With Dreams Only of You Read online

“Of course ye would no’ ken that because ye never bothered to answer any of her letters,” Traigh interjected.

  Graeme’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. He had assumed Josephine was unable to write her own name let alone pen a letter. “She can read and write?” he asked.

  Traigh and Albert stared at him in disbelief. “How foolish can one man be?” Albert asked.

  Graeme gritted his teeth. “I would appreciate it if ye’d both stop callin’ me a fool.”

  Traigh crossed his arms over his chest and spread his feet apart. “We only speak the truth. Ye never read her letters, did ye?” He shook his head in disgust.

  Graeme felt a momentary pang of shame. He had received letters, many of them, but he had assumed they were from Josephine’s father or that someone else had written them. He hadn’t bothered to open any of them, for he had assumed they contained nothing but information on the betrothal and marriage contract. Demands, mayhap, of a father for his daughter. He felt his face grow warm with humiliation.

  “Nay, I thought the letters were from her da,” he admitted. “I did nae realize they were from her.”

  The three men stood silent for several long moments. Traigh and Albert were thoroughly frustrated with their youngest brother and they were not about to hide that fact.

  So what if the woman could read and write? It did not mean she possessed any kind of superior intellect. Though knowing that she was literate did manage to make Graeme feel somewhat better about the prospect of marrying her. His thoughts then returned to why his brothers were on their way to the MacAdams keep. “Ye said ye were goin’ to retrieve Josephine from her tetched brother,” Graeme said as he pulled on dry trews.

  “Aye,” Traigh said. “He be as tetched as he is cruel. Da received a letter from her just a few days ago. Helmert is gettin’ much worse in his abuse of her.”

  Was that what this was all about? His brothers were on their way to the MacAdams keep because Josephine and her brother were still fighting like children? “Ye jest,” Graeme said as he pulled on his boots. “Those two have been fightin’ all their lives. Now the lass has all of ye reduced to hysterics.”

  Traigh and Albert cast curious looks at one another. “What do ye mean?” Albert asked.

  “Josephine and Helmert. That be all I have ever witnessed between them, fightin’ like bairns.”

  His brothers stared at him blankly. Graeme let loose a frustrated breath and filled them in, beginning with the first time he’d met Josephine—when she was hiding in the tree—and finishing with his last encounter in the garderobe. When he was finished, he said, “So ye see? ’Tis probably nothin’ more than a brother and sister arguin’ over nothin’ of import. She has ye runnin’ across the country because she’s probably hidden his horse again. Or his strop or mayhap his boots this time.”

  In Graeme’s mind, this was nothing more than a quarrel between brother and sister.

  His brothers saw it in a completely different light. “So all those times, she was hidin’ in fear, and ye thought nothin’ of havin’ a wee chat with that older brother of hers? Ye never once thought to step in to protect her?” Traigh asked.

  “Of course no’,” Graeme said. “Why would I?” He felt certain that Josephine’s plea for help was nothing more than a spoiled young woman begging for attention.

  Albert threw his hands up in disgust. “I swear ye cannae be a MacAulay.”

  “Graeme, ye’ve been gone fer many years. Ye’ve no’ seen the lass as we have. Ye’ve no’ read her letters. Ye have no idea who she be or what she be like. I tell ye now, the lass is in dire need of our help,” Traigh said in a most serious tone.

  Graeme was not as convinced but knew it wouldn’t matter what his opinion might be. His brothers were convinced and their opinions would not be turned. Knowing it would be futile to make any attempt to change their minds, he decided to play along. “Verra well then, we should get to the MacAdams keep straight away,” he said, trying to sound sincere. “Before the lass hides his belt or his sporran.”

  Chapter Three

  “In here!” Josephine whispered frantically as she pulled away the tapestry that covered a small door. Covered in sweat and with her heart pounding against her breast, she prayed the bar on her door would hold long enough to give her time to hide Laurin. She yanked the small door open and told Laurin, “Do no’ come out until I come fer ye!”

  Laurin did not have to be told twice. She gave a quick nod before she crawled inside. The poor girl was terrified, as well she should be. Had Josephine not intervened, who knew what Helmart and his friends would have done to Laurin. Probably nothing more than what they had done in the past. Still, Josephine refused to stand by and allow the men to rape Laurin again.

  Josephine watched over her shoulder as Laurin made her way inside the secret hiding spot. She could hear Helmert and his friends shouting as they made their way down the hall outside her bedchamber. Once Laurin was settled inside, Josephine closed the door and let the tapestry fall back into place.

  Blood rushed in her ears as she made her way toward the window. Helmert and his friends were outside her door now, pounding against it with their fists, demanding entry. They banged against it with enough force that the heavy wooden bar began to rattle.

  “We ken yer in there, Josephine!” Helmert called out. “Give us Laurin and we’ll let ye live!”

  Bah! Over my dead body! She thought to herself as she wiped the blood from her broken lip onto her sleeve.

  Josephine gave a quick glance over her shoulder before opening the shutters. Just once, she wished she could go an entire week without having to hide herself or Laurin from Helmert and his friends. Lifting her skirts, she rested her bottom on the sill and spun around. She gave a quick scan of the ground below for any signs of Helmert’s friends before she wriggled to her stomach and began her climb down the trellis. She’d done this so many times, she reckoned she could do it in her sleep.

  Once her feet hit the soft earth, she lifted her skirts and took off running. She hoped to make it to the stables before Helmert realized she’d snuck out her window again. For someone who liked to brag frequently about his cunning and intellect, Helmert was as dumb as a basket of rocks. One would think he would have figured out by now that she had more than one way out of her room and more than one hiding spot.

  She ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

  * * *

  The MacAulay men and the Frenchman had just made their way through the arched gate of the MacAdams keep when they heard the shouting. Graeme could only assume it was Helmert MacAdams. Then he heard more male voices that made the hair on his neck stand up.

  Quickly, they aimed their steeds toward the shouting. Just as they rounded the corner, a feminine figure wearing a blue dress made her way down the trellis attached to the side of the keep.

  Josephine.

  Though he could not see her face, Graeme knew it was Josephine. She lifted her skirts and took off running, away from them. A shout from the other side of the keep drew their attention away. ’Twas Helmert MacAdams tearing around the corner. A leather strop was folded in one hand, his dingy tunic open to the waist, and a look of murder etched onto his face.

  This was no simple spat between brother and sister. Graeme’s gut tightened with that realization and anger began to boil. That anger increased tenfold when he saw two more men round the same corner, urging Helmert on. “Beat her ’til she canna walk,” the short man with dark hair called out to Helmert’s back.

  “But no’ so hard that she canna spread her legs fer me!” the other man called out.

  Fury ignited in the pit of Graeme’s stomach. He kicked the flanks of his horse and thundered across the yard to the stables.

  * * *

  Josephine ran across the courtyard as fast as her feet would take her. With blood rushing in her ears and her heart banging against her chest, she could barely hear the men shouting after her. All she could think of was getting away from her brother and his friend
s. She needed a safe place to hide and she needed it quickly.

  The granary was to her right, the stables to her left. She knew from past experience that there was nowhere to hide in the granary. The best route to safety was the stables.

  The men continued to shout, but they sounded muffled and far away. Hopefully, Helmert and his arrogant and foolish friends would give up their hunt, go back to the gathering room, and drink until they passed out. Until then, she would hide in the stables.

  Were she not running for her life, she would have made an attempt to avoid the puddles that littered the cobblestone yard. By the time she made it to the stables, her shoes were soaked through as well as the hems of her dress and chemise. She raced inside and headed for the stall furthest to her left. She practically dove into the straw head first, scrambling to cover herself and burrowing into the pile like a field mouse.

  Crying was impossible at the moment, for she could barely catch her breath. She had to concentrate on getting her breathing under control so that her gasps for air would not give her away. She shook from head to toe, from fear and dread as much as from the cold damp seeping into her bones through her wet shoes and clothes.

  Oh, how she wished her mamma was still alive! Her mother would have put a stop to Helmert’s cruel and borderline evil ways. Her mother would not have allowed him to beat and torment her, or her poor friend, Laurin. When her thoughts turned to Laurin, Josephine sent a silent prayer up to God that Laurin could remain safely hidden until the danger passed.

  She took in slow, deep breaths and tried to will her body to stop its incessant trembling. Cursing inwardly, she slowly lifted her hands and clamped them together. When would this insanity be over?

  As she lay huddled under the straw, she began yet another fervent prayer that God would send Traigh MacAulay to her and send him soon.

  Oh merciful father, please help— her prayer was cut short by someone grabbing her ankle and pulling her out of the straw.

  She opened her eyes and to her horror, ’twas Helmert standing over her.

  “I told ye what would happen if ye interfered again!” he shouted at her.

  Josephine kicked her free foot out in a futile attempt to free herself from her brother’s strong grip on her ankle. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw him lift his arm over his head. He was holding his leather strop over his head. When she saw the forward motion of his arm she knew she was in for another beating. Clamping her eyes shut, she covered her face and rolled over to her stomach in order to avoid being hit in the face and waited for the first strike.

  It never came.

  * * *

  Graeme had arrived at the rear of the stables just as Helmert MacAdams was preparing to beat Josephine with the strop. Anger coursed through his veins as he reached out and grabbed Helmert’s wrist, halting his downward motion in midair.

  Helmert, quite surprised, spun to see who had been impertinent enough to stop his assault on his sister, dropping her leg in the process.

  “Who are ye?” he asked incredulously.

  Graeme was seething with anger. “I be her betrothed.”

  * * *

  Josephine lay on the cold dirt, staring up in disbelief. Had she heard the man correctly? Was he truly Graeme MacAulay? She hadn’t seen him in more than four years. It had to be Graeme for he looked so much like the other MacAulay men, with the same blonde hair and similar green eyes.

  Holding her breath, she watched in stunned silence and waited. Graeme and Helmert glared angrily at one another. Helmert hated having his authority or actions questioned.

  “Betrothed?” Helmert asked as he wrenched his hand free of Graeme’s firm grip. “The bitch has no betrothed,” he ground out.

  Graeme was inflamed with fury. Grabbing Helmert by his tunic with both hands, Graeme flung the scrawny young man around and slammed him against the wall with enough force that it shook the items hanging on the walls to the ground.

  “I’ll warn ye only once to ne’er to speak about her in such an ugly manner,” Graeme fumed between gritted teeth.

  Helmert was just as furious as Graeme. “Ye gave up bein’ her betrothed a year ago, when ye failed to come fer her.”

  Graeme still had him in a firm grip, refusing to set him free. “I claim her now, ye bloody fool.”

  Helmert did his best to look disinterested and unbothered by Graeme’s anger. “Ye have no right to her.”

  Traigh and Albert had paused just a few steps away, with swords drawn and at the ready. When Josephine saw them enter, she scurried backwards, uncertain if a melee was about to commence.

  “Ye need to read the betrothal contract,” Traigh said as he glared at Helmert. “Graeme had up to one year after Joie turned eight and ten to come fer her.”

  Helmert might have been an ignorant and cruel man, but he was not so stupid that he would make any attempt at a physical fight against any of the MacAulay brothers. Besides, he was too drunk and sorely outnumbered.

  “Verra well,” he said. “Take her. She be nothin’ but trouble anyway. Ye can have her. But I warn ye, she’ll drive ye mad inside a fortnight with all her self-righteousness! And I’ll nae take her back!”

  Graeme was disgusted by this man’s attitude and air of self-importance. Long moments passed before he let Helmert loose and turned his attention to Josephine.

  Kneeling beside her, he studied her face. A bruise lined her right jaw. Blood oozed from her broken lip and had left a trail to her chin. He could also see bruises on her neck as if someone had tried to strangle her. If Traigh and Albert hadn’t been here with him now, he knew in his heart that he would have broken Helmert MacAdam’s scrawny neck.

  Bright green eyes, damp with unshed tears looked back at him. She was quite a beautiful young woman. No longer was she a gangly young girl. She’d grown into a stunning young woman. Something very reminiscent to a flutter tickled at his stomach and he was uncertain just what to make of it, so he pushed it aside. “Are ye well, lass?”

  * * *

  Josephine had lost the ability to speak. Graeme was saving her once again from her brother. She was quite thankful at the moment, that she wasn’t hiding in the garderobe like the last time she had seen him.

  He was just as kind as she remembered. Kneeling before her was a man full grown, not the young, slender lad she remembered. Nay, he was much taller now and his blonde hair was longer. Several days’ worth of whiskers lined his more-than-handsome face. ’Twas his eyes though, that brought back a flood of old memories. Filled with so much compassion and kindness that she was left mute.

  “Lass?” Graeme asked, suddenly looking quite worried. “Are ye well? Can ye stand?”

  Josephine swallowed hard and gave a quick nod of her head as her face grew warm with embarrassment. With a gentle hand on her elbow, Graeme helped her to her feet. “Ye need to pack yer things, lass. We will leave now.”

  Now? Panic began to settle in. She was not prepared to leave so quickly.

  “Traigh, Albert,” Graeme looked to his brothers. “Ye keep an eye on him” he said with a motion toward Helmert. “I will be helpin’ Josephine gather her things.”

  Hope began to rise inside her stomach. Today, she mused. In less than an hour she and Laurin would finally be free of this place, of her brother and his two vicious friends. Excitement fluttered from her stomach to her fingers as she proudly walked by her brother.

  Once outside, she recognized all but one of the men. Bruce and Albert had Helmert’s friends, Darvord and Clarence, pinned against a wagon, the tips of their swords only a hairsbreadth away from their necks. Josephine took a great measure of happiness in seeing the two fools look ready to piss themselves. There were other MacAulay men scattered about the yard with their weapons drawn as if they were prepared to do battle.

  Hurriedly, Graeme escorted her back to the keep. “Where be yer chamber?” Graeme asked as they stepped into the dimly lit entry.

  “Above stairs,” Josephine managed to stammer out.

  Gra
eme placed one hand on the small of her back while she led the way through the corridor and up the stairs. Her bedchamber was the third door on the right. Graeme’s hand never left her back and Josephine found it most comforting. For the first time in a very long time she felt protected.

  When they reached Josephine’s room, panic quickly swelled inside her stomach. The door was splintered and broken, hanging precariously on its hinges. Quickly, Josephine raced inside to make certain they hadn’t found Laurin. Graeme was right behind her, though he waited in the doorway at a respectful distance.

  Josephine went straightaway to the trunk, pulled it away from the wall and knelt down. She pulled the tapestry away and opened the door. “Laurin,” she whispered softly as she held out her hand. She was much relieved when she saw Laurin’s hand reach out for hers. “All is well now.”

  Reluctantly, Laurin took Josephine’s hand and crawled out of the secret hiding place. The blood on Laurin’s lip was still damp and her left eye was red and almost swollen shut. The bodice of her dress had been ripped open earlier by Clarence, the bloody lip a gift from Darvord. Quickly, Josephine tried closing the dress as best she could to help cover Laurin’s exposed breasts.

  Laurin’s eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open when she saw Graeme standing in the doorway. “Who be he?” she asked.

  Josephine hurried to the bed, grabbed a shawl and wrapped it around Laurin’s shoulders. “This is Graeme MacAulay. He is here to take us to his home.” ’Twas then that she noticed the other man from the courtyard. He was standing behind Graeme and off to one side. He had dark hair and even darker eyes. Not quite as tall as Graeme, but he had the same well-muscled form as her betrothed. A moment later, Albert stepped inside the room.

  “Us?” Graeme said as he stared at the two women.

  Josephine nodded and continued to smile at him. “Aye, us.”

  “But lass, who be she?” Graeme asked, looking quite confused.

  Josephine raised her chin ever so slightly. “This is my sister, Laurin.”

  Graeme’s eyebrow arched in befuddlement. “I was no’ aware ye had a sister.”