“He did no’. But the maid needs tending. Send for some warm water, will ye?”
Earl MacKallan went out, presumably to join the search, which Annista could now hear, beyond her chamber. She and Lady MacKallan stared at one another.
Lady MacKallan waved her hands. “I can scarce believe—”
“I can.” And Lady MacKallan should. She must know of what her son was capable—Annista could see the shame in her eyes.
“Bonnie,” Annista sought to soothe her maid. Her friend. The young woman who was here—in harm’s way—solely because of her. She, Annista, had some responsibility for this. “I promise, ye will no’ be left alone again.”
Bonnie hid her face in Annista’s shoulder and nodded.
Annista glared at Lady MacKallan. “Ye see wha’ this has come to? My sister. Now my maid.” And it would have been her, had she been here instead of Bonnie. “Ye should ha’ curbed that monster long ago.”
“Ye think we did no’ try?” Lady MacKallan wrung her hands.
“Bonnie, Bonnie, love, did ye see where he went after?”
“Nay. He ran out and I shut the door, came in here and prayed he would no’ come back. I was so afraid he would, and—”
“Aye. Aye.” A mercy, that. “All right,” she soothed her maid. “He is gone now. I will no’ let him hurt you again.”
She turned on Lady MacKallan. “Ha’ ye heard enough? Arrange a guard for my maid. It stops here wi’ that monster ye call your son harming or hurting anyone.”
****
The house was searched from top to bottom, word of what had transpired spreading in whispers between the servants and estate workers. Annista did not participate. Instead she, with the help of an older maid called Morag, very gently eased Bonnie out of her nightdress, which was spattered with blood from her cheek, and tended her hurts with witch hazel.
The little maid’s bruises testified all too well to the truth of her account, and Annista’s rage built all the while into something fierce and wild.
Morag, who usually served Mistress MacKallan, remained mostly silent. But once they had Bonnie tucked into the bed, heaped with blankets and a good fire going, Annista pulled her aside.
“Has Master Evan ever attacked others of the servants?” she asked.
Morag refused to meet her gaze. “Ah, the lasses ken fine to avoid him. If they can. We try to watch out for one another when he is to home and never be on our own—as your wee maid was this night.”
“That was my fault.” Annista had been worrying about the stallion and, to her own shame, had not given a thought to Bonnie.
“Still, we should ha’ warned the wee lass.” Morag’s eyes still dodged Annista’s. “To be honest, I did no’ think he would move against his brother’s wife—or aught that belonged to ye.”
“Do ye ken whether Master Evan abused my sister so, when she was here? Bedeviled her, as he has done Bonnie?”
“Och, Mistress! We dared no’ interfere between the two o’ them. But that sweet lass—aye, she looked so sorrowful as the time passed. We thought since the Mistress knew o’ it—well, as I say, ’twas no’ we servants who could get between them, was it?”
Annista felt sick, thinking of her sweet, gentle sister who had no one to take her part. At least Bonnie had her, Annista, though admittedly this had been her fault as much as anyone’s.
“Did any o’ the lasses here in the household act as my sister’s personal maid?”
“Annie did, for a time. But Master Evan dismissed her, saying he did no’ like having her around, and she left soon after.”
“I see.” Annista glanced at the bed where Bonnie turned her face into the pillow. How many times had Robena wept for solace alone?
“I want someone to stay with Bonnie at every moment. Maids, mind—no rough-handed men.”
“Aye, Mistress. But will ye no’ want to stay wi’ her yoursel’?”
Annista did, more—almost—than anything. But she had hunting to do.
She found Billy guarding Tempest’s stall along with two of the younger grooms. Chieftain’s box was empty and Billy told her Alan had gone out riding once again.
