Highland Scandal

by Mageela Troche

  Lachlan sat upon the stool. His hands dangled between his spread legs. She picked up the drying cloths she had used for Kenny. She spread one on the floor and draped the other one on his broad shoulders. She ran her hands over the cloth, smoothing it. He turned his head, watching her hands run over him.

  She slipped her hand along his neck to her fingers into his hair. With her fingers, she combed out his hair.

  “You have a nicely shaped head.”

  “Aye, is that important?”

  “I think so.”

  He gave her a sideway glance. She pinched the warm strands between her fingers. She cut. The strands fell. She lost herself in the task, going on the feel. His warmth radiated through the thick strands as she cut. The oils from his hair softened her skin like the ointment she used. She brushed back the strands from his ear.

  “Do not move.”

  “Then stop touching me like that.”

  “How am I touching you? I am only cutting your hair.”

  “You’re running your hands through my hair. Your fingers are brushing against my skin and you are so close that all I can do is smell you. Your hips are in my face and your breast rest against me. Though in truth, just one touch from you and I go hot and want nothing more than to take you to bed or take you on this floor.”

  She had realized she was breathless until air rushed into her chest. “Do you wish me to cease?”

  “Nay, I want you to never stop touching me.” He palmed her hips.

  She slipped her hand back into his hair, aware of the shape of his ear, the scar that raised the skin within his hairline…his manly scent. She couldn’t compare it to anything. Everything seemed lacking, missing one note. It was his alone. Rowen always closed her eyes to breath him in deeper.

  Somehow, she was able to cut his hair without taking off her fingers. “Finished.” She gathered the cloth then dusted the roan colored clippings from his corded neck.

  He stood up and drew her in for a kiss. Though Rowen was tall for a woman, Lachlan stood taller than her. She liked the way it made her feel, feminine, yet without taking anything away from her.

  Air brushed against her legs as Lachlan lifted her leine. She stood naked before him. The firelight licked her body, adding to the heat building within her. His fingers danced along her shoulder to her neck. She shivered as his hand traveled down her chest and cupped her breast. She moaned. Without letting her go, he molded his corded form to hers.

  “Do you know what I want to do to you?”

  She shook her head. “Tell me.”

  “I want to lay you down with me as your only cover.” He wrapped an arm around her and did just that. He tapped his forefinger at the vibrating piece of flesh. “I’m going to kiss that tender spot and feel your breath flutter against my lips.” He planted his lips for a lingering peck at the V of her neck. A thread of breath shook the spot.

  She rested her hands on his upper arms.

  “I don’t want you to touch me or I’ll explode. I have to feast on you.” She dropped her hands to the floor. He rubbed his chin against her skin. His stubble sparked prickles.

  “I’m going to cup your breast and feel them grow heavy in my hands,” he mumbled against her. “Your body has changed. It’s fuller, more womanly, but just as intoxicating.” He bent his dark head to her breast.

  She laid bare to him both physically and emotional. She had no excuse to hide from him, to keep part of herself closed off. She should have felt fear. “That’s not fair.”

  He lifted his head. “Look, at how your nipple glistens.” He licked it, flicking the hardened peak.

  “You tease.”

  “Nay, you do, my temptress.”

  She tugged at his clothing. Not making much of a difference, he helped her rid himself of the barrier. She reached to touch him. He grabbed her hand and folded it in his own.

  “Nay, you don’t get to touch.”

  Her hungry gaze ran over him. “I want to take your nipple into my mouth.” She raised her hand to her own and squeezed. His neck strained. “I want to taste the salt of your skin. Then I’m going to kiss a path down the center of your chest.” She moved her fingers along her body, showing the exact spot where she would do this to him. “Licking and biting you.” His nipples peaked out from the swirl of dark hairs covering his chest. The short hairs stood on end as they formed a line down his stomach.

  “Then I’m going to trace your navel with my tongue. Will your muscles stiffen like iron beneath my exploration?” It did exactly that. “Then I’ll curl my hand around your hard manhood, feel its heavy weight in my hand.”

  His manhood jerked.

  “Then I want you to enter me.” She cupped the very center of herself. “I’m so hot and wet.”

  He growled and pushed aside her hand and entered her. The mutual groan of delight and torture broke around them.

  She clutched his round buttocks. The muscles were hard. He lifted her legs so her knees were almost on her chest. He pumped into her.

  “Harder. Harder.”

  He gave it to her. Sweat ran down his face and into his eyes. Stroke after stroke the frenzy built. He called out. She felt the coil of her body tightening, nearing the point where she would snap from the tension. She lifted her hips, bringing him deeper, urged on by primal instinct. The slap of their skin sounded like the sweetest music.

  Her nails bit into him. Her back arched. She gasped. His roar rumbled through her and it was the one thing that brought her back to earth.

  Between their ragged breathing and the dying fire, there was no other sound in the room. It didn’t take longer to recover, though she thought it should have lasted longer. Something that taxing should need more time.

  She rolled to her side. Lachlan sprawled on his back. She traced the vein bulging in his arm. She smoothed his arm hair.

  He looked to the bed. “Do you think we woke him?”

  “Nay, he would have spoken.”

  “Perhaps, he did and we didn’t hear him.”

  “Then he would be standing right here.” She burrowed her head against his chest. “Lachlan, I am not leaving you. I love you and we have been given another chance. We will fight to keep it.”

  “Aye, we will and be triumphant.”

  * * * *

  Sheena stepped into the kitchen. Servants darted about, preparing the meals. The delicious scent of bread baking blended with the roasting meat, and her stomach growled. She wend her way to Mistress Cullen, trying to avoid being in the servants’ way. Her guard was present behind her.

  “There ye are. Ye dinna come down for the evening meal.”

  “I was tired and went to bed.”

  Mistress Cullen narrowed her eyes, but let the falsehood lie. “Well, ye can have some bread and cheese.” She filled a platter.

  “Thank ye.” She took the platter and went to the kitchen bench. Her guard settled at her side, taking up most of the space. While eating, she noticed the busy mood dimmed. She kept her eyes on her food.

  When Ewan lived, she had seen the scorn and acted as if it hadn’t bothered her. She had done what she had to in order to survive. Yet, here in the smoky space, she realized how alone she was. These people believed her a whore and a murderer. She wished she had the chance to judge. But she needed to eat, to live. They could keep their high-hand morality.

  She ate her meal as she had every one before this one. Though, she missed having someone to talk with, to share stories and tales or just to waste time. The laird believed her. Rowen did, too. She had to learn the secret Semias kept. She couldn’t ask him. There was one person who knew every happening in the castle walls. Mistress Cullen.

  Once finished, she returned the platter to Mistress Cullen.

  Sheena left the kitchen with her guard. With Laird Cameron’s presence, Mistress Cullen would see to his chamber herself. Sheena would wait in her chamber for her to pass.

  Most of the day had wasted away. She had laid down, a fretful sleep since she wanted to sleep on h
er stomach. What ye canna do is the one thing ye want. She hoped she hadn’t missed her. She started growing restless.

  Humming reached her ears as Mistress Cullen pushed in the door. Sheena struggled to sit up.

  “Let me help ye, lass.” Mistress Cullen took her by the hands and helped her up.

  “Thank ye. Ye have always been kind to me.”

  Mistress Cullen made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat.

  “I ken that Ewan had many women aboot.”

  “Aye, I dinna like all of them. But I understand why ye acted as ye did.”

  “Weel, at the end I dinna understand. Ewan was mad. Him going on aboot his past and her, whoever she was?”

  “That’s true.” She crossed herself. “He did.”

  “Do ye remember that night when he came back covered in dirt? That was the first time I was frightened of him.”

  “Aye, the devil got him that night. He was at the kirk.”

  “At the kirk? Whatever for?”

  “Weel, I dinna ken. His parents be there, but not for them. I’m thinking it must be the laird’s mother.”

  “Was she called Agnes?” He had moaned her name in sleep once.

  “Aye. She was a kind, beautiful woman an’ different than her sister, the lairdess. She died when the laird was a wee lad. The auld laird sent him to foster with Laird MacLean.”

  “How did she die?”

  Mistress Cullen shook her head mournfully. “A sad tale. She left the laird by himself and walked into the woods. Semias found her body, torn up by a boar, he said.”

  “Did ye see her?”

  “Nay, she was buried quickly.”

  Perhaps Semias killed her. Was that the secret Ewan discovered? “Do ye think he went because of her?”

  “He did say that he saw her—though he never said her name—but she’s there. He even asked me if I saw her. Och, I swear I felt the chilled hands of death upon me. Dinna fret any more. Yer bairn should be well.” She patted her hand. “All is set here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A fortnight had passed since Cameron departed. Lachlan was preparing for a battle. The weather was warming. In the strath, the snow had vanished. The buddings had yet to appear, but all preparations for spring were beginning.

  He had sent out hunting parties and sought to replenish the castle’s meat supply. The castle wells were in perfect order and he did an accounting of the weapons, making the blacksmith work over his fires from dawn to gloaming.

  Patrols returned. Iananta stood with his commander. “Jonty an’ his men have na been spotted.”

  “I expected it. The Lairdess boasted her plan to band with Clan Murray. They must be there so they can strike once the weather warms. Both clans are evenly matched in numbers. I can call up the MacLeans, the MacKenzies, and the Drummonds—they hate the Murrays. The first annoyance is Jonty and his rebels. If I can wipe them away, then I can deal with the Murrays.”

  Iananta nodded. “I have sent out men with rested eyes and fresh horses.”

  “Good. What else requires my attention?”

  Lachlan listened as he reported news that dealt with the garrison. Two men were hurt, broken fingers and gashes from sword play. Another one was ill. Mistress Cullen was seeing to his care. Two of the boys had tapped a barrel of ale and drunk themselves in a stupor and were now being punished, beaten, and sent to clean the privies. One of the guards assigned to the castle walls had been transferred to the gate since he’d gotten quite ill up that high. Lachlan did not think it was that high.

  Iananta finished his report as Rowen appeared in the archway of the castle stairs. When he dismissed his commander, she rushed to him. There was something in her hand.

  “I found this under the bed.” In the center of her palm was a flat piece of iron to ward off fairies.

  Lachlan snatched it from her. “What were you doing under the bed?”

  “Kenny stabbed the mattress and it went between it and the box. When I tucked in the sheets, I found it there. I am not a banshee. Who is doing this? And who is trying to protect you from me?”

  He slapped it against his palm. “I will find out.”

  “Nay, I will.”

  “Rowen, do not be foolish. Whoever this is will not tell you.” He gave her a quick kiss even though he wanted to linger.

  “Fine, but it must be someone in the castle.”

  Whoever it was must have told Kenny about the fairies. That explained why he had been digging up the garden thinking to find their home.

  He watched Rowen storm away, muttering to herself. Once she was a distance away, he ordered Semias brought to him. He didn’t have long to wait for the man to appear.

  “What do you know of this?” He held up the piece of iron.

  “Nothing, Laird.”

  “It was found under Rowen’s bed.”

  Semias raised his brows as understanding dawn on him. “I had tried to handle this problem myself. It seems I have failed.”

  “Explain this problem.”

  “All through the highlands it is known of the MacKenzie banshee. It seems someone has gossiped about her and you. People know you spend your nights with her in the chamber. That is when fairies come inside a home. They are saying that you are air a thoirt as.”

  Taken out of himself.

  “What about when she is here during the day? That would make too much sense.”

  “They say she will prove your ruin as a fairy did your father and this unrest is proving it. They only seek to protect their laird and you being a man, you cannot see this. The folks wait to hear her fatal scream.”

  “If Rowen learns who did this there will be a fatal scream, but not from her. Stop this nonsense.”

  “I cannot, Laird. People believe. How do you stop that? Unless you send her away.”

  “Never.”

  “Then it is either her or the clan.”

  * * * *

  Sheena stepped from the shadow of the archway and into Semias’s path. She risked much including her bairn’s life, but she knew Semias was guilty. She would not pay for his crime.

  “Spying on a private exchange?”

  Her guard grabbed her by the arm. Sheena shook it off.

  “The laird shares much with his father, but na all.”

  Semias motioned with his chin for the guard to release her and give them privacy. “You may have shared Ewan’s bed however, you do not know everything. You do not fool me.”

  “Nor ye I. I ken aboot yer secret.”

  He let out a hollow chuckle. “You foolish girl. This is not your business.”

  “’Tis. Ye wanna kill me. I ken ye killed Ewan.”

  The hazy glossiness of his eyes hardened. “You dare. I should beat you.”

  She crowded him. “I’ll have to tell the laird why? Aye, Ewan spoke of it. Most believed he uttered nonsense an’ he might have been most of the time. There were moments though when he was verra clear.”

  “A whore. What is your price?” His spit landed on her cheek.

  She clamped down her back teeth. “I’m na whore. The laird saved me from ye and I na betray that. But now, I ken yer secret.”

  “My secret,” he repeated, a chill in his tone.

  “Tell the laird or I shall.”

  “What secret must I tell?” He looked down his thin, long nose at her. “Ah, you know nothing. You make empty threats,” he continued when she stayed silent. He pushed by her.

  “Agnes,” she said. Her need for revenge added a chill to her tone.

  He spun toward her and pushed her against the wall. “What did you say?”

  She rose up on her toes and put her nose in his face. “Agnes.”

  “Never speak that name again. You do not know what you are risking.”

  “My life is in danger, so what else can I lose?”

  He shoved her and she fell to her knees. The guard rushed to her side and helped her up. “Ye should see Mistress Cullen. Come along, lass.”

  “Nay, I m
ust talk to Rowen.” She peered around as if she would appear.

  “After ye are cared for. I’ll na take nay for an answer.” He cupped her elbow and applied pressure for her to follow him.

  “Verra weel,” she said. She let him escort her to the kitchen. She perched on the bench, away from the whirlwind of the meal preparations. Mistress Cullen bustled over to her, clucking like a proper mother hen.

  “Ye must be careful, lass. Ye canna be so strong on yer feet wit’ that girth.”

  The guard opened his mouth to explain, but Sheena cut in, “Aye, ye right. I’ll be more careful from this moment on.”

  She nodded, pleased at the vow. “Ye’re fine, but ye should go rest. Yer time is coming soon.”

  Sheena thanked her and departed from the kitchen. She limped, as a sharp pain shot from her hip to her leg. Her knees throbbed.

  “I’m na returning to my chamber. I must see Rowen.”

  “I think ye should rest, but verra weel.” The guard helped her up the stairs, supporting her from the back. “People say she’s a fairy.”

  “Do ye think so?”

  “Nay, but if she marries the laird, then other clans would be scared. Be careful, ye dinna wanna harm yeself.”

  What she had told Semias was true—she had nothing to lose. This was her chance to change her life and the selfish way she lived it. She yearned for her auld life. She hadn’t ken it at the time, but she had been content and blessed.

  Sheena entered the chamber at Rowen’s bidding and left the guard outside.

  “Is all well?” She asked. Kenny lifted his head from the bed, and then climbed to his hands and knees.

  “I must speak with ye.”

  Her icy eyes locked on her face. “Please sit.” She let her son off the bed. “You have been given a reprieve, play quietly.”

  Kenny padded toward the horse by the window.

  “If I tell ye, ye can be in danger.”

  “I must know.”

  “I ken why Semias killed Ewan.” She leaned close to Rowen.

  “Why?”

  “The laird’s mother, Agnes. Semias must have killed her; after all, he was the one who found her an’ Ewan discovered the truth.” She went on to explain all she had learned and her ideas on it.