to return to my cottage at Stanton.” She looked to the laird. “Tell me of my sister and the lady Adair. They are well?”
“They are,” he assured her. “Adair is now my wife, and we have recently had a son. She said if I were pleased with her, would I go and fetch you to come to Cleit.”
Margery cackled. “And so you have, my lord, and I thank you. I do not think I could have lived in that house much longer, and I probably would have taken a knife to Willie Douglas once he was wed and mistreat-ing that poor lass again.”
The two men chuckled at her pithy comment.
“You will need time to recover your health, Mistress Margery,” the laird said. “But then I know it would please us all if you would enter my service. I am no great lord, and Cleit is not a grand place, but you will have a warm home, good food, new garments when you need them, and the companionship of your sister.”
“I would like to return to Stanton, to my own little cottage if I might, for they did not destroy the village that day we were taken,” Margery said.
“Regain your health first, and then decide,” the laird suggested to her. He would let his wife and Elsbeth tell Margery of Stanton.
They reached Cleit just after sunset. And seeing each other for the first time in almost three years Elsbeth and Margery burst into fulsome tears, weeping upon each other’s neck in their joy at the reunion. The laird found his wife in the hall nursing their son.
“Should you be here?” he asked her. “You have just had a bairn, my honey love.”
“I had Murdoc carry me down,” Adair said. “I woke up, you were gone, and it was lonely in our bedchamber.
Where have you been all day?”
“Duncan and I sought out Willie Douglas and
