Page 36 of In Bed with a Scot

“Faither, stop! Ye are killing her! Stop!” Isabelle screamed and sobbed, attempting to pull him off of her mother.

Rory shoved Isabelle back away from him as if she were little more than a gnat and continued to pummel his wife. Blood poured from the cuts on Ella’s head and face, terrifying Isabelle further. Her father did not slow down. Unable to pull him off of her mother by herself, Isabelle looked all about her for a way of subduing her father long enough for her to get her mother to safety. Her eyes fell on a small wooden stool in the corner near the hearth. She moved over to the fireplace, picked up the stool, and brought it down hard on her father’s head.

Rory stumbled back, looking at Isabelle in surprise. “How dare ye tae lay yer hands upon me! How dare ye tae lay a hand on yer faither and laird!” He shouted. Reaching up to feel his scalp. His hand came away bloody. He charged Isabelle, but she brought the stool up between the two of them and shoved as hard as she could. Rory staggered backwards and fell over his wife’s beaten form upon the floor. His head hit the stone of the hearth as he fell. A sickening crack filled the room. Isabelle watched in horror as the life left his eyes.

“Mama,” Isabelle sobbed as she knelt beside her mother’s battered body. “Mama, please wake up!”

“Isabelle,” the Laird Sutherland’s voice startled her from the doorway.

She turned and looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Help me,” she sobbed. “Help me maither!”

The Laird Sutherland entered the room and knelt down beside Ella. “She is alive, but she will nae be if we dinnae find her a healer.”

“Please help her.”

The Laird Sutherland stood and walked over to Rory’s prone form. He knelt down once more beside his friend. “He is dead. Ye have killed him, lass.”

Isabelle looked at him, fear gripping her heart. “I didnae mean tae kill him. It was an accident. I only wanted him tae stop hurting me maither. He was going tae kill her if he didnae stop.”

“I understand that, lass, but others will nae. Ye will be punished fer this.”

Isabelle shook her head. “It doesnae matter what others believe as long as me maither is safe.”

The Laird Sutherland gave her a pitying look. “Yer maither will also be blamed, lass.”

Isabelle shook her head. “She is nae tae blame. She did naething wrong. Me faither accused her of sharing yer bed. When she denied it, he proceeded tae beat her. She did nae raise a hand tae him.”

“It will nae matter. With yer faither dead and yer braither away in France, ye dinnae have a man tae protect ye. Even if I stand as witness on yer behalf, others will nae see it as an accident. Ye will both burn or hang afore the week is out.”

Isabelle shook her head in disbelief. “Nae, me maither is innocent! Please, me laird, help her!”

The Laird Sutherland stood in thought for a brief moment. “The only way that I can protect ye and yer maither in the way that ye would need is if ye were a member of me household.”

“I will work fer ye here in the kitchens or wherever ye may need me, if ye will please help me maither.”

The laird shook his head, moving to kneel beside her. “Nae as a servant, lass. Ye are the daughter of a laird. Ye have killed a laird. Ye would need the protection of me name and me favor with the King.”

Isabelle looked into his eyes, her heart shattering into a million pieces as she held her mother’s broken body. “I will dae whatever ye ask if ye will please just help her.”

The Laird Sutherland nodded. “Marry me and I will give ye the protection of me name and me body.”

Isabelle looked at her mother’s battered face, then back at the laird. She had no choice. “Aye, I will marry ye if it will save her life.”

The Laird Sutherland nodded. “I will dae all in me power tae make it so.” Surveying the room, he turned his eyes back to Isabelle.

“We will say that he was drunk and tripped over the stool hitting his head on the hearth. Yer maither tried tae catch him as he fell, but he pulled her down with him.”

“Will anyone believe that?”

“Yer maither may need tae be hid away so that nae one can see how beaten she is, but they will believe the story if it is attested tae by the laird and his wife.”

“But we are nae yet wed,” Isabelle pointed out as she attempted to staunch the flow of blood from her mother’s head.

“I will see tae that.” Moving to the door, he slipped out into the corridor. “Lad,” he called out to a passing servant boy. “Go and fetch the healer and the priest. Dinnae tarry and dinnae speak tae anyone of what I have commanded ye. Dae ye understand?”

“Aye, me laird,” the boy replied.

Isabelle could not see the boy and he could not see her, but she heard the entire exchange through the closed door. The boy scurried off to do as bidden and the Laird Sutherland reentered the room. “We should move her tae the bed and cover him with a blanket. As they are now, our story will nae be convincing,” he recommended.