An English Bride in Scotland

  "I had it burned," Lady Waverly said at once. When Annabel stared at her with dismay, she pointed out impatiently, "You could hardly have taken it with you. It was made of the cheapest cloth and obviously a noviate's. Your husband does not know you were in a nunnery." She hesitated and then added, "Do not be foolish enough to tell him. He will feel cheated that he did not get a properly trained bride, and while there is nothing he can do to us over it now the marriage is done and consummated, he could take it out on you with his fists."

  Annabel swallowed at these words, surprised by the concern that showed briefly in her mother's face before she hid it. They had been like strangers since her mother had arrived at the abbey. This was the first sign of anything even approaching maternal concern from her. Annabel didn't get to contemplate that much however, she was more concerned by what her mother had said. It had never occurred to her that her husband would be angry at her upbringing, but she supposed it should have. Annabel was more than aware that she was not prepared to run his home or be a wife. He was not. Yet. He would learn soon enough, however . . . and may very well be angry as her mother suggested. No man wanted a wife who did not know the first thing about running a household.

  "Teach me," she blurted desperately.

  Lady Waverly peered at her blankly for a moment and then asked with bewilderment, "Teach you what?"

  "Teach me to be a proper wife to Ross, to run his home and rule his people and--"

  "Annabel," her mother interrupted with disgust. "I can not possibly teach you all you need to know in the short time we have before you leave."

  "No, of course you cannot," Annabel agreed unhappily, her eyes dropping to the hall floor as she considered her future. She glanced up, however, when her mother patted her shoulder.

  "You shall just have to do your best and hope it is well enough," Lady Waverly murmured, and then turned to peer up the hall with obvious relief when Ross stepped out of the room where they'd slept and peered around. "Ah there you are. Time to go, I suppose. Come along, Annabel, do not keep your husband waiting."

  With nothing else to do, Annabel simply nodded and followed her mother to her new husband. She had no idea why she had been so desperate to delay their leave-taking. While her husband was a virtual stranger, so were her parents, and frankly, he had shown her more kindness in the last twenty-four hours since she'd left the abbey than her own parents had. The thought should have been encouraging, so she had no idea why it depressed her so.

  "OH LOOK! ISN'T it pretty? What is it?"

  "A goldcrest," Ross answered, just refraining from grabbing Annabel's arm to keep her from toppling out of her saddle as she craned about to follow the flying bird's path. The woman had been twisting about, pointing to nearly everything they passed, and asking what it was since they'd left Waverly that morning . . . and despite his worries, she hadn't once fallen out of her saddle. Although, he didn't know how she kept her seat. Honestly, his new bride was the most atrocious rider he'd ever seen. Rather than ride with the animal, she bounced about on her mount's back like a sack of turnips. If he didn't know she was a lady, and therefore must have ridden before, Ross would have sworn she'd never been on a horse in her life. It had forced him to set a much more sedate pace for the journey home than he'd planned for fear she might bounce right off the mare he'd taken to Waverly with him as her wedding gift.

  Ross smiled. While he was annoyed at the pace they had to keep, he had to admit her response to his gift had pleased him mightily. When he'd led her out of the keep, Gilly had led the horse up to them and Ross had announced that the mare was her wedding gift.

  Annabel had gasped with surprise and then thrown herself at him, hugging him tightly as she cried, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Before he could gather himself sufficiently to close his arms around her in response, she'd pulled away to rush over and coo and croon to the mare. Ross had watched her with a small smile until he'd noticed the expressions on her parents' faces. They had obviously been both startled and disapproving of Annabel's making such a fuss over the gift, and he hadn't appreciated their reaction.

  Mouth tightening, Ross had walked over, caught his bride about the waist and lifted her up onto the side saddle he'd also got for her. He'd then mounted his own horse and led the way out of the bailey, aware without looking that the men would ensure Annabel followed directly behind him, while they surrounded and backed her with their own mounts.

  At least that was how it started, but her questions had begun almost the moment they'd passed out of the bailey. While the men had answered her questions at first, Ross had found himself growing a bit jealous of all the chatter and laughter Annabel was sharing with his men. He'd finally dropped back to ride beside her, leaving Gilly to take the lead. And he had been in a state of high anxiety ever since.

  "Ooooh, look at that one! What is it?"

  Ross glanced to his bride and followed her pointing finger to the blue-and-yellow bird that had caught her eye. "A blue tit."

  " 'Tis lovely," she said on a sigh, bouncing away on the horse.

  Ross frowned. She'd been bouncing about like that all day without complaint, but must be sore. They'd even eaten in the saddle rather than stop at the nooning, and now the sun was sinking in the sky. The woman hadn't even asked to stop so that she might relieve herself. Speaking of which, he had a sharp need to do so himself now that he thought about it. They may as well stop for the night, he decided, and whistled to get Gilly's attention.

  The man immediately slowed and urged his horse to the side of the trail so that Ross could ride up beside him, then fell into step next to him. Moments later they were halting their horses in a clearing along a small stream. It was a beautiful spot, and Ross considered slipping away into the woods to consummate his marriage, but only briefly. Annabel's first time shouldn't be in the woods where anyone might come upon them. Besides, the way she rode, he had no doubt she would be sore as the devil and not exactly in the mood. On top of that, he wouldn't want to add to that soreness, so he put the thought away and resigned himself to another night without. But he couldn't help grimacing over the lack as he dismounted and walked over to lift Annabel off her mare.

  "Oh!" she gasped with surprise as her legs went out under her. She would have fallen had he released her when he set her on the ground, but Ross had expected this and held her up. After a moment, she smiled at him with chagrin. "My apologies, my lord. I fear I have never ridden this long before."

  "Have ye never traveled with yer parents to court or to visit others?" he asked with surprise.

  Annabel shook her head, and then looked uncomfortable and lowered her head. "Nay. The longest journey I have taken was little more than a half day ride and that was in a carriage."

  "But ye have ridden before?" he asked, leaning a bit to the side in an effort to see her face.

  "Of course," she assured him, glancing up again. Annabel seemed to want to add something else, but then just smiled and asked, "Are we stopping for the night?"

  "Aye."

  Annabel had stopped leaning into him and appeared to have recovered, so Ross released his hold on her. He remained ready to grab her again should the need arise, but it didn't. She was able to stand alone now.

  She had recovered quickly, Ross acknowledged and that along with her lack of complaining today impressed him. His bride was no weak English miss, he thought with satisfaction, and took her arm to guide her toward the edge of the clearing. "Ye probably wish to refresh yerself."

  "Aye," she murmured and he glanced at her sharply. Her tone was uncertain, even anxious and he wasn't sure what that was about, but let it go.

  Ross led her to a spot a good distance away from the men and around a bend and then released her, saying he'd wait just the other side of the bend. The relief on her face explained her earlier anxiety. He suspected she'd wondered how to tell him she needed a moment alone to relieve herself. She was still shy around him, of course, and no doubt would be until they really did consummate the marriage.
r />   Ross quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. It wasn't smart to start thinking on touching and kissing her and sinking himself into her warm depths. That was a temptation he had already decided to avoid until they reached MacKay, but damned if just holding her upright beside her horse hadn't stirred his manhood.

  Shaking his head at his own body, Ross paused beside a bush, lifted his plaid, took hold of the still half erect member in question and released a little sigh as he watered the greenery. Sometimes, it just felt so damned good to empty the snake, he thought and then jerked around midstream and broke into a run at a sudden scream from Annabel.

  He hadn't moved far away, just enough to give her privacy, so it only took him a dozen steps to reach her side. When he did, he found her staring wide-eyed into the bushes opposite the direction he'd come from.

  "What is it?" he asked at once, though his mind was half on wondering whether he hadn't just pissed all over his plaid and when he'd get to finish what he'd started. Damn, she'd scared the life out of him and he'd dropped his plaid and whipped about so quick--

  "There was someone in those bushes," Annabel whispered, pointing a shaky finger.

  Ross frowned when he saw that the greenery was still quivering. That was enough to drive the question of his lower member's activities from his mind. Pulling his sword from the sheath at his waist, he strode forward at once, ordering, "Wait here."

  Ross followed the very obvious trail for a good twenty feet before pausing. He didn't want to move any further while Annabel was left alone behind him. If whoever she'd seen circled around and went back to her she would be defenseless. That thought was enough to have him quickly returning the way he'd come.

  Much to his relief, Annabel was still waiting where he'd left her. She looked unharmed but anxious, and he couldn't help noting that for all she was stalwart about not complaining and so on, she did seem overly nervous a lot of the time. On the other hand, Ross supposed the possibility of having your maidenhood breached and someone coming up on you while you were relieving yourself were worthy of anxiety.

  Taking her arm, he started to urge her back the way they'd come, but she dug her feet in.

  "Oh, but I still have to--" She cut herself off and blushed.

  "Aye. Ye will. I just want to fetch the men," he assured her, trying to get her moving again.

  "The men?" Annabel squawked with dismay, digging in her heels.

  "Aye. We can stand around ye and be sure no one creeps up on ye again," Ross explained. It seemed perfectly reasonable to him. But judging by the horror that covered her face at the suggestion, she didn't agree.

  "My lord, surely you do not expect me to . . . with men standing around me?" she asked as if he'd suggested she do it in the village square for all to see . . . and naked.

  "Well, they won't be able to see anything," he assured her with amusement. Damned if he'd let his men look on her cute little derriere as she knelt in the bushes. "They'll be on the other side of the bushes, but there to stop anyone else approaching."

  Annabel was shaking her head before he'd finished. "I cannot possibly--not while I know your men are all standing around listening to me . . . I just cannot," she said helplessly.

  "It's pissen, lass," he said helpfully since she seemed unable to voice the word herself. "It's a pissen yer needing. Ye can say the word. I'll no think less o' ye fer it."

  Annabel opened her mouth, closed it, and then simply shook her head again.

  Ross sighed. If she couldn't even say the damned word, there was no way she was going to do it with guards standing but feet away. He glanced around, considering what to do, then nodded. "Right. Then come here."

  "Where are we--?" Her question died as he led her to a bush at the stream's edge and paused.

  "Ye do it here," he said releasing her arm and moving three or four feet away to turn his back to her. "And I'll stand guard here. That way yer front and back are safe and we can both keep an eye on the sides."

  Ross waited for either agreement or the rustle of her adjusting her clothes, but neither sounded. Resisting the urge to look back and see what she was doing, he asked, "Yer no' doing it, are ye?"

  "Umm . . . nay, not yet," she muttered, then paused, cleared her throat, and asked, "Do you think you could whistle, my lord?"

  "Whistle?" He did glance around then. She was standing where he'd left her, looking uncomfortable, but still upright, not down on her haunches with her skirt hiked up around her waist.

  Annabel grimaced apologetically. "It would help if you did."

  Sighing, Ross shook his head, but turned away and began to whistle. He was wishing though, that she'd just hurry up and get it done. He still had some pissen of his own to do. So, he was more than a little relieved when she cleared her throat a moment later and murmured, "We can return to the clearing."

  Ross walked her back to where the men were setting up camp, had a word with Gilly and Marach, telling them both what had happened. He then ordered them to keep on eye on Annabel, and ordered the other men to search the area to be sure whoever had come up on his wife had left.

  Ross suspected it had been another traveler, on foot, or camped nearby looking for their own spot to take care of private matters, but neither he nor any of his men came across anyone. He found the trail again that he'd been following earlier, but it continued only for another ten feet before disappearing at the water's edge. There was no sign of a boat having come aground there. He doubted the stream was even deep enough for a boat, though, so either they'd crossed the stream, or they'd walked through it for a while before coming back out. That didn't change his mind about it all being an accidental encounter though. They were in England. What Englishman wouldn't use the stream to cover his trail when an angry Scot was after him, ready to trounce him for coming upon his wife like that?

  Satisfied that all was well, Ross called off the search and left the men to hunt up dinner while he returned to the campsite and his bride.

  Chapter 4

  Annabel rolled onto her back and opened her eyes with a happy, sleepy little sigh, then blinked in surprise when she found herself staring at a ceiling overhead rather than open air. Sitting up abruptly, she peered around, eyes wide as she took in the room she was in. It was a large one with a table and chairs in the far right corner, two chairs and a small table before a fire directly across from her, and a stand for a washbasin between two windows to the left of her . . . and then of course there was the bed she was in, quite the largest bed she'd ever seen, and so soft and comfy. It felt like it was stuffed with feathers rather than straw. It was at least five times bigger than the hard, narrow cot she'd slept in for the last fourteen years at the abbey, and almost twice the size of the bed she and Ross had slept in at Waverly. It was also definitely more comfortable than that bed had been. Annabel was quite sure even the king couldn't have a nicer bed when it came to comfort.

  The problem was, she had no idea whose bed it was, or where she was. The last thing Annabel remembered was riding her mare on the third day of their interminable journey to her new home. They had stopped the first two days when the sun had begun to set, but on the third night they'd continued on well past sunset. Annabel had wondered about that, thinking perhaps they were near MacKay, but hadn't asked and had simply continued forward.

  Annabel supposed she'd fallen asleep in the saddle and was rather surprised she hadn't toppled right off her horse. Really, that silly sidesaddle was an atrocious invention. People weren't meant to ride with their legs to the side, she was sure, and while she'd never ridden astride on a saddle, she was positive it must be much more comfortable. Certainly, it had to be easier to direct the horse with a squeeze of legs instead of counting wholly on the reins.

  The opening of the bedchamber door drew Annabel from her thoughts and she tensed and glanced to it, relaxing a bit when an older woman stuck her head in. The stranger then beamed when she saw Annabel upright in bed.

  "Ah, good! Yer awake, ye are." She opened the door wide then
and bustled in, leading a parade of servants carrying various items.

  Annabel drew the furs up to her chin and stared wide-eyed as a tub was carted in by two men and set in the large space remaining in the far left corner of the room. It was followed by four men, each carrying a bucket of water in each hand; some of those buckets were steaming, others were not. The men were followed by women carrying soaps, linens, and one a tray with food on it. The last to enter the room were two more men carrying a chest between them.

  It was quite crowded in the room for a moment, but cleared out quickly as each person set down their burden and hurried out with a quick curious glance, a bobbing curtsy, or a smile in her direction. Annabel smiled anxiously back, nodding at each person as they passed until just the first woman who had entered was left.

  "There we are!" she said cheerfully, closing the door behind the last departing servant. "We're all set then I think."

  "Erm," Annabel murmured, still clutching the furs to her chin. She wasn't quite sure what they were set for. She wasn't even sure where she was, though she was beginning to suspect she'd slept through their arrival at MacKay. Someone had obviously carried her up here to bed . . . and stripped her, she realized with dismay as she noted that she was completely and utterly naked under the linens and furs.

  "Now ye just break yer fast while I prepare yer bath fer ye." The words were accompanied by the tray of food being plunked on her lap in bed.

  The tray held bread, cheese, two fluffy-looking pastries and some sort of beverage. Judging by the scent of the steam wafting from it, warmed cider. Annabel simply stared at the fare, the woman's words winding through her thoughts: "Now ye just break yer fast while I prepare yer bath fer ye."