Highland Grace (41 page)

* * *

Branwenn watched her betrothed from the
corner of her eye. He’d made it plain these past days that he was
not as pleased with this match, with her, as he’d first pretended.
And last eve—
last eve
! She’d stumbled upon him in his
sister’s chamber. The poor lass had been in a distressing state,
her gown torn and hanging from her shoulder, exposing red marks on
her tender arm and chest where the drunken knave had abused and
beaten her. Would he have gone further still—done the thing
Branwenn feared had been his true purpose, if she had not
interrupted his savage attack? And ‘twas clearly not the first time
the lass had been the outlet for his violent lust either, for there
had been older bruises in plain view as well. She turned her sight
on the lass, Alyson, who even now sat much too quietly with her
silver-blond head bowed and her hands demurely folded in her lap.
The poor dear had barely touched the food on her trencher, nor the
wine in her goblet. She was far too young to have been exposed to
such lechery, for she surely was not more than twelve summers. Aye,
‘twas truth that according to tradition, she was a woman
full-grown, capable of becoming a wife, should her father contract
such an arrangement, but in Branwenn’s view, ‘twas much too young
an age to be expected to perform such duties.

Reys ap Gryffyd dipped his head and whispered
in her ear, “Have you second thoughts so late in the game, then,
Branwenn? If so, you’ve dallied too long, my little dove, for your
vows will be heard before the bishop and all this fine assembly in
but a few hours’ time at the morrow’s morning mass.”

Branwenn bit her lip and turned her troubled
gaze to the dark-haired, blue-eyed man she’d only discovered to be
her kin a mere seven moons past when he’d been the first to cross
the threshold of her heart-family’s keep, the Macleans, after the
feast of
Hogmanay
. He’d come there to find her and bring her
back to Cambria to wed this flaxen-haired Norman nephew thrice
removed to the Earl of Pembroke that sat at her other side. For the
marriage would make a blood alliance between her Cambrian cousin,
twice removed, Prince Llywelyn, and the Norman usurper, Guillaume
le Maréchal, the Earl of Pembroke. And tho’ she liked Reys well,
even from their first meeting, she still did not feel the same
strong bond with him that she felt for Bao Xiong Maclean, the man
who’d raised her, the man who, in her heart, was her brother in
truth. Should she tell Reys of her discovery? She’d been debating
that very question these past hours since finding her betrothed
with his sister. And tho’ the hour was late, she needed some
guidance, some words to soothe her worry. “Brother, I have
something I must speak with you about in all haste, but it must be
in privy, for I have no wish for any here to learn of what I must
tell you.”

Reys had been jesting with her, believing
that she was merely uneasy, as any new bride would be, at the
prospect of her wedding. He sat forward and truly studied her
worried countenance for the first time that eve. With a brief nod,
he said, “Meet me in the chapel after supper. ‘Twill be empty, as
all here will be enjoying the pipers and players afterward. Say
that you wish a few moments alone to pray and light some candles.
No one will say you nay, even this eve before you wed, for your
desire to pray will be seen as an act of true piety, a great virtue
for a new bride.”

Branwenn’s shoulders relaxed for the first
time that eve. With a sigh and a nod, she said, “My thanks.”

* * *

An hour later, Branwenn, on her knees in the
chapel with her head bowed and her eyes closed, felt someone settle
beside her.

“We are alone now—all are in the great hall
enjoying the players. Tell me what troubles you, Branwenn,” Reys
whispered.

Branwenn slowly opened her eyes and, settling
back to rest upon her calves, she dropped her clenched hands to her
lap and turned her gaze upon this almost-stranger who just might
give her the heart’s-ease she so desperately craved. “I know not
how to begin....”

Reys placed his hand over hers. “Begin by
telling me the thing that is giving you the most dread.”

Branwenn dropped her gaze to her lap and
nodded. She took in a deep breath and released it on a sigh. “Aye,
‘twould seem to be the best place, I trow.” She cleared her throat.
“Last eve...”

When she didn’t immediately continue, Reys
dipped his head in an effort to see her countenance. “Aye, last
eve—what happened?” he prompted.

“I came upon my betrothed in his sister’s
bedchamber,”—she lifted her gaze to her brother’s once more and
said in a rush—“he had
beaten
her, Reys! There were purple
and red marks on her chest, her shoulders—even her arms! And her
gown was torn, it looked as if he’d ripped it away to expose her
breasts. And what is more, I could see other, older bruises on her
flesh as well. Godamercy, Reys, I do believe he intended
to...to...bed her!” There, she’d said it.

Reys’s eyes widened even further in shock and
disgust.
Why, the lass was barely out of swaddling clothes!
He’d known Gaiallard to be a man who enjoyed the sexual privileges
bestowed upon him due to his noble birth, but he’d had no true
understanding of how dissolute, how morally corrupt, the man had
become until just now.

Branwenn’s eyes misted with unshed tears. “I
knew not what to do—I fled the chamber and have said naught about
it to anyone, not even Gaiallard.”

“You cannot wed him, then. You must away this
very night.” Reys pressed the base of his palm into his eye.

Branwenn grabbed hold of his wrist and held
tight. “But how can I not? ‘Twould mean war—war with not only the
Earl of Pembroke, but with the King of England himself, for he has
decreed that this match must take place!”

Reys nodded and turned his gaze upon his
sister once more. “Aye, and forget not that our cousin will surely
skin me alive before hanging me on a gibbet to rot—and he’ll lock
you in the tower gaol for all eternity, I doubt it not.” He turned
and faced Branwenn fully. Taking both her hands in his own, he
said, “But we must at least try to release you from this contract.
I will speak with our cousin forthwith. There must be a way to
delay this wedding, at least until I can procure our cousin’s
agreement to free you from this bad bargain.”

Branwenn dipped her head and gazed down at
their clasped hands. ‘Twas no use. Her fate was set, and there
would be naught to stop it. For, she knew her cousin would never
agree to such a thing; his empire was much more important than she
in the scheme of things. “My thanks, brother, tho’ I know not how
you shall manage such a feat.” All at once struck with an idea, she
lifted her head once more and gazed, wide-eyed with hope, into the
midnight-blue depths of Reys’s eyes. “I beg you, do not be
angered—or hurt—by the proposal I am about to make, for I mean you
no injury—”

“Aye?” Reys said anxiously, “have you a plan
then? Tell me quickly, I swear I shall listen without
prejudice.”

Branwenn tightened her grasp on her brother’s
hands and leaned forward a bit as she said, “Would it not fulfill
the spirit, if not the letter, of the contract were
you
to
wed
Alyson
instead?”

“Wha—?”

“Nay, hear me out before you balk. Do you not
see? This is the best solution for all. The lass clearly needs a
protector and you—well, I know you do not like speaking of the
recent tragedy that befell your poor wife and bairns,”—Reys looked
away, his mouth set in a grim line, and Branwenn brought her hand
up to his cheek and gently forced him to look at her once more—“but
you know that you are now free to wed. And you told me yourself,
when first you found me in the Highlands, that the contract would
have been fulfilled whether you’d found a brother
or
a
sister, for the brother would have been contracted to wed the
niece. You were not free to wed then, and I, for my own reasons,
agreed to return to Cambria with you.”

Silence reigned for many long seconds as Reys
struggled to breathe past the heavy pain of guilt and longing that
now gripped his chest.

Branwenn remained still, fearing that any
movement on her part would send her brother fleeing from this
sanctuary, from her, leaving her honor-bound to fulfill the terms
of the contract.

At last, Reys gave his answer. “Gather only
the most precious of your belongings, only what you can easily
carry, and meet me in the stables in half an hour’s time.”

“You will arrange this thing, then?”

“Aye.” He rose to his feet and brought her up
with him. “As you said, ‘twill fulfill the intent of the contract,
if not the actual terms set down in writing.”

“How will I get past the gates—to what
destination will I travel?”

“Dress in those same lad’s clothes you wore
as a disguise when you traveled to our cousin’s war camp on the
edge of the Maclean holding last spring. I know you kept them, so
pretend not otherwise. The disguise will aid in your escape.”

“But to where?”

“I shall tell you more when we meet later.
For now, suffice to say, you shall be safely out of Gaiallard’s
influence by the time the ceremony is to begin. Now, make haste to
your chamber.”

Branwenn nodded and, without forethought,
flung herself into her brother’s embrace and held tight. “I do
believe I shall miss you,” she said, wonder in her voice.

Reys smiled and gave her a bit of a squeeze.
“And I you as well, you little midge.”

“However will I repay you for such a
sacrifice?” she whispered brokenly. She kissed him on his cheek and
fled without waiting for a reply.

* * *

Reys watched her leave before collapsing onto
the bench directly behind him and covering his face with his hands.
Branwenn was right, this was the best solution. For, he no longer
cared who he wed, as his heart had died with his love, his wife,
and his sweet little girls, in the fire at the convent where they
were staying two moons past. And he must wed—he must have
offspring, a son, to inherit his position, his property. ‘Twas the
way of things, and he was honor-bound to fulfill his duties. At
least he liked the young lady. And by wedding her, he would not
only free her from her brother’s wicked clutches, but give both
himself and her a few years’ time to heal before embarking on the
more amorous aspect of the wedded state. Surely the lass would
appreciate a bit of a reprieve from such duties—at least until she
was older.

And he would not subject his sister to the
same type of evil that their dear mother had been forced to endure
the last moons of her life, the same evil even Branwenn in some
indirect way had endured as well during that exact time—for his
mother’s kidnapping and enslavement at the hands of the murderous
Highlander, Jamison Maclean, had occurred while she’d carried
Branwenn in her womb. ‘Twas for the sake of his mother’s sweet
memory that he had at last settled on the decision to, in effect,
embark on this act of treason by securing his sister’s safe passage
away from her betrothed and her signed contract to wed. He must
somehow find the words to convince his cousin and the Earl of
Pembroke the propitiousness of this change in plan.

Reys rose to his feet and hurried towards the
front entrance of the chapel. But first, he must get his sister as
far from Gaiallard’s clutches as possible—and to a place no one
would ever think to search for her. For ‘twas no feat of reason to
imagine the tirade that would ensue when Gaiallard realized he
would lose his chance at the demesne he so coveted.

* * *

The bar across the door lifted with less
effort than Branwenn had been expecting, but with more sound.
Anxiously looking over her shoulder at the still-slumbering maid
settled on a pallet only a few feet from where Branwenn now stood,
she breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door to her
bedchamber. ‘Twas just past midnight and the corridors were dark.
Tho’ it chafed her to do so, she took a valuable moment to stand
with her back against the wall as she allowed her eyes to become
adjusted to the much darker outer perimeter of her chamber. Oh, how
she’d love a candle at this moment, but she dared not risk it. Nay,
‘twas much better that she remain quiet and hidden as she descended
to the lower level of the keep. The way down to the courtyard of
the castle would be manned with servants and, mayhap, even
soldiers, but she would not quell her intent to escape this place
this very night.

Twenty minutes later, she’d made it to the
stables. “Reys?” she whispered into the darkness.

“Aye, over here.” he whispered back.

Branwenn moved in the direction of the voice.
“Where are you? ‘Tis as dark as pitch in here. Will you not light a
taper?”

“Nay, ‘tis too dangerous. The stableman that
was left to guard the horses slumbers in the corner, but we must be
careful not to wake him. The sleeping herb I put in his ale will
not last long, I fear.”

“I see—Oh!” Branwenn stumbled over a rise in
the straw-covered earthen floor.

Reys swept his arm around her middle to catch
her before she fell. “Watch your step,” he cautioned. He led her to
her mount then and took her hastily-packed satchel from her
nerveless hands. “I shall travel with you as far as the coast and
then I shall return here, for I must be back by sunrise.”

“The
coast
?” Branwenn asked
dazedly.

“Aye, the coast. There are trade ships there.
One of which will take you to my wife’s cousin in Ulster on the
northeast coast of Ireland. None will think to look for you there,
for no one knows of my friendship with the man.”

“But I thought...I believed you’d be sending
me back to
Aber Garth Celyn
, to our cousin’s estate.”

“Nay, ‘tis the first place Gaiallard will
look for you, youngling.”