Page 35 of In Bed with a Scot

Sutherland nodded in understanding. “Come, dine with me in the great hall. We will speak further upon the matter when there are nae so many people about tae hear us. Yer wife and daughter are welcome tae join us fer the evening meal as well. Ye will stay the night, of course. I will have the servants prepare ye a place.”

“We thank ye, Bain, and accept yer generous hospitality,” Rory nodded in gratitude, then followed the laird inside.

“Is yer son still in France?” the laird asked as he led them into the hall.

“He is,” Rory confirmed. “We dinnae expect him tae return fer some time yet.”

“He is doing well then?”

Rory nodded. “He is.”

“I look forward tae seeing how he puts his newfound skills tae good use fer the clan upon his return.”

“He will dae his duty tae his laird and his people.”

“Aye, I ken that he will. Join me fer a drink, Rory?”

Rory smiled. “Aye, Bain, I will.”

Isabelle and her mother shared a look. He was always more angry and violent when he was drinking. Rory sat with the laird on the raised dais. In order to avoid being within Rory’s direct reach, Isabelle and her mother joined some of the other women of the clan for the evening meal at a different table. The Laird Sutherland and Rory spent half of the meal with their heads together speaking of business and the other half drinking more alcohol than any two people should ever consume. As the evening wore on, the louder and more boisterous they got. Isabelle and her mother retired to their beds as early as was acceptable.

Usually, guests who were not of noble station would sleep in the hall on pallets with everyone else, but Rory, as a laird in his own right, was given a private bedchamber. He was a special favorite of the Laird Sutherland’s and was always treated to the highest levels of hospitality during meals and a room that once belonged to the Laird Sutherland himself as a boy. They had grown up together, played together, fought together, as foster brothers.

When Rory had married Ella, he had inherited her father’s croft at the edge of the Sutherland laird’s lands upon his death, but they never stayed there when they visited. Ella’s father had been disowned by his own family when he had married a Sutherland woman of low birth, so he had spent his days in trade transporting goods for his wife’s clan. It was on one such trade run that Rory had met Ella and desired her so much that he had wedded her very soon thereafter. Ella had no notion of what she was getting herself into, blinded by the fact that he was a laird, with land and power. It was a choice that she would regret till the end of her days.

Isabelle and her mother lay in the darkness of the bedchamber anxiously awaiting Rory’s return. “How does it feel tae be home again, Mama?”

Her mother sighed. “This is nae me home.”

“I meant being on your clan’s lands once more,” Isabelle clarified.

“I ken what ye meant. Go tae sleep, lass. It has been a long day.”

“Aye, Mama.” Isabelle tried to obey, but she could not sleep for fear of what might come.

When Rory came staggering in that night, he was too drunk to do anything but collapse into bed. It was a mercy in the moment, but come the morning he would be in a foul mood. Isabelle closed her eyes, praying that things would be different since they were among other people. Her father would not wish to lose face with his friend by making a public scene, or at least she hoped that he would not. He had not behaved this way before her brother Arran had left for France. He had always been a drunkard, but it had been as if her brother’s leaving had been the catalyst for her father’s abuse. Isabelle knew that it had to be something more than that. Something had to have changed within him, but she did not know what.

Once her father’s snores began to fill the room, Isabelle allowed herself to drift off to sleep. He cannae harm anyone in his sleep, was her last thought as sleep finally claimed her.

“Where have ye been, woman?” Rory’s angry voice broke through Isabelle’s sleep fogged brain.

“I went down tae the kitchen tae arrange fer yer usual morning restorative drink,” Ella answered him, her voice uncertain. She held the cup in her hand. It was what she always did for him after a night of drinking, to ease the inevitable headache.

“I heard the Laird Sutherland’s voice outside o’ the door afore ye entered. Were ye with Bain this night?”

“It is morning, me love. I didnae leave this room until the dawn. The Laird Sutherland saw me out by meself and generously walked me back tae the room. He was in the great hall when I passed by, that is all,” she answered, her voice quivering as his tone became more enraged.

Rory looked as if his eyes might pop out of his head. “Were ye in his bed?”

Ella’s eyes widened in surprise. “Nay, I was nae. How could ye say such a thing?”

Isabelle arose from her pallet on the floor, fear gripping her heart.

“I saw ye eyeing him at supper last night. Ye were gone when I awoke afore the dawn. Ye were with him. I ken it tae be true. Ye have whored yerself tae the Laird Sutherland fer coin, have ye nae?”

Ella shook her head. She was trembling and crying. “I didnae dae any such thing. How can ye accuse me of being unfaithful? I would nae e’er dae such a thing. I would nae damn me eternal soul fer the sake of some coin.”

“Dinnae talk back tae me, ye bitch!” Rory backhanded Ella causing her much smaller body to be propelled backwards under the sheer force of the blow. The drink that she had brought him to soothe his headache dropped and shattered on the floor. This made him angrier, and he proceeded to beat her, punching and kicking her defenseless frame.