‘What?’
‘There is a lass called Maren, imprisoned for a minor offence. I fear she has a grim fate awaiting her.’
‘Who?’
‘Maren. A bonnie lass she is, with brown hair, a belligerent demeanour and wearing a green dress. She is striking in a fierce kind of way and has big brown eyes you cannot miss.’
‘Ah, I do recall her.’ Laird MacKellar leant forward and smirked. ‘And you call stabbing a redcoat a minor offence? The English wanted hanging, but I gave her the mercy of transportation. There was little remorse shown for her crime, so she was lucky to find me in a good mood.’
Bryce doubted remorse was Maren’s strong point. ‘Surely a more lenient sentence could be extended? The English are not friends of the Scots.’
The magistrate raised his eyebrows. ‘Are they not, Cullan? You have beaten a redcoat to a pulp, and now you defend a lass who stabbed one. Being a Jacobite is considered a hanging offence, you know.’
‘Only to some, and what I meant was, it is a waste to condemn the lass.’
‘Aye, she’s a bonnie little bitch, I’ll give you that.’
‘If you are that way inclined, Laird MacKellar, which of course you are not.’ Bryce let his implication sink in. ‘Can you not find it in your heart to be more lenient?’
‘Lenient, and have the English baying for my blood? I think not. I will pack her off to the colonies on a ship leaving tomorrow.’
‘Please, Sir. I would see her have a different fate. Now you owe me a substantial debt at cards, Laird MacKellar, and I am prepared to overlook it and your other indiscretion if you give me the lass.’
‘What do you want with her?’
‘Do you care?’
‘Not particularly. I am bound for a lengthy sojourn in London and a farewell to this cesspit of a town. If the lass is in my jail, I need to be rid of her, one way or another. A common slut is nothing to me. But do you want to dip your wick so badly that you resort to buying a woman?’
‘I am not buying the woman. I am buying her freedom, Sir. So sign the papers that exonerate her and me, and let’s be done with each other.’
‘But think on this, Cullan. What kind of woman carries a knife strapped to her ankle?’
‘One who would prefer to have a choice in whose company she keeps, I would imagine.’
‘Tis a whore’s weapon, and a whore she is. But if that bitch’s cunny is what it takes to keep your counsel and discharge my debt, then so be it. I release her into your service. But in the meantime, you are responsible for her actions, and you alone. Am I understood?’
‘That’s not what I….’
‘Enough,’ interrupted Laird MacKellar. ‘I’ll spend not a minute longer in your company, whelp.’
Laird MacKellar summoned his clerk and set the man to work on the document to free Maren. With every scratch of quill on parchment, more of the lass fell under Bryce’s care and control.
When the clerk was gone, and not before favouring Bryce with a glower for casting aspersions, the magistrate handed the paper over to him. ‘There. The bitch is free. Much good she’ll do you. What a strange turn of events. It’s not like Bryce Cullan to have to buy a woman. I thought you just preferred to steal them from other men.’ He gave Bryce a sneering smile.
Bryce ignored the barb, scanned the document and frowned. ‘This paper states that she is my indentured servant, bound for a term of one year.’
‘Aye, what of it?’
‘Well, I sought to free the lass rather than force her into servitude. I would rather not own her. For what I have in mind, I want her to come willingly.’
‘I doubt you are that fastidious. And it’s too bad. You do own the lass, and that’s that. Her crime was dire, so I cannot release her and draw English wrath down on my head. Flash that winning smile of yours, and she’ll be willing enough. A year on her back, and she will be free, no matter what you say to the contrary. Of course, if you choose not to tell her about her indenture, that is for you and your conscience. I care not.’
There was nothing to be done. ‘Very well. Then I will take my leave.’ Bryce gave a little bow. ‘A pleasure, as always, Laird MacKellar.’
‘I will have the lass sent for, and then take yourself off before I change my mind and swing you from Moy gibbet like the villain you are.’
‘Thank you. Now you couldn’t have her cleaned up a bit first, could you? That jail is a stinking hellhole.’
