Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) (2 page)

At first he
thought she was dead.

She was naked, her
clothes were torn to shreds and strewn around her,
her
pale bloodied body was frozen. As he sank to his knees a moan of horror escaped
from his lips as he lifted her to his chest. He wiped the snow from her face,
her lips were void of
colour
and her eyes were closed
to him and, as he raised her, beneath there was a crushed posy of snowdrops.

Snowdrops she had
picked for him.

Alasdair knew it.

‘Bridie.’ He said
to her as his men thundered towards them. ‘Bridie!’

Callum
threw
him a horse rug, and Alasdair covered her.

She was blue with
the cold and he pulled her in, desperate to impart some warmth, calling her
name again. There was a surge of relief for Alasdair as he felt a flutter in
his arms as her chest moved and she took a shallow breath, but relief was short
lived for there was no doubt that Bridie hovered at deaths door.

The child was so
cold.

He passed her to
Callum
and rapidly mounted his horse and then held strong
impatient arms out to hold her again.

‘Go ahead and warn
the castle.’ Alasdair shouted various orders to his men. ‘
Callum
,
get the healer. James, see there are more logs on the fire in my chamber…’ for
he knew his chamber would by now be warm. As his men galloped at full speed to
prepare as best they could for the injured Bridie, carefully Alasdair carried
her home. An expert horseman he guided his beast with his pelvis and thighs,
trying to shield her from the rough ride over the hilly fields and then into
the village.

‘Stay with me
Bridie,’ he ordered as he felt her slump further in his arms. ‘Bridie!’ He said
sternly, shaking her gently, terrified she was gone, but then he remembered to
breathe, for her eyes fluttered open.

‘Laird.’ Bridie
didn’t say it aloud, she was by far too weak, she simply mouthed it and his
heart felt broken as he saw the tears build in her eyes.

‘You’re safe now
Bridie,’ he said as her eyes closed to him. ‘I’m taking you back to the castle,
back to your home…’

Alasdair rode into
the castle and a groomsmen held Bridie as he dismounted and then he claimed her
again and carried her limp and lifeless, taking the endless castle steps to his
chamber.

Alasdair’s orders
had been followed – the fire was roaring. As he carried her to his bed,
the horse blanket slipped and
Mrs
Moffat sobbed as
she saw the blood pouring down Bridie’s thighs and the rough bruises to her
hip, torso and breasts.

‘That animal.’
Mrs
Moffat retched. ‘Who would do such a thing to a wee
innocent like Bridie?’

‘He’ll be a dead
animal soon.’ Alasdair swore. ‘Where’s the healer?’

Young Mary rushed
into the room and started screaming when she saw the state of her dear friend.
Mrs
Moffat held her shoulders and guided her away from the
room, trying to reassure a terrified Mary that Bridie wasn’t in any pain.

‘But what
happened?’ Mary begged. ‘Did she fall?’

‘Aye, it would
seem so.’
Mrs
Moffat said, for she did her best to
shield young ears from such things, but she could not stop her own tears as she
consoled Mary. Despite her grumbles and scolding Bridie for daydreaming and
singing, they were just that – grumbles, for she loved Bridie as a
daughter. Everyone loved Bridie and the castle would be a sadder place without
her.

It would
not
be without her, the Laird told the healer.

‘There’s not much
we can do.’ The healer shook his head. ‘Other than keep her warm.’

‘Find out who did
this.’ Alasdair said to his brother, for he did not want to leave Bridie’s
side.

And then he
remembered.

‘Bring me young
William Hunt.’ Alasdair said, bile churning in his stomach. ‘He’s asleep by the
alehouse.’ Guilt lashed like a whip as he recalled yesterdays conversation with
Bridie, how he’d sent her away when she told him about the fox cubs, sure now
that William had been luring her. ‘Bring him to me now.’ The Laird growled like
a savage.

‘Bridie will never
get over this.’
Mrs
Moffat sobbed. ‘She’s such a shy,
private wee lassie.’

‘Shy?’ Alasdair
checked, because the Bridie he knew was far from shy. Why, he had never met
someone who could talk so much, who could make him smile as she regaled a tale
from her day. He recalled how she danced on her feet as she waited for the fire
to take, how she could see pink blossom on the trees in the middle of winter,
for she’d not been daydreaming yesterday, she’d been talking out loud to
herself and Alasdair had heard every word.

‘She’s shy till
she trusts you Laird, but once she does…’
Mrs
Moffat’s lips quivered. ‘Maybe it’s better if the Lord takes her now…’

‘Don’t speak like
that.’ Alasdair warned.

It was the longest
day.

Angus returned,
black with fury, wiping his dirk and returning it to its sheathe. ‘She’ll no
have to worry about seeing him again.’

‘I wanted to deal
with him.’

‘Aye, well I did
it for ye,’ Angus said. ‘He was so busy bragging he didn’t hear me coming up
behind… the other lads were taught a good lesson.’ And Alasdair’s only regret
as to the punishment dealt was that he hadn’t delivered it himself.

It was the longest
night too.

He stood by the
fireplace as
Mrs
Moffat sat by his bed that for now
housed Bridie.

‘I’ll stay with
her.’
Mrs
Moffat said but Alasdair could not leave.

She woke in the
middle of the night screaming and fighting and scratching.

‘Bridie!’
Mrs
Moffat begged her to calm but still she fought till
Alasdair could stay back no longer.

‘It’s over,
Bridie.’ Alasdair took over from the auld woman and held onto Bridie’s wrists.
‘You’re safe now.’ He felt for himself the fight she had put up as she
struggled to be free from his grasp but he held her firm and told her over and
over she was safe, till she calmed enough for him to feed her whisky to sedate
her.

It was all they
could do.

Yet, despite the
healer’s predictions and
Mrs
Moffat’s grim musings,
the Lord did not take her.

She slept or lay
mute by day,
Mrs
Moffat forcing broth down reluctant
lips. By night still she fought, waking screaming, her hair dark with sweat,
her face hot and red, but it took only the Lairds words now, not whisky, to
sedate her.

After a couple of
weeks she was moved from the Lairds room, though not to the servants’ quarters,
instead Alasdair had her moved to a bright room in one of the turrets. It had a
magnificent view of the land she loved so and he hoped that the
splendour
might spark her soul - that the sight of the loch
and the hills, covered now in flowers and heather, might help bring her back to
them.

‘I’m sorry.’ She
spoke just once. Alasdair had returned from a bloody battle where too many men
had been lost and, exhausted and beaten, still, he came to her door

‘I’m sorry Laird.’

‘You’ve nothing to
be sorry for, Bridie,’ Alasdair said.

She looked at his
bruised, battered face, loathed that she was so weak, that she had done nothing
to help in the castle while the men were away.

‘Angus found the
brute who did this.’ He struggled to keep the malice from his voice, Bridie did
not need it, but it was the hardest battle he had fought and the Laird had
fought many. ‘He’s been dealt with, Bridie. All you have to do now is get
well.’

Yet, over the
coming months he started to understand better
Mrs
Moffat’s words – for perhaps the Lord did take her that bleak morn, for
it would seem that the Bridie he knew was gone.

Her injuries had
faded, she moved back down to the servants quarters but her soul seemed to have
been taken and barely a word did she speak.

Sometimes
Mrs
Moffat would walk her into the grounds for some fresh
air and it pained Alasdair to see Bridie taking such tentative steps, when she
used to laugh and run.

‘Come on now
Bridie!’
Mrs
Moffat lost her patience more than once
and as Bridie sat on a stone bench and stared mutely out to the loch she tried
to reach her. ‘You
cannae
let that scoundrel ruin your life – this is a working castle, you
cannae
sit idle forever. The Laird is to marry soon, the
new Lady might not put up with a maid that does nothing…’

But Bridie just
sat.

‘Good afternoon,
Bridie.’ Alasdair greeted her as he walked past but Bridie did not answer and
he stared for a long moment into the dull eyes that met his.

‘Answer the Laird
when he speaks with you.’
Mrs
Moffat nudged.

‘
Dinnae
scold her.’ Alasdair said. ‘Bridie will speak when
she’s ready.’

Just no one knew
when.

‘She may never
come back,’ the healer said and then he told
Mrs
Moffat and the Laird something else – that the event they all so badly
wanted forgotten would stay with Bridie forever now, for she was having a baby.

‘Bridie.’ Mary’s
voice was soft at the door and again Bridie did not turn. She was lying on her
side staring out of the window so she could not see Mary’s swollen eyes and she
did not move as Mary climbed on the bed beside her and cuddled into her friend.
‘
Mrs
Moffat spoke with me.’ Mary’s voice was thick
with tears but she attempted to veil the shock from her voice, for
Mrs
Moffat had just told her the truth. ‘I know you didn’t
fall.’ She took her friends hand. ‘I know you’re having a baby. You’re not to
be scared Bridie,
Mrs
Moffat says she’ll make plans
for the
bairn
. I’m so sorry for what happened to you
Bridie.’

And Mary got a
small squeeze of her hand.

‘Leave her now…’
Mrs
Moffat came in and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I’ve
spoken with the priest.’ She rubbed Bridie’s shoulder, worried at how thin she
had become. ‘His sister, Lara Campbell, well, she’s desperate for a wee one of
her own, so you’re not to worry about raising it. Once the baby is here and
weaned…’ she watched as a tear slid out of Bridie’s eye. ‘Well, you can start
to get on with your life again. Put it all behind you.’

Summer came and
looking out from the castle one afternoon, Alasdair saw her, sitting alone and
staring out to the Loch as she always did, but there was a hopelessness in her
manner that disturbed him and he decided he might take a walk.

‘Good afternoon,
Bridie.’

‘Laird.’

Unusually she
answered him and Alasdair joined her on the stone bench, but instead of goading
her to speak, he looked out to the loch as Bridie did, content to join her in
silence
but,
after a while, came Bridie’s voice. ‘I’m
sorry for the burden, Laird.’

He turned and
looked at Bridie - her hair blew in the soft breeze, she was dressed in a
kirtle, but despite the warmth of summer she was wrapped in a rug and her
freckled face was so pale, the once vivid green eyes were like dusty jewels and
he wanted them polished and shining again - he wanted her back. ‘You’re no
burden, Bridie.’

‘I’ve no’ been
working. I’m no’ earning my keep.’

‘
Dinnae
worry about that.’ Alasdair said. ‘This is your
home, Bridie. What that animal did…’ He went to swallow his loathing before
continuing, except it was Bridie that spoke next.

‘Animals.’ Bridie
said, and Alasdair’s heart thumped a tattoo of rage that he knew for Bridie’s
sake must stay silent if there was to be any hope that she
speak
,
but he silently vowed to track them down. ‘They took turns with me.’ Her voice
was dull as she stated it and he wanted to take her hands, he wanted to put his
arm around her and hold her, but for all she had been through he was worried
that it might make things worse. He sat with her silence and patiently waited
and, a good while later, as if there had been no pause in the conversation,
again Bridie spoke. ‘And there’ll be a baby.’ He saw her brow move to a frown
as if she simply could not fathom that a baby grew in her womb. ‘That’s two
burdens Laird.’

‘You’ve never
been, nor will you ever be a burden, Bridie and it will be the same for your
bairn
.’ There was so much more he wanted to say, he knew
Mrs
Moffat had spoken with the priest, he just wished he
knew what Bridie might want. ‘Would you like to walk?’

But Bridie didn’t
answer him, for she was back to her own world - just staring into the loch and
Alasdair might as well not have been there, but he stayed till
Mrs
Moffat came to bring her back from the grounds.