by Mac Flynn
"What is it?" she snapped.
"Leod's master is wanting you," he explained.
She pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed. "Very well. I will come at once."
Bean Lyel cast one last look of warning at me as she wiped her finger on the towel. I was never so relieved as when she left the room.
CHAPTER 17
Leod shut the door behind her, but he himself remained in the room. He gingerly stepped towards me and bowed his head so his eyes faced the floor.
"Is my lady wishing for help?" he asked me.
"I-I'm fine," I hoarsely whispered.
"Begging your pardon, but Leod does not believe you are fine," he argued. He dared a look at me and I was comforted by the concern in his eyes. "Was it the doing of Leod's wife?"
I pursed my lips, but gave a nod. "It was," I whispered.
Leod sighed and shuffled over to the chair. He unfolded the towel and held it up in front of the tub. "Then Leod will help you, my lady."
I smiled at his kind words. "Thank you," I replied. I stood and wrapped the towel around me.
Leod retreated and set a stool in the center of the room. "Leod's master told Leod you were to have pretty dresses made today. The tailor is coming."
"That's right," I confirmed.
My legs still shook from the fright created by Bean Lyel, so I seated myself in my laird's chair by the fire. I shuddered as I remembered the look of hatred on Bean Lyel's face, and the dark red water as it swam towards me.
"Is my lady well?" Leod asked me.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. "No, I don't believe I am." I looked to him and studied his kind face. "Why does Bean Lyel hate me so, and what. . .what power does she have?" I questioned him.
He furrowed his brow. "Powers, my lady?"
I opened my eyes to him and nodded. "Aye. As I was bathing she dipped her finger into the water and a red mist appeared. I. . .I thought it meant to harm me."
His eyes widened. "She attacked my lady?"
"I. . .I believe so," I affirmed.
Leod's face fell and he sadly shook his head. "Leod's wife is very sad the old master is gone. She is angry at everyone, and she uses gifts given by God for very bad purposes."
"Gifts like those of the moor witch?" I guessed.
He nodded. "Aye. Leod's wife was brought to serve the old laird because she had the gift. She married Leod to quell talk of her being a mistress."
My eyes widened. "He forced you into marriage? Why would Laird Campbell have done such a thing?"
"To keep my master in his room," Leod explained. "Leod's wife kept him there with her gifts. She swore to Laird Campbell they would never fail."
I hung my head and turned away from him. "Then she has reason to hate me for I feel I am at fault for his death."
Leod hurried up to the chair and grasped the arm with both hands. He leaned towards me and furiously shook his head. "It is not your doing, my lady, but his own. He was a cruel man, and God punishes cruel men."
"Was he so bad to deserve such a sudden death?" I asked him.
Leod cringed. "Leod doesn't wish to speak too ill of the dead. Leod will only tell my lady that Leod's master will be better. He has promised Leod many changes, great changes."
I tilted my head to one side and furrowed my brow. "What sort of changes?"
Leod shook his head. "Leod won't say, but my lady will know them soon enough." He stepped back and bowed his head. "But Leod has many other chores to do. Do you wish any more of Leod, my lady?"
I pursed my lips and my eyes flickered to the door. "Could you. . .would you please keep Bean Lyel from this room? I don't mean to insult-"
"There is no insult. Leod will do as you ask," he assured me. He backed up towards the door and bowed his head many times. "Good morn to you, my lady, and God bless."
"Good morn, Leod," I returned.
Leod slipped from the room and I sank into the chair. The fire crackled beside me as I thought over the strange and terrifying events of the night and morning. I shuddered and wrapped the towel closer to me as I thought of what Bean Lyel had intended for me with her strange water sorcery.
"Mother, what have I done?" I whispered.
I started at the sound of a knock on the door. "Y-yes?" I called
"The tailor, my lady," came a soft voice. "May I enter?"
"O-oh! Yes! Of course!" I answered.
The familiar face of the village tailor, Maher, poked his head into the room and smiled at me. He was a thin man of medium stature with a fine cut of clothes on himself to advertise his skills. In his hands were two bags filled with the trappings of his trade.
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open when he beheld my face.
"Muira!" he exclaimed as he slipped into the room. His eyes swept over the room. "I was told to expect the laird's bride-to-be in this room."
I blushed and squirmed in my chair. "I am she," I informed him.
He froze and gawked at me. "You, Muira? But how came this? Does your mother know?"
I shook my head. "I do not believe so."
The tailor set his bags down near the stool and shook his head. "What strange and sudden changes there are this day."
I stood and smiled at him. "I would not blame you if you chose not to cloth me. I am merely-" He held up one hand with the palm faced towards me.
"I have been tasked with the creation of a fine suite of clothes for my lady, and only a lack of payment will prevent me from fulfilling my contract," he assured me. He smiled, and leaned down and patted the stool. "Now shall we begin?"
A warmth filled me as this man, my old acquaintance, showed me warmth that I'd sorely lacked on minutes before. I walked over and placed myself on the stool, and my old friend undertook the task of my measurements.
"How did you come to be the bride of our new laird?" he inquired as he worked.
"We met one night as I walked the passages," I replied. The details were omitted to save face, and I gave him one of my own questions. "Does the village know Laird Campbell has succeeded his father?"
"Aye, and what a shock it was to us all," he commented. "The young heir returns on the night of his father's death. It is like the tales from old where the dead return and smite the-well, never mind." He hurried faster through his work.
"Smite the living? Is that what everyone thinks?" I asked him.
"It is rather suspicious, my lady." He cringed and his eyes flickered up to me. "If I may be so bold as to say that."
I smiled at him and shook my head. "I would rather have an honest friend than one that flatters me."
He bowed his head. "You do me much honor, my lady."
"Muira to you," I assured him.
"Then it must be Lady Muira. Your husband would disapprove of less," he pointed out. "But for the matter of the village, there is much confusion but we celebrate a new beginning. There is much dancing and revelry planned for his coronation."
"And has the funeral been planned?" I wondered.
"Aye, but few wish to speak of that, and more wish to talk of rumors of the old laird's queer nature," he told me. "How he was rumored to be in league with dark things and how he had kept his only son exiled for so many years."
"Exiled?" I repeated.
"Aye, my lady," he replied. He looked up at me and furrowed his brow. "How the young laird was exiled and returned to claim what was his birth right. Has our laird not told you this?"
"I-I have heard something of it, but not the details," I lied. My morals had slipped with the rise in my station.
"Laird Campbell, the new one, was newly arrived at the castle when he heard of his father's death. Of course, there are rumors he was the cause, and I for one am apt to believe them," he informed me.
I stiffened and my voice hardly a whisper. "Why would you believe them?"
He shrugged and measured my legs. "For God's judgment. The young laird came back at God's will to frighten the old laird, and justice was done." He paused to cross himself. "God be with
us. . ." he muttered.
"Then you believe God is with the young laird?" I asked him.
Maher stepped back and smiled. "If he has you for a wife then only His will could have created such a miracle, and with my clothes you will be the envy of every lady, and wanted by every laird."
My thoughts flew to Graham. "I only wish to be wanted by one," I told him.
His smile lipped off his lips and he bowed his head. "My apologies, Lady Muira. I meant no disrespect."
"That's quite all right. I. . .well, to be frank I am not sure I will do your clothes justice," I admitted.
Maher stepped forward and clasped one of my hands in his. He looked into my eyes and grinned. "I only hope my clothes do you justice, Lady Muira."
I returned his smile and clasped my hand over his. "Thank you."
Maher bowed his head and stepped back. He put away his measuring instruments and snatched up his bags. "My work here is finished for the moment, but I will return in a few days for a fitting."
"I look forward to your return," I replied.
"Then I will say good day, my lady," he answered.
"Good day."
Maher left me, and I stepped off the stool and glanced behind me at the bed. My dress was still laid out for wearing, yet I hesitated to don the clothes. I did not wish to shame my laird.
A new boldness arose in me, and I hurried over to his dresser. I gathered a shirt and breeches from the many available, and donned them. A full length mirror near the dresser allowed me to view myself. I looked as a man, but with the slim form of a woman that showed off my curves better than the best dress.
I blushed at the sinful exposure of my feminine figure, but the only other choice was to shame my laird, and that I would not do. That is, until I found the truth among the lies that had been whispered to me since the morning. The truth would set me free, or bind me to this dark man who held me in his luscious sway.
CHAPTER 18
I peeked my head out the door and peered down the passage. All was quiet save for the distant rumblings of the kitchen staff. I vaguely wondered if Aili missed my services, or if she had heard of my change in position.
I slipped into the passage and walked down the hall in a thick pair of my laird's stockings. The ground was cold, but I felt very little through the fine, thick wool dyed as red as his anger. I reached the landing and came to a dilemma. I could walk downstairs and possibly reveal my outfit to an unsuspecting servant, or—
A noise at the end of the western wing caught my attention. I stepped back and peeked around the corner. Nothing was visible, but I saw the door from earlier, the one my laird had exited, was slightly ajar. A stream of light spilled into the passage and seemed to stretch towards me.
I slipped around the corner and hurried down the passage. My feet led me past the quarters that belonged to Lady Annabel and her father. I hoped they would not reside long in the castle. The laird frightened me, and the lady was not kind to me.
I reached the door and peeked inside. The room was dark but for a single candle on a nightstand beside the bed. The bed was a large four-post affair with curtains on all four sides. They were closed, and I glimpsed a form on the bed. I slipped inside and closed the door.
The chambers were smaller than those of the north wing, but no less elegant. There was a dresser with its mirror, and the large fireplace on the wall opposite the entrance. The hearth was dark and cold like the figure on the bed. The only difference to the room was a shut door to my left as I entered.
I moved quietly over to the bed and hesitated before the thin curtain closest to the door. The figure on the bed was dressed in glittering gold, and I recognized the thick beard of the deceased laird. I took a deep breath and snatched the curtain. A mighty yank pulled it aside, and I beheld the old laird as he was in life.
He was dressed in his finest purple silk dress suit with the collar pulled up to his chin, and his feet were covered in shining calf-skin boots. His hair and beard were well-combed, and his skin was cleaned to a shine. He lay with his hands clasped together on his chest, and his lips pressed thin. His eyes were shut.
I looked for any signs of foul play, but could discern nothing.
"Good day, my lady," a voice spoke up behind me.
I yelped and spun around to find Laird Tristan standing not more than a yard from me. A frown graced his mouth and he looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
"I-I am sorry, my laird. I saw the door ajar and-" He held up his hand.
"Your sinful curiosity is boundless," he commented.
I hung my head and closed my eyes. "Forgive me, my laird. . ." I whispered.
My laird stepped closer to me and clasped my chin in his hands. He raised my tear-filled eyes and smiled at me.
"I much prefer your other sins," he told me.
I blushed and fidgeted as a warmth spread over me. "T-thank you, my laird."
He glanced past me and frowned. "But perhaps this isn't the time nor place to discuss such matters. Come with me."
My laird grasped my hand and led me to the other door. It was no longer closed, and through the doorway I glimpsed another bedroom. There was a warm light from a lit hearth, and as we entered I saw the room was a mirror image of the one we had just left. The only difference was a large painted portrait over the hearth. It was of a beautiful woman with raven-black hair and a bewitching smile I found very familiar. She wore an elegant green dress that showed off her fair complexion, and around her neck was a golden necklace with a yellow-hued diamond as the centerpiece.
"This was my mother's room," my laird explained. "My father and she separated before my-well, my imprisonment, but she chose to remain near him until sickness took her."
"Then she-?" I nodded at the portrait.
Tristan glanced at where I pointed and smiled. "Is my mother, yes."
"She was beautiful," I complimented.
"And a trickster. She enjoyed playing tricks on my father, though he wasn't always appreciative of her mischievousness," he told me. He turned to face me and studied me with the same seductive smile as the woman. "You remind me a great deal of her."
I blushed and bowed my head. "Thank you, my laird."
He chuckled and led me over to the bed. "It is a pity you never knew her. She would be pleased with you, and more for your curiosity than your disobedience."
"I am sorry I intruded on your father's room," I told him as we stood by the foot of the bed. There were fresh sheets on the bed, and a vase of fresh violets sat on the nightstand. "I didn't-" My laird stepped up to me and captured my eyes in his dark gaze.
He smiled down at me and brushed the back of his hand against my cheek. I felt a rush of heat flow over me and I bit back a groan.
"You are more becoming in my clothes," he whispered. I blushed when I remembered my attire, but he only chuckled. "I should demand it more often, though at this moment they are quite a nuisance." My heart quickened, but the portrait over the hearth stopped me from falling into his embrace.
"My laird, this was your mother's room," I reminded him.
"She would be pleased," he whispered.
His voice was as smooth as silk, and they wrapped around me like a blanket of warmth. He leaned down and captured my lips in a possessive kiss. All my thoughts of propriety fled as I pressed myself against his body. He wrapped his arms around me and his hands clutched my rear. His hands massaged my buttocks, and I groaned into our kiss.
My laird broke us apart and lifted me into his arms. He carried me to the side of the bed and set me down. I lay atop the covers and watched as he flung off his coat, breeches and boots. He joined me and pressed me against the bed. I felt his swollen manhood against my hip and shuddered.
"So beautiful," he murmured against the shivering flesh of my neck.
"My laird," I moaned.
His hand slid up my side and under my shirt. He cupped my swollen breast in his hand and I arched my back. My laird left hot kisses down my neck that filled my body with lustful nee
d. I lost myself in his touches and kisses. So long as he was able to please me my body and mind were his to take, to control. He pulled my shirt over my head and his heated eyes beheld my naked, swollen breasts.
I squirmed beneath the promises his eyes showed me. They were promises of pleasures and delights no one else could grant me, of such lust that would make the devil jealous. He brushed his hand over one of my pert nubs. I whimpered at such a paltry touch. I needed him to ravish me as a lover, my lover.
"Please," I whispered.
He chuckled as his hand pushed my breeches down over my wide, smooth hips. The space between my thighs was already hot and wet in anticipation of his thick manhood. I squirmed and rubbed my folds together, but that did not satisfy the white-hot ache inside me. Only my lover, my laird, my master could do such for me.
He leaned down and nibbled on my ear. "Do you want me?" he whispered.
"Yes," I gasped.
His hand danced across the smooth flesh of my hip and brushed against the coarse hair between my legs. I started when his fingers slid into the hair and brushed against my sensitive nub. His tender touch sent delicious chills through my sweat-soaked body and I groaned my appreciation.
"What would you give me if I was to satisfy the need inside you?" he asked me.
One of his fingers stroked my nub. I panted and grasped his arms. The emotions he stirred in me were maddeningly delicious. I felt like a wild animal about to be loosed, but his teasing touches were not enough. I needed more. I needed all of him. Only then would the lustful beast be freed, and I desperately wanted her to be in control, to take over my body and send me into the thralls of lustful desire. Just the thought of the beast made my breasts swell and my wet core pulse with need.
"Everything," I groaned.
He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on my dry lips. "Then I will accept your offer, but for a price."
My sweat-soaked body twitched and tensed beneath his slow, delicious strokes. I rubbed myself against him like a wolf in heat, but the added friction was still not enough. His thick, pulsing manhood was what I craved. All my body, all my sinful soul desired he take me and make me his again and again.
"Anything," I whimpered.
"Chant my name. Praise me as a god," he whispered.
The heat inside me built to a terrible ache that threatened to consume all of me. I arched my back and groaned.
