Page 6 of Bride takes a Scot (Highland Vows & Vengeance #1)

I sabella almost wished she had never been forced to take the vow to marry Declan. He wanted a wife as much as she wanted a husband. That was evident in the fact that he left her alone with strangers. An older woman she took as the maidservant bustled into her chamber and had a bath brought in. She didn’t introduce herself and appeared to be in a rush and left as soon as water was poured into the tub by two other servants.

When the last of the water arrived, the maids left her. Isabella stripped and sank into the warm water. She leisurely washed and enjoyed the ease the heat brought to her aching muscles. When she finished, she dried herself and dressed in a linen cotte she pulled from her valise. A knock came at her door and a younger maid entered with a tray of food. She didn’t speak to her but nodded her head before she vacated the room.

She spent the night and most of the day in the chamber. It was unlike her to cower and hide away, but she was hesitant to venture forth. What had she expected? For one thing, Declan would, at the very least, introduce her to his family. It wasn’t too much to ask, but it appeared he hadn’t considered how awkward it was for her.

Isabella dressed in a plain brown frock, not her favorite dress, but it was presentable enough. After taking care to comb her hair and tie it at the base of her neck, she slipped on her favorite boots and ensured she didn’t appear bedraggled. She intended to go outside and grabbed her shawl in case it was chilly.

Now, she opened the door a little and listened. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the passageway. Isabella ventured farther into the hallway, then made her way to the open area where it appeared the family conjugated. They were settled around the table and one of the men there spoke animatedly about finding a treasure while the other appeared to scoff. A pot sat at the center of the table and there was a basket of bread as well. Isabella lingered by the wall, listening, and waiting for them to notice her.

Finally, the woman Declan had indicated was his stepmother looked her way. “Oh, there ye be, Isabella. I thought you wouldst laze about your bed all day.”

The conversation ceased as everyone turned to stare at her. “At last, ye got the courage to leave the room. Come, eat with us. We do not bite,” Helena said.

Their gazes told her otherwise. Still, Isabella sat in the nearest chair, across from Declan’s stepmother, and snatched a roll from a basket in the center of the table. She wasn’t usually one to be reserved, but she didn’t know his family and was uncomfortable with their inquisitive stares. Until she gained a better sense of them, Isabella decided she would try to remember her mother’s guidance: the less she said, the better.

Helena had dark hair, almost black, and she wore it in a bun at the nape of her neck. She wasn’t a large woman, but she wasn’t slight either. The expression in her eyes wasn’t warm or welcoming but appeared to hold disdain. Isabella couldn’t account for the way the woman gazed at her with such loathing. She had done nothing to cause the woman’s affront though she probably would, eventually. It occurred to Isabella that if Declan’s stepmother was anything like her own mother, she would have a hard time impressing or pleasing her.

“Let me introduce you to the laird’s family,” Helena said with a scoff. “You of course know me, I am the laird’s stepmother Helena, Lady MacKendrick to the likes of you. Next to me is my dear son, Silas. Your husband is fond of him, so it is best to be amiable toward him. On your other side is Rhona, the laird’s sister, and beside her is his brother, Claude. All, this is Isabella, the laird’s new wife. Now, eat your fill, lass, and do not dally. We do not waste time at the table.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” she said and looked at her trencher when Lady MacKendrick slopped a heaping spoonful of pottage on it. It splattered over the rim and onto the table. Isabella picked up her spoon and set to eating. Surprisingly, the stew tasted good. She focused on the food and after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the family seemed to accept her presence and continued their conversation.

“I tell ye, there’s a treasure and I aim to find it,” Claude said. “I found great-grandda’s map, and the markings will lead to it, I just know it will. I have begun my hunt.”

“You are wasting your time, Brother, and the map is but a useless bit of scrap. Grandda was having your leg because there’s no treasure,” Rhona said. “Do ye not have better things to do with your time than search for something that is not there?”

Isabella smiled at Declan’s sister, but Rhona frowned and turned away, all but ignoring her. That disheartened Isabella further. She had hoped to befriend Declan’s siblings, but they were as friendly as a hoard of boars. Claude scowled at her and returned his gaze to the parchment in front of him. He appeared as friendly as his sister. If she survived a day in their presence, it would come down to God’s intervention because they were downright mean.

Isabella regarded Declan’s siblings. They looked much like him with golden locks of hair, brown eyes, and similar facial features. It seemed they weren’t keen to want to get to know her, so she didn’t join in the conversation and remained quiet. Melancholy crept its way into her heart, and she was saddened that they disliked her.

“Have you gone yet to the field, Silas? Surely, his lairdship means to see ye there this day,” Lady MacKendrick asked her son. “Best ye make a showing of yourself. Appearances are important if ye wish to make your way in this clan.”

Silas, she noticed, watched her closely but at least he smiled. He hadn’t looked away from her since she sat at the table. Isabella returned his smile and was thankful at least one of Declan’s family was happy with her presence. Silas was handsome with straight black hair, a lean body, and a bit of scruff on his face. Isabella thought he neared Declan’s age, but he wasn’t as brawny as her husband.

Still, his gaze hadn’t wavered. His light blue eyes were mesmerizing. She’d never seen a man with such becoming eyes. His intense eyes seemed to peer through her.

Silas turned to look at his mother finally and answered her, “I have been at the training fields. Declan was not there so I left. ’Twas no sense in wasting my time if he was not there.”

“Ye would do well to take more of a leadership role with the soldiers. One day it might become needful or prudent. If something awful were to happen to Declan, ye could be next in line to serve this clan. Best ye remember that.” Lady MacKendrick smeared butter on a piece of bread and continued her conversation with her son.

“I cannot believe Declan married a bonny woman akin to ye, Milady Isabella,” Silas said and leaned toward her, ignoring his mother. “Is it true the king forced ye to marry him?”

“I certainly did marry him and was fortunate to be given a choice. Declan was the most handsome, noble man offered,” she said and tried to instill that her marriage to Declan was coveted by them both. Isabella didn’t want his family to think he was forced to marry her.

Silas guffawed. “Ye chose him? Was there naught any others who were worthy? I wish I had been one of the men ye got to choose from. It would have made your decision easier.”

Isabella smiled because it seemed Silas was jesting with her even though his tone might not have implied it. “I am certain you are right.”

“If ye like, Milady, I would be gladdened to walk with ye this day, show ye around the keep’s grounds. The grounds outside the walls are just as bonny. There’s a loch close by that the clan frequently visits.”

“I would enjoy that, but I like to walk by myself… Ah, to clear my head. I should do so now.” Isabella disregarded Silas’s frown. She finished her meal and wanted to get away from Declan’s family at the soonest. Before she left the cottage, she offered to help clean up, but Lady MacKendrick scoffed at her.

“Tis the maid’s job, lass, to see to the cleaning up. Ah, here’s Edith now.”

The maid whom she’d seen briefly the night before was a kindly-looking woman with light brown hair tucked beneath a kerchief. She entered the main room and took up the trenchers and bowls. Isabella noted the harsh look on the maid’s face when she gazed at Lady MacKendrick. She would introduce herself to the maid later when Lady MacKendrick wasn’t around. Servants always knew what was going on in the home, and Isabella hoped to get some answers from Edith or at least win her favor.

With nothing keeping her there, Isabella wandered outside. She wanted to get away from Declan’s unpleasant family. Silas stood at the cottage door and watched her leave. He wasn’t a bad sort, but she reasoned he might be attracted to her. Isabella needed to dissuade him from any interest. She had dealt with overzealous suitors before and his attention was the last thing she needed now when all she wanted was to attract Declan. Silas looked at her fondly, but in a seemly way, as if he had thought to win her favor. It was obvious Declan’s family didn’t like outsiders and she, being from the Scottish border only instigated their disdain, except for Silas. Perhaps she could make a friend of him. Having him on her side might go a long way to winning her husband’s notice.

The day was nice enough with only a slight chill in the air. Isabella gripped her shawl and walked around, taking in the scene of the MacKendrick clan’s people. Ahead, the men appeared to be building a fortress by the look of it. The stone structure rose high. She’d seen a similar building when she was in Edinburgh. When finished, the fortification would be impenetrable and unsightly in her opinion, with heavy stone and starkness. The men who erected the building excluded window casements but had put enough balistrarias to let a little light within. At least there was that.

People strolled along the lane and reverted around a horse and cart. Men loaded bales of hay onto the cart and jested with each other. She smiled at them and continued on her way, crossing the lane and walking on. Soldiers stood in a group yonder and appeared to be discussing something humorous because they bellowed with laughter. Down aways, she noticed several carts set up which likely were for the sale of wares. Her interest was piqued in wonder of what they sold. Several women stood by the hawkers likely purchasing something to go with their supper.

A young lad ran forth with a long stick in his hand. He appeared to be about five or so years of age. The lad shouted and played at being a knight who set out to defeat his foes. Isabella smiled at the lad and his enthusiastic movements. His light hair fell past his shoulders in what appeared to be tangled strands. In fact, she noticed that he was unkempt overall, with smudges of dirt on his face, scraped knees below the hem of his tartan, and a gray tunic that was probably once another color.

The lad turned and shot across the lane right by her. He kept running and swung his makeshift sword. She heard a thundering sound and turned to see what the commotion was when she spotted an unmanned horse tethered to a cart careening toward them. Her breath caught in her throat because the horse had been frightened by something, probably by the lad swinging his sword. The animal gave no care where it ran and galloped straight at them.

The lad paid no attention to the noise. He shot out on the lane and raised his stick in the pretense of fighting a foe. Isabella dropped her shawl and sprinted toward him. She snatched the lad off his feet and hurried to step out of the way of the horse. The animal and cart thundered by them even as she wobbled under the child’s weight and fell backward and landed with an oomph on the lane. She groaned as pain shot through her. The ground was hard, and she likely had a bruise or two to show for her gallantry.

“Lad, what were you thinking? You could have been hurt.” Isabella set him on his feet and held onto his hand. She got on her knees to rise.

The lad jerked his hand from hers and glared at her with big eyes before he scrambled backward and ran off without a by-your-leave or even a thank you. That he hadn’t even acknowledged that she’d saved him astounded her. He needed to be taught manners. Before Isabella got to her feet, a man threw his hand down at her. She peered at the large, calloused hand before her and reluctantly accepted his help.

“Milady, are ye hurt?” He scowled fiercely at the cart, which had been stopped by several men who were even now calming the animal and unhitching it. When he turned back to her, he smiled.

She shook her head and brushed a bit of hay from her overdress that must’ve fallen from the cart. The lad was nowhere to be seen now and had scampered off. Isabella hoped to have a word with him about the perils of playing in the busy lane and that he should greet his elders properly—and thank people for saving his life, at the very least. She prayed that he was safe and unharmed.

“I am Anse MacKendrick, the clan’s commander-in-arms, your husband’s cousin. Here, Milady,” he said and handed her the discarded shawl.

Isabella gaped at the man in awe as she took him in. Anse was a large man, muscular, broad-shouldered, and handsome. His dark hair swept by his face in long strands. He had kind dark eyes and a manicured beard that was trimmed short. She accepted the shawl from him and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Good day, Anse. Thank you for your aid. I am well, truly, just a little bruised.”

“Ye frightened me to death, Milady, when I saw the cart ready to run ye down, I all but lost my breath. My heart is still pounding. Ye be fortunate to be alive.” Anse sounded a little winded and rambled in a deeply accented brogue.

Isabella’s cheeks brightened to be the focus of the hardened soldier’s attention. “I do apologize, sir, and hadn’t meant to frighten you. I had to save the lad.” She paused, unsure if she should point out the boy’s lack of gratefulness, uncertain whether it would endear her to Anse or not. But then, she decided, it needed to be said. “Do you know, he did not even thank me for rescuing him?”

Anse smiled, his unruly dark hair blowing in the wind. “Och, that lad cannot hear and probably wasn’t paying attention. He likely did not know ye were saving him.”

No wonder. It all made sense, then. He wasn’t rude, he was… “He cannot hear?”

“Nay, he’s a deaf-mute. His grandma usually looks after him, but I do not see her about. I will have a word with her.”

“Oh, please, don’t get the lad in trouble. I am not hurt, and I was able to save him from being run over. I only hope someone looks after him.”

“If that pleases ye, Milady, I will not speak of it to her. Och, ye can be sure I’ll be telling his da.” Anse smiled at her. “You are Declan’s new wife?”

She curtseyed to him. “I am Isabella. Yes, his wife.”

“He said ye were lovely, but I vow he understated your beauty.” Anse held out his arm. “If ye would like, I can show ye around.”

Isabella smiled and could have laughed at Anse when he told her that. It was unlikely Declan had spoken of her at all, let alone professed such compliments. “I would like that. You mentioned the lad’s father… Who is he? Perhaps I can offer to…” She discontinued speaking because it wasn’t her place to offer assistance to the lad or his family. Isabella didn’t wish to overstep.

“His da is Declan. Did he not mention the lad to ye?” Anse smirked. “He said he was going to tell ye about him this day.”

“Declan is his father? No, he failed to mention that he had a son.” Isabella’s heart ached to hear that. Her husband should have disclosed such information. But what saddened her more was that the lad ran amongst the clan without a care. His grandmother certainly wasn’t watching him. “How old is the lad?”

Anse gripped his chin in thought. “Hmm. I’d say he be about six or seven. Aye, he’s seven in years. Most of the clan avoids him because it’s a bother trying to get him to understand what ye are saying to him.”

“That poor lad. I should like to meet his grandmother.”

“’Tis Declan’s grandmother, the lad’s great-grandmother. She is aged and has a wee bit of trouble looking after the lad. He is always running about inside the walls.”

Isabella refrained from asking him why his father didn’t look after him. She would have to put the question to her husband if he ever showed himself.

Anse stopped by the building being erected and motioned to it. “This will soon be your home. Is it not grand? The men tirelessly work on it. Declan wants it ready by harvest time.”

“Oh, it’s for… He didn’t mention that either. It’s certainly large and looks…secure.” Isabella flinched because the building made of heavy stone looked more like a soldier’s fortress than a family home.

“Aye, there is a need. It will be grander when ’tis finished. I see that gaze in your eye, Milady. It might appear stark at the present, but we have yet to finish it. The flourishes will be added toward the end of the build and make it more appealing.”

She couldn’t fathom that it would be grand even with the most becoming flourishes. A few well-placed gargoyles would be more apt to its decoration. Obviously, Declan felt the need to have such a fortification for his home. Isabella hadn’t realized they would require protection. Was it possible they could be besieged by another clan or even a bloody army? Everything she learned about her new home and family made her realize how distant she was from where she’d grown up. None of Mother’s lessons had prepared her for this, although, from time to time they had to secure their home against intruders or raiders.

They continued walking, past more cottages and villagers. Nearing the end of the lane, Anse gestured to the cluster of carts set up. The scent of cooking food rose to her nostrils, along with the smell of smoke. People chattered and called out all around her, moving about their business. Women carried market baskets of goods. Children raced underfoot. Men passed, nodding to Anse, eyeing her curiously. She lifted her chin and looked past them to the merchants selling their wares.

Anse gestured. “Here, there are hawkers who sell almost everything ye might need. Just tell them ye are Declan’s wife, and he’ll see to the payment for anything ye might need. If ye need any coins, ye can ask Rolly, our steward, and he will see to it.”

They walked past what was obviously the blacksmith’s shop where a burly, aproned man stood over a fire of coals and an anvil. He began hammering at a hot bit of metal with rhythmic, metallic clangs. She couldn’t help but wince at the loud ringing. Anse laughed and led her on, past a building with a wagon wheel for a sign, and another with a shoe hanging over the door. The cobbler, she realized. Truly, her husband’s keep had everything people might need. It wasn’t as primitive as she’d first believed. Even with the threat of war and the need for a large, fortified home.

She followed Anse to the end of the lane where she saw a whitewashed building. It featured small, stained-glass windows and its painted door was open wide in welcome to any who passed by. It was beautiful, especially when compared to the other rough stone and thatched buildings she’d seen.

“And this,” he said with obvious pride as he pointed, “is the chapel, dedicated to Saint Andrew. It’s newly erected and large enough to have Mass there. We are awaiting an appointed clergyman to serve us. Declan’s father had commissioned it be built before he passed.”

Isabella stood feeling awe and thanks for the chapel. She intended to make good use of it, especially if her absent husband continued to ignore her and his brother continued to pay undesired attention to her. Her knees were sure to be tested because it was probable that she’d spend much time on them praying for her husband. With the Sign of the Cross, she thanked God for such a blessing.

“I see this pleases ye, Milady?”

“This does indeed please me, Anse. Thank you for showing me around. I shall leave you to your duties. If you see…” She ceased in midsentence. Isabella had hoped to have him send Declan to her, but she wouldn’t be so forward. If Declan wanted to see her, he would search her out for himself.

“Shall I walk you back to the laird’s home?” Anse asked her.

“No. Now that I have the lay of the land, I think I can walk back by myself. Thank you for the tour, Anse. I bid you a good day.” She bowed to him.

“Aye, Milady. Ye’ll be safe. As long as there are no more runaway horses and carts.” His eyes twinkled as he bowed to her in return before he turned and left her standing there.

She made her way back to the cottage, moving slowly so as to avoid Helena and the rest of her husband’s unwelcoming family. But before long, she was there at the door and had to go in. Isabella hurried to her room, pleased that no one appeared to see her. Especially, Declan’s stepmother who seemed to be haranguing a young maid about something. She didn’t stay to listen but made her way to her bedchamber.

Isabella closed the bedchamber door behind her. On her approach to the bed, she saw a bunch of flowers on the pillow. They were tied together with a string. Isabella picked them up, sniffed the floral scent, and smiled. Perhaps her husband wasn’t such an oaf after all. She placed the flowers on the bedside table and decided to spend the evening inside her room.

Isabella set about unpacking her valise, musing about her day. She didn’t want to think badly about anyone. But Lady MacKendrick wasn’t an easy woman to like or befriend. She doubted she’d ever get on with the woman. Helena’s face reflected her dislike of her and so it would probably be best if she avoided the woman altogether.

As Declan avoided his son, apparently. She wondered why he hadn’t told her about him. And who was the child’s mother? Had Declan been married in the past, or was the child a by-blow from some fallen woman? If that was so, where was the woman? Who was she? Whoever she was, Isabella thought, she couldn’t be alive. For one thing, Anse had told her it was his grandmother who was supposedly caring for his son. Unfortunately, in Isabella’s opinion, she wasn’t doing the job well. It wasn’t right, she decided, for Declan to act as though the boy didn’t exist.

She thought about her own parents. While her mother was overbearing, she at least made sure to care for Isabella, and her father loved her more than words could say. She’d never lacked for care or affection. Unlike now, when it appeared she’d have neither from her husband nor the rest of his family.

It occurred to her that she was lonely. And homesick. What were her mother and father doing at that moment? Probably bickering over something humorous. She briefly stared out the window casement at the darkening sky and withheld the urge to weep. It was a terrible start to the beginning of her life at Declan’s home and their marriage. She couldn’t help but become sorrowful and sullen.

She emptied her valise and folded her garments. There was nowhere to put them, so she piled them on top of a trunk which she assumed was Declan’s. Afterward, she tidied the chamber, washed, and tried to find something to keep her mind from thinking about Declan. She knelt by the bedside and prayed that somehow, she might gain her husband’s attention. Isabella’s prayers were many and she prayed for Declan’s son, her brother in the Holy Land, her mother and father, but mostly for Declan. It was obvious that he needed her. If only Declan realized that soon. It might save them a bit of trouble because she wasn’t about to remain reticent for long.