Bertrice Small - Bedazzled

It was dark when the dogs began to bark. Diarmid arose, and, going to the lodge's door, opened it. He could see the flickering of the torches through the trees as the duke's party came out of the forest and into the clearing.

James Leslie, duke of Glenkirk, pushed his horse forward, stopping by Diarmid More-Leslie's side and asking, "Is the bairn born yet?" He dismounted.

"Several hours ago, my lord. A laddie, strong and sweet," was the reply.

Jasmine dismounted her stallion. "Is my daughter all right?"

"Very well, my lady. She's sleeping. Come into the house. Meggie can tell ye more," the clansman told his duchess.

"See to the men," the duke commanded him, and, taking his wife's arm, entered the lodge.

Meggie bobbed a curtsey. "My lord. My lady."

Jasmine smiled at the serving girl, and then hurried up the stairs to the bedchamber. Entering it, she saw India, sleeping soundly. She looked into the cradle and smiled. The baby was absolutely beautiful.

"Mama?" India suddenly called to her mother.

"Sweeting, he is a lovely lad," Jasmine said softly.

"His name is Rowan," India murmured, then fell back to sleep.

Jasmine's heart contracted painfully. Her daughter had named this infant after her own true father. She doubted India could remember anything of Rowan Lindley, but she had chosen to name her child after him. The duchess of Glenkirk went back downstairs again.

"How is our lass?" Jemmie asked his wife.

"Sleeping, though she woke a moment. She has called her son Rowan. He is a beautiful boy," Jasmine told her husband.

"You know what must be done," the duke said stonily, his handsome face set.

"Jemmie, in the name of God I beg you not to do this thing. India will never forgive you. Is that what you want? For your daughter to hate you for the rest of her life?" Jasmine pleaded with her husband.

"Jasmine, we hae no other choice. We hae discussed this all winter long. There is nae other way if India's reputation is to be salvaged. We hae had a good offer for the girl, and I've taken it, but she canna go to her husband wi her bastard."

"My grandson is no more a bastard than I was, James Leslie," Jasmine said angrily.

"But her marriage to this infidel, and this child, are nae easily explained," the duke said. "India will be wed as soon as we can manage it. The earl is willing to do it by proxy, and then she will be gone down into England before the summer hae come in, Jasmine." His tone softened. "Do ye remember the time that A-Cuil was our refuge?"

"Do not attempt to wheedle me, Jemmie," his wife said harshly.

Meggie was totally confused, but rather than tax herself with the meaning of the conversation between the duke and the duchess, she brought them wine instead. They thanked her, and then the duke told his daughter's serving woman to go upstairs and remain with her mistress for the night. He and his wife would remain here.

The baby was beginning to whimper when Meggie entered the room. India was instantly awake, and Meggie brought her child to her to be put to the breast. The infant nursed until he fell asleep, and Meggie returned him to his cradle.

Twice more before the dawn, the boy was fed at his mother's breast, India speaking softly to her son, gently touching his soft downy dark hair.

The sun was just beginning to peep through the bedchamber windows when the duke of Glenkirk entered the chamber. India awoke as her father reached into the cradle and, taking the baby out, made to leave the room.

"Give me my son," India said, frightened, and Meggie, sleeping by the fire, awoke, and looked from her mistress to the duke.

"Ye hae nae bairn, India," the duke said, and departed, his booted footsteps echoing as he went down the stairs.

India scrambled from her bed, and after him. "Give me my son!" she shrieked. "If you hurt him, I shall kill you, Papa! Give me my son!"

The duke of Glenkirk handed the baby, now awake and crying, to Diarmid More-Leslie. "Ye know what to do," he said.

The clansman took the swaddled infant, and exited the lodge through the front door.

Weakened, India lurched down the stairs, screaming, "Bring Mm back! Bring my son back!" She fell the last few steps, but, struggling to her feet, tried to follow after her child.

The duke shut the door, and, blocking it with his large body, said to her, " 'Tis for the best, lovey. Ye're to be wed in a few weeks' time. The lad will be taken care of, I promise ye." He reached out for her.

India shrank back, her eyes wild. "Get away from me, you bastard! Get away! I want my son! I want my son!" She flung herself at him, and tried to claw him aside.

"There, there, lassie, 'twill be all right," he promised her, and caught the hands that would beat at him in her effort to follow Diarmid and her child. "Jasmine!" he called to his wife. "Come and take yer daughter back to her room. She will need her rest now if she is to recover and be wed on time."

Jasmine glared at her husband. She had never known Jemmie to be such an insensitive clod. She tried to cradle her daughter, but India flung her mother away.

"How could you let him do this, madame?" the distraught girl sobbed. "How could you allow him to take my son? Iwill never forgive you. I will never forgive either of you!" Then she collapsed to the floor, sobbing bitterly.

She was cold. Cold as ice. The fire Caynan Reis had roused in her had been extinguished when they had kidnapped her son, Rowan. She felt nothing but emptiness, and for a time did not care if she lived, or died. It made no difference. None of it made any difference. Her eyes, once an unusual gold, were now dulled amber. She spoke only when spoken to, and then her answers were monosyllabic, or as brief as she could make them. She wept more often than not. The day her breasts finally dried up of their milk she was completely inconsolable, and attempted to fling herself from the battlements of Glenkirk Castle.

The duke of Glenkirk was furious and frantic by turns. He had done what he truly believed was best for his beloved stepdaughter, yet she would not see it. India was no longer in the first flush of her youth. The marriage offer he had received from England had been the answer to his prayers. India would have the noble husband she deserved, and none but a sworn-to-secrecy few would be the wiser of her misadventures. Her intended had agreed to all the conditions laid down by the Leslies of Glenkirk in order to protect their daughter and her personal wealth. The large dowry had already been paid, but here it was the beginning of May, and the bride was nowheres fit to travel south to her new lord. Indeed, she grew thinner and paler with every passing day. A large-eyed, dark-haired wraith whose only show of spirit was the look of hatred she fastened on her parents whenever they came into her view.

"I tried to stop him," Jasmine attempted to explain to her eldest child as she sat with her one afternoon, trying to reach her. "For the first time in all our marriage, I could not reason with him, India. I am attempting to find out where they have taken your son. When I do, I swear to you that the lad will lack for nothing!"

"Except his mother," India responded bitterly. "How could you, madame? You of all people, who was forcibly taken from her own natural mother. How could you rob me of the only thing I had left of Caynan Reis? At least my grandmother had the comfort of knowing that you were with your father, and your foster mother was her dear friend, Rugaiya Begum. I have no such comfort. My lawful husband is dead in an uprising, our son is stolen from me, and I am to be sent as wife to some stranger. I want my child returned to me!" She had not spoken so much, or so very passionately, since they had brought her back to Glenkirk from A-Cuil.

"I do not know where Rowan is," Jasmine repeated. "I am trying to find out, India, but I am not capable of miracles. Jemmie has been most adamant in this matter. As for your betrothed husband, you have little time left to dissemble on the subject. Your marriage has been arranged, and you will go to England as soon as you can travel. No later than the end of the month, your father says." She caught her daughter's hands in hers, and looked into those dreadful, dead eyes India now possessed. "It is a good match, India, and he agreed to all our terms. Considering your age, we are very lucky."

"I was content to take my child, find my own home, and live a quiet, discreet life, madame," India replied. She was ready at last to voice her anger.

"How would you have explained Rowan?" her mother asked.

"Why would I have to explain my son?" India snapped. "Did not my great-grandmother return from Algiers enceinte? And who dared to challenge her story of a Spanish merchant who had been her husband? Aunt Willow was accepted to polite society. She even served the old queen as a maid of honor, and married quite well, too. Why was I not believed? Why was my son ripped from my breast just hours after his birth and hidden away as if he was something shameful?"

"There has never, ever been any question regarding my aunt's parentage," Jasmine said defensively.

India snorted derisively. "I suppose it was a simpler time," she said mockingly. "It would have been better if I had lived then rather than now. Then I should have my child with me."