Loving the Enemy [Highland Menage 10] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

“Cam kenned the will of Edgar Campbell, and so chose Lady Margaret as Somerled’s wife. It brought us back much of what was taken so many years ago,” explained Niall.

  “Thank ye, Lady Meg,” murmured Zander.

  “Thanks go only to the MacDougals who died under the hands of the Campbells, and of those who tried to live without what was once theirs.” Somerled’s expression changed from agreeable when he looked at his brothers, to fury when he glared at her. “Aye, it came to us because ye wed that Campbell, and then the king wed ye to me. But that doesna matter. As long as I get bairns I dinna care the name of the woman what bears them.”

  He said it with a snarl, hurt and anger blasting her. He wanted her to think she was just an object to him, a means to an end. She knew otherwise. If he didn’t care about her he would not be so jealous. He might think he hated her now, but his people didn’t. He could order them to shun her, and could even send Aggie away. She could do nothing about that. She could, however, refuse to accept it easily.

  “Like you, I didna have a choice in my father,” she said. His eye twitched at the recognition that he liked his father as little as she did hers. “I didna choose either of my husbands, nor where I was forced to live. Yet you blame me.” He stared at her, silently furious, so she continued. “I didna ken that MacDougals once owned Duntrune, nor the name of either husband until the day I met them. Herald Cam set up our marriage so Clan MacDougal would regain much of what had been taken. You may wish to pretend otherwise, but ’tis because of me that Duncladach has the Brooch of Lorn, and so much more!”

  “The brooch is back?” Artair, eyes wide, looked to Somerled for confirmation. At his abrupt nod the young man roared in delight and pounded Zander on the back. “Then all will be well!”

  “As long as there are sons to carry on,” said Torquil.

  “There will be sons,” replied Somerled coldly.

  “If ye arena sharing Lady Meg’s bed—”

  “I dinna need but a few minutes of rutting to beget sons from a dutiful wife.” Somerled aimed his contempt at Meg. “Ye have the tower room. Ye will stay there, silent, unless I give ye permission to leave. Aggie will bring yer meals. Be gone with ye!”

  Somerled turned his back in total rejection. Meg stiffened her backbone as she had so often before. She’d had to accept far worse from other men. The problem was, she didn’t love the others. They’d given her blows and bruises, scorn and humiliation. Somerled and Niall had fed her heart and soul. Their rejection could rip her apart if she allowed it.

  She would go to her chamber and wait for him. When he came she would tell him the truth. That she loved Hamish because he was her brother. That she wished nothing to do with Campbells, nor did Hamish. And if he accepted that, she might tell him of her love.

  No, she must wait until Somerled was at ease with her before speaking of love. He would think it a ploy, another lie, and never believe he held her heart.

  Either Hamish was her Campbell lover, one she vowed she’d always love, or he was her brother, and should be accepted as kin. She could do nothing about what was inside Somerled’s head and heart. Nor could she openly disobey, for he was the laird.

  Though he said otherwise in bluster she was fairly certain he wouldn’t force himself on her. If he did insist, she would do as she had with Edgar and just lie there, eyes shut and legs open. It would be nothing but a physical release for him, a mere rutting as he’d said, and nothing like what they’d shared.

  And if he didn’t come to her? She’d have time alone to sleep. The tension of keeping secrets was gone. She had a heavy heart, was exhausted and in pain, but she would show none of it. She thanked Torquil by tilting up her lips, swept her eyes over Hamish without lingering as she wished to, and turned her back on them all.

  Though pain shot up her feet as they touched the ground, and her legs flamed as her skirts brushed against the nettle burns, she would not give Somerled the satisfaction of seeing her limp. If he even looked. Yes, she would obey him and stay silent in her chamber. That would make arranging the Gathering difficult for him, but she would not lift a finger to help unless asked.

  She would see how long her irritating husband would last without her!

  Chapter Seven

  “Are ye a fool?” demanded Niall, keeping his voice low. He faced Somerled with a fury he hadn’t felt in years, and never with his twin. “As a man I ken the why of it, but ye are a laird. Ye shouldna let yer jealousy harm yer clan.” He pointed to Hamish. “Do ye truly think this lad is Meg’s lover?”

  Hamish, shorter and far thinner than any of them, glared at Somerled. He held his bound hands still and his jaw clamped shut. His expression was much like Meg when she had her dander up about something.

  “I saw my wife run to him,” said Somerled through gritted teeth. “He caught her and hugged her, and then he kissed her!” He curled his fingers into fists at his sides. “Do ye ken who Hamish is to Meg, Torquil?”

  “Aye,” replied Torquil calmly. “Ye’d see as well if ye’d but open yer eyes, laird.”

  “My eyes are open and I’ve seen enough,” replied Somerled with a snarl. “Take him away. Ye ken where.”

  “Aye, Laird MacDougal.”

  There was an edge to Torquil’s words, one Niall noted and Somerled ignored. Torquil tilted his head toward the castle. Hamish curled his lip at Somerled before following him. Artair and Zander rolled their eyes behind their eldest brother’s back and brought the horses into the stables. Finally Niall was alone with his twin.

  “Yer jealousy is clouding yer mind, and yer eyes.”

  “She’s like a witch.” Somerled pulled at his hair. “She makes me think and feel things that I dinna understand and canna explain.”

  “Ye will regret this, laird.” He would speak brother to brother later. This involved the whole clan and so he would show respect to his laird, even if he thought him a fool.

  “I already regret trusting her.”

  “How has Meg harmed ye?”

  “Of all my brothers, ye can ask that?” Somerled’s eyes blazed. “She opened herself to us so we would do the same and become weak. And all the time, every word and deed was false. I warned ye of Grizel, but ye wouldna hear of it!”

  Niall ground his teeth until he could speak without showing his temper. “Aye, Meg married a Campbell and couldna tell ye, but because of it she brought the clan wealth. ’Twas King James who said she mustn’t speak of it. And now I ken why. Ye see what ye wish and nay the truth.” Niall scowled in disgust. “Ye canna think straight.”

  “I can think straight when I need to. But this is between us three. Meg opened herself to us, and ’twas all a lie.” He blinked hard, looking up at the sky. “I canna forgive her that,” he whispered.

  Niall hurt as well, for both Meg and his twin. He’d been right in thinking Meg was a Campbell. Seeing Hamish had shocked him, but for a different reason than Somerled. He’d nearly blurted the truth when his twin insisted the two were lovers. Meg had filled out since arriving at Duncladach, putting on weight now she was away from her father and controlling husband. Hamish was so thin the resemblance wasn’t obvious, but if Somerled would open his eyes he would see how alike they were. Hamish’s hair was darker and he had a beard, but they were as much brother and sister as could be. Whoever Meg was before coming to Duncladach didn’t matter to Niall. What did matter was that she’d put everything else behind her.

  King James had told her not speak of her first husband so it was obvious he’d ordered this to stay a secret as well. Meg had known MacDougals were her enemies when she first rode up with the herald, had known they could harm her for it. Yet she’d trusted them, had even trusted Somerled to teach her to float. She’d also opened her heart, as he had in return.

  Somerled had just started opening up to Meg when the herald arrived from Duntrune with wagons of goods and they’d learned about Edgar Campbell. He’d taken it hard at first, then understood Meg had no choice but to do as the king ordered and keep silent. Meg
’s continuing refusal to speak of her past had made him suspicious. And now Somerled believed his worst fears were confirmed: he’d married, bedded, and perhaps even loved, a Campbell. The fool believed Meg had brought her lover to slaughter them all. Somerled was watching his nightmare come to life, rather than seeing the truth.

  “Brother, I canna believe Meg played a part when she gave herself to us,” said Niall as gently as he could. “Each time she gasped, each time she cried our names as she came, was real.”

  “Aye, and it may have been real when she did it with her lover, as well.”

  “How, when she hadna felt pleasure afore yer touch?”

  Somerled paused, then shrugged as if dislodging a fly. They were all hurting. Niall loved them both, as brother and as wife. Somerled had never gone back on a decision. He would have to this time. He was wronging Meg, and by that, harming them all. He had to discover the truth on his own, though Niall would encourage the process.

  “If Hamish truly was Meg’s lover she would have tried to hide it, aye?”

  “I willna speak on this!” blasted Somerled. “Artair and Zander are home and should be welcomed. As for ye, brother, dinna touch the Campbell lass.” He whirled around and strode toward the stables. “What have ye brought us from Calltuin, lads!”

  Niall’s three brothers clasped arms, as if Meg and Hamish didn’t exist. He stayed where he was, cursing. Meg had tried to tell Somerled Hamish was her brother, as had Torquil and the lads, but he’d stopped them. Somerled had quite an apology to make, to Meg and to Hamish. One day, many years from now, they would laugh about it all. At least, Niall hoped they would.

  He turned away from the three in the stables to find Finn and Dougal heading his way. They seemed unconcerned so must not have seen Torquil bring in Hamish.

  “Torquil said we was to help carry what Lady Isabel sent,” said Finn.

  “Aye, and that there was honey and the like,” added Dougal. He rubbed his gut. “Mayhaps Aggie will make some tarts.”

  “Did ye see Meg?” he asked as they passed.

  “Aye, Aggie’s washin’ her feet,” said Finn. “We asked, but she wouldna say why.”

  “Her face is all scrunched up, but Meg isna sayin’ a word,” said Dougal. “Mayhaps she banged her toe. She’s tough, our Meg,” he added with pride.

  “Aye, Meg is tough.”

  Niall hoped she was tough enough to weather this storm.

  * * * *

  “Now that Finn and Dougal are gone will ye tell me why ye did sommat so foolish as run over rocks in yer bare feet? They’re so bad ye left bloody footprints!”

  Meg gritted her teeth to keep from crying out as Aggie tenderly washed the bottoms of her feet. A Murray healer woman had spent one winter at Duntrune to teach skills to whatever women could learn. Edgar didn’t allow Meg to listen, of course, but after he was confined to bed Aggie had passed on much of what she’d learned. One thing the healer had stressed was that fewer wounds putrefied when they were cleaned and bound.

  “I saw that laddie Torquil took to the dungeon. He be yer wee brother, aye? And dinna fash, for I’ll say naught.”

  Meg would follow Somerled’s order to be silent, in that she would not speak. She and Aggie had learned to communicate silently as Edgar rarely let her open her mouth. Once he was confined to his bed Meg had no need to be silent. She’d said much about her past to Aggie, never expecting to marry men she’d been told were enemies. She hoped none of Somerled’s brothers would tell him Hamish was her brother. Let the arrogant, overbearing, jealous man hang himself with his own words!

  Edgar had given orders how she must dress, often had her locked in a small room, and ordered her to be silent. And now Somerled did the same. What would he insist she wear? Or would he keep her naked to prove her body was the only value she had to him? Aggie applied crushed dock leaves to her nettle scratches. Meg moaned in relief as the burning on her shins faded.

  “Bad enough to run o’er rocks and such when ye are used to boots,” muttered Aggie, “but to run through a nettle patch with yer skirts at yer knees?” She looked up when Meg stayed silent, lips pressed together. Aggie scowled. “Dinna tell me yer laird gave ye an order to be silent?” Meg nodded. Aggie frowned as she thought. “Ye lifted yer skirts and ran to greet yer wee brother?”

  Meg nodded again. Aggie gave a disgusted grunt as she turned back to her work.

  “Laird Somerled said he were naught like Edgar Campbell, yet the first time ye do sommat he doesna like he acts as if ye’ve cuckolded him.” She looked up. Meg lifted an eyebrow and gave a wry look. Aggie gasped. “That great hulking laird who makes ye scream most nights thinks wee Hamish is yer lover?” Meg shrugged and rolled her eyes.

  Aggie muttered under her breath. “Lie on yer belly so I can bind these, my lady.”

  She waited for Meg to roll over and bend her knees up, making the soles of her feet a flat surface. Aggie put a warm poultice on her left and began wrapping it with a strip of linen. Meg gritted her teeth. It hurt now but would be better later. She didn’t know how she would get up to her chamber without walking on them, but she would find a way.

  “Ye’re both stubborn,” grumbled Aggie. “All the lads but Ewan and mayhaps Torquil are bringing in whatever is on those packhorses. If ye wished to speak to me ye would. Or are ye makin’ a point by obeyin’ him now so ye can find fault with him later?”

  Meg wouldn’t have put it that way, but it was true. When Somerled realized how wrong he was, she wanted him to see that she’d followed his orders. She nodded.

  “And ye’re doing it as ye wish to stay married to the both of them.” Aggie patted her thigh affectionately. “I ken ye well, so dinna deny it. The laird and his twin love ye, and ye love them back.”

  “Nay!” Meg jammed her teeth together. Leaning on her elbows, she twisted her body around to glare at Aggie. The older woman almost cackled as she tied off the bandage.

  “That look proves it, my lady. Ye love ’em both, though in different ways, aye?”

  Meg dropped her head to rest on her crossed arms. Aggie picked up her right foot and began working on it. She loved her brother because when she hugged him, he hugged her back and meant it. Hamish, if asked if he loved her, would say aye. Niall might, but Somerled would never admit such a weakness to his clan. He’d had to be strong and silent to rule his brothers. He didn’t know how to change. As he’d never left Duncladach he’d only met one other laird. She’d heard Laird Fraser spoke openly of missing his wife but he was older, wealthy, and far more powerful. Somerled wouldn’t model himself on such a man.

  Hamish’s joy at seeing her today was not feigned. Somerled used to give her the same look when she came around a corner and he looked up. Her husbands used to pat her arse or wink. Niall continued to do so but Somerled had changed. The light had faded from his eyes. What had happened?

  Could love exist if it was one-sided? Both Somerled and Niall had treated her tenderly, which was as close to love as she’d experienced. She liked tenderness though sometimes she wished them to throw her on the bed and take her hard and fast.

  Maybe if Somerled was jealous he would act the conquering hero and do so. She held still rather than squirming as her tissues swelled. Though she was furious, she still wanted him. He’d tried to humiliate her by implying all he needed to create a son was a few thrusts against the wall. If she was eager and ready that’s all she would need to find her own release. And wouldn’t that surprise him!

  “Men dinna speak of their heart,” said Aggie, interrupting her lusty thoughts. “My Alfie doesna speak much but says lots with his eyes and his touch. Yer laird’s much the same. He willna speak of what means the most. Men say aye once to the priest to say they accept ye, and think the word to do ye the rest of your days.” She finished tying the second bandage. “Back on yer arse, my lady, and I’ll fix yer nettle rash.”

  Meg did so, hoping her arousal didn’t show. Any blush could be explained by her situation and the pain in her feet and shins
.

  “I would like words from my Alfie, but I dinna need it.” Aggie used wider linen strips to pack thick dock leaves over Meg’s shins. “I grew up bein’ loved. I ken it in Alfie so dinna need to hear it to believe it. But you, my lady, see yer men care for ye and hope, then ye tell yerself that ye’re nay worth lovin’.” She lowered her head to look up into Meg’s eyes. “That is yer father speakin’ in yer head, and Edgar. So ye back away, and they do the same. Ye are a fool if ye dinna believe. And ye, my lady, are nay a fool.”

  Footsteps coming through the passage had Meg flipping her skirt to cover her bandaged legs. She cringed, thinking it was Somerled, but it was Niall. He walked with his head down, carefully avoiding her bloody footprints. He shook his head as he walked over and crouched beside Aggie.

  “Ye felt naught when you ran but now ’tis over, it hurts, aye?”

  She sent a message with her eyes and face telling Niall exactly what she thought. He winced.

  “Did Laird Somerled order Lady Meg to be silent?” demanded Aggie. “I wish to learn why my lady’s feet are like this, why she had to walk all the way from the stables on them, and why her laird doesna wish her to speak.”

  “He’s jealous of her brother, who he thinks is her lover,” replied Niall. Meg blanched. “Nay, Somerled doesn’t ken Hamish is yer brother, though ’tis as plain as yer faces. I willna tell him, and will ask the others to say naught. Somerled must learn for himself that he has judged ye wrong. And then he’ll have to face ye on his own.”

  She nodded abruptly, pleased Niall understood.

  “Ye may be the reason he’s fashed, but it isna just about ye.” Niall waggled his head at her frown. “Aye, he thinks it, but there’s more to it. I’ve gone to the village all my life and seen mothers and fathers and bairns and old folks. I’ve been hugged by them, and by their wee lassies. Since our father died Somerled hasna gone to the village but that one time, to get ye a kitten. Until ye came he’d not been touched for pleasure. All he kens is fightin’. Ye make him feel things he doesna understand.” He rubbed at the wrinkles on his forehead. “He put his trust in ye, and believes ye failed him.”