Page 6 of Married for a Highland Debt
The next day, as Bettina went down to the kitchen from the servants’ quarters, she heard the sound of men’s voices roaring and wailing at the entrance to the courtyard, as well as the noise of metal ringing on the stone floor. She could hear rain pouring down outside as a group of ragged, dripping men were being herded inside. She was horrified to see that each one was shackled to the next with iron chains so heavy that they could hardly lift their feet.
When she saw the laird standing watching them with a look of grim satisfaction on his face, her blood ran cold.
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“How are you?” Kairstine asked anxiously as she ran into her sister’s arms. She stood back and looked into Bettina’s face anxiously. “You look tired. Are the beds very uncomfortable? Is the work too hard for you?”
Bettina kissed Kairstine’s cheek affectionately. “No, pet,” she answered. “The beds are fine. The work is hard, but nothing I cannot cope with.”
“Then why do you look so sad?” Kairstine frowned, then she took the bag of food from Bettina’s arms and smiled. “Dried beef, onions, apples—even cheese! This is wonderful, Bettie! Thank you!”
“The cheese is a little moldy at the edges,” she pointed out.
“I can cut it off,” Kairstine assured her, then she sat down and looked into her sister’s face. “Is the laird as terrible as they say?”
Bettina sighed in exasperation. “He is best avoided,” she answered grimly. “I get the feeling that he does not like anyone, but he hates women in particular. We have already had one disagreement, and I barely escaped with my job.” She shook her head in frustration. “I was told by the kitchen maids that he sent his wife away because she was barren.” Briefly, she told Kairstine Ninian Ogilvy’s history.
Kairstine sat in silence for a moment listening to her sister. “In that case, perhaps you should try to understand him,” she suggested at last. “He sounds like a wounded beast.”
When Bettina arrived back in the castle kitchens, she saw Ina stirring a big cauldron of porridge. She stared at the lumpy gray mass, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“Whose is this?” she asked curiously. “Who eats porridge in the evening?”
“The prisoners,” Ina replied. “They have one plate in the mornin’ an’ one at night.”
“And that is all they eat?” Bettina was horrified. “Surely they get some eggs or meat or something else?”
Ina shook her head. “They are criminals. This is a’ they eat. It is part o’ their punishment.”
“What did they do?” Bettina asked.
The other woman looked up at her, puzzled. “Bridie, they are bad men. Why dae ye care?” She shrugged as she began to dish out the porridge into small wooden bowls. “Go an’ tell the guard this is ready.”
As she went upstairs, Bettina was seething inside. Ninian Ogilvy’s reputation as a tyrant had gone before him, but she had thought it an exaggeration. Surely a man could not be so brutal to his own people?
As she reached the courtyard, she saw Ninian standing watching the rain, his arms folded, one foot stretched out, the other bent at the knee and braced against the wall. His expression was bleak, and she realized suddenly that here was a man who had very little to look forward to. She knew that he had family, but inside he was full of anger, and he had deliberately cut himself off from the love of a wife because she could not give him what he wanted. He seemed cruel and heartless to the core, but was it possible that inside his iron-clad façade, there was a tender heart? Somehow she doubted it.
He looked around as she passed, and their gazes locked for a fleeting second before he turned away again. Bettina felt a chill pass over her.
“I often wonder what the laird is thinking,” she said to Lizzie as she cleared away the newly washed dishes and stacked them on the shelves. “I sometimes feel that he’s watching me whenever my back is turned.”
“Ignore him, hen,” Lizzie said firmly. “Get on wi’ yer work an’ pay him no mind.” She yawned. “Bedtime. Are ye comin’?”
“I will be there in a while,” Bettina replied, smiling. “I have to finish these.” She nodded toward the dishes. “Goodnight, Lizzie.”
“G’night, hen,” Lizzie said, yawning as she left.
As soon as she had gone, Bettina went around the kitchen picking up whatever scraps of food she could, mostly bread and pieces of raw vegetables. There was no meat, but she found a few small pieces of cheese. She stole a flask of milk and put all the items into a linen sack, then crept toward the steps to the dungeon. She did not know how she was going to enter, but she was relying on the goodwill of the guards, both of whom admired her.
“Where are you going?” A familiar voice rumbled out of the shadows before the tall, bulky form of the laird emerged into the light of her candle. He took the sack from her and looked inside, then pinned Bettina with a glare from his piercing blue eyes. “You were not perhaps thinking of feeding the prisoners?”
“Yes,” Bettina answered defiantly. “I was. They are starving.”
“And who made you the laird here?” he growled. “Because the last time I checked,Iwas the master of this estate!” He stepped toward her, and she took a step backward in a move that was eerily reminiscent of their first meeting. “I am the law here, not you. You may stay one more night, but tomorrow at first light, you will pack your belongings and leave my castle. Come and collect your wages from me. Your service is no longer needed.”
“I see you frowning a lot these days,” Ninian’s aunt Alison observed as he walked into the parlor, “but rarely quite so fiercely. What has upset you so much?”
Ninian warmed his hands at the fire for a moment, then began to pace up and down in front of it before he poured himself a large measure of whiskey and tossed it back in one mouthful. He began to pace again, this time even faster than before, but Alison stood up and blocked his path, then took both his hands in hers and looked up at him with eyes that were clouded with concern.
