Muriel’s first week living amongst the Mackintoshes and McLarens was somewhat busy, even if she didn’t venture out of her new home. Aggie and Rose visited her daily, and always with something new to add to her little hut. In no time, it began to look more like a home than an empty hovel. Soon, there were shelves on the wall — built by Rodrick — to hold dishes. Her pallet was replaced with a small bed, and more chairs were found and set around the table. Aggie and Rose, along with Aggie’s son, Ailrig, and Rodrick were her only visitors. She did not care yet to meet anyone else. Her shame was such that it precluded her from leaving the safety of the hut.

As much as she hated to admit it, she genuinely liked Rose and Aggie. They were kind, warm, and generous. Not only with material things, but with their time as well. Aggie had even given her a new dress to wear. ’Twas a pretty green wool, lined at the hem, bodice and sleeves with bright goldenrod threads. She insisted ’twas a dress she had owned for an age, but Muriel didn’t believe it for a moment. There was not a stain or repair to be found on it. She was more than grateful to have something else to wear.

She had met Ailrig the morning after she had arrived. He’d been every bit the gentleman, at least as much as any eleven-year-old boy could be. He had helped carry in the furniture and other things meant for Muriel’s new home. He was so sweet and endearing, that ’twas impossible not to like him.

Rodrick visited her at least twice a day. At first, his visits were short; he only stayed long enough to bring her a tray of food, or buckets of water, or wood for her brazier. But as the days went on, he began to stay longer and longer. With each visit, it felt as though something was left unsaid betwixt them. She was too tired to inquire as to what that something might be.

During those visits, Muriel came to know Rodrick better. She had learned he had lost his parents and only sibling, a sister, a long time ago, to the black death. Rodrick needn’t say a word for her to know the loss still affected him to this day. She, too, had lost her parents to an illness and could well understand how one never quite gets over that grief. And now that she had lost her brother, Charles, she felt very much the orphan.

She also learned that Rodrick preferred whisky over ale, but only in small amounts. I be no’ one to drink meself to stupidity, he had told her one evening. She also learned that he had never truly felt at home until he came to live amongst the Mackintoshes and McLarens. She also learned that he preferred simple meals of meat pies or fish, savories over sweets. And she began to realize he had a good sense of humor.

They were taking a walk down by the stream one cloudy and breezy afternoon. The water rippled as if it were fighting against the slight wind that raked over it. All at once, the clouds parted and the wind died down.

“It looks as though summer has arrived,” Rodrick said.

Muriel agreed with a quiet nod as she looked up at the sky. The sun felt good against her skin and she soaked up the warmth as she let her shawl fall from her shoulders. “Summer was me mum’s favorite time of year”, she said.

Moments later, the clouds returned, bringing with them even stronger breezes and a few raindrops.

“Och!” Rodrick said with a mischievous smile. “And now ’tis over. But it did last a wee bit longer than last year, aye?”

Just why she found it so funny, she couldn’t begin to say. For the first time in months, she actually laughed. Unconstrained and uncontrollable, she laughed until her sides ached. The more she laughed, the more Rodrick smiled. There was also a bit of pride twinkling in his bright blue eyes.

“’Tis good to hear ye laugh, lass,” he said, still smiling.

“I must admit, it does feel good,” she told him as she tucked her hand into his offered arm with a smile. From that point forward, Rodrick made it his mission to make her laugh as often as he could.

* * *

Muriel was not just ill in the morning, but in the afternoons as well. This babe was certainly wreaking havoc on her body, making her constantly tired, even a bit irritable, and giving her a stomach that couldn’t seem to hold anything down.

Both Aggie and Rose insisted that the upset stomach would eventually go away. But the being tired all the time? “That will no' go away until ye become a grandmother,” Rose told her one afternoon. Aggie had to agree. “Bein’ a mum is the hardest work a woman can ever do. But ’tis also the most rewardin’.”

Muriel didn’t want to hear about the rewards motherhood offered. She was still convinced she would not keep this babe. But neither of the women would listen to her when she mentioned it. Whenever she brought the matter up, one of them would immediately change the subject.

While she knew they meant well, that they were only trying to be encouraging in her time of despair, she hated the way they dismissed her concerns and worries. Though she truly did appreciate their companionship and kindness, this one thing grated on her nerves.

Rodrick was no better. He too would dismiss her complaints. “Ye’ll feel differently after ye have the babe,” he would say in a most irritatingly reassuring tone.

Betimes she wished they weren’t so nice. Mayhap then she could wallow in her own misery a bit better. But ’twas growing more and more difficult to grouse and feel morose when one was surrounded by such good, kind people.

Being the people they were, they’d not pity her, nor would they help flame the fuel and add to her brooding moods. If she were honest with herself, she would admit she was glad for their positivity.

* * *

’Twas on the eighth day of her arrival that things changed. Muriel woke up that morning with an upset and sour stomach, which had become her normal state of being. She was also just as tired as she always was, even after going to bed early the night before.

Nay, she hadn’t changed, but Rodrick had. He arrived at noontime, looking as though he were about to meet the king. His face was freshly shaved, his hair still damp from bathing, and he smelled quite nice. He wore a fresh, dark blue tunic and black leather trews. Even his boots looked clean and the hilt of his sword glistened in the sunlight.

“Good day to ye, Muriel,” he said as he stood in the doorway.

“Rodrick,” she said as she stepped aside to allow him in.

He didn’t budge.

“What be the matter?” she asked, sensing something was amiss. Was she imagining things, or did he seem nervous?

“I would like ye to take a walk with me,” he said.

She began to protest. “I do no’ think—”

“Please?”

’Twas more sheer curiosity than his plea that made her grab a shawl and leave her hut.

The yard was bustling with all manner of people, mostly men who were busy working on building the keep. Women stood around fires and tables as they prepared meals. Children ran through it all without a care in the world.

And not one person gave her any notice.

Not one.

Mayhap they had been ordered by Rose and Ian to leave her be. Either way, she wasn’t certain if she would have preferred they threw stones and insults over the silence she was met with.

Rodrick led her out of the yard, through the great wall, and away from the keep. “Where are we goin’?” she asked nervously.

“Just fer a walk, lass. We’ll no’ go far.”

Whether ’twas instinct or the fact that Rodrick had never done anything to make her feel ill at ease, she was not filled with fear or dread. She had to admit that she did like his company. She felt safe whenever he was near.

They headed south until they came upon a wide, meandering stream. The sound of water trickling over the rocks and pebbles was relaxing. It was a beautiful day, with the sun hanging high, bathing the land in warmth and comforting brightness. Flowers in shades of pale yellow, dark pink, and lavender peeked their heads through the tall grass that waved in the gentle breeze.

They followed the stream until they came upon a copse of trees. In the distance, Muriel could hear the faint sounds of men working on the keep. The rhythmic tap tap tap of hammers against wood and the occasional shout of an order wafted in on the breeze.

Rodrick stopped and turned to face her. For the first time since meeting him, she actually took the time to truly look at him. He was not what some would call a handsome man. But neither was he horrible to look upon. The breeze picked up his long brown hair, making him look even more a warrior. His bright blue eyes held an intensity and warmth that didn’t make sense to her at the moment.

“Muriel,” he began, then his voice caught in his throat. He cleared the knot and tried again. “Muriel, there be something I want to say and ask ye.”

Puzzled, she nodded and gave him permission to continue.

He started to speak, stopped, and started again. He grew frustrated rather quickly and let out a sharp, irritated breath. “God’s bones,” he mumbled as he raked a hand through his hair.

“Rodrick? What be the matter?” she asked, growing more and more confused.

He stared at her for a long moment before throwing his hands in the air. “I be makin’ a mighty mess of things, aye?”

She had no idea what he meant by that.

Another exasperated sigh and he tried once again. “I ken we have no’ known each other long, lass. And I ken I be no’ the most handsome or brightest of men. But I be a good man. An honorable man who keeps his word. Ye ken?”

Not understanding what he was trying to say, she could only nod her head. “Aye, I believe ye be an honorable man.”

He smiled then. A wide, happy smile. “I am,” he said as he continued to look upon her with that fond smile.

“Is that all?” she said after a long moment of silence had passed.

“Nay,” he finally answered. “Nay, that no’ be all.”

Muriel was doing her best to remain patient until he was able to tell her what was weighing so heavily on his mind. “And?” she asked, hoping to prod him into getting to the point.

“I want to marry ye,” he finally blurted out.

Stunned, she took a step back, uncertain she had heard him correctly. “What?” she asked breathlessly.

“I want to marry ye.”

* * *

Rodrick had come to that decision a week ago. It had taken him this long to get up the courage to ask. Finally he had decided to take the chance today, for he was fearful someone else might before he had the opportunity. That had happened once, with Leona MacDowall. With a deep sense of desperation, he did not want a repeat of that day.

He knew he had very little to offer Muriel, but he would give anything he owned to hear her say yes. Instead, she looked at him with horror-filled eyes. It did little to bolster his ego or his hopes.

“I ken I be a bit aulder than ye,” he told her. By more than a decade if anyone chose to count. Nearly two if he were honest. “And I ken I be no’ the most handsome man ye’ll ever meet.” There were countless others amongst his own clan who were far easier on the eyes than he. “And I do no’ have much to offer ye,” he added. “But whatever I have be yers.”

Tears welled in her pretty eyes and she took another step back. “Ye can no’ mean what ye’re askin’,” she said.

“But I do mean it, lass,” he replied bluntly. He had grown to care for this young woman a great deal. ’Twas not just that she needed a husband and father for her unborn child. That was part of it, but not all of why he was asking. He found her beautiful, smart, and witty. That was when she wasn’t so consumed with what had happened to her. “I—”

“Nay,” she said, the look of horror still etched on her face. “Nay, I can no’ marry ye. I can no’ marry anyone!”

“But yer babe,” Rodrick replied. “Yer babe will need a father.”

’Twas mayhap not the right thing to say.

* * *

The babe. The babe! Muriel’s life now revolved around a babe she did not want. Everyone seemed to be more concerned with this child who was conceived out of a violent act than they were concerned with her.

“I will no’ marry ye, or any man,” she said as she swallowed back the tears and bile. “And I am no’ keepin’ this babe! As soon as it’s born, I am giving it away. I never want to see it, to look at it, or touch it, do ye understand? And I want to be left the bloody hell alone about it!”

She didn’t wait for a response before turning away and fleeing, leaving him standing alone next to the stream.

Her emotions and thoughts ran rampant. Were her situation different, had she not been raped, were she not carrying Fergus MacDonald’s babe, she might very well have said yes to Rodrick’s proposal.

But her situation wasn’t different.

It was as real as the grass she was running through. It was as real as the deep ache in her heart.

It was as real as the babe growing inside her.

She didn’t want a proposal born out of pity, and that was all Rodrick’s proposal was; a sheer act of pity.

Lord, she knew she was being foolish and even selfish, but she could not help it. These feelings boiling up inside her, this constant sense of despair and anguish over what had happened to her would not cease. No matter how hard she prayed to feel differently or to forget the last year of her life. There was no running from it and no way to deny it.

Through the open gates she ran straight to her hut. She slammed the door behind her and fell onto her bed. Her tears came in great, wracking sobs.

She knew she had hurt Rodrick’s feelings, but that had not been her intent. She knew she owed her life to him. But to marry him out of a sense of gratitude or despair? Nay, that would not be fair to either one of them. Rodrick deserved far better than that. There was no hope for her. She was a lost soul without a future. And there was no way she could ever be a true wife to him.

Around and around her emotions went — from anger to guilt and everything in between — until her head spun and her stomach churned.

How can I make him understand? She cried silently. How can I make anyone understand when I do no’ quite understand it myself?

* * *

Rodrick stood frozen in place as he watched Muriel go.

He had never felt more dejected than he did right now. His heart cracked a little more with each step she took away from him.

Ye be a fool, Rodrick. A bloody fool.

Why he thought she would accept his proposal to begin with, he could not now imagine. Mayhap he hoped she was just desperate enough to say yes. Mayhap he thought she could overlook his shortcomings — and there were many — and agree to a union betwixt them.

Until the past year, having a wife and children was nothing more than a dream and ridiculous wish. Though he believed he didn’t truly deserve those things, the yearning for hearth and home, for a wife and bairns, had grown stronger.

Mayhap ’twas because he was not getting any younger. Mayhap he was tired of roaming the country looking for a place to call home. He was tired of looking, tired of waiting and wishing for things that he now believed were no longer possible. He truly assumed Muriel was his last hope at having the kind of future he now yearned for.

What was wrong with him that turned women away? He was a strong man, with good morals, and held himself to a high standard of honor. He did not drink in excess, he never chased after bar wenches and whores. He could be a good provider to a family.

The more he thought on it, the angrier he became. He may not be as handsome as Ian Mackintosh, but neither was he a monster. He might not be a man of flowery words or poetry, but neither was he an idiot.

Ye be a warrior, fer the sake of Christ, he cursed under his breath. “That be all ye are, Rodrick MacElroy. A warrior.”

Mayhap ’twas time to set aside this yearning for a home and accept what he was.

* * *

It did not take long for word to reach Aggie and Rose that something was amiss with Muriel. The two women came to her hut as soon as they heard. Muriel was in no mood for company. “Go away,” she called from her bed. Rodrick must have told them, the traitorous man! Now they were here to try to convince her to marry him. They knocked again. “I said go away!” she shouted to the door.

The two women did not heed her demand and came in anyway.

Muriel’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. Keeping her back to the door, she remained curled into a ball and holding a pillow to her chest.

“Muriel,” Rose said as she came to sit on the edge of the bed. “We heard ye came through the gate cryin’. What happened?”

Mayhap they truly didn’t know. “I do no’ wish to talk about it.”

“Och, lass!” Rose said as she patted her shoulder. “Ye must talk about it. Ye will feel better.”

Anger bubbled from deep in her stomach. “Nay I will no’ feel better. Ye will no’ listen anyway. Ye’ll just ignore me and tell me I will feel better later. After the babe is born. Everything is always after the babe is born with ye two!”

Rose and Aggie giggled. They laughed at her distress. Furious, she sat up in the bed and glared at them. “’Tis no’ funny!”

Aggie brought a chair over and sat next to her. “Lass, we laugh because we have both been with child. We understand that yer feelin’s, yer emotions, they sometimes do no’ make a lick of sense when ye’re carryin’. That ’tis why we do no’ take everythin’ ye say so seriously.”

Appalled, she stared at them with mouth agape. “Ye think, ye truly think I be so upset all the time because I be with child?”

Each of them nodded aye.

The tears began to fall again, but not out of a sense of sadness. These were tears of sheer anger. “I be upset all the time because of Fergus MacDonald! Because he raped me. Repeatedly. Over and over again for three solid months. I be upset because I feel dirty, unworthy, used, and ugly! I be upset because every time I close me eyes I see his face. I hear his words in me sleep. Ye be a whore, Muriel. Naught but a whore. Ye like it when I do this to ye. Admit it!” She took in a deep breath and shook her head. “I carry the babe of a man I despise, a man I wish I had had the strength to kill. A man who torments me day and night even now.”

Rose started to speak, but Muriel stopped her. “Nay! I will no’ listen to ye tell me how I will feel after this babe is born. Do ye no’ understand? I am no’ the same happy, cheerful girl I used to be. He destroyed her. He destroyed me, and left this,” she spread her arms wide as if to say take a good long look. “I have no future. I have no life. All me hopes and dreams are gone now. I will never have a chance at a normal life, at a happy life. Neither of ye could ever understand that!”

Aggie quirked a brow and stood up. “Rose, will ye go and check on Ada fer me?”

Rose did no’ argue. Quietly she left them alone.

* * *

Once the door closed behind her, Aggie looked at Muriel. “Ye think I do no’ understand?” she asked with a raised brow. “If anyone here understands, it be me.”

Immediately, Muriel felt guilty for saying no one would understand. But she truly believed her circumstance was different than Aggie’s. How the woman had been able to overcome what had happened to her, she could not understand. Neither could she understand how Aggie had been able to keep, raise, and love her son.

“Think ye be the first women ever raped? Think ye the first woman who has ever gone through what ye be goin’ through?”

Muriel swallowed hard before replying. “Nay,” she murmured. “But—”

Aggie stopped her protest. “There be no but. I too, have gone through what ye have. ’Tis true I was only raped once, no’ repeatedly like ye. But me attacker? He left me with three things. One, this scarred face,” she said, turning the scarred cheek so that Muriel could get a better look. “Secondly, he left me with child. I was only three and ten.” Turning her head, she looked Muriel in the eyes. “And he left me with a sense of fear that only someone like us could ever understand.”

Aggie sat down on the edge of the bed. “Muriel, I do understand. I ken how the fear can take over yer life. I ken how it hurts. There were many times I wished I could just die. Just close me eyes and never wake up. But God did no’ answer those prayers.”

“That is all I want right now,” Muriel admitted. “To die. To walk away, find a quiet place, and let death come fer me.”

Aggie’s knowing smile said she knew all too well that feeling.

Muriel’s next thought was of Ailrig. “How can ye love Ailrig as ye do?” Muriel asked.

“Because he be mine. Half of him is me. I could no more give him up than I could fly,” she said as she patted Muriel’s hand. “’Tis true, I did worry he would be more like his father than me, but either by God’s good grace or the way I raised him, he is nothin’ at all like the man who raped me.”

Muriel never thought of it that way, that half this babe was made of her own blood.

“Ailrig does no’ ken that I be his mother by blood. Fredrick adopted him after we were married. I do no’ think I shall ever tell Ailrig the truth of it, fer I do no’ want him to worry that he might turn out like the man who sired him.”

“I will no’ ever say a word,” Muriel promised.

Aggie smiled and thanked her for keeping that confidence. “Fredrick has done much to help me. ’Twas through his love and kindness that I was able to stop bein’ afraid, stop holdin’ me head in shame, and to stop me stutterin’.”

Muriel’s brow creased. “Ye stutter?”

“No’ anymore,” Aggie said with a smile. “But it used to be so bad, I did no’ speak fer many years.”

Muriel thought that an awful thing but said nothing.

“Fredrick helped me find me voice,” Aggie said as her lips curved into a warm smile.

Muriel wiped her tears on her sleeve. “Rodrick asked me to marry him,” she told her.

Aggie lifted a pretty brow. “And that is what upset ye so?”

“Aye,” Muriel whispered.

Aggie nodded her head as if she understood. “Ours was an arranged marriage of sorts, Fredrick’s and mine. We did no’ love each other at first.”

Muriel stared in wide-eyed curiosity. “’Twas no’ a love match?”

Aggie giggled. “The furthest thing from a love match,” she said. “’Twas months before we even consummated our marriage.”

Truth be told that was also a fear of Muriel’s. How could she give herself freely to Rodrick? Or any man for that matter?

“Fer ten long years after I was raped, I lived in constant fear, ye ken. The fear was always with me. Fear he would come back and do it again. Fear he would learn Ailrig was his and would take him from me. Fear that me da would find out and force a marriage betwixt us.” Her smile faded with thinking of those possibilities. “But something happened months after I married Fredrick. He showed me I no longer had to be afraid, ye see. And I finally decided that I had given far too many years to me rapist. I decided that I was no’ going to give him any more of meself than what he took — and he took everything.”

“Fredrick never insisted or demanded more?” Muriel asked.

“Nay, he did no’. He knew, ye ken, about what had happened to me. Fredrick be more than just a kind man, ye see. He be honorable and patient. Even if we had never joined as a man and wife do, he would still love me, and he would still be a good father to Ailrig.”

Honorable. In her heart she knew Rodrick was an honorable man. But could he be as patient with her as Fredrick had been with Aggie?

Sensing what she was thinking, Aggie smiled warmly. “I think Rodrick be a good man, Muriel. But the only way ye’ll ken if he would wait until ye are ready is to ask.”

Muriel felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. “I think I hurt him too much,” she said. “I screamed at him and told him nay, that I could no’ marry him or any other man.”

“I think Rodrick will understand. But ye must talk to him. If he is the kind of man I think he is, then he will.”

Muriel was filled with doubt on that matter.

Her thoughts soon turned to her babe. Aggie was right in that half this babe was her own. Could she ignore the other half that helped make it?

“God has a plan fer ye, Muriel. I do no’ ken what that plan be, but I do believe everythin’ will turn out as it is meant to. Ye simply have to open yer heart to all that could be and no’ dwell on what has been.”

* * *

The more Rodrick thought on the matter, the angrier he became. He was not angry with himself or even with Muriel. Nay, he was angry with Fergus MacDonald.

He’d stayed by the stream for a long while, pacing and thinking.

Muriel had not been upset because he had proposed. She was upset because of what Fergus had done to her. ’Twas all still too raw and fresh in her mind. Roderick had been a fool for asking so soon. Had he thought it out more clearly, he would have waited to ask for Muriel’s hand. Such as after he killed Fergus MacDonald and brought his head in a basket and presented it to her. Mayhap then she would realize she never had to fear the man again, nor would she have to fear Rodrick.

Rodrick was not a man to mince words or to flower them to help break a fall so to speak. Nay, they did not call him Rodrick the Bold for those reasons. He was Rodrick the Bold because he was as fierce on the battlefield as he was off it.

But he wanted her to want him. Not so much in the physical sense, but more in her heart. With a deep need he couldn’t understand let alone try to explain, he wanted Muriel to be as fond of him as he was of her.

Without a doubt, he knew he had to apologize to Muriel. He could count on one hand the number of times he had apologized in his lifetime. And he’d still have five fingers left.

Still, he raised his head high, put his shoulders back and headed to Muriel’s hut. First he would apologize for his proposal. Then he would make her a promise: he’d bring Fergus MacDonald’s head to her either in a basket or on a pike. The choice was hers.

He rapped gently on the door and held his breath. As soon as she opened the door, his heart fluttered in his chest. ’Twas more than just his deep seeded need to help her, to make her feel safe. He truly liked the young woman. He also thought her quite beautiful, even though her eyes were red from crying.

Thankfully, she did not slam the door in his face. Nay, she did something quite odd considering the state she had been in an hour before. She smiled, a bright, beautiful smile and looked quite relieved to see him. “Rodrick,” she said as she let him in.

Surprised, he could only stare at her in muted silence. What had caused this turn around in behavior?

She sat down at the little table and offered him a seat. “I be sorry for how I reacted earlier. I do no’ want ye to think that I could no’ marry ye in particular,” she told him.

That was good to hear, and he told her so. “I, too, wish to apologize,” he said. “I think mayhap me proposal was too soon. I did no’ mean to hurt ye.”

“Ye did no’ hurt me,” she replied softly. “But I ken that I hurt ye. And fer that, I be truly sorry.”

Aye, her initial response had stung. But after he had thought about it, he could not fault her for her reaction. “I can assure ye, me feelin’s are quite intact,” he said.

They sat in silence for a time while Muriel puzzled over just how to broach the one thing weighing heavily on her mind. After Aggie left, Muriel had plenty to think about. God has a plan fer ye, Aggie had insisted. But just what that plan was, Muriel had no earthly idea. However, she was now quite willing to consider the possibility that she might not be meant to live all the rest of her days alone, terrified, and consumed with guilt.

“Rodrick, I have to ask ye a question. One that I find a bit embarrassin’.”

Curious, he raised and brow and said, “Lass, ye can ask me anythin’. I will no’ make light or fun of ye.”

He watched as she took in a breath, her gaze turning to the table. “If we were to marry,” she began in a soft whisper, “I do no’ ken when, or if ever, I could be a true wife to ye.”

There was no doubt to what she was referring. Rodrick had thought about that long and hard before he had proposed to her. “More than anything, I want a wife, a family,” he told her honestly. “I want to be a good husband to ye, Muriel. And a good da to yer babe. As fer the rest of it, well, that can wait until ye be ready.”

“But what if I am never ready?” she asked.

Then I would have failed in me duty to always make ye feel safe, protected, and important, he said to himself. ’Twas his firm belief that once she was no longer afraid or ashamed of what had happened, she would be able to come to him as his wife. “I would be willin’ to wait.”

After a long moment, she lifted her gaze and looked him in the eye. “But what if I am never ready?”

Rodrick could not resist smiling. “Then I would have lived a good long life, with a wife, a child to call me own, and I would die a happy man.” ’Twas nothing short of the truth.

She was deeply touched by his sincerity. The genuineness in his words and tone meant much more than she could ever put to words. It even sent a fluttering sensation through her heart. Muriel studied him closely for a long moment. “If ye be certain of that, then aye, Rodrick, I will marry ye.”