And then a sound came from behind the curtain, little more than the cry of a troubled dream, and Lilidh froze. Mathe also went stiff, and they paused, unmoving, his head up and listening.
All remained silent. Lilidh began to work her hips again, small movements at first, coaxing Mathe back into his rhythm. He looked down at her and his eyes were bright and she couldn’t help but giggle.
“My fault,” she whispered. “I’ll try to keep it down.”
“Good idea,” he muttered even as he moved. “Yer cries were driving me to distraction, and I dinnae want tonight to end so soon.”
“Oh, aye. Ye owe me, Mathe MacBrennan. I’ve waited many years for this, so ye’re no' getting off so lightly.”
“For what?” he asked with a smile, increasing his tempo and the strength of his exertions. “For this?”
Lilidh closed her eyes in response, nodding furiously. She worked her own hips against his, crashing together in bliss. “Aye, Mathe, for that.”
“Well, in that case,” he said, slowing down once more, “let’s no' rush ourselves, aye? After all, we have all night.”
15
Mathe MacBrennan
Mathe woke slowly, still trapped in the last vestiges of a forgotten dream.
He kept his eyes shut and rolled onto his side and felt something in the bed with him. The feeling made him recoil back and his eyes snapped open, heart hammering, until he remembered Lilidh was in the bed with him. She lay on her back peacefully, and her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. Mathe smiled at his own foolishness. It showed how long it had been since he slept with a woman beside him, to react in such a way. Would it take another six years to become used to it once again?
Dim morning light filtered into the room, and he watched motes of dust float slowly through the air. Lilidh’s breath pushed them up, only to fall lazily down once more. Her profile was so familiar, so beautiful, and yet so strangely different; the familiar structure, creased with age and worry. What had happened to her over the last six years, to transform her so dramatically? And how much of that could be laid at his feet? The lines of her face were smoothed in sleep and she looked almost peaceful, laying with one arm behind her head and the other draped across her stomach.
It was a sight that Mathe didn’t think he’d ever tire of. She was so strong. He sometimes wondered if he was strong, for the things he’d endured in prison. The darkness, the beatings, the monotony of long days and nights with nothing to spur him onwards. But since being back, he came to realise that Lilidh had an altogether different type of strength. The strength to wake up every day and stare the town in the eye. The strength to walk up to the castle and put herself through physical pain to provide for her son. And to give Fynn hope, and the promise of a brighter future, whether she believed it or not.
Mathe knew that this was real strength; compared to that, he’d gotten off lightly.
As he watched, her eyes slowly opened. She blinked at the ceiling, then raised her head a fraction, looking around. As her eyes fell on him, she broke into a smile of such warmth that it wrapped around him, tightening his chest.
“Good morning,” she whispered in a croaky voice.
Mathe smiled back at her. He was on his side, propped up on one arm, and rather than reply he leant forward and kissed her. She sank back, allowing him to lie over her, and he felt her hands reach under the blanket to hold firmly onto his waist. She opened her mouth to him and he responded in kind, opening and closing, exploring and savouring. He groaned softly and lowered one hand to grasp her bottom, cupping and squeezing it, fingers gently probing between her legs, and Lilidh moaned into his mouth. By the gods, he’d missed this more than words could ever express.
“If I’d have known ye were up for another round this morning, I might have paced myself last night,” Mathe whispered even as his hands gently stroked the inside of her thigh, feeling Lilidh tense her leg muscles and push herself towards him.
“Ye just let me know if I’m too much for ye, auld man,” she replied.
Mathe chuckled, then moved his fingers inwards, dancing over her skin, teasing and circling. Lilidh gasped.
“I held my own well enough last night,” he said. “All three times, as I recall. I dinnae think we did that even when I was younger.”
“I’m sure ye would have if ye'd waited six years,” Lilidh panted. She arched her back and Mathe could see her hard nipples stand up in the cold air; an invitation he couldn’t ignore. He leant forward to her chest and took one in his mouth, pulling it back gently, and she gave a low, keening moan. His nerves were afire and the taste of her, the wetness in his hand, was taking him closer to a place of urgent need. He ached for his wife, to roll on top of her, to -
“Mama?” came a small voice from behind the curtain.
Immediately, Mathe rolled back to one side, withdrawing his hand, and Lilidh pulled her top down. As soon as he’d drawn the blanket up, Fynn pushed his way out of his corner with a confused look on his face. He looked back at the curtain with a frown.
“Where was I?” he asked in a voice thick with sleep.
“It’s okay, bhobain,” Lilidh said soothingly beside him. “We just hung a curtain up to give ye some privacy.”
“I was scared,” Fynn said. “I woke up and didnae know where I was.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Fynn turned towards them, and his eyes widened at the sight of Mathe in the bed. “Mathe!” he cried excitedly.
“Good morning, Fynn,” Mathe replied.
“Do ye live with us now? Oh mama, does Mathe live with us?”
Lilidh shook her head quickly. “Nay, nay, bhobain, Mathe doesnae live with us.”
“But why’s he here?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn down.
“Mathe stayed up with me last night after ye went to sleep,” Lilidh explained. “We spoke about adult things. It was too late for Mathe to go back to his room, so I let him stay here.”
Fynn nodded slowly. “But mama,” he asked, “why is he sleeping in yer bed?”
Mathe chuckled softly, and Lilidh kicked him under the blanket. He withdrew his leg hastily.
“Are ye hungry, Fynn?” she asked. “I think it’s just about time for breakfast.”
“Good idea,” Mathe said. “I hope ye have porridge, because I need something that’s going to stick to my ribs. I’m feeling all worn out, for some reason.”
She shook her head darkly. “Well, up ye hop, then.”
Mathe paused, glancing down. He hadn’t had time to put his pants on, and in fact couldn’t recall where he’d left them. “Well, I’m actually mighty comfortable.”
Lilidh snorted. “Fynn, go and tidy yer bed.”
The boy retreated behind the sheet, and Lilidh threw Mathe’s underpants at him. They landed on his head and he quickly pulled them on, followed by his trousers. By the time Fynn reemerged, they were both suitably clothed, and Lilidh busied herself with breakfast.
“And what are ye two going to be working on today?” she asked over her shoulder.
Mathe looked up, then frowned. He needed to get down to the old quarter today and make himself known at the Dog Ear. Just to have a drink, nothing more, and then get out of there. He knew that if anyone was going to trust him enough to open up to him, he’d need to make them comfortable with his presence. And that meant getting down there and being seen.
“Actually, I willnae be able to take the lad with me today.”
“Oh,” Lilidh said with a small frown that she quickly smoothed over.
“Ye cannae?” Fynn asked in a stricken face, looking rather dejected.
“I’m sorry, lad,” Mathe said, “but I need to see someone about a commission.”
“What’s that?” the boy asked.
“It’s where someone pays me to make them something. Like the table.”
“I could come with ye?”
“I’m afraid ye cannae,” Mathe replied. “I need to do this on my own. It’s an important job, though; if
I get it, then there’ll be plenty of things for ye to help me with.”
“Where is it?” Lilidh asked.
“Other side of town,” Mathe said with a shrug, doing his best to remain casual, even as the lie burned his tongue. To do this now, after what they shared last night, filled him with shame. And yet it was for her and Fynn, he reminded himself. For his wife and son.
“A business commission?”
“Private,” he replied.
Lilidh nodded. “Then in that case, I wish ye luck,” she said.
“I’ll need it,” Mathe replied. “And I’ll tell ye what. How about I come back for the lad in the afternoon, and we both walk over to the base of castle hill to meet ye? We could have a wander about the town before dinner.”
“Ye could meet me at the castle gates again,” she said with an impish smile, even as Fynn whooped with delight.
“I’m sure the base of the hill is fine,” Mathe said, thinking of that long uphill walk. “Fynn’s legs might tire.”
“Aye, Mathe, I’m sure it’s the lad’s legs that are yer concern. But a walk sounds verra nice.”
At the base of the castle hill, Mathe turned to the east and followed the road down into the old quarter.
He’d skirted the edges a few times since returning, but had yet to step into it; that corner of town was a place of bad memories. He used to go there often when he worked for the old laird, frequenting the Dog Ear, and knew its alleyways and thoroughfares like the back of his hand. He’d had more meetings than he could count in the tattered old common room; negotiating and arguing, threatening and intimidating in the name of the laird.
And occasionally killing.
Stepping back there filled Mathe with a profound sense of disgust. It was everything he had realised was wrong in his life as he lay in the darkness of prison. It was almost a physical manifestation of the man Mathe became; his stomping grounds, where he was both respected and feared and walked the streets like a king. Would MacBrennan have recognised the man who walked there now, with his long beard and shrunken features?
The Dog Ear looked as squalid as ever, wedged in between two larger stone houses that put it permanently in shadow. The sign was gone entirely and only the horizontal stab of wood remained, but it wasn’t necessary; everyone knew where the Dog Ear was.
Even if only to avoid it.
Mathe paused outside and took a deep breath to quell the rolling he felt deep in the pit of his stomach. It was one thing to go to the castle and speak to Blaine, and another thing entirely to step back into his past. To confront it head on. But Mathe had no desire to stretch his task out for longer than necessary, so he squared his shoulders and ducked through the doorway.
The common room was in stark contrast to the West Gate; although both inns looked shabby on the outside, the Dog Ear was even worse on the inside. The furniture looked like it was about to fall apart, and the place stank of piss and vomit. No natural light came in from outside, and there was only one fire at the far end of the room and a few small braziers behind the counter. A man stood there polishing a dull tankard with a sour look on his face. Mathe recognised him at once, but couldn’t remember where. What was his name? The man didn’t greet him or even acknowledge his presence, and so Mathe sat in a chair and grimaced at the stickiness of the tabletop.
As he sat, he suddenly remembered. The man used to be a member of the old household guard, Mathe was sure of it. He was often standing at the door to the old laird’s suites, from which Mathe would pass in and out at all hours of the day and night. He remembered the man as being unnecessarily cruel and not particularly bright, but nothing more than that.
“Ale,” he called over this shoulder in a rough voice. Politeness and etiquette didn’t have a place in the Dog Ear.
He heard a grunt and a pour, and then heavy footsteps approached. The dull grey tankard slammed down in front of him, spilling over the tabletop, and Mathe twisted to look up. He gave the man a nod and flicked a single copper coin onto the table.
The innkeeper picked it up and set it between his teeth before giving a nod of his own. He turned to leave, but not before looking Mathe in the eye. As he did so, his own eyes widened and he paused.
“What’s yer name?” the man asked bluntly.
Mathe felt his mouth twist into a smile. It was the old MacBrennan smile, twisted and with a touch of cruelty. It had never felt right on his face.
“Ye know my name, Rodric Ross,” he said in a low tone.
Rodric sat down heavily in front of him. “MacBrennan?” he whispered.
“Aye,” Mathe replied. “MacBrennan. I’m back.” He took a pull of ale and did his best to keep his face neutral. By the Gods, it was bad. The Dog Ear was never known for the quality of its food or drink, but it seemed even worse than he remembered. Either that, or he was getting a little too used to Rabby’s brewing. In front of him, Rodric had gone as white as a linen sheet.
“I thought ye were dead. We all did.”
“I dinnae die easily, Rodric. I’ve been busy killing the English, but I’ve just about had my fill. It’s time I turned my attention to things closer to home.”
“Ye're back to stay?” he asked.
“Aye, I’m here to stay. And what about ye? Last I remember, ye worked up in the castle.”
“Lost my job after ye left,” Rodric said with a shrug. “Back then Arran was the laird, and he kicked me out, and a bunch of the other lads. All of us who were close to the auld laird.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mathe replied. “Ye were always loyal to Arran’s father. It seems a poor way to reward that loyalty.”
“Aye,” Rodric muttered, and looked around the empty room. “This place came up for sale, though, so I spent my savings on it, and here we are.”
“Here we are.”
Rodric sat back and frowned, licking his lips. Mathe had the distinct impression that the man wanted to say something, but had suddenly found himself hesitant. “What do ye know about the state of things?” the man asked at last.
Mathe shrugged. “No' much, but I dinnae like what I hear.”
“Young Blaine is the laird, these days,” Rodric said.
“So I hear. I also hear that he’s verra good at sitting on his hands.”
Rodric nodded slowly. “Aye, ye heard right.”
Mathe gave him another evil smile. “I have to admit I’m no' at all pleased at the lad’s lack of baws; he’s no' half the man his father was.”
“Nay, he’s no',” Rodric said with a shake of his head. “The laird wouldnae have stood for this kind of inaction.”
“Auld laird,” Mathe corrected.
“He’ll always be the laird to us,” Rodric replied.
“Us?”
Rodric simply nodded and said no more, so Mathe drained the dregs of his ale and stood to hide the grimace.
“Take care, Rodric,” he said as he walked towards the door.
“MacBrennan,” he called, and Mathe stopped and turned back.
“Aye, Rodric Ross?”
“Dinnae be a stranger, ye hear?”
Mathe regarded the man in silence for a moment, then nodded “Aye. In that case, I might come back tomorrow night for dinner.”
The door opened to blessed fresh air and Mathe almost stumbled out, feeling dirty in a way that went beyond the sticky ale on his coat. He felt dirty to his very bones at what he’d just done and what it might mean. What was he setting in motion? With his head down, he hurried out of the old quarter, checking behind to make sure Rodric wasn’t following. He needed to be away from that place and back to the West Gate, where he was only Mathe and he had things to build.
In fact, as he walked, Mathe realised that what he really needed was Lilidh and Fynn. He had a desperate desire to be with them; to watch Fynn play, to speak to his wife and tease a smile from her. He needed to know that what he’d just done had meaning, and that it would lead to something good for his family. He was struck by a sudden gratitude that he would b
e spending the afternoon with them, doing nothing more than walking the town.
But first, he needed to get back to the West Gate; he had two fishing rods to mend.
16
Lilidh MacBrennan
Lilidh was minding her business, stacking heavy pots on the shelf, when Cora bumped into her from behind.
Lilidh sighed. The woman had been growing increasingly aggressive towards her all day, starting with cutting remarks and now moving to physical acts. She seemed to be upset about something; most likely the reaction to the events of the day before. Lilidh had walked in to an applause from a small group of maids and servants, thanking her for her quick actions to pull Nessa from the fire. The girl was recovering, although very badly burnt, and unlikely to return to work.
She’d seen Cora’s mouth tighten from a distance and knew the woman was likely jealous. Well, if that was the case, then so be it; Lilidh certainly wasn’t going to let herself get dragged down into the petty politics of the kitchen.
Only the woman seemed determined to bring things to some sort of conclusion.
Again Cora bumped her, this time digging her elbow in, and again Lilidh bit her tongue. She’d dealt with much worse, she reminded herself. Only, a part of her suddenly didn’t want to keep silent. She felt like she’d been pushed down for so long, trodden on, treated like dirt. Why did she have to keep taking it, and from this unpleasant woman besides?
But Lilidh knew the answer, and he was at home playing with his fishing rods.
In the end, it was Torrey who stepped in. Cora put in one mighty effort to rattle Lilidh, forcefully pushing her with a snarl, when Torrey stepped over and grasped the woman’s arm.
“Cora, that’s enough,” she said sternly. “What do ye think ye’re doing?”
A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2) Page 15
