Scotty shrugged. “It had worked for her in the past. She was a beautiful woman, and apparently she was very skilled in bed.”
“But it didn’t work with your father?” Beth guessed.
“Me father was no’ a stupid man. He knew if he gave her what she wanted, she’d be on her merry way. It was, he told me, an especially bitterly cold winter with little to do, so he hemmed and hawed, and said he’d think about it and such. Well, my mother simply saw that as a challenge. She was so vain she did no’ for a minute believe she would no’ get her way. This went on until the spring, by which point Father was growing bored with her, and as the mountain pass thawed, he was growing more and more eager to send her on her way sans the deed. But then he began to suspect she was pregnant.”
“With you,” Beth said with a grin.
“Aye.” He smiled at her expression and squeezed her tighter briefly, then said, “Well, Da had always wanted children, or at least an heir. So to him, this was a blessed miracle.”
“And to your mother?” she asked.
“A bargaining chip,” Scotty said dryly. “In fact, to this day I do no’ ken for sure that MacDonald was me father, or if she was sleepin’ with one or several o’ his men to get pregnant, and claiming it was his to have that bargaining chip. However, he believed I was his and that was all that mattered . . . to both o’ us. He was a good father,” he assured her.
Beth nodded solemnly.
“At any rate,” Scotty continued, “once he realized she was pregnant, me da insisted she marry him. She refused, but said that if he signed that bit o’ property o’er to her, she’d give me to him when I was born. But Father did no’ trust her. He feared the moment he signed the deed o’ property over to her, she’d find a way to be rid o’ me.”
Glancing down at her again, he explained, “She’d been pregnant a time or two before, ye see. And none o’ those bairns had survived. Actually, I learned later that she had been pregnant many more times than even me father suspected. She was very fertile, but according to her maid, only three bairns survived to birth. Apparently she had a concoction that included wild carrot and I do no’ ken what else that she would drink to rid herself o’ unwanted babes. When that did no’ work, she got rid o’ the bairns by other methods after birth. One she apparently gave, along with some coin, to some peasants on her father’s estate to raise. I gather she was fond o’ the father o’ that child,” he said with a shrug. “Another she drowned at birth, and another she simply abandoned out in the cold on a winter night. She never knew if it froze to death, was rescued by someone or was killed by wolves. She didn’t bother to check.
“So, me father kenned about the other bairns and did no’ trust her,” Scotty said, returning to the tale. “There was no way he was going to sign o’er the property ere she gave birth. He suggested she carry the baby to term, give it over to him, and then he’d sign the deed. She refused that offer and insisted he do it now, or the bairn, me, would no’ make it to birth. A rather stupid threat to make if ye think about it,” he pointed out. “I mean, she was alone with naught but her maid, who was no’ very loyal, in someone else’s castle.”
“Yes, that does seem stupid,” Beth agreed.
“Aye, but me mother was no’ a stupid woman,” he assured her. “I can only think that she was so frustrated that she was no’ getting her way fer once in her life, that she lost her temper and ran off at the mouth.” Scotty shrugged. “Whatever the case, me father’s response was to lock her in the tower and ensure she was watched at all times so that she could no’ concoct or take anything that might end the pregnancy, or otherwise rid herself of it. And then he waited, and on the day that she went into labor, he sent for the priest, and had him wait in the Great Hall while he went up to her room. He told her she was having the baby. Not only that, but he was ensuring it would survive by taking it away from her the moment it was born. He said he’d then announce my birth to the world and present me to the king as his child by her. She would be ruined . . . unless she married him and made me legitimately his heir.”
“Just a minute,” Beth protested. “Are ye telling me, with all her sleeping around and all the babies, she wasn’t already ruined?”
Scotty grinned at her disbelief. “So long as it was only the men who knew what she got up to, she was safe. After all, they were all hoping to get into her bed again. But if a woman got wind . . .” He shook his head. “Then she would ha’e been ruined fer certain.”
“Humph,” Beth muttered with disgust, and then sighed and said, “She married your father?”
Scotty nodded. “I gather she argued, fought, cursed and swore. But in the end she had no choice. Were she ruined, he told her he would ensure she was sent to a nunnery where her hair would be shorn and she’d be on her knees the rest o’ her days and kept far away from men. And he probably could have done that,” he assured her. “He was good friends with the king, and if the king specified a certain abbey . . .”
“Your father played hardball,” Beth said with approval.
“Aye.” He grinned. “So she agreed. The priest was called up, and me mother married me da just moments ere I came squalling into the world.”
“I bet ye were a beautiful baby,” Beth murmured, rubbing her fingers over his chest, and then she added, “And I bet you’ll give me beautiful babies.”
Hugging her tight, Scotty kissed the top of her head. “As many as ye wish and are allowed by law.”
Beth chuckled into his chest. “Very romantic, m’laird.”
“Hey, I’m the head o’ the UK Enforcers. I have to include that last part,” he said defensively.
“I suppose,” Beth relented and hugged him back, before asking, “So, what happened next?”
“Me father still feared she might do away with me, so took me away from her at once, and handed me over to a nursemaid who raised me fer the first five years o’ me life in a cottage on the estate.”
“Away from yer father?” Beth asked with a frown.
“He visited daily,” Scotty assured her. “And me nursemaid was a wonderful woman. She was his own nursemaid as a child. However, she was very old and died when I was five. My father then deemed me old enough fer it to be safe to allow me around me mother and brought me to the castle to live.”
“And your mother?” Beth asked, suspecting she already knew the answer. After all, there was a reason he hated his mother.
“She loathed me,” Scotty said solemnly. “And made no effort to hide it. Most o’ me childhood after five was spent being tortured by her. There were subtle little cruelties that me father would no’ notice, and then there were much larger cruelties when he was no’ around, after which I was threatened that if I told him she would cut me tongue out, scalp me or kill me father . . . and so me childhood went,” he said dryly.
“I’m sorry,” Beth murmured, hugging him and wishing she could take those memories, and the pain they must have caused, away. The thought made her blink in surprise as she understood what Scotty had been feeling, but then he started talking again, and she pushed the thought aside to listen.
“Despite having married me da, the woman had no’ given up her whoring ways. If she wanted something, or could gain something, she slept with whomever she thought could give it to her, or just anyone she wished. By that time me da would ha’e nothing to do with her and, I’m sure, sorely regretted marrying her. Although he would never admit it, at least no’ to me. To me he said that all the misery she caused him was worth it to get me.”
“I’m sure it was,” Beth said solemnly.
Scotty shrugged and continued, “Da died when I was eighteen. To this day I suspect she poisoned him. He was a strong, healthy man, and there were no signs o’ a weak heart before his attacked him. However, even if she did no’ poison him, she was the cause o’ his death. They were arguing, and she was spewing her venom all over him when he suddenly clutched his heart and fell over.”