The Great Scottish Devil (23 page)

“
Those tinkers
raised me, loved me. I cannot—will not—forget them just because
you
want me to do so. And it is
you
that is bothered by my feelings for them, not Rose. She understands.” Then her up-and-down emotional mood swing took a turn for the worst. “I wish you had never found me. I wish you would--:

In a flash, he grabbed her arm, turned her until he bent her over under his left arm. Before she could even catch her breath, he pulled up her long skirt and tucked it under his arm, left her shift in place. Then his large hand landed fast and hard over and over and over on her up-thrust bottom. “Ye have needed a spanking ever since we got here. I am more than tired of yer moods, of yer crying all the time.”

She wriggled within his hold. “Stop. Oh, please stop!”

He, of course, didn’t stop. He recalled every sassy comment she’d made. He reminded her of every time she’d made her mother cry. And he spanked her steadily through it all. Her sobs didn’t affect him, nor did her saying she was sorry. His hand burned her bottom until she was sure she would have trouble sitting for a week.

By the time he stopped, she was a sobbing mess and fire flared off her bottom. He released her, his expression stern. “Ye will behave better now, daughter, or I promise I will take a strop to ye.”

Annabel bobbed her head in agreement and rubbed her tender bottom at the same time. Between sniffles she said, “I am truly sorry. I have just been so miserable because I…because I miss Brodie.” She wiped at her tears but they kept on coming. “Because I…because we…because I am…”

He narrowed his eyes, a deep crease settled between his thick eyebrows. “Brodie? Ye make it sound like…” He gaped at her and scowled even more. “Ye two had relations, dinna ye? Even though he is betrothed to Lady Stonewall. Ye laid with him!”

She looked warily at her father. “We fought it. But it happened.” She held herself stiffly and said as calmly as she could, “I will leave on the morrow. I have disgraced you, I know.”

“Leave?” he asked in confusion. “Nay. I do naught wish ye to leave because of what the two of ye did. Daughter, I love ye no matter what mistakes ye make, no matter how ye misbehave.”

Annabel saw the truth in his eyes. She may have disappointed him, but he still loved her. Unconditional love. She felt humbled, unworthy. And now she had to tell him the rest of it. “I carry Brodie’s babe.”

* * *

Urquhart Castle

Brodie had avoided talking to his sister as long as possible. After his strained conversation with Agatha, he was more confused and frustrated than ever. She hadn’t instructed the cook to start preparations for the feast after the wedding ceremony; he’d had to do it. And he’d sent for the priest from the village. Each of the chores had made him tenser. He dreaded this wedding more than going off to battle. But he dreaded being questioned by Maggie even more.

He sat behind the desk in his solar, where she’d finally found him. Before she could even say a word, he said, “The ceremony will be on the morrow.”

She pranced into the room and sat in a chair in front of the desk. She carefully smoothed down the skirt of her blue gown and then faced him. “Annabel Henderson.”

His stomach tightened and pain squeezed his heart. “Ye heard aboot her?” He should have expected as much. Annabel was a favorite of everyone here and still greatly missed.

Maggie nodded, her expression unhappy with him. “Why are ye marrying Lady Stonewall when ye love Annabel?”

“Because I have nay choice. King Edward arranged the betrothal. I honor when I have given my word.” Even if it was killing him.

She pursed her lips for a second and then huffed. “Ye’ve made many mistakes in yer life, Brodie Durward. But this is yer biggest.”

He swelled up in annoyance. “We all make mistakes. We do the best we can.”

“Ye are
naught
doing yer best now. It is clear in seeing ye and Agatha together that ye barely tolerate each other. She kens ye are in love with Annabel. A woman doesna like to ken her husband is in love with someone else.”

“Speaking of husbands, where is Nicholas?” He tried for a distraction.

She shook her head. “Ye are naught going to steer me away from this matter, Brodie. ‘Tis important. I canna let ye do this.”

“Ye have nay say in the matter. If ye do naught want to be at the ceremony, ye are free to leave.” He hated saying that and didn’t want her to go yet. But he didn’t want to fight with her about the issue either.

Nicholas walked inside the room, frowning at his wife. “You have upset your brother enough for him to ask you to leave? Maggie, I warned you to stay out of this matter.”

She stood and looked in annoyance from her husband to Brodie. “We are naught leaving. I fully intend to see ye married, even if to the wrong woman.” Then she walked away. “Ye are a fool, brother.”

* * *

The chapel was overflowing with witnesses to the wedding ceremony. Brodie stood in front of the priest, sweating and praying he wouldn’t get sick from the mistake he was making. Maggie sat nearby, not saying a word, but he knew she was calling him a fool again. She was right, but he could do nothing about it. Being honorable and standing behind his word meant a great deal to him.

Where is she?
Brodie had been wondering that for what seemed like far too long a time. Why wasn’t Agatha coming up the aisle now? What could be keeping her?

He started to move with the intent of going to find her when she appeared in the doorway. She was paler than ever, looked anxiously at all of the people and then at him. He waited, but she didn’t walk forward.

“Agatha?” he questioned.

Looking only at him, she said, “I cannot do it, Lord Urquhart. I cannot.”

After the immediate gasps of surprise, the chapel grew deathly quiet. He could hardly breathe—from embarrassment, from relief, he didn’t know—and hurried toward her. “We must.”

She held out a shaking hand. “Nay, we must naught. You love another…and I love another.”

Brodie froze, gaping at her. “
Ye
love another man?” He should feel outraged, right? He didn’t.

“He—Lord Jonathan Leeward—has sent word that he wishes me to marry him. He is coming for me.”

She looked so hopeful, so tearful, that he finally saw a softer side to her. They had never been right for each other, but maybe this Lord Leeward could truly make her happy.

“I will make it right with King Edward.” The king would understand. He would make him understand.

His thoughts turned to Annabel. He could go after her now, but would it be right? Mayhap naught.

Chapter Twelve

Urquhart, December

A bitter wind blew up from the nearly frozen-over loch and over Brodie where he stood on the walkway above the tower house. His legs felt almost numb within the wool braies; the rest of his body covered by a thick fur coat was only slightly warmer. But he didn't care. In fact, he'd cared about very little these last couple of months. He no longer pushed to regain his memories; they were coming back in bits and pieces every day anyway. He had lost weight because he lacked both an appetite and the patience to sit still long enough to eat. And he kept mainly to himself, which pleased almost everyone. Except for his sister, who continued to refuse to leave him alone or to brave the weather and leave for her home with her frustrated husband.

The hair on the back of his neck bristled with the knowledge that someone else was growing near. Soft footsteps and grumbled feminine curses told him Maggie had found him once more. He braced his hands on the low stone wall and waited.

“I am really getting tired of having to track ye down all the time.” Maggie strode from the tower doorway and right next to him.

He didn't bother to look in her direction. “Ye dinna have to. Ye could go back to Middleham with yer husband. Leave me in peace.”

She grabbed his arm and forced him to meet her angry gaze. “We willna be traveling home until late spring, more likely naught until the summer. Nicholas is naught happy with me aboot that. Or aboot the secret I kept from him to come here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “'Tis all yer fault I had to come here.” She huffed and gingerly reached back to touch her bottom. “'Tis yer fault I have a sore behind now.”

Brodie raised an eyebrow. “Nicholas spanked ye?” Good. She deserved it for continuously nagging at him and for having insisted she and her husband come here this late in the year. Then he thought about how long she had said they would be staying. “What mean ye, ye might naught go home until late spring or summer?” He couldn't imagine Nicholas staying away from his holding for so long a time.

Maggie's sweet face filled with happiness and she moved her hand to cover the front of her cloak, over her stomach. “I carry Nicholas' babe.” She spoke almost in awe.

He was torn between being happy for her and angry. He settled on the anger, as evidently had Nicholas. “I take it ye only told yer husband this news yesterday. That ye were with child before ye came here.” He considered bending her over and spanking her himself. But dealing with her misbehaviors was Nicholas' chore now.

Her face reddened with embarrassment and she nodded. “He would rather our babe be born at Middleham. He wanted to leave as soon as the weather clears a bit. But I refused to leave. 'Course he dinna take that refusal verra well.” Again she touched her bottom and winced.

“I should think naught! If ye were my wife, ye wouldna be sitting comfortably for a good spell.”

“Ye men can be… well, ye can be verra annoying sometimes.”

She shook her head when he would have protested and instead gave him a look that worried him. “I was talking to yer cook a short while ago. Avoiding Nicholas, in truth, giving him time to stop growling. Anyway, she told me something ye need to ken aboot.”

He couldn't imagine what the cook would know that he needed to be concerned with. “Tell me then.”

Sadness filled her eyes and some of the determination went out of her. Like now she worried about telling him something that might hurt him. “Maggie, tell me.”

“'Tis aboot Annabel,” she said quietly. “Aboot a suspicion Cook had before she left with the Campbells.”

His gut tightened and his heart raced. He had tried hard not to think about her, but it was impossible. He could think of no one and nothing else. “What suspicion?”

Maggie's hand again lay over her stomach. She hesitated, seemed to weigh whether or not to tell him, and finally said, “Cook suspects Annabel carries yer babe.”

Brodie sucked in a shocked breath and everything in him stiffened. He hadn't known anyone even knew that he and Annabel had been together in a way they shouldn't have. He was aware that many—possibly all—knew he had strong feelings for her. Even Agatha had known that, another problem that had been between them. But to suspect they had been intimate… He felt disgusted with himself for having let their emotions get so out of control. She was young, but he knew better. He knew what it could do to her reputation.

Clearly frustrated with his silence, Maggie poked his chest hard with a finger. “Did ye hear me? Or are ye jist focusing on how she knew ye had been with yer Annabel?”

He scowled, not wanting to discuss this with anyone, particularly not with his younger sister.

She scowled right back, then blew out a disapproving breath. “Yer feelings fer her were no secret, brother. Her feelings fer ye, either. I have heard talk aboot the great love between ye two ever since we arrived here. Everyone had such hopes she could finally heal ye, that ye could bring her true happiness as well. But, nay, ye had to let her go. Ye had to stick with yer plan to marry Agatha.” She shook her head in disgust. “And we all saw how poorly that worked out!”

Brodie glowered down at his irate sister. “I do naught like to hear that the servants talk aboot me, aboot Annabel.”

She rolled her eyes and a breeze blew by, fluttering her long hair into her face. She shoved it back over her shoulder. “Yer men talk, too. Brodie, they all care aboot ye. They care aboot yer Annabel, too. She must be a verra special woman. I wish I had had a chance to meet her.”

He closed his eyes and leaned over to grip the wall in frustration. It wasn't really a surprise that his people, his clansmen, and his friends cared about him or even talked about him. He'd heard snippets of talk, since all were still concerned his full memories hadn't yet returned. He just didn't think about it. And it wasn't a surprise that they all felt so deeply about Annabel. Clearly he'd been fooling himself about everyone not seeing how strong their feelings were for one another. Then the Cook's suspicion flashed into his mind:
Annabel carries yer babe. God's Teeth!

“Annabel is with child?” he questioned breathlessly. Even as he said the words, his chest swelled with pride. He felt happy for the first time in weeks…months. Then he scowled. “She left without telling me?”

“She may naught have known, Brodie. Cook only suspected as much, from things she had observed.”

What had Cook seen? What had he missed seeing? He had been so caught up in dealing with Agatha and the lingering issues with his missing memory. He had been focused on memorizing everything about Annabel before she left his life forever. But he had seen the broken-hearted sadness in her eyes when she'd looked at him. He hadn't looked beyond it. He should have!

“She knew,” he said, knowing instinctively that she had. And yet she'd left him. She had gone off with the Campbells and then with her parents, both times, probably, knowing she carried his child. Damn her!

As if Maggie saw the anger building within him, she gently pointed out, “What choice did she have? Ye were set on doing what ye believed was right by marrying Agatha. Annabel couldna have stayed here, had yer babe, and watched ye be with another woman. She had to leave. I would have left.”

He ground his teeth, clenched his hands into fists. But Maggie was right. He had given Annabel no choice. It sickened him. Now she would be forced to bear a bastard in a place where people didn't know her, would probably judge her badly. He banged a fist on the rock wall, the pain in his hand not half as bad as in his heart. A bastard! His babe should naught be a bastard!