Highland Chieftain Read Online Free

them as well and probably very soon.
    She got to her feet and brushed her skirts clean before returning to the stew. Her face hurt, the skin tightening as the swelling began. She badly wanted to place a cold cloth on it but did not dare. Long ago she had learned that making a fuss over any injury he had inflicted just inspired him to make more and lately the beatings had gotten more vicious. He seemed to take it as some insult that one would actually acknowledge the injury he had done you. One of her back teeth felt loose and she prayed she would not lose it.
    As Bethoc served the stew she studied the boys. They watched both her father and her. Their gaze on their father was wary, the one they cast her way now and then was watchful. She knew they were looking for some serious injuries and so she made an effort to hide the many aches and pains she was suffering from. It was not easy although she was accustomed to doing so. Her ribs ached with every move she made but she was as certain as she could be that they were not broken.
    The boys watched her father so carefully she feared for them. They were making themselves a threat. He did not appear to notice it yet, but he would. He had already taken note of their size. It would soon matter a lot. He would notice and then there would be trouble, the kind that could get one of them killed. She would have to talk to them soon, let them know she was aware of the truth as well.
    She quickly sat down next to Margaret. As she helped her sister eat, she studied the new boy her father had obtained. He was small, perhaps four or five years of age, maybe younger. Big brown eyes, wild, curly reddish hair, and clean, he did not look like a street child. Innocent though he appeared, his presence made Bethoc nervous. This was not some filthy street child he had dragged home. She braced herself to ask who the boy was, knowing that her father did not appreciate questions.
    â€œWho is the lad?” she asked, feeling her stomach knot with fear and hating herself for that.
    â€œAn orphan lad,” her father replied and she knew he lied.
    â€œHis name?” she asked tentatively, hoping that by keeping her voice soft and respectful she would not raise his ire.
    â€œWhy do ye want to ken it? What does it matter?”
    â€œNothing. I but thought it would be convenient.”
    â€œIt be Cathan. Just Cathan. That be all ye need to ken. He will stay with us now.”
    Bethoc recognized the little speech. It was the same one he had given with each brother. She could recall it now. Why had she never questioned it? It was plausible except that her father was not a man who did good deeds like taking in orphaned children. They were always boys, too. Boys who were immediately put to work in the fields. Only Bean and Colin had been babies when they had appeared in her life and he had said each one was her brother. Ignorant of such things as childbearing, she had never questioned it.
    Suddenly she could barely swallow the stew she was trying to eat to keep herself from asking more questions. She had so many and each one would be a spark to set off her father’s temper. A part of her was deeply ashamed that she had never been curious about where the boys came from, her child’s mind consumed with the need to avoid her father’s fists. Yet, as she had grown older, she should have pressed for answers, should have found the courage to do so. She was one and twenty now yet, instead of demanding answers, she filled her mouth with food she did not want just to avoid asking any questions that might anger the man. Her own cowardice appalled her.
    Hiding the fact that she had not finished her meal, Bethoc collected everyone’s empty bowl. She listened to the talk of what had been done in the fields today as she cleaned up. Nothing had gone wrong so her father’s mood was good as the boys climbed the stairs to the loft where they slept. To her relief, her father then took himself off to