THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

his hands through his hair and growled in frustration. He’d not been able to lock her in for lack of a lock, but she’d locked him out by simply propping something under the latch. He pressed his forehead to the door. “Lass, please. ‘Tis not as ye think. Flora waylaid me, ‘twas all. I wouldna do that to ye.”
    He waited for a response and heard more muffled sobs.
    Damnation! And why did she cry so? ‘Twas naught as if she loved him. Women! They’d be the death of him.
    A great murmuring rose from the hall and Duncan’s attention began to vacillate between his sobbing wife and discovering what now had the clan in an uproar. He should stay and plead his case, but what was wrong below? The conversation escalated in volume and he stared down the hall toward the stairs.
    Surely, if given time to ponder his words, Beth would see he spoke the truth. No? He had, after all, pledged his fealty to her before God and his clan just a week past, and all knew him to be a man of his word. Aye, ‘tis best she found the right of it in her own good time.
    He cast a final glance at the barred solar door before starting down the steps. Mayhap, he could coerce Rachael into helping Beth to see reason. He was, after all, a peaceful man and did not want his life at sixes and sevens any longer than need be.
    In the hall Duncan couldn’t make heads or tails of what his clansmen were saying about Beth whilst everyone talked at once. To all he shouted, “I just left my ladywife. She’s in the solar so how can this be?”
    “‘Tis true, my lord,” Clive MacDougall, an able solider chimed in. “I was up on the battlement, above the portcullis and saw the bairn racing after the cat with ye lady fast on his heels. I shouted as she did, but to no avail. The lad toppled in. By the time I got down to the quay Lady Beth had jumped in after the lad. Ye can understand my distress; the wee lad canna swim and me not knowing if yer lady could?”
    “‘Tis as he says, my lord,” Kari interrupted.
    Duncan waved the bairn’s mother forward.
    “Just moments ago...” Kari wrung her hands, “...I looked about for Miles and then saw yer lady running through the gate yelling, ‘No, baby, no!’ With my sweet babe gone, I gave chase. I near died seeing him fall into the sea.” Tears sprang into her eyes. “Drown he would have if not for yer Lady Beth. I canna swim and Clive couldna have reached him before...” She gulped as tears coursed down her ruddy cheeks. “Yer lady just disappeared into the sea after my Miles and then rose with him in her hands.”
    All who claimed to have seen the astonishing event nodded as one. Someone muttered, “Like in the tale of the Lady of the Lake, my lord. Only ‘twas not a sword but the bairn she rose up with clutched to her breast.”
    Duncan mentally pictured Beth standing in the hall—beyond the shock and dismay he’d originally noticed on her visage, he now realized she had looked like a ewe caught in a hard rain. Why hadn’t he noticed before this?
    Ack! ‘Twas little wonder she’d told him to go to hell. He’d not be the least surprised if she now plotted his demise. Good thing he’d ordered all the sgian dubhs away or he might find one buried to the hilt between his ribs. What a dreadful day his poor addled Beth has had.
    ‘Twas past time for him to humble himself before her and beg for reconciliation. On his knees, if need be, before the solar door.
    As he turned to the stairs, he heard Angus hail him.
    “My lord, a word if ye please.”
    Duncan studied his second in command’s stern countenance as he approached. “Ye return earlier than expected. Is something amiss?”
    Angus dropped his voice to a whisper. “‘Tis the Bruce. We need speak of in private.”
    Duncan, irked by life’s timing, nodded. He would just have to speak with Beth after discovering what his enemy planned.
    ~#~
     
      God, if you don’t get me out of this time warp soon I’m going to kill him.
    Of all the woman in the keep, why Flora? Why not someone with a sweet disposition, some widow with six children she couldn’t hate so much? But no. Instead, “plain-as-pudding Pudding” has to find her man in the arms of a woman with a snide attitude, a supermodel face and great boobs. And lest we forget, one who also speaks fluent French. Talk about finding oneself on the short end of life’s equation! She mopped away her tears with her palms.
    Enough!
    She’d done nothing but cry herself sick for two