Page 3 of Lady and the Scot

She dove out the door as soon as the carriage stopped and bent over. She threw up for a long time while her maid, Ita, held her and soothed her. "You will be right as soon as we get ye in the bed to rest, milady."

There would be no rest for her. The handfast ceremony was completed between her and Robertson. She was to marry him in a fortnight unless he sent her back to her clan and he'd already confessed time and again he'd never release her. The thought of lying with the huge distasteful man sent her to dry heave.

"Enough!" he called from the carriage. "We will be on our way. If you get sick again, do so into your particle."

"My laird, my lady requires to lie down." Poor Ita dared to speak up for her once they were in the carriage again.

The maid cringed when Robertson leaned forward, his face mere inches from the hapless woman's. "She will sleep when I allow it." His hard eyes moved to her. "Ensure you present yourself well before the McNeil." His lips curved into a cruel smile when he grabbed Ita by the forearms and pulled her into his lap, his hand delving between her legs. The maid's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. He growled, "You will ensure she is settled and then come and warm my bed." His other hand crushed the maid's breast. He continued to fondle her until Ita’s breathing hitched. Then pushed her away.

Breena looked away, disgusted at the display, while at the same time feeling horrible for Ita who was now moaning.

"Come to my bed tonight." Robertson's hoarse words made Breena's already tender stomach lurch and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

Ita flopped forward when he shoved her back to sit next to her. "Yes, my laird."

The poor girl had lived with Robertson for years. Unlike Breena who'd arrived just the day before they left to the Highlands. Breena felt ashamed at planning her escape without Ita earlier. When escaping, she'd do her best to bring the maid with her.

Finally they came to a stop. She heard men's voices as the guards announced the Robertson's visit. Men peered into the window and before long the carriage moved forward into the McNeil's keep.

It was too dark to see clearly the size of the enclosed courtyard, but it seemed quite large. Breena climbed down and faced her new hosts.

The McNeil was a nice looking man. He looked to be in his forties by the graying at his temples, with kind blue eyes and a bit taller than Robertson. Next to him stood an attractive woman who had to be his wife and a beautiful young blond girl. The women studied her in return, but remained silent, waiting for the men to speak first.

The McNeil grasped Robertson's hand and smiled. "It has been along time, Robertson. Your missive announcing your visit was surprising, but of course welcome news."

By the look on the women's faces, they did not agree with their laird's pronouncement. Both looked to each other and then to her. She saw pity in their eyes. It was hard to keep her head high, but she managed to. "Lady Breena McGalen." When Robertson introduced her to the laird, she curtsied low, bending her head forward.

The laird's warm gaze met hers. "I've not heard the name McGalen before. Welcome to our home, Lady McGalen."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I am from the border with Ireland, perhaps that is why."

The laird motioned the women forward. "May I present my wife Grisella and my daughter Elsbeth." The women lowered, both bending heads just enough. Obviously they did not hold Robertson in high regard by the lack of warmth in their expressions upon straightening.

Breena at once felt kinship with them and she went to stand next to them. Elsbeth took her hand and pulled her toward a doorway. "Come, let us have tea. You look pale."

She was more than happy to oblige. Lady Grisella came to her other side. "We have prepared a bed chamber for you and your maid. I am not sure of the nature of your relationship with Laird Robertson, so I did not put you in adjoining chambers."

Her knees shook with relief. "I am eternally grateful to you." She gasped at the outburst. "What I mean to say is that it is perfect. We are just handfasted two days ago and I am not used to his presence yet."

"I see." Lady Grisella looked over her shoulder to ensure no one heard. "So your family agreed to the match?"

Breena lowered her voice. "My father and he made the arrangement. I am not aware of the particulars, only that I am to marry him. I managed to convince my father into a handfast first. I am not sure what I will do, but I will find a way to get away from him."

"Now, now. It cannot be so bad," Grisella said with a neutral expression. "Once you bare his children, they will take all of your attention and perhaps he will become distracted as well."

The words made her want to cry. They would not help her. Not that she blamed them. They didn't know her. Probably thought her petulant and spoiled.

In a small room beside the great room, they were able to drink tea and keep an eye on the men who sat around a long table and talked. The more ale Robertson drank, the more boisterous he became. Breena hoped that after consuming ale at the inn and more now, he'd pass out and close his mouth.

She was astounded at how the people there favored their laird. The McNeil walked about the room, not sitting at the highboard, but instead settling next to his men while conversing.

On the contrary, Robertson remained at the highboard, looking down at the other laird while calling out responses. She was embarrassed to be with him.

"This is so different than my clan," Breena said to the women. "In my home laughter is rare. Most of the townsfolk stay away."

Grisella nodded. "Aye, my childhood home as well was cold. I believe it depends on the laird. The McNeil is a fair and caring man. This is also a peaceful land. It is rare there are any problems between the neighboring clans. I am very fortunate to have caught Liam's attention."

The woman looked to her husband, with a soft smile and Breena recognized love. "Aye, you are."