Chapter Five
"We're home. "
Evelinde opened her eyes and glanced up at her husband. She then sat up a little straighter in his lap and followed his gaze to the dark castle towering ahead in the darkness. Trepidation immediately slithered through her.
Truly, Donnachaidh was a grim and gloomy fortress cloaked in night as it was, she decided, as Cullen urged his mount up the hill toward the gates. Evelinde settled back against his chest and rubbed her hands over her face, trying to wake up properly. She'd nodded on and off through most of the three-day journey. Not because of Mildrede's tonic, but just because it was long and monotonous and seemingly without end. The first time she'd woken was the morning after they left d'Aumesbery. She'd been stirred from sleep to find most of the effects of the tonic gone. It had been a relief since it had been a burning need to relieve herself that had dragged her awake. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing had she still not had control of her muscles?
Cullen had only stopped long enough for her to take care of business, then had hurried her back to his horse. He'd set her in the saddle, mounted behind her, and they were off again. A few moments later, he'd retrieved an apple, some cheese, and bread from a bag hanging from his horse and offered it to her. It was then Evelinde had realized they would not be stopping except to take care of personal needs.
They'd ridden through the day, traveling at a speed that didn't allow for conversation unless she wished to risk biting off her own tongue. The only other stops they'd made had been to change horses once a day.
Evelinde would have liked to ask why they were in such a rush. She would have liked to ask where the rest of his men were, too. She hadn't realized it when they'd first left d'Aumesbery, but once she'd been able to lift her head and look around, it was to see that their party was made up of herself, Cullen, and a man named Fergus. The other four men were not with them. But Evelinde had feared did she open her mouth, the first question to pop out would be to ask how he could carry her away from d'Aumesbery without her maid, her mare, and her belongings. Not wishing to start the marriage on a note of strife, she'd kept her mouth shut, remaining as silent as her husband was.
Evelinde glanced curiously around as they entered the bailey of her new home. Due to the hour there was little activity and even less to be seen in the darkness covering everything. All she could make out were shapes and shadows.
Giving up on trying to examine her new home in this light, Evelinde settled against her husband with a little sigh and waited impatiently to be able to get off the horse. Truly, Evelinde had never wanted anything in her life as badly as she wished to get off his mount at that moment. She'd never left d'Aumesbery ere this and hadn't realized how uncomfortable, wearying, and just plain boring travel could be. She sincerely hoped she'd not have to travel again for the rest of her life.
Cullen drew his horse to a halt at the foot of the stairs leading up to the keep. He slipped off the back of his mount and reached up to lift her down before she could stir herself to follow. Evelinde clasped his hands anxiously once he set her on her feet, waiting for her legs to find their footing once more. As they had the few times they'd stopped on the journey, her legs were weak and sore and threatening to buckle under her. But as they had also done each time, they soon regained their strength and agreed to hold her weight.
Cullen usually gave her the time to recover so she might walk under her own steam, but this time he simply scooped her up and carried her up the stairs to the keep.
Glancing over his shoulder, Evelinde saw Fergus leading Cullen's mount away to the stables and supposed the stable master at Donnachaidh had already retired for the night.
The great hall was dark and silent when they entered, but certainly not empty. By the light of the fire in the hearth, Evelinde could see that every bit of space on the floor appeared to be taken up with sleeping bodies. Male and female, old and young, they filled the floor sleeping side by side, leaving just a path from the doors to the stairs and another from the doors to another smaller door she presumed was the kitchens.
When Cullen carried her to the stairs, Evelinde found herself clutching nervously at his shoulders as they ascended into darkness, leaving the weak light from the dying fire behind. Her husband apparently had no need of light, however. His steps were confident as he carried her along a landing that left her blinking owlishly at the darkness surrounding them.
"Open it. "
Evelinde reached out blindly and felt a wooden panel she assumed to be a door. She found the lever, pushed the door gently open, and Cullen carried her inside. He set her down on a soft surface she presumed was a bed, then moved away. She wasn't sure where he'd gone until she heard the soft click of the door closing.
Evelinde followed the sound of his returning and moving around the room to the opposite side of the bed. There was a soft thump of something hitting the floor, the jangle of his removing his sword and belt, then a soft whoosh followed by a rustle she suspected was his plaid landing on the rushes. Then she felt the bed depress as he climbed in the opposite side.
"Sleep. "
The soft order was followed by silence, but Evelinde simply sat where he'd placed her. She'd spent a good deal of time worrying about her arrival at her new home during the journey here. She'd worried about what her new people would think of her, about whether they'd accept her. She'd fretted that she'd arrive looking less than her best after three days and nights in the saddle. She felt that first impressions were important, and she'd also been concerned about what her husband would expect, fearing he might wish to consummate their marriage the night they arrived.
Apparently, all her worry had been for naught. Her new people had slept through her arrival, and her husband definitely had no interest in bedding his new bride. The man was already snoring next to her.
Evelinde shook her head with a little sigh and lay back fully clothed on the bed he'd set her on. Really, she should have realized he'd be interested in nothing but sleeping on arrival. While she had slept quite a bit the last three days despite the jolting ride, he and Fergus had not slept at all. The two men had traveled a bit more slowly through the night, but both had remained awake the two nights and three days of the journey. In truth, she was amazed her husband had maintained the energy to carry her up here to what must be his room.
She supposed now she just had a whole day more of fretting over the bedding to come. Meeting her people, however, would happen the moment she awoke, Evelinde thought and closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep to the sound of her husband's soft snores.
"What are ye doing, Mogg! Ye blethering—Ye'll drop the damned tub do ye no watch where yer going. Stop staring at the lass and pay attention!"
Evelinde opened her eyes at that exclamation, then sat up abruptly on the bed to stare with confusion at the crowd of women moving about in the space between the foot of the bed and the fireplace in the far wall. At first, she was completely befuddled as to where she was. This wasn't her room at d'Aumesbery was the only thing rattling through her poor, sleep-muddled brain, but then she shifted on the bed and gasped as pain radiated through her hips, and she recalled the events of the last few days.
She was at Donnachaidh, Evelinde recalled, and presumably in her husband's chamber. Hers now, too, Evelinde supposed, glancing curiously around. The room was twice the size of her chamber at d'Aumesbery. The bed she lay in was also twice as big as her own had been. Two plain wooden tables stood, one on each side of the bed. The one on the far side held an unlit candle, the one beside her held a mug of what looked to be mead.
Evelinde peered at it curiously, then turned her attention to the rest of the room. A large open space sat between the foot of the bed and the far wall. It was a nice spot for a couple of chairs and perhaps a small table, a place where the lord and lady, she and Cullen, might relax on a night. However, there was nothing there at the moment but a tub and several female servants rushing about pouring in pails of steaming water.
"She's awake," one of the women announced, flashing her a wide smile.
Evelinde found herself unable to resist smiling back, then glanced to the plump little woman, who glanced around and suddenly broke from the group to rush to her side.
"Oh, yer awake, lass," the woman greeted her with a smile as she grabbed up the mug of what Evelinde had thought might be mead and turned to offer it to her. "I've brought ye some honey mead, and we're preparing a bath fer ye. Cullen said ye'd be wanting one. "
Evelinde stared at the woman blankly for a moment, slow to decipher her thick Scottish burr and understand what she said. While her husband had a definite accent as well, his words were so few she had no problem understanding him. However this woman had rattled on so quickly, it took her mind a moment to comprehend the meaning behind what she said. Finally, thinking she'd grasped their meaning, Evelinde reached for the offered drink, murmuring, "Thank you…?"
"Elizabeth Duncan, but you can call me Biddy, lass. Everyone does," the woman answered the silent question. Clasping her hands before her skirt, she beamed at her expectantly. "Mairghread makes the finest honey mead in Scotland. I'm sure ye'll agree. "
Evelinde raised the mug to her lips and sipped as she deciphered the words. Once she thought she knew what the woman had said, she let her gaze skate to the servants milling about at the foot of the bed. It appeared the task of filling the tub was finished, the women were staring at her with unabashed curiosity while edging closer to the bed like a litter of shy puppies.
Evelinde smiled at them all a trifle shyly herself as she lowered the mug, then pronounced, "I believe you may be right, Biddy. 'Tis indeed fine honey mead. "
Biddy beamed at her, then glanced to the people at the foot of the bed as one of them bumped against an empty pail, sending it toppling on the rushes.
"Well? What are ye waiting fer? If yer done, be off with ye. Ye've all things to do," Biddy said, though her tone of voice was not as angry as her words would have suggested. She sounded more exasperated than annoyed with the group. She watched them out the door before turning back to Evelinde, to say, "They're all loves, lass, but ye need to be firm else they'll get nothing done. "
Evelinde merely nodded, still feeling disoriented.
"I shall leave ye to yer bath then, I—Oh!" Biddy had moved toward the door as she spoke, but paused when she glanced back, a small frown curving her lips. "I've sent them all off, and ye need help undressing. " She hesitated, glancing toward the door and back, then clucked her tongue and returned to her side. "I guess I shall have to help ye. "
"Oh, no, that's all right—" Evelinde began, but then paused as she shifted her legs off the bed and the small movement made pain shoot through her from hip to knee. Sighing, she managed a smile and nodded. "Aye, I would appreciate help if you do not mind. "
"Not at all," the woman assured her, concern now in her eyes. " 'Tis a long ride, and Cullen said he rode straight through. No doubt yer feeling it now. Do ye need help standing up?"
"No, I think I can…" Evelinde let the words trail away as she got to her feet. She sucked in a breath at the pain that caused, but her legs held her up without trembling for the first time in what seemed like days. Assuring herself that was a good sign and hopeful she would mend quickly now she was no longer sitting in one position on a horse's back for hours on end, Evelinde let out a slow breath and offered a grateful smile as Biddy set to work at helping her undress.
"Dear God in heaven, lass," Biddy breathed once the gown and chemise were off. Walking around her slowly, she examined the bruises. They were an unattractive mixture of purple, blue, and black. Evelinde hoped that meant they were starting to fade, but they still looked ugly.
"What did ye do to gain these?" the maid asked, shaking her head.
"Cullen did not do it," Evelinde said at once, used to everyone assuming he had. "I fell in the river. "
"O' course he didna do it," Biddy said with a laugh that suggested the very idea was ridiculous, then she sobered, and said solemnly, "Pay no mind to those tales about the lad. He's no Devil, but a good man like his da before him. He's got a good heart. He'd no hit a woman. "
Evelinde relaxed with a little sigh. Despite her lack of fear of the man who was now her husband, and her own instincts prior to this telling her he was a good man, it was nice to have someone else verify it.
"I've a special salve. I'll fetch it after yer bath and rub it into yer sore spots and ye'll be right as rain in no time," Biddy assured her as she urged her into the tub.
This, too, was bigger than the tub at d'Aumesbery, Evelinde noted as she relaxed in the water.
"Where is my husband?" Evelinde asked, as Biddy moved back to collect her gown and chemise from the floor.
"Out with the men, checking on things," Biddy answered. "He's a hard worker, is our Cullen. A good man and a good leader. The clan is lucky to have him. " Her mouth firmed, and she added, " 'Tis just a shame they've no the sense to ken it. "
Evelinde raised her eyebrows curiously at the word. "Are his people not happy with him?"
"Oh. " She waved one hand with exasperation, then continued her folding as she said," 'Tis just that half of them believe those nonsense rumors about his father, uncle, and wife, and think he should step down. They forget that we've enjoyed peace and prosperity since he became the laird. "
Evelinde was silent for a moment, then admitted, "I have heard the rumors. "
"Aye. All of Scotland and most of England have," Biddy said dryly, and shook her head once more as she crossed the room to the tub. " 'Tis all nonsense. Cullen was not even here when his father, the old laird, died. He'd ridden out to visit our neighbors the Comyns when it happened. He rode out that morning, his father died that afternoon at the foot of the cliffs, and someone started the rumor the lad was seen there. By the time he arrived home, the rumor was firmly entrenched, and it mattered little that he could produce witnesses that he was not here. The rumor was started, and nothing could stop it. Tip yer head back, lass, and I'll wet yer hair to wash it. "
Evelinde tipped her head back and closed her eyes, but asked, "So his father's death was an accident?"
Biddy snorted as she poured water over her head. "Of course it was, though ye couldna convince half the people here of it. I think even Cullen thinks it was not. "
Evelinde fell silent, considering the matter as Biddy began to work a lovely scented soap into her hair, then asked, "Who was this witness that claimed Cullen was there?"
"I told ye, Cullen wasna there," Biddy said with a scowl.
"Aye, obviously this witness was mistaken, but who was it?"
Biddy paused and frowned briefly before picking up a pail of water and raising it to rinse her hair as she admitted, "In truth, I doona ken. It was just told to me that 'someone' saw him there. "
Evelinde kept her eyes closed as a second pail of water was poured over her head, then asked, "And the uncle? "
Biddy shook her head. "An accident. He was out hunting with the men and took an arrow in the chest. "
"That does not sound like an accident," Evelinde said dryly.
" 'Tis no the first time it's happened and willna be the last," she assured her.
Evelinde nodded, then asked quietly, "And his wife?"
Biddy was silent for a long time before sighing, and saying, "I fear she may not have been an accident… and I also fear she may have brought her death down on herself. "
Evelinde's eyes blinked open with surprise at the words. "How?"
Biddy was silent for another few moments as she continued to rinse her hair, then said, "It troubled Maggie that Cullen's name was tainted by his father's death. She loved him. "
Evelinde felt herself tense and wanted to ask if he'd loved her back, but instead simply queried, "Did he talk more to her? He seems to keep his thoughts to himself with me, and I worry he does not—"
"Cullen isn't much for talking," Biddy interrupted reassuringly. "He tends to keep his own counsel. He used to be more talkative when his father was alive, and when he and Tralin were boys, you couldn't shut either of them up, but since the trouble…" She shrugged.
Evelinde sighed at this news and found herself wishing she could resolve the mystery around all these past deaths. Perhaps then Cullen would open up and talk a bit more.
"Maggie found his silence a bit hard going as well and feared he didn't care for her," Biddy said sympathetically.