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Authors: Rachael Kennedy
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Moffat and
tell her that Bridie would not be marrying Dougal .
He rose from his
bed and pulled on his plaid but for once he did not bother with his dirk, just
headed straight down to the kitchen.
‘Laird!’ Mrs Moffat blushed when she saw that the Laird was down in
the kitchen. ‘You should be resting, what are you doing down here?’
‘I need to speak
with you about Bridie.’
‘Bridie?’
‘Aye.’
Alasdair said. ‘Where is she?’ He checked for he did not want her walking in on
this conversation.
‘I sent her to Dougal’s , to take him some oatcakes. I said that I’d watch
wee Gracie.’ She must have seen the laird’s look of horror. ‘Just to talk,’ Mrs Moffat said. ‘I thought it might be nice for them to
have a wee bit of time to get to know each other. There will be no mischief -
Bridie’s a good girl.’
But she was
talking to the slamming door.
The laird ran to
the stables and, as he did, he saw again in his minds eye the stick being
raised to the dog. There was a mean side to Dougal and he did not want Bridie alone with him for even a minute.
He mounted his
horse, did not wait for the other men to escort him, his only thought to get to
Bridie. Alasdair charged out of the castle and towards the village, taking a
short cut across a field, the hooves tearing at the soft heather, still hoping
he might catch Bridie before she got there.
He kicked his
horse faster and there was mounting urgency as he kicked him further on for he
did not want Bridie alone with Dougal .
‘You didn’t fight
before… ’ Dougal was
tearing at her clothes, his anger building, for last time she had just lain
there. Why now, when she was soon to be his, did she fight?
He knocked her to
the ground and she felt his great weight over her, he was pushing up her kirtle
as Bridie bit his cheek. It was like her nightmares, but worse, for there was a
face to them now and there was no laird to wake her and to tell her she’d be
safe. No laird to tell her that it was just a dream but then for Bridie there
was the relief of his voice - the laird’s voice and he was roaring and savage
as she’d never heard him.
‘You filthy
animal…’ He bellowed as he hauled Dougal off just in
time.
‘You can have her
after.’ Dougal didn’t care it was the laird, he just
wanted back. ‘This time I’m going to be fir…’
He didn’t even
finish the word, Alasdair had contained his anger on so many occasions, had
held onto the spew of bile when Angus had been the one to deal with William
Hunt, but he contained nothing now – all that trapped fury was unleashed
in one brutal punch. A mountain of a man was no match for Alasdair’s rage, his
fist slamming into the stone of Dougal’s jaw and
felling him like a log. Bridie heard the crack of Dougal’s skull as it hit the rocks around the fire and her relief at seeing the laird
faded as she realised what could have been and Bridie
started screaming.
‘It’s all right
Bridie.’ The Laird said, scooping her in his arms, telling
her she was safe, only still she screamed, still she fought him.
‘You’re safe,
Bridie.’ He was trying to calm her, except, seeing the Laird leave, his men had
followed and had reached Dougal’s home now. The sight
of warriors entering, dirks ready, had Bridie scream louder but then suddenly
she stopped.
She just gave in
then.
And the Laird
watched as, before his eyes, she went back to that place.
Chapter Eleven
She was in the
turret, just staring to the hills.
Dougal was
buried, Mrs Moffat told her. ‘Bridie, if I had
thought for just a moment Dougal had been involved…’
Her lips quivered. ‘I guess he fooled us all - but not the Laird.’ She kneaded
Bridie’s shoulders. ‘Come on lassie, dinnae go back
there, it didn’t happen again, the Laird got there in time. It’s done now.’
It could never be
done.
She could remember
it all now and just lay, staring out to the loch, remembering the lads cheering Dougal
tell her that Bridie would not be marrying Dougal .
He rose from his
bed and pulled on his plaid but for once he did not bother with his dirk, just
headed straight down to the kitchen.
‘Laird!’ Mrs Moffat blushed when she saw that the Laird was down in
the kitchen. ‘You should be resting, what are you doing down here?’
‘I need to speak
with you about Bridie.’
‘Bridie?’
‘Aye.’
Alasdair said. ‘Where is she?’ He checked for he did not want her walking in on
this conversation.
‘I sent her to Dougal’s , to take him some oatcakes. I said that I’d watch
wee Gracie.’ She must have seen the laird’s look of horror. ‘Just to talk,’ Mrs Moffat said. ‘I thought it might be nice for them to
have a wee bit of time to get to know each other. There will be no mischief -
Bridie’s a good girl.’
But she was
talking to the slamming door.
The laird ran to
the stables and, as he did, he saw again in his minds eye the stick being
raised to the dog. There was a mean side to Dougal and he did not want Bridie alone with him for even a minute.
He mounted his
horse, did not wait for the other men to escort him, his only thought to get to
Bridie. Alasdair charged out of the castle and towards the village, taking a
short cut across a field, the hooves tearing at the soft heather, still hoping
he might catch Bridie before she got there.
He kicked his
horse faster and there was mounting urgency as he kicked him further on for he
did not want Bridie alone with Dougal .
‘You didn’t fight
before… ’ Dougal was
tearing at her clothes, his anger building, for last time she had just lain
there. Why now, when she was soon to be his, did she fight?
He knocked her to
the ground and she felt his great weight over her, he was pushing up her kirtle
as Bridie bit his cheek. It was like her nightmares, but worse, for there was a
face to them now and there was no laird to wake her and to tell her she’d be
safe. No laird to tell her that it was just a dream but then for Bridie there
was the relief of his voice - the laird’s voice and he was roaring and savage
as she’d never heard him.
‘You filthy
animal…’ He bellowed as he hauled Dougal off just in
time.
‘You can have her
after.’ Dougal didn’t care it was the laird, he just
wanted back. ‘This time I’m going to be fir…’
He didn’t even
finish the word, Alasdair had contained his anger on so many occasions, had
held onto the spew of bile when Angus had been the one to deal with William
Hunt, but he contained nothing now – all that trapped fury was unleashed
in one brutal punch. A mountain of a man was no match for Alasdair’s rage, his
fist slamming into the stone of Dougal’s jaw and
felling him like a log. Bridie heard the crack of Dougal’s skull as it hit the rocks around the fire and her relief at seeing the laird
faded as she realised what could have been and Bridie
started screaming.
‘It’s all right
Bridie.’ The Laird said, scooping her in his arms, telling
her she was safe, only still she screamed, still she fought him.
‘You’re safe,
Bridie.’ He was trying to calm her, except, seeing the Laird leave, his men had
followed and had reached Dougal’s home now. The sight
of warriors entering, dirks ready, had Bridie scream louder but then suddenly
she stopped.
She just gave in
then.
And the Laird
watched as, before his eyes, she went back to that place.
Chapter Eleven
She was in the
turret, just staring to the hills.
Dougal was
buried, Mrs Moffat told her. ‘Bridie, if I had
thought for just a moment Dougal had been involved…’
Her lips quivered. ‘I guess he fooled us all - but not the Laird.’ She kneaded
Bridie’s shoulders. ‘Come on lassie, dinnae go back
there, it didn’t happen again, the Laird got there in time. It’s done now.’
It could never be
done.
She could remember
it all now and just lay, staring out to the loch, remembering the lads cheering Dougal
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