Once Forbidden Read online

  Once Forbidden

  Terri Brisbin

  © 2011 by Theresa S. Brisbin

  (©2002 Originally published by Berkley/Jove)

  ©2011 Smashwords Edition

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Thank You.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Dedication:

  To those friends who made my RWA 2000 experience so much fun and whose enthusiasm fired me up to write this story—Colleen Admirand, Mary Lou Frank and Susan Stevenson. May you always have chocolate for your bananas and an Irish pub nearby for emergencies!

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Acknowledgments

  My thanks, once again, to Jody Allen. Her insight into Scottish culture, her knowledge of Scottish history, and her network of sources were incredibly helpful to me while writing this book and answering the many "what if" questions that arose. Any mistakes are my own.

  Author's Note

  Because Scottish Gaelic is difficult for most of us to read and pronounce and because it doesn't even sound as it looks, I originally chose to use a form of Scots English in this story. It has the characteristic accent usually associated with the Scottish language, but it is recognizable and readable to those of us who speak English. Reading it aloud will give you a real taste of Scotland, as it were. However, to make it a bit easier to read, I’ve smoothed out those words in this edition and used only a small sampling of those Scottish-sounding words.

  To aid in your reading, here are some of the commonly-used words and their translations:

  didna = did not

  no' = not

  willna = will not

  yer = your

  ye = you

  haes = has

  This list is not complete but is a sample of the words I use in the story.

  Table of Contents:

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Meet Terri

  Excerpt of A MATTER OF TIME

  Prologue

  Dunnedin, Scotland

  August 1351

  If Anice could only make it to the door. Wave after wave of dizziness and pain passed over and through her, making the room spin before her eyes. Step by step she inched her way across the chamber. The door. Safety. Someone would help her, must help her.

  The edges of the hand-embroidered nightgown dragged on the floor, soiling them even more than the blood and the spilt wine had. Her mother would not be happy at the condition of her wedding gift. Bare feet crunched on the rushes as she took one step after another; making it to the door was her only clear thought.

  As she reached out to lift the latch she noticed that her hands shook. She laughed out loud at her trembling fingers and wobbly legs. If the clan saw her now—the proud (too proud, some would say) Lady Anice MacNab, beaten into begging by her husband of one night—would they look on her with respect? With pity? She would not take pity from anyone. Not even in this condition. Not even because of the monster in that bed.

  The rustling of the bedcurtains scared her from her reverie and forced her to make the final step to the door. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the latch as quietly as she could, trying to escape the madness of the last hours.

  "Going somewhere, my dear wife?" Evil dripped from his honey-coated words.

  Anice didn't hesitate—she knew her life was at stake. She used the last ounce of her strength and pulled the door open. The look of horror on her maid's face told her how truly bad things really were. Firtha jumped to her feet and ran towards Anice, but Sandy got there first.

  "Now, Anice, it is too early on the morn after our wedding night for us to be apart."

  He wrapped an arm around her neck and dragged her back into the room. Gasping for breath, she fought their movement back to the bed. His steps slowed and he swayed, tripping on the bedclothes strewn in his path. He released her and she crawled away, seeking safety in the distance between them. She saw Firtha standing at the door, fear and confusion on her face. Sandy saw her, too.

  "You are Anice's maid?"

  Firtha simply nodded.

  "Get her cleaned up while I break my fast in the hall." Sandy sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his trews up and tied them at his waist. He leaned over to pick up his shirt from the floor, but fell to his knees and laughed.

  "Too much of your fine honeyed mead, Anice, and too much of you, too, I suspect."

  Another drunken laugh and he found his shirt. Regaining his feet, he stumbled in her direction. Still panting from her efforts to escape, she scrambled to her feet. Damn her pride, but she would meet him straight on, not crawling like an animal on the floor before him.

  Sandy staggered into her and grabbed her arms for support. Anice fought him, pulling backward, but his grasp grew tighter.

  "You still have some fight left in you? Excellent!" Without warning he swung out at her and knocked her to the floor.

  "You will await me here, dear wife. Get cleaned up for my return."

  She peeked at him from eyes nearly swollen closed and watched him lumber to the door. She thought he was gone when he turned back to her.

  "I will be bringing my guests back to visit with us. I plan to show them all the wonderful tricks I taught you during our wedding night."

  She felt the darkness swirling around her, trying to claim her. She shook her head, knowing that losing consciousness would endanger her. He must have seen the gesture and misunderstood it, for he charged back into the room.

  "You are my wife now, to do with as I please. If you please me in this, I may keep you for myself. Displease me and I will share you with every man I brought here from England."

  The blow surprised her—she could see his fist moving through the air towards her. Through the haze of pain and blood she saw it move slowly. She thought she had plenty of time to dodge the blow.

  She was wrong.

  * ~ * ~ *

  "Dear God in heaven!"

  He should have been expecting this. He should not have been surprised. And, as the one who led the clan MacKendimen into m
any battles, he shouldn't be sickened by blood or injuries. But he was.

  From the pallor of her skin, she must have lost more of her blood than she kept. The bedclothes piled at his feet were saturated with it. One eye was swollen closed and her face was bruised and cut. Lying unconscious in the huge bed, she looked much, much younger than her seventeen years.

  "The rest of her looks much the same, Struan. Cuts and scratches on her stomach, breasts, and back. Bruises on her arms and legs and back. And torn...." The clan healer looked at him with serious eyes. "She looks as if she was mauled by a beast."

  "God forgive me, he is a beast."

  As difficult as it was to acknowledge that his own flesh and blood did this, he knew the truth. Sandy, heir to the clan MacKendimen, was a beast, a depraved monster. And he, Struan, current laird, had unleashed it on this innocent.

  "What will ye do?" Moira gently placed another wet cloth on another bleeding and bruised spot and looked at him, through him.

  "If Robbie sees his daughter looking like this, marriage or no', there will be war."

  "'Tis the morning after. The MacNab and his wife will be here to see their daughter. Ye willna stop them."

  Struan ran his hands through his graying hair and looked once more upon the ravaged face of his daughter by marriage. Five years ago, he had taken action against his son for the good of the clan. Now, he faced the same decision again. It was good that his wife, Edana, died four years ago and did not have to learn the truth about their son. The sight before him now would surely have killed her.

  "Will she live?"

  "That is no' my decision, Struan. But, I will do as much as I can to help her." Moira paused and stared at him, awaiting his words.

  He reached down and touched Anice's hand. The lass mumbled and moaned in her stupor. He leaned down nearer to her mouth, trying to understand her words. Hearing them, in the breathless, terrorized whisper, was worse than seeing the damage. Anice was begging... pleading with her husband to stop his unspeakable attack.

  Struan knew what he had to do. The clan was the most important thing. He would send his son back, now, to England. There he could little damage the honor of the clan MacKendimen. There he could not harm this child more than he already had.

  And when the MacNab arrived, Struan would pledge on his honor that no more harm would befall the lass. Mayhap that would forestall any repercussions from Anice's parents.

  "As will I, Moira, as will I."

  * ~ * ~ *

  "What do you mean I cannot go into my wife's chamber?"

  "Sandy, yer faither asked me to bring ye to him. He waits for ye at the stable."

  "Brodie, get out of my way. My wife awaits me here. I'll see to my father later."

  The warrior simply blocked the door, keeping his cousin from entering. His uncle, the laird, did not want Anice disturbed. His orders were to bring Sandy as quickly and quietly as possible to the stables where Struan awaited them.

  "Yer faither said something about a gift ye must see for the king."

  "Now? Nay, Brodie, he can wait. What awaits me inside here will not."

  Sandy took a step towards the door and Brodie nodded his head to the two soldiers across the hall. They took hold of Sandy, who put up a brief struggle. The knock on his head from behind put an end to it. More soldiers took their place before Anice's door.

  "What is happening, Brodie?" the younger guard asked as they hauled the laird's unconscious son out of the castle.

  Brodie thought a moment before answering. He had a very good idea of what was going on, but it was not his place to talk about it with anyone except the laird. From the look of things, Struan was trying to keep this business with his son quiet.

  "I dinna ken, Iain. Just follow the orders ye have."

  A few minutes later, the heir of the clan lay sprawled at his father's feet on the packed-dirt floor of the stables. Brodie watched the laird circle his son, a stony look on his face. He had never seen his uncle like this and, for a moment, he felt pity for his cousin. It was a short moment.

  If only Alex were the heir, he thought. The impostor who had lived and trained with them for months was a better man than this one. 'Twas not meant to be, for Alex was gone and the clan was left with this excuse for a Scot.

  "Tie his hands behind him, Brodie." He did so, quickly and efficiently.

  "Wake him," Struan ordered.

  Brodie scooped up a bucket of water from the horse trough and threw it on his cousin. He grinned as Sandy screamed, coughed, and sputtered. Had poor Anice screamed during the night?

  "What the bloody hell do you think you are doing Brodie?" Sandy looked at him and Brodie saw the dawning perception of danger on his cousin's face. "Father, tell him to untie me. Now!" Sandy rolled on the floor, trying to gain his balance and get to his feet. With a foot on the heir's shoulder, Brodie pushed him back to the floor.

  "Stay!" roared Struan.

  Brodie smiled as he saw Sandy finally realize that he was in trouble, deep trouble.

  "What ye and yer Sassenach friends did to the whore two nights ago was a disgrace, Sandy," Struan began. "But to treat Anice in this way is an abomination. She was an innocent coming to yer bed and ye injured her terribly."

  "You have no right to chastise me about my wife, Father. No right at all."

  Sandy's voice rose in pitch, sending waves of revulsion down Brodie's throat. He felt like puking when Sandy acted so... English. Five years in London with David the Bruce, who was being held hostage there by King Edward III, and he had lost every bit of his Scottish pride. Brodie ached, understanding Struan's pain and disgrace in facing this disappointment for a son and heir.

  "I have every right, ye lousy bastard. I am yer laird and yer faither and ye will obey me." Struan's voice lowered, his expression more furious than before.

  "I can raise my hand to her when she needs correction, Father. Even you used your hand on my mother."

  "Aye, Sandy, I did once. And I regretted it every day of my life."

  "Anice will learn to please me soon enough. She will learn my ways and obey me. The stupid girl thought to naysay me on my wedding night," Sandy continued, completely unaware that he was driving his father to the brink of his self-control. Brodie thought for a moment about warning him off. Another very short moment.

  "She knew she had to prove herself a virgin after her actions with that impostor. She resisted my efforts to see if her maidenhead was intact so I hit her. It is my right."

  Sandy never saw the first punch coming. His nose, broken before, spurted blood down his face and into the dirt where he landed. It was followed by several more blows and then a final kick. The very air in the stables sizzled as Struan's fury poured out of him.

  "She came here and served our clan faithfully. She waited for ye faithfully. She married ye, doing her duty to our clan and hers. And ye beat her on her wedding night like she was some wild animal. Well, Sandy, how does it feel to ye?"

  Brodie let Struan land two more solid hits before he stepped in to stop him. He knew that Struan wanted to punish Sandy, not kill him. Struan was panting and blowing from the exertion and strain of beating his son.

  "His damned English friends wait for him outside the gates. Tie him on the horse if ye must, but get him out of Dunnedin now." Struan wiped his brow and turned away. No one said another word.

  Brodie nodded and with the help of the other guards he did just that—tied the unconscious man over the saddle and led him to the gates. When the iron gate had been raised, Brodie slapped the horse sharply and it skidded through the gate and down the path. The English escort, aware of Struan's intent to rid the clan MacKendimen of its heir once more, galloped after the spooked horse.

  Good riddance to bad rubbish, Brodie thought as he watched his cousin leave the clan once more. And this time, in addition to his plea that Sandy was gone for good, Brodie begged one more boon from the Almighty. Surely, He could find a fitting heir to follow after Struan and lead the clan MacKendimen.


  Surely.

  Chapter 1

  Six months later

  "Do you think we need more flour, Calum?" Anice counted as she pointed to the barrels stacked along the wall. "We have but eight left."

  "Eight should get us through the worst of the winter, my lady. We can purchase more at the spring festival."

  Anice slid her hand down her back, aching now from bending and twisting in the cramped storage room, and straightened up to face the cook. Pulling the edges of her plaid shawl back up onto her shoulders, she wrapped it more tightly around her to keep out the coldness. Normally, she enjoyed the bite of the winter's cold, but this winter was not normal for her in any way.

  "Calum, I have told you to call me Anice."

  "Forgive me, my... Anice. I didna mean to offend ye." The large man stuttered his words, shifted on his feet, and wouldn't look her in the eye.

  She knew that she would still see pity there and would rather him look away from her than gift her with that.

  "No offense taken. Now, have we checked all the foodstuffs?"

  "Aye... Anice, we have."

  "And you have the list I've drawn up?" Some supplies were short and would not last through the winter. She took full blame for the mistake. As chatelaine, she should have kept a better watch during the harvest and the salting times. She could have made arrangements to purchase what they didn't have. But those times were a blur in her mind, a walk through darkness that...

  Anice shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She would not think about those times; they were past and done and now she would pick up the pieces.