‘When is he back, good fellow?’
‘Later. And ‘tis none of your business. You sit here and ponder your crimes,’ said Maggot.
‘What crimes?’
‘Assaulting an officer of the King’s own army is what. You only went and beat an English redcoat to within an inch of his life. Officer too.’
‘Ah,’ said Bryce, a vague recollection creeping back. When he had burst into Meg’s chamber, there had been a red coat draped over a chair in the corner. He might have been blind drunk, but he remembered that much. He had spotted it just before a punch had floored him. He also recalled the feel of his fist crunching into teeth. Damn, could Meg’s lover have been a redcoat?
Maggot shuffled off with the ladle, muttering to himself.
‘Assaulting a redcoat officer. You’ve gone up in my estimation,’ said Maren, coming close to the bars though she stayed out of the way of Maggot and his ladle. She jerked her head in the jailor’s direction. ‘Wasting your time with that one.’ She lowered her voice. ‘He has scarce half a brain behind that gargoyle’s face. And the magistrate will be back when he pleases, so until then, you must cool your heels and await your fate, though happen you will do better than the rest of us, with your fine gentleman’s manners and pretty face.’
‘What are you in here for?’ said Bryce.
‘Being a poor, friendless Scot,’ she replied.
‘Tried to murder a man, she did. They should stretch her neck for it,’ hissed Angel, who had suddenly come to life from being a pile of rags on the floor.
‘I did no such thing. More’s the pity,’ retorted Maren.
‘So what did you do?’ asked Bryce.
‘What do you care?’
‘I have nowhere to go and nothing to do, and I am bored. I crave the diversion of hearing of your dastardly deeds, lass.’
Maren squared her shoulders. ‘A redcoat soldier tried to put a hand on me, so I drove a knife through it.’
‘I should have thought a man putting his hand on you was a regular part of your profession,’ said Bryce with a smirk.
‘I am no whore.’ Her eyes narrowed, and her demeanour was fierce, yet there was a catch to her voice.
‘Forgive me. That was beneath me, lass,’ said Bryce with a remorseful smile. ‘So, you acted in defence of your honour.’
‘Aye, such as it is. No man lays a hand on me unless I ask him to,’ Maren countered, her face suddenly heated by a blush. ‘Especially not a murdering, stinking redcoat.’
‘Nor should they.’ Bryce frowned, for she puzzled him so. ‘To skewer a redcoat was most patriotic of you. Do you sympathise with the Jacobite cause then, Maren?’
Her expression hardened, and a wall came down. ‘I fight no cause but my own.’
‘A bonnie lass like you should not have to fight for anything.’
‘Well, I am usually careful not to pick fights I cannot win.’
‘Except the one that got you here. So why do it, lass?’
‘I’d had enough of men’s foolishness, and I just cannot abide Englishmen.’
Bryce fell silent. She was not friendly, this Maren, but she was entertaining and gave as good as she got. He wondered who had put the grit in her soul and if she ever softened with a man who treated her gently.
‘Forgive my curiosity, Maren, but my excuse is this. You are a sight to behold. What man in his right mind would not want to know more about you?’
‘You are only saying that because you are bored, and like a child, you cannot amuse yourself but need the attention of others. Now hush your blather. I will entertain you no more, Bryce Cullan.’
As she turned away, Bryce called out. ‘Sounds to me like that redcoat deserved what he got. I am sure the magistrate will see that.’
‘No, he won’t,’ she replied. ‘Just like you, he will only see a whore who stepped out of line. There is no happy release awaiting me, and I cannot grease the magistrate’s palm with silver like you.’
