by Terry Spear
Again, she hesitated. “Would it take verra long? I would not want to fall asleep before I give you a massage.”
He grinned at her. “Roll over, Anice, and let me rub away the ache.”
“Can I be covered up?”
“It will be harder to see what I’m doing, but if it pleases ye, aye, lass.”
“It does, Malcolm.”
She rolled onto her back, but before he pulled the blanket over her, he touched her breast.
“That is not where the ache is,” she objected.
He tried to contain a grin, but failed, then circled the tip of her breast with his finger, leaned over and licked it. “Aye, lass. I will get to it.”
His touch sent burning heat streaking through her.
Moaning out loud, she touched his hair, dangling against her skin, tickling it. “You are making the ache worse, no’ better, Malcolm.”
He took the bud of her breast in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, forcing a groan of ecstasy from her lips.
His hand moved down and touched her between her legs. ‘Twas nothing like she’d ever experienced before, and the pleasure and pain of it wasn’t like his removing the tension from her muscles. “I think you were wrong,” she breathed out between strokes.
“What is that, lass?” he asked. He shifted his leg between hers and leaned over to caress the other nipple.
“You are making it worse.”
“Takes a little time, but it will get better.”
She dug her nails into his shoulders when his fingers dipped deep inside her, and then once moistened, he slid them out and stroked her nub with renewed enthusiasm. Arching her back, she wanted to feel more and at the same time wanted him to stop before he drove her to madness.
He rubbed his shaft against her, and it was throbbing as much as she was. It would be so easy to relieve both their aches by allowing him to make love to her. That’s what he wanted. Why couldn’t she allow him to bed her after all he had done for her?
Because she didn’t want to anger the king and bind Malcolm to her, that’s why. He would be free to marry any lady he wanted. He only wanted her like any man would who lay naked with her. She had no doubt even a man as old as her first betrothed would have wanted her if she’d given herself to him willingly.
She gripped Malcolm’s shoulders tighter and moaned with delight when he pulled her into the sea where waves of heat washed through her and the ache was replaced with a new throbbing, but one of satisfaction. He inserted his fingers into her again and penetrated deeply.
“Has the ache lessened, love?” he whispered against her breast.
“Aye.”
“Would you consider letting me love you?”
“You would be bound to me, Malcolm. I cannot permit it.”
“I wish to be bound to ye, forever, Anice.” He reached up and held her face. “What are you thinking, love? Do you no’ believe me when I say I want you for my very own?”
“You feel obligated. You are a braw and dutiful Highlander. But I cannot force this on ye.”
His brow furrowed. “You are forcing naught on me. I wish this marriage more than anything.”
“You have never wanted anyone but an English bride.”
“I was mistaken, love. Ye are the one I want.”
“Any man would say that about a woman who is laying naked under him on a bed of straw.”
Malcolm’s eyes instantly grew stormy, and he shook his head, his face hard. “There is nay making you believe me. I should have known you did not want me. For whatever reason—and you have withheld the truth from me before—you believe I am not good enough for ye.”
He rose from the bed and tossed the blanket to her. “I will sleep with my brothers tonight like I have done for many a night in the past, before I sleep with a woman who thinks I would ravage her just because she is naked.”
He threw on his clothes as quickly as humanly possible, then stormed out the door.
She was so shocked at his actions, she didn’t know how to rectify the situation. Mortified she’d not only hurt his pride, but would cause him further embarrassment when the rest of the staff discovered her husband favored sleeping with her brothers to her.
Damnation. She was the one who’d be unable to face the courtiers in the morning.
She grabbed her clothes, dressed with the most difficulty, then pulled the monk’s robe over that. No one would touch her, being she was a man of the cloth. She had no need of traveling with Malcolm and his brothers. Best they leave things as they were.
Seizing the lighted candle, she hastened through the kitchen, then outside into the kitchen garden. The fragrance of lavender stirred on the chilly breeze. After stalking between rows of herbs, she ended up in an expansive area where buckets of soapy water waited for the washerwomen the next day, and the blacksmith’s anvil sat ready for the strike of his hammer.
All was quiet except for men-at-arms who walked their posts on guard duty along the castle walls. They watched beyond the castle grounds for signs of trouble and not toward the inner bailey. Still, how could she convince the gate guard to let her leave?
Mayhap being she was a monk, he’d feel obligated. If that didn’t work—she jingled her coin in her purse. A little money might do the trick.
She hurried into the stable and searched for her horse. He whinnied softly as she reached her hand out to his gray muzzle. “Come on, Mystic, time to take a little walk again.”
The notion of riding one more hour didn’t appeal and traveling alone without companionship would be lonely. Better than dealing with an angry, almost husband.
Thank God she’d been a willful child and had left home on her own more than once. She fumbled with her saddle though, not from not knowing how to affix it to her horse, but from the worry she would soon be caught. The sky was still dark, but she couldn’t see any stars and she assumed stormy clouds still stalked them.
Once she saddled Mystic, she climbed onto a bale of hay, slipped her leg over the horse and rode out of the stable. The chill in the air and the worry she would not be allowed to leave sent shivers hurtling through her.
She walked Mystic toward the gatehouse where the portcullis had been shut for the eve. Several on watch turned their attention to the bailey to see who would ride out before any had arisen.
One of them hurried for the stairs. ‘Twas not a good sign. Her skin prickled and she straightened her back.
The gate guard was nowhere in sight, but when she neared the gatehouse, he lumbered out, his mouth turned down into a scowl and his bushy black brows furrowed. “You cannot be leaving at this time of morn, Brother. The bell won’t ring for another three hours to wake the staff.”
“’Tis the will of God.” Anice spoke as low and commanding as she could manage.
The knight from the wall walk, who’d run down the stairs when he’d spied her, stalked toward her. “Remove your hood.”
“You would not talk to a man of God like that,” Anice said, her voice as harsh and manly as she could make it. Though it sounded fine to her ears, she worried it sounded too high-pitched to the men.
“We have no Scottish monks here, and the only ones I know of who are Scots born, are the Lady Anice and her escort. Now being you are not as big as any of the men, I assume you are the wee lad they brought with them...but that would not be right either as he is not Scottish. Which leads me to believe you are the lady herself.”
Wee lad? She was much taller than the boy.
“Milady, is it ye? His Earl Lord would have my head if I let you out without an escort. What could you be thinking, milady?” the gate guard asked.
“Come,” the knight said, “I will take you back to the keep and return your horse to the stable.”
“Let go of my horse!” she snapped, irritated that some knight would tell her what to do. She faced the gate guard. “Open the gate. You have nay right keeping me here against my will.”
“Lady MacNeill,” the knight said again, “you will c
ome with me, or—”
She whipped out her bow and before any realized what she was doing, she notched an arrow. “Open the gate before I get angry.”
“Kill me if you must.” The guard folded his arms in obstinacy. “His Earl Lord would give me a more painful death if I should let you go.”
The knight stormed off toward the keep.
She cursed inwardly. Then she figured now that the knight was gone, she could bribe the gate guard. She lifted the bag of money from beneath her monk’s robe. “How much would it take my good man?”
“No amount of money, milady. His Earl Lord would know you bribed me to get me to open the gate. You can put your money away. You are not getting by me this morn.”
The sound of several men running toward them forced a chill up her spine. Not because she was afraid, but because she was furious not to get her way. She retied her money pouch to her belt.
She wished not to travel with a man who got mad at her when she spoke the truth. Heavens knows if she stripped off her clothes in front of the gate guard, he wouldn’t hesitate to ravage her. Or the knight who’d been on watch or any man. The point of the matter was Malcolm was like any other man. They couldn’t help themselves when it came to wanting a woman who was naked and willing. It didn’t mean he wanted her forever. Once he had a chance to have a good English woman, he’d regret he’d lain with the Scottish wench.
“Last chance,” she threatened, renotching her arrow.
“Take your best shot, milady.”
“Anice!” Malcolm shouted as he ran toward her.
“Tell him to open the gate. My horse needs a ride,” she shouted over her shoulder, but kept one eye on the guard lest he duck.
“Quit this foolishness!”
Her cheeks flamed. Who was foolish? The man who left her bed, or she who wanted to return to her castle as quickly as possible to right the wrongs there?
“Can you truly use that bow?” he asked as he reached her flank.
She glowered at him. “Were you no’ listening to my tale earlier?”
His brothers moved around to her other flank.
“Traitor,” she said to the knight who’d run there and back and was huffing a bit.
“Then shoot me because ‘tis me you are angry with,” Malcolm ordered.
“My husband? Nay, I have already lost too many of my betrothed. It would be a shame to lose another so quickly.”
A murmur of conversation swept through the five other men who’d joined the brothers to see if they could help. Probably the most excitement the courtiers had had in a good long while. Several more watched from the wall walk, leaning over the stone wall and speaking low with one another. ‘Twas probably good she could not make out their conversation.
“Anice!”
She lowered her weapon to turn and face Malcolm who so rudely stood slightly behind her. Why didn’t he face her like a man?
As soon as she lowered her weapon, the guard lunged forward and grabbed her bow, Dougald, seized her reins, and Malcolm pulled her from her mount.
She cried out, not from fright, but from surprise, then tried to wrench free. He hoisted her over his shoulder. “We have another three hours of sleep before we go to mass, break our fast, and continue our journey.”
“Let me down, you brute!”
“But if you cannot sleep, you can give me a backrub like you promised.”
How could he be so infuriating? “I will do no such thing.”
“Then I will give you another.”
The men followed them back to the keep and laughed, then shared some comments she couldn’t make out but she was sure it was not in her best interest to hear what was said. Already her body was on fire she was so humiliated by his actions. What did he think she was? A sack of wheat?
A woman hurried to greet Malcolm as he stormed back through the keep to the kitchen. “His Lord Earl asked me to see if you wanted me to stay with you and the lady the rest of the morn.”
“Nay, the lady and I will be fine, but if we do not wake on time to break our fast, do not allow any to disturb us.”
“Aye, milord.”
The lady hurried away and Malcolm stalked into the storage room. “I wanted a woman with spice, love. But you would try the devil’s patience.” He pulled her off his shoulder, then set her on the bed. “Stay!”
He slammed the door closed as several milled around to see what happened next and shoved a table against the door. “You are staying put, until I say so.”
She scowled at him just every bit as good as he scowled at her. “You did not want me. I see no point in this.” She lay down and yanked the blanket over her.
“We are going around in circles, Anice. I do want ye, but you cannot get that through your head.” He shrugged out of his clothes, then stalked across the floor and yanked the blanket off her. “I am only going to do this one more time tonight.”
She crossed her arms, not wanting to expose herself to a man who did not love her. “I am fine.”
“My wife will not be dressed in monk’s clothes when she sleeps with me. It would be sinful.” He pulled her up and quickly dispensed with all her clothes. “I would leave your shift on, lass, but I mean to show you that nay matter how much I desire to make love to ye, I will not. We will sleep together as before, like you suggested in the first place. Naught more. I am nay such an animal that I could not sleep with ye, as provocative as you are, naked against me. If that were so, I would have given in to my baser needs when you were sick.”
He was right to an extent, though he couldn’t seem to recognize like she did that he didn’t really want her.
He pulled her onto the blanket on the straw, then wrapped it around them. Though she thought he intended to sleep beside her, with as little touching as possible, he slipped his arm around her back and pulled her against his body. No matter how much she resisted the notion he truly wanted her, a Scottish lass, his touch undid her.
She nestled her head against his chest and listened to his quickened heartbeat. “I am sorry, Malcolm.”
“Aye, lass.” He kissed the top of her head.
She wrapped her arm around his waist and took a deep breath, loving the feel of his hard body beneath her.
He stroked her back. “You are much softer to sleep with than my brothers, and you smell a whole lot better.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “They did not have a bath like we did.”
“Nay, lass. Sleep. Everything will look better on the morrow.
She was sure the battle of words would renew. If the baron caught up with them, it would be a battle of swords and a fight to the death.
Would she lose the fifth of her betrothed husbands then, too? She would kill any man who attempted to harm him, then she would release him to find the woman he truly wished to wed.
* * *
Anice and the MacNeill brothers had barely eaten more than a couple of bites of their bread with Laird Whitehaven that morn when one of the earl’s men charged into the hall with a scowl on his face. Instantly, Anice grew alarmed. ‘Twas probably only a problem the earl had to deal with concerning his own estates, but the way the man glanced at her convinced her otherwise. She’d had no premonition anything was amiss, not until the man arrived so suddenly. Her heartbeat quickened and the same panic filled her as it usually did when she knew there was danger. But she couldn’t fathom its source, and worse, she couldn’t stop it from happening.
The hall grew quiet while everyone watched the man stalk toward the head table and Laird Whitehaven. Before this, she’d heard bits and pieces of conversation about how she had threatened to shoot the gate guard and was hauled back into the castle over her husband’s shoulder. Had the laird bedded the lass and shown her who was in charge? ‘Twas what she had heard whispered wherever she walked in the castle and grounds this morn.
The man spoke in private to the earl, who listened intently, then nodded.
The earl rose from his seat. “Lords and ladies, I must have your
cooperation in a matter most grave. Events have changed rapidly concerning the Lady Anice and her hasty marriage to Lord MacNeill, but you know not the reason.”
Anice’s cheeks grew hot. He couldn’t mean to tell his courtiers what had happened betwixt her and Malcolm the night of the storm.
“They are attempting to uncover the murder of her uncle. Much evidence points to the murderer being a suitor of hers, Baron Harold de Fontenot. He is now at my gatehouse.”
Her heart sank. She’d hoped they’d be well on their way before the baron caught up with them. She was certain the earl would take great pains to keep the baron at his castle as long as he could to give Anice and her party a good head start.
A pronounced stirring of conversation rushed through the hall.
The earl waved his hand for silence. “We aid these young lovers in their quest to uncover enough evidence to support their case. Until then, naught of this matter will be spoken. In the interim, Lady Anice is only Lady MacNeill. As far as we know, Lady Anice disappeared with her escort.”
The earl was truly a friend in their time of need, and she was gladdened to know Malcolm had made so many acquaintances among the Norman lairds. Especially when they had to fight the baron, also a Norman laird.
Many nodded in agreement.
Malcolm rose. “I wish to thank ye, Laird Earl, and ladies and gentleman of his court. We will now be on our way, if we can slip past the baron and his knights.”
The earl turned to Malcolm. “Gather your belongings and go to the kitchen. Once I have word you are safely there, I will send for the baron and his men. You can leave by the kitchen gardens, find your way to the stables, and leave before the baron knows you were here.”
He turned again to his people. “No one is to mention to the baron or his men that Lord MacNeill and his party were here.” Then he said to Malcolm, “Go, and keep your bride safe.”
“Aye, that I will. Thank you kindly for your generosity.”
“Thank ye, milaird,” Anice said before Malcolm hurried her out of the great hall.
Not long after they entered the kitchen, Malcolm’s brothers and Kemp soon followed with their belongings. Anice couldn’t help but feel they were in a race, but no matter their tactics, they could never stay much more than a footstep ahead. Though they couldn’t kill the baron and his men without just cause, the notion oft crossed her mind.
