Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

A layne found staying in the laird’s chambers after Darren left to be utterly impossible, especially after the revelation of the king’s ultimatum. She sought out the kitchens to get herself a small breakfast, knowing she needed to eat in spite of her inner turmoil. Once she’d finished, she began to walk the halls of MacLean Keep, exploring the place that was now meant to be her home.

She’d been exploring idly for about an hour when she opened the door to what turned out to be the drawing room. Alayne paused, startled to find the room occupied by none other than Lyla MacMillan. The younger woman looked up at her entrance, and smiled in welcome.

Alayne hesitated. It was true that Lyla had been involved in the disaster that befell her brother, but it was also true that said involvement had been none of her making. Donall had kidnapped and threatened her. It was also true that Lyla had been part of the reason Donall had been spared from death at the hands of Laird MacMillan or Darren.

She’d hardly spoken to Lyla, save for a few brief words exchanged when she’d served as caretaker for her brother’s prisoner. Still, she didn’t feel the same anger toward her that she felt to the menfolk among Lyla’s kith and kin. She hoped Lyla didn’t feel resentment toward her either.

Lyla waved her over. “Come in and take a seat, if ye want.”

“I wouldnae want tae disturb ye…” What if the young woman loathed her for her part in taking her prisoner?

“Ye’ll nae be a disturbance, fer I’m nae doing anything very important. Besides, we’ve nae had a chance tae talk, just us women, and I’d like tae get tae ken me new sister-by-marriage better.” Lyla smiled, no shadow of resentment or anger in her eyes.

Alayne moved forward and settled into a seat next to her, feeling slightly off balance. “I’d have thought ye’d be angry, fer what me braither did tae ye.”

“’Twas yer braither, nae ye. And he was nae the first one tae behave in such a manner. At least it could be argued he had something o’ a reason, being out tae avenge his kindred. I might nae like it or agree with it, but there’s the truth o’ it. The first man tae kidnap me did so tae try and force me sister tae wed him.” Lyla offered her a wry smile.

Almost against her will, Alayne found herself liking the other woman. She was straightforward, polite and friendly, despite their initial interactions. She seemed kind, and Alayne found herself wondering if it might be possible to have a friendship with her, in spite of everything that had happened. “He didnae succeed, did he?”

“Nay, but he was a hard, cruel man, who hurt all o’ us, and threw me in a dungeon. ‘Twas a bad time. In comparison, yer braither was almost a gentleman.”

Alayne blinked. “I dinnae think I’ve ever heard someone describe their kidnapper as a gentleman.”

“’Tis true by comparison tae Laird McCouorcodale.” Lyla shrugged her shoulders. “But there’s nae need tae speak too much o’ such matters. I wanted tae ask ye how ye’re settling in, and if there’s aught ye need. I’ve visited me sister here often enough that I can help ye find whatever ye need, and tell ye much o’ what ye might need tae ken.”

“I dae feel a little lost. This keep doesnae have the same layout as me home, and I’m nae sure where I’m permitted tae go.”

“Kenning Darren as I dae, I cannae imagine he’ll forbid ye any area within the keep walls, unless ‘tis fer yer own safety. I wouldnae recommend exploring the guard barracks, fer example. And he may nae wish ye tae enter his study without good reason. Although, he’s just as likely tae nae mind. We certainly spent enough time at cards by his study fire when I was visiting me sister.”

So there was a chance she might be able to find important information she could give her brother after he was released. That was good to know, even though Alayne was fairly certain Lyla was being optimistic about how welcome she’d be in such a setting.

She considered a moment. “I dinnae have much in the way o’ writing materials. Nor much by way o’ supplies for needlework.” She’d brought her own supply of cloth and thread, as needlework was something she found soothing, and also one of the few pursuits her father hadn’t adamantly disapproved of - at least, not once she’d learned to make small neat stitches, suited for a lady.

“Writing materials, ye can ask Darren fer. Or mayhap Bard, his advisor. He’s likely tae ken where tae find them. As fer sewing materials, ye could ask the healer, or one o’ the maids. I ken that there’s a supply left over from the last Lady MacLean, but I dinnae ken where ‘tis kept.” Lyla grimaced. “I wouldnae ask Darren about that.”

“Why nae?”

“’Tis a difficult matter for him. The circumstances o’ her passing were nae pleasant.” Lyla shook her head as Alayne opened her mouth. “if ye want tae ken more, ye can ask Darren or one o’ the older members o’ the household for the full story, but dinnae be surprised if they dinnae want tae speak o’ it.”

Alayne dipped her head in agreement, though she privately resolved to find out as much as possible. She did recall that something had happened, and rumors surrounding the deaths of the previous Laird and Lady MacLean, but she knew nothing of the details.

“I’ll ask Bard and the healer about those things, then.” She considered. “And what o’ the kitchens? Some dinnae welcome the lady o’ the house…”

“The cook here willnae mind too much, so long as ye dinnae take something without checking if she needs it. Och, and leave alone any venison ye find. Darren loves it, but there’s nae any deer on the island, so he cannae get it unless he trades fer it special, or goes hunting on a visit with his braithers.”

He’d served venison at the wedding feast. She hadn’t cared much, but knowing that he’d deliberately used up something he savored as part of their wedding made her stomach twist a little, especially when she considered that he had to know that venison was even scarcer on her clan’s table than his own. It almost seemed as if he’d been trying to provide something special for the wedding feast, in spite of being no more enthused than she about the union.

She shook her head sharply. I’m overthinking the matter. Likely as nae, he just wanted an excuse tae eat his favorite meal, and what I might enjoy or take interest in eating didnae factor intae it at all.

“Are ye all right?” Lyla’s soft query interrupted her thoughts. “I ken Darren wasnae in the best mood last night, but if he did something tae ye…”

“I dinnae want tae discuss it.” Alayne swallowed hard against a feeling of nausea. “I dinnae want tae think about that man fer now.”

“But he is yer husband.” Lyla laid a hand on her arm. “And while I wouldnae have thought it o’ him, if he hurt ye without realizing…”

“He didnae.” As tempting as it was to paint Darren as a cruel husband, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not after he’d gone out of his way and slept on the floor, rather than force her into something she didn’t want to do. “I just… dinnae want tae talk about him.”

Talking about him would only remind her that she was supposed to bed him. That she had to bed him, if she wanted her brother to be freed. She’d tried so hard to avoid that very thing, and now she had no choice, and the knowledge made her feel sick.

Why did I nae think tae ask fer the full terms o’ the king’s demand afore the wedding? I could have asked fer some time, or found a reason tae ask tae be spared… at the very least, I could have been prepared fer the necessity o’ sleeping with a man I hate, rather than being in this situation now.

Somewhere, a bell tolled the hour, and Lyla looked up in surprise. “Och, I’m meant tae be meeting Daemon near the library.” She rose. “I’m sorry tae be leaving ye, but ye ken who tae speak tae if ye need anything, and we can talk more later if ye like.”

“I… Thank ye.” Alayne watched the other woman leave, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, that she no longer had to avoid the subject of her husband, and disappointment as she realized she’d missed a chance to ask the one person she felt comfortable speaking to about the realities of the marriage bed.

Her mother had died long before she could even become curious about such things. Her father would have given her a clout across the face had she dared to ask, and her brother was… well, her brother. She’d never felt comfortable seeking a healer or midwife’s expertise, especially after her father’s furious reaction to her search for answers after her first moon cycle.

Lyla was married, and presumably had no issues with engaging in intimacy with her husband. If Alayne had asked, the other woman might have been able to tell her what to expect. That would have made it at least a little easier to face.

Sitting in the drawing room wasn’t going to get her any answers, or anything else. With a sigh, Alayne rose and departed the room, intent on searching out Bard so she could acquire some materials for writing. The letter to the king was pointless, but she could write letters for the Ranald household, to ensure it was still functioning smoothly in her absence.

She was passing by a large set of doors, partially ajar, when she heard a familiar voice. “...and what would ye like tae dae with me?” Lyla, talking to someone.

Intrigued, she paused, then inched closer to listen as a man - most likely her husband, Daemon - responded. “We’d be here a score o’ years if I were tae say everything I wanted tae dae with ye, ye minx.” His voice sounded affectionate. “Though, I’m o’ a mind tae be sure ye’re nae leaving scratches and bite marks on me the next time I bed ye. I cannae hide all o’ them, and Ryan’s far too smug o’ late.”

“And how would ye stop me from marking me claim, husband?” Lyla’s voice sounded very different, and Alayne felt herself blushing at the tone the woman was using. It reminded her of the one time she’d heard a snippet of conversation between a maid and a stable hand she was interested in, but far more intense.

“I’d tie ye tae the bed, so ye cannae scratch me. And I’d give ye a pillow or a belt tae bite on, and tae muffle yer screams while I take ye. And then I’d have my way with ye, until ye were limp and sobbing with pleasure, and too wearied tae even think o’ marking me. And then, after we rest, I’d have ye again, until we’re both too sore and exhausted tae move.”

Alayne’s hands clenched together, her face so hot she thought she could light a candle with it. Biting? Scratching? She’d never heard that such things were part of intimate relations with a man. And binding? Gags to muffle screaming? None of that was any part of her admittedly limited fantasies.

Was that what Darren expected of her? Was it normal for the fulfillment of wifely duties to be so… so violent? It sounded like something she might hear in a bawdy, boastful story in the guard’s barracks, more than it did a relationship between a husband and wife.

But then, what did she know? She’d lived most of her life in seclusion, isolated by her father’s hatred of her. Maybe what Lyla and Daemon were discussing was normal, just one more thing she’d never learned.

She heard footsteps, coming closer, and hurried away. She might have wanted to ask Lyla what the marriage bed was like, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know anything more. She was sure, however, that she didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping on what had clearly been a private conversation.

Back in her rooms, Alayne considered the situation. Whether she liked it or not, she was expected to consummate the marriage. In order to secure her brother’s freedom, it would have to happen sooner rather than later. And if she had no other choice, she’d far rather approach the matter on her own terms.

The only real question was - where was she to find the rope and other things?