by Fiona Faris
“Good night wife.”
She gave him a tight smile in response. “Good night, husband.”
The sky was growing light behind the curtains, the dark of night fading to the dull gray of a cloudy morning, and Emily stirred. The room was cool–the fires had burned out during the night beneath the covers it was warm with the heat of two bodies, Alexander's arm tucking her close to him.
Her eyes opened slowly, and she tilted her head to see him properly, his face tranquil in repose, his lips parted softly. She had kissed those lips the night before, and she wanted to do it again today.
My husband.
Emily wondered at the words. He called her wife but before she called him husband last night, she had assumed it was in jest. But perhaps it was a term of endearment.
She sighed, feeling strangely content.
However, it was morning and nature called, and Emily had to attend to necessity. She slipped from his embrace as carefully as she could; shivering as she grabbed her robe and tied it securely around her.
When she returned, Alexander was awake, blinking sleepily and sitting up, the coverlet drawn high about his shoulders.
"There ye are," his voice was rusty from sleep as he opened the bedroll to her in invitation. This was yet new, and shyness still stole upon her, but Emily did not hesitate for long, shedding her robe she returned to his arms. It had been the best sleep since they had been here, to curl up in her husband’s arms. She did not want to give that up.
"Good morning," Emily lay back as Alexander tucked the blankets about her, and then slid his arms back around her waist. She slowly trailed her hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat against her palm. She tentatively tilted her face towards his and he answered her invitation with a gentle kiss. Emotion welled within her.
"Did ye sleep well?"
"Mmm, I did." Emily let her mind drift as he nuzzled her cheek and pressed another kiss upon her left cheek. He surprised her by lifting his chin and pressing another to her forehead, usually hidden by the fall of her golden hair.
She was a little taken aback at his easy affection but it was the early hours and the lowering of inhibitions before the start of their day.
When she was younger, Emily had not properly appreciated the easy devotion to her parents had displayed to each other. Now she was beginning to understand that it did not simply happen. After facing the prospect of an unwanted union and finding it much different than she had expected, rejecting this kind of intimacy seemed the height of foolishness.
This was hers, she thought, Alexander was hers, and she would not let any of it slip away again.
Alexander's head dipped, his mouth finding the arc of her throat. She sighed, turning towards him and pressing herself against his body. The chill from her venture outside the bed had all but gone. He made a rough noise against her skin and pulled her tighter to him, one hand slipping down to palm her hip.
"Yes"
Emily reached up to rake her fingers through his long dark hair, pushing one messy lock back from his forehead. Alexander reached further down to pull her thigh over his. His fingers danced over her skin and then between her legs, searching, finding, stroking. He circled his thumb against her causing Emily to shudder and press her nose into his hair, hiding her pleasure as she breathed his name. Alexander scattered nibbling kisses over her collarbone and the twin mounds of her bosom.
Emily tightened her grip on his hair and pulled his mouth away from her. She tipped his face towards her so she could return the favor. Her efforts were hot and messy, all tongue, teeth, and inexperience. She mumbled a word against the corners of his mouth.
"Now please."
The sound he made was inarticulate but unquestionably agreement. She stole a bold hand between them; finding him hot and hard. Clumsily ad instinctively she stroked him once, and then again. Alexander spluttered and groaned, his hands slipping and then finding purchase against her hip, fingers pressing hard into her skin.
Emily smiled, hitching her leg higher over his and pressed in. He guided them together, her whiskey eyes flashing and fluttering at the feel of their joining. She bit her lip, long lashes sweeping downward as she regarded his lips thoughtfully before biting them too.
They were joined together, face-to-face, forehead to forehead and mouth to mouth. The edges of the room began to brighten with the morning light. There were signs that life was beginning to stir outside their room. Emily felt that perhaps they should hurry before Frances or Rebecca knocked on the door. Nevertheless, for this moment, there was nothing but this, the remnants of a warm fire, cozy blankets, and sweaty bodies... nothing but Alexander.
It was slow and sometimes halting, the angle imperfect, but so were they. That did not change the way it felt to be like this. Alexander's hips rocked steadily into hers, his fingers seeking out that spot again, and the darkness behind her eyelids began to sparkle with stars.
Emily trailed her fingers over his back, nails scratching against his skin. She groaned his name and gave herself over to the rush of blood, the thrill of his touch. Alexander gave an answering moan against her neck.
It was not perfect, but maybe it was.
Later they caught their breath, and Alexander smiled, his hand finding hers, intertwining their fingers.
"It's going to be a lovely day," he said, a damp curl of hair falling incorrigibly back over his forehead.
"Yes," Emily nodded, "it will be."
It is a happy thought.
Chapter Sixteen
The crofters did not turn up that day. At first Alex thought was that the change in weather was responsible. Although the storm had blown itself out sometime in the night, there were still occasional squalls of rain. Moving into the manor was proving more and more to be a very wise decision.
They gathered in the kitchen Frances warmed the making them some warm ale and while Rebecca cooked some bannocks.
“We should start baking bread,” Rebecca eyed the huge stone oven covetously.
“Indeed. Does anyone know how to do that?”
Alexander looked around the kitchen at the three ladies. Frances put her hand up slowly.
“Me da was a baker.”
“Oh really? You never said,” Emily leaned toward her maid with interest.
“What do we need for you to get baking?” Alexander rubbed his hands together with anticipated relish, a huge grin on his face.
Rebecca was immediately suspicious.
“Well...ye are in a guid mood today, aren’t ye?”
Alexander merely lifted an eyebrow before looking away from his sister.
“I shall give my mistress a list,” Frances replied.
“Good. I think we can do some bartering and get what we need. Now eat up, let us finish with making this place habitable.” Alexander picked up his cup of ale and drained it. The others followed suit and for a time, the kitchen was silent except for the clink of cutlery and the sounds of chewing.
“Hmm, shouldn’t Amos and the crofters be here by now?” Rebecca frowned, looking up from her plate of bannocks.
“Perhaps the rain has delayed them,” Emily was still untroubled and basking in the glow of the morning’s activities.
Rebecca shook her head. “Why? Shouldn’t they be used to it by now? Is nobody else concerned?”
Alexander got to his feet. “Finish your breakfasts. I shall go and see what’s keeping them.”
Alexander grabbed his coat and stepped out into the cold while appreciating that he had somewhere warm to retreat to if it got too cold. He would never take that for granted. He looked toward the broken down gateway, brow beetled with concern as he wondered what was. keeping his men.
Going to the stable, he saddled his horse, Sadie. He murmured softly to her as he led her out of her warm and cozy surroundings and out into the windy wet. Sadie had been with him a long time, through all kinds of weather. A little muddy cold. Climbing would not faze her.
Climbing onto her back, he pointed his mare towards the
village. they came upon Amos, ambling along toward them as they trotted sedately along the cobbled road. He was unaccompanied which was rather concerning.
Alexander stopped his horse, dismounted, and went to greet Amos, the question clear in his eyes.
Amos exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “They won’t come.”
“Why not?”
“The brigands have returned. They say that they are in charge of this village and anyone who trades with or helps you is a traitor.”
“What?”
“Och, aye?”
“They have threatened everyone.”
Alexander growled.
Amos grasped his walking stick. “What shall we do?”
“We have a house to build and those are my crofters; mine to command, mine to protect. Go back with this message Amos. Ye tell them that they have seen me in action against these so-called brigands. Ask them who they would rather follow – them, or me.”
Amos nodded. “I shall do as you say.”
Alexander turned back to his horse and mounted it. “I shall see ye back at the house when ye bring an answer.”
Amos nodded again and turned away.
“And Amos?”
The man stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at the Scotsman, his face grim.
“Try not to come alone.”
Alexander turned his horse around and took off at a slow trot. This was indeed bad news, but he was grateful that the challenge had come at a time when his knee was better. If it came down to a fight, he was ready.
Nevertheless, he needed loyal men behind him or his whole scheme would be futile. He resolved to write to his garrison who were camped at the border. He could host them at the manor, and they could help him clear the countryside of bandits. However, the truth of the matter was that he needed the locals to align with him or this would never work.
He urged Sadie to go faster, not wanting to leave his womenfolk unprotected for too long. Rebecca was handy with a blade, but he did not want her to have to fight anyone off if she did not have to.
“Bad news?” Rebecca had been waiting for him in the hallway, hand on hip as Frances carried water upstairs to commence cleaning and Emily washed up the breakfast dishes.
“The bandits are back. They are demanding that the villagers stay away from us.”
“Bollocks.”
Alexander smiled. “Yes indeed.”
“What will we do?”
Alexander began to walk towards the kitchen, not wanting to have this conversation twice. “I have sent Amos with a message. I have said that I will shelter all who choose to live under my protection. Now it’s up to them.”
Rebecca inhaled sharply. “But can ye do that? We barely have more than a few rusty weapons.”
Emily stopped washing dishes to listen.
“We had some rusty weapons. Ye had me off my feet for days. I occupied my time cleaning them. We have to defend ourselves should the need arise a good enough arsenal the noo.”
“That’s good news. Now if only we had more than one pair of hands to wield them.” Emily chimed in.
Rebecca turned her head to look at the girl. “What? What d’ye mean one pair of hands? What’s wrong with these?” she held her own hands out to Emily.
“N-nothing,” Emily looked dumbfounded. “You can fight?”
Rebecca laughed. “I grew up on the streets my dear. Of course, I can fight.”
“Weel, let’s hope ye don’t have to. I shall go and write to the garrison now, see if I can get some help.”
“They are at least ten days’ ride away,” Rebecca warned.
“Aye, weel I pray that Amos returns with at least a few good men.”
Amos returned with five men, most of whom had barely left the milk of youth behind them.
“This is all I could find to come with me, Mr MacTavish.”
Alexander looked them over with a jaundiced eye. He stepped forward to tower over them, hands on hips. “I appreciate yer loyalty gentlemen, but pray tell me why did ye decide to come and help us.” He fixed his gaze on the first youth, barely sixteen if he was a day. The boy’s eyes darted to the house. “We couldn’t leave the women unprotected.”
Alexander cocked an eyebrow, wondering whether it was his sister or the lady’s maid that had caught this boy’s eye. He said nothing though, simply nodded and moved on to the next one.
The first order of business was to hold drills in the courtyard for so as to gauge the ability of his men. To his surprise, Amos joined in as well as all three women.
He handed out knives, urging instructing them all to stab as hard as they could into the straw-filled sacks he’d hung to represent the enemy. He had randomly distributed blocks of wood within the straw to represent bone. Frances learned that to her detriment when she almost sprained her wrist.
The boy, the one who had come to protect the womenfolk, ran immediately to her side, cradling her wrist in his hand and asking if she was all right.
“I am fine, thank you.” She blushed a bright red before snatching her hand away as fast as she could.
There was still a so much to be done in the south and north wing. North and South wings and after the drills, it was back to work. Thankfully, the snakes were mostly gone, at least in the parts of the house they had cleaned out.
At noon he hitched Sadie to the wagon and set out for the village.
He watched as Emily threw herself into the work, never stinting to chip in, despite her fear of the snakes. He could not help but notice how much better she was getting at managing the household; he watched Rebecca gradually step back and let her take charge.
It was gratifying.
Perhaps there was hope for them after all.
He took a deep breath, resolving that after all her hard work, she deserved to sleep on a feather mattress each night. He vowed that whatever these brigands had to say, he would get that mattress for his wife, whether the seamstress liked it or not.
He knocked on the door of her shop he stepped into the darkened interior, blinking to accustom his eyes to the gloom.
“Miss Henderson, it’s Alexander MacTavish here for the feather mattress.”
A white silhouette appeared from the back of the shop. “Mr MacTavish, you are early.”
“Yes well…” he shrugged, “things have changed. Is my mattress ready?”
“Yes, it is Mr MacTavish. I shall just fetch me son, to load it for you.”
“Thank you.”
Alexander turned around and stepped back out of the shop. There were quite a few men milling about the village square, watching him from the corner of their eyes. He did not know if they were bandits or crofters but either way, he was ready. He went and stood by his wagon and waited.
A young boy emerged from the back of the shop, bent over double under the weight of the mattress. Alexander hurried forward to help him ease it onto the wagon. He rummaged in his bag, emerging with a hock of ham from their personal stocks.
“A little token for ye and yer mam. Our bargain still stands and as soon as I go hunting she will get the haunch of venison delivert.”
“Thank you, sir,” the boy took the ham reverently as if he had not seen such food in a long time. Alexander smiled, remembering a time when he had been that boy.
“Ye’re welcome. And yer name is..?”
“Brendan sir.”
“Brendan aye? That’s a good strong name. If ye want to earn a penny or two, come down to the manor house, and I can find a thing or two for ye to do.”
The boy brightened visibly. “Really sir? I would like that.”
Alexander smiled. “Good. I hope to see ye there then.”
He got on his wagon, setting off at a slow pace, letting the villagers see him. As he approached the edge of the square a man came up beside the wagon, looking up at him.
“The bandits have ruled these parts for years,” he began without preamble, “We don’t even know if you’re here to stay.”
Alexander turned
to face him. “Ye think we’re cleaning out the manor house for the fun o’ ita lark?”
“Your wife does not seem comfortable here.”
Alexander’s stomach twisted with anger at the words. How dare this man presume to pass comment on his wife? Emily? The man seemed to realize his mistake and quickly bowed his head in apology. “Forgive me. We are just a-scared that you will abandon us as the previous lord did.”
