Devil of the Highlands (Devil of the Highlands #1)(12)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Biddy paused in her cutting to glance at her with surprise, and finally said, "Well, aye, but… ‘Tis the way it’s always been."

Evelinde let the matter drop but tucked it away in her mind as something to discuss with Cullen. ‘Tis the way it’s always been was not a reason to keep doing something if there was a better way. She saw no reason why a couple of men could not be spared to help out with the heavy work in the kitchens.

"So, the men are all out guarding the wall or practicing in the bailey?" she asked, setting her empty mug on the counter.

Biddy snorted at the suggestion. "Nay. They are all out in the paddock celebrating yer wedding."

Evelinde raised her eyebrows in surprise, and asked, "Celebrating our wedding in the paddock?"

"Aye." Biddy grinned at her bewilderment. "They’ll be drinking ale and baiting old Angus. He’s a bull," she explained before Evelinde could ask. "A mean old bull with a nasty temper. Anytime there’s something to celebrate, the men take a couple of barrels of ale down to the paddock and bait the poor bugger. Then they’ll run across the paddock with him chasing them to prove their courage and speed. Some will even wrestle the mean beast."

"This is their idea of celebrating?" she asked with amazement.

Biddy laughed, and said, "They’re men," as if that explained it.

Evelinde shook her head, and asked, "And what will the women do to celebrate?"

Biddy paused again, surprise once more on her face. "We’ve no time fer celebrating, lass. We’ve too much work to do around here to take the time."

Evelinde frowned. "So the men practice at swords or celebrate while the women do all the work?"

"Aye." Biddy nodded and turned back to hacking at her chicken. " ‘Tis the way it’s always been."

"I see," Evelinde murmured, "Will my husband be there celebrating as well?"

"No doubt," Biddy said. "He was carrying one of the barrels of ale when he left."

"I think I shall go speak to him, but when I return I shall probably pester you with more questions, if ’tis all right? I was castellan at d’Aumesbery since my mother’s death, but every castle is different, and I—"

"Yer stepmother didna take up the role as castellan when she married yer father?" Biddy interrupted with surprise.

Evelinde wrinkled her nose. "Edda preferred to be a lady of leisure."

"Ah." Biddy nodded in understanding. "Well, welcome to Donnachaidh, lass. We have no ladies of leisure here but are glad to have ye. I’d be more than happy to help ye settle in and figure out what is what. Ye come talk to me when ye’re ready."

"Thank you." Evelinde squeezed the woman’s shoulder in affectionate appreciation as she stood up, then turned to leave the kitchens.

Her gaze swept over the great hall as she crossed it. For a keep kept mostly by women, it was very plain, with little that would not be considered necessities. There were the tables arranged in a squared-off u shape in the center and two chairs by the fire, but both were square and without any sort of cushion. They didn’t look particularly inviting. And that was it for the great hall. While there were rushes on the floor, there were no tapestries on the walls, or even any whitewashing, she noted with a frown, and had to wonder if Cullen’s first wife had really preferred it this way, or if it had been more inviting while she’d lived but had since been emptied out.

The sight of the barren walls reminded Evelinde of the two tapestries she had left behind. Her father had purchased them for her mother during their marriage. The first depicted Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, and the second featured a unicorn and a lady. Both had hung in the great hall at d’Aumesbery until Edda’s arrival. On learning they had been gifts to his previous wife, the woman insisted they be removed. She’d done away with anything having to do with the first Lady d’Aumesbery.

Evelinde’s father hadn’t argued. He’d simply ordered the tapestries rolled up and put away, telling Evelinde she could take them with her when she married and moved to her own home.

It was a shame she hadn’t been able to bring them, Evelinde thought sadly. They would have looked lovely on the wall here and would have brightened the place. Then there were the cushions she and her mother had sewn of a night. Those would have made the chairs by the fire more inviting. And there were—

Evelinde cut off these thoughts, knowing it was useless to pine for things she could not have.

She could always make more, Evelinde told herself as she pushed through the keep doors and stepped out onto the stairs leading into the bailey. Of course, she couldn’t make a tapestry herself. She had neither the skill nor the time for such an effort, let alone a loom on which to perform the task. Tapestry weavers were always male, and it could take two months for two men to weave just a square foot of a tapestry. That was why they were so dear to purchase and why it was such a shame her husband hadn’t given her the chance to bring them, or anything else with her.

Scowling, Evelinde caught up the skirts of the voluminous blue gown she wore and started down the stairs, pushing these concerns aside to join the other little irritations she had against her new husband at the moment. They did seem to be building up in her mind. She already had a healthy list of things to hold against the man, and they’d barely been married more than three days.

Evelinde paused to peer around the bailey as she stepped off the stairs. It was nearly as empty as the great hall had been, with just a few women walking this way and that on some endeavor or other. Had she not spoken to Biddy, Evelinde would have wondered about that, but she had and knew exactly where to find the men. The paddock.

She recalled the direction in which Fergus had taken the horses the night before and—supposing the paddock must be near the stables—turned that way, sure she’d find it easily enough. All she need do was look for men and listen for their voices. It was her experience that men got loud and unruly when "celebrating," and she had no doubt she’d hear them long before she reached them.

Evelinde found herself glancing curiously inside the stables as she walked by. She saw row after row of stalls running its length. From the glimpse she got, it looked as well kept as Mac kept the d’Aumesbery stables.

Lady would have been well cared for here, she thought, then quickly pushed the thought away. She didn’t wish to approach her husband angry, for it rarely achieved much except to cause bad feelings. It was always best to approach a matter calmly and while both parties were in a good mood.

To her mind, her husband should be in a good mood right now. She’d certainly felt pretty cheerful after consummating the marriage, at least until all these little problems had cropped up… like not having anything of her own here.

Cullen, of course, wouldn’t have this issue, and was celebrating, so should still be cheerful, Evelinde decided. It seemed the perfect time to approach him on the subject of what he wished her to do as his wife. At least that was what she told herself. And it wasn’t that it was untrue, but, really, the conversation could have waited until that evening after the sup. However, Evelinde found herself eager to see her new husband, and she was sure he would be happy to see her, too. No doubt he would smile, and open his arms, welcoming her to him, then he would kiss her until her toes curled and…

Evelinde brought her daydream to a halt as she heard a shout of laughter. As expected, she’d heard the men before spotting them. Stopping to look around, she found she’d reached a series of paddocks that ran up to the outer wall. The first enclosure was empty, and she moved closer to the wooden fence that surrounded it, leaning against a post as she peered across to a small stretch of grassy land where the men were gathered along the rails of the next paddock, watching some activity inside.

Her gaze slid over the mass of bodies, searching for her husband as another roar of laughter went up. Curious, she turned her attention to the paddock itself, eyes widening with horror when she realized the men had either finished with baiting "poor old Angus" or forgone that fun altogether and moved on to riding bareback on a mad horse. Truly, the horse seemed crazed. It was bucking, twisting, and leaping about, doing everything in its power to unseat the man presently clinging to its back.

Evelinde had just decided the man on the beast’s back must be as mad as the horse itself when the horse turned, and she realized the madman was her husband.

For one moment, Evelinde simply stood there clutching at the fence post, mouth agape with horror. Visions began dancing in her head of her husband flying off the beast and being trampled to death. The thought of being made a widow so soon after discovering the joys of marriage almost made her swoon. And then her husband did go flying through the air, tossed from the beast’s back like so much rubbish.

A shriek of horror slipping from her lips, Evelinde immediately began to climb the fence. She was determined to get to her husband as quickly as she could. Her skirt had other ideas, however, and kept catching on the wood. Evelinde just tugged at it impatiently, nearly tumbling on her head as she threw herself into the paddock. She heard a rip, then she was free, tumbling to her belly on the ground.

Grunting at the impact, Evelinde pushed herself to her feet, grabbing at the overlarge skirt and holding it gathered in her hand as she charged across the paddock.

Despite the noise they were making, several of the men apparently heard her shriek her husband’s name and turned to watch her rush across the paddock. The horror on their faces made her heart squeeze tight. Evelinde had not seen her husband land, but obviously it had not gone well, she realized, as the men began to shout at her.

Hoping he was not so badly injured he would not mend, Evelinde began trying to recall all Mildrede had taught her about healing as she ran. He probably had a broken bone or two… or more. Those would need setting. His head was her foremost concern, however, and she sent up a silent prayer that he’d protected his head as he fell. The man was just healing from his last fall from the horse. What was he thinking, getting on that mad beast? She would ask him that, Evelinde thought, just as soon as she judged him healthy enough she could give him hell without feeling bad about it.

The men’s shouts had grown almost frantic, and they were gesturing and waving a bit wildly. Evelinde tried not to let her imagination tell her Cullen was injured beyond repair.

He couldn’t be, she told herself. Surely, God would not be so cruel?

"Evelinde!"

Startled to recognize Cullen’s voice, she pushed her worries away and looked more closely at the crowd on the other side of the fence. Her heart leapt with relief when she spotted Cullen pushing his way through the men who were now pressed up against the fence.

"Dammit woman, move!" Cullen roared, beginning to climb the fence to get to her.

Evelinde took in the fury on his face and suddenly wasn’t at all certain she wished to see her husband after all. She had no idea what she’d done to cause his fury, but she was definitely sure she didn’t want to see him until he’d had a chance to calm down.

It was as she whirled to head back the way she’d come that Evelinde spotted the bull. If her heart had leapt and her blood pounded when she’d seen Cullen thrown from the horse, it was nothing compared to her body’s response when she saw mad Angus thundering down the paddock toward her.

Evelinde had never been a particularly physical person. It wasn’t expected of a lady. She enjoyed riding and wading in the river, and that was about the extent of her physical activity as a rule, but being chased by a snorting bull was a wondrous motivator. Evelinde caught up her skirts and burst into a run toward her husband. She ran so fast her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. In fact, she wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told her they’d seen an angel swoop down from the skies and carry her those last thirty feet to the fence. Evelinde moved so fast she actually reached the fence before Cullen had finished climbing it.

Her climbing the fence, however, was another matter entirely. She could not climb and hold her skirt up at the same time. Evelinde could hear the pounding hooves behind her and actually feel the hot breath of Angus’s angry snorts on her back. She would never climb the fence before he was on her. She was going to be gored, and he would then toss her through the air and stamp all over her where she landed, Evelinde thought dismally even as her hand closed on the rail… and then Cullen reached down from the top of the fence, snatched her by the back of the dress, and hauled her out of the paddock.

Chapter Seven

"What the devil were ye doing, ye daft woman!" Cullen roared. It was not the first time he’d shouted the question. In fact, it seemed to be the only thing he could say as he stared down at his trembling wife, not even giving her a chance to answer before bellowing it again.

Cullen couldn’t help himself. When he’d spotted his wee wife rushing across Angus’s paddock, his heart had lodged firmly in his throat, leaving him gagging on a terror like he’d never before experienced. His terror had only increased when he saw that Angus had spotted the witless woman and was charging down the paddock toward her.

Worse yet, the senseless female had stopped moving when she’d seen him, a relieved look crossing her face. Why the devil she’d looked relieved was beyond him. He’d been too far away to do much but roar at her to move and rush to climb the fence to try to help her. And what had the foolish wench done? She’d done a little turn on the green as if she were at a bloody ball, and then sprinted for the fence.

Truth be told, Cullen had been rather impressed by her speed in that final dash, but it didn’t lessen his anger. Dear God, he was sure she’d scared ten years off his life with this little adventure… and he did not scare easily. In fact, Cullen could honestly say he’d never ever experienced that kind of horror and fear before in all the years of his life… over anyone… and he never wanted to feel it again.

"I—"

"What the devil were ye doing?" Cullen interrupted to ask again. The bull had been a hairbreadth away from goring her when he’d lifted her out of the paddock. And this wasn’t the first time she’d put herself in jeopardy with mad behavior either, he recalled. There was that little ride of hers in the meadow with her mare’s reins in her teeth, too. The woman seemed prone to dangerous behavior.