Free Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) by Rachael Kennedy

on.
    And she wished death
would come.
    ‘She disnae speak…’ Alasdair was losing his patience with the
McClelland healer’s never ending advice to just give it time. ‘How much time?’
He demanded, for he had been patient, he had been tender, he had spoken
reassuring words, yet none of them seemed to reach her and again the healer was
saying that nothing more could be done.
    Even poor Mary
tried.
    ‘Please Bridie,’
Mary begged. ‘I miss speaking with you.’ But when that didn’t work she tried
something else. ‘I’ve got all the rooms to make up for the ball, all the beds
to prepare…’
    ‘Don’t worry her
with work.’ Mrs Moffat, addled with guilt, stopped
Mary there.
    Not even Gracie
cuddling into Bridie, seemed to reach her.
    ‘Ma.’ Gracie’s
voice was so sweet and clear as she said her first word, her little hand came
and pressed Bridie’s cheek, pleading for her mother to look at her. ‘Ma!’
      Bridie
stared at her sweet daughter, only not even Gracie
could save her now. She would be better off with the Campbell’s Bridie thought
darkly and she turned her face from her daughter.
    ‘Take Gracie down
for some porridge.’ Mrs Moffat took Gracie and handed
her to Mary.
    ‘Bridie, I know
you’ve been through a terrible time…’ Mrs Moffat
shook her head as the Laird knocked and came in, her knees creaking as she walked
over to him.
    ‘She doesn’t want
to speak to anyone.’
    ‘Aye, well I’m
speaking with her.’
    ‘Be gentle Laird.’
    ‘For all the good
it’s done,’ Alasdair said.
    ‘She’s been
through something terrible, she does not need strong words.’ And then Mrs Moffat blushed, for who was she to tell the laird what
to do. ‘I’m sorry, Laird.’
    ‘I just want to
talk to her.’
    ‘She disnae need scolding.’
    ‘Bridie.’ He tried
to keep his voice even, tried to not be harsh, except he wanted to go over, to
shake her back to life, but, in this, he accepted Mrs Moffat surely knew best.
    ‘Come on, Bridie.’
He took a breath, wanted to tell of the plans he was making for them, but
didn’t know how appropriate that would be, if it was right to talk of such
things given what she had been through.
    ‘Bridie.’
    She did not
respond.
    ‘You’re home is
here,’ the laird attempted. ‘No matter what the new Lady says…’ He saw her eyes
shutter and so too did Mrs Moffatt and the laird’s
voice was rising. ‘Bridie, will you just listen to me!’
    ‘Laird.’ The auld
woman stepped in and Alasdair conceded, for now his words would just have to
keep.
    Bridie lay in her
bed and did not sleep, saw the moon drift over the loch and she could not stand
to wait for the sun to start its climb. Could simply not face another day.
    She was no good to
anyone.
    She wasn’t even a
very good servant; poor Mary had to do all her work and she brought shame to
the laird for housing an illegit .
    All she was, was a burden.
    Even her own
mother had left her at the burn.
    The laird was to
wed, the castle would be partying soon and Bridie could not bear to hear the
sound of revelling .
    She looked out to
the loch, to the mist over the cold dark waters and they were so tempting.
    The Campbells were God-loving people and would not put Gracie
in harms way as Bridie felt she almost had.
    Gracie would be
loved.
    Bridie opened the
whisky Mary had given her to take on her wedding night and took a taste. Maybe
the water wouldn’t feel so cold with the whisky, maybe
she wouldn’t feel a thing?
    Bridie climbed
from her bed and kissed Gracie, then took the same secret route through the
passages that she had when she’d gone looking for fox cubs.
    It would all be
done with soon.
     
    Alasdair could not
sleep.
     He ordered
hot water and lay in the bath but it did not relax. He fought the urge to go up
to the turret and speak with Bridie, to bring her back to his bed and lay her
beside him.
    It would surely
terrify her though, if he did.
     Alasdair,
for once, simply did not know what to