Page 146 of Highlanders for the Holidays
“His babe? That bastard child is nae Connor’s and never will be. And ye? Ye will never be anything more than a thief and whore. Everyone kens it. We dunnae want ye here,thief.Leave while ye still have a chance.”
’Twas more than an idle threat in the undertone of her words. ’Twas a promise of things to come, should she decide to stay. Why Margaret was convinced she’d stolen anything was a mystery to her. Onnleigh had only just met Ronald, and Connor was nothing more than her chief. Nay, he was more than that. He was the man who had given her a chance.Show them what a kind young woman ye are, he’d said.She heard his words as clearly as if he were standing beside her now.
From somewhere deep within, she found the courage to stand up to this brown-haired young woman.I’ll be kind, but I’ll also be strong. I be right tired of people thinkin’ they can call me names and treat me poorly.“I’ll nae leave unless Connor tells me to.”
Margaret stood to her full height, eyes glaring angrily with a depth of malice Onnleigh had never before seen. “Ye’ve been warned. Leave of your own accord or I’ll make it so the clan runs ye out like the thief I ken ye to be.”
Margaret turned to look at the two young women who’d come with her. At her sharp nod, they scurried to the shelves and scooped up all the drying cloths, hurrying from the bath house. Margaret picked up Onnleigh’s clothing and the drying cloth she had set on the stool earlier. “Enjoy yer bath,” she said as she sashayed out of the room.
“Bring back me clothes!” Onnleigh cried out.
Margaret stopped and turned to look back. “These?” she asked spitefully. “I would nae even put them in the rag bin. Lord only kens what vermin and filth they be covered in.” And with that, she left an angry, stunned Onnleigh in a bath full of tepid water.
She had tried calling out for Kate, the young woman who had helped her, but the lass never appeared. Onnleigh sat in the tub, the water growing colder, her anger hotter with each passing moment.
What right does she have to do this to me?Onnleigh thought to herself.I’ve ne’er done a thing to her. To anyone.
The longer she sat, the more furious she became.
Before long, she was too angry to think clearly enough to make any kind of wise decision. Finally, she shot to her feet and stepped out of the tub. There was not a drying cloth to be found. Angrily, she stomped through the place, hunting for something with which to cover herself. Thankfully, no one else was about. A quick search led her to one damp drying cloth that had fallen to the floor between two tubs.
’Twas barely big enough to cover breasts and parts not meant to be seen by anyone, but ’twould do for now. In a fury, she went off in search of Margaret.
* * *
Angrily, she stomped across the grass-covered earth, through muddy spots, calling out Margaret’s name as she went. Unable to find her out-of-doors, she flung open the door to the kitchens, surprising all within.
“Have ye seen the one called Margaret?” she demanded. “Helen’s daughter?”
Rapid shakes of multiple heads were the only answer she received. Slamming the door shut, she crossed the small space between kitchen and keep, flung open the door and headed inside.
There, in the middle of the crowded gathering room, was Margaret and her two friends, huddled together, giggling, no doubt at Onnleigh’s expense.
With hands clenched into tight fists, angry as a bull, she went to them. “Where. Are. My. Clothes.” Her words were clipped, filled with a lifetime of frustration and anger.
Margaret feigned ignorance. “Yer clothes? I fear I dunnae ken what ye mean.”
So angry her hands and legs were trembling, Onnleigh took one step forward. “Ye kenexactlywhat I mean. Where are me clothes?”
“Again, I tell ye I dunnae what ye mean,” Margaret said dismissively. “Mayhap a thief took them?”
“Ye are a mean, spiteful, foul woman!” Onnleigh growled. “’Tis nae wonder none wants ye as a wife. Now give me back me clothes.”
“I’d rather be mean and spiteful than a thief or a whore,” Margaret said, leaning in so only Onnleigh could hear clearly.
In a fury of pent up anger, Onnleigh drew back her hand and slapped Margaret across the face. ’Twas the first time in her life she’d ever struck another living thing.
Before Margaret could retaliate, Ronald appeared from somewhere, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away. Someone was doing the same to Onnleigh.
“Ye be a wretched whore and nothin’ more!” Margaret shouted as her arms flailed out in an attempt to reach her foe.
“Yer nothin’ but a mean and hateful person!” Onnleigh shouted back. “I’ve ne’er done a thing to ye, yet ye call me names and accuse me of doin’ things I’ve ne’er done!”
Connor’s deep voice boomed and echoed off the walls. “Stop!”
It had been he who grabbed her and pulled her away from Margaret. He startled Onnleigh into silence, but Margaret continued with her accusations and hate-filled words.
“Will someone please tell me what the bloody hell is goin’ on?” Connor shouted.
