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

by Reece Butler

  Of course the villagers were joyous at the honor of Laird Fraser’s visit, and all the brothers coming home. The older ones wished to meet the wives who’d taken on the lads they’d seen grow up. Niall didn’t speak of the other lairds as it wasn’t likely to happen.

  He kept telling himself all would go well as he tried to sleep that night. It didn’t work. It was, he realized, the first night he’d slept without at least one brother in the room. Or, in this case, lain awake. He went up on the wall walk, too restless to sleep. He thought it deserted until he heard the shuffle of a foot.

  “’Tis Niall,” he said quietly into the night.

  “Aye, I ken yer spark.”

  “My spark?” He turned to Ewan, who’d joined them, grinning but silent, when they returned from the village meeting. “I dinna have a candle.”

  “All living creatures have a spark of light. In here.” Ewan tapped his chest over his heart. “Each is different, so I can tell ye apart.”

  Ewan hadn’t spoken about this before. If he could tell…

  “Ye kenned where Meg was the whole time?”

  “Aye. ’Twould be best if ye didna say that to the laird.”

  “So ye can tell they’re together.”

  “I can See their sparks. I dinna feel them, as ye do with yer twin, aye?”

  Niall leaned his palms on the cold stone and looked out. “Oh, I feel them. Too well. I near took my foot off with the axe when Somerled claimed Meg the first time.”

  “I have news for ye that may help ye sleep this night.”

  “Sleep, with what Somerled’s doing with Meg?”

  “The spark from yer babe is strong.”

  Niall cocked his head, sure he’d misunderstood. “My babe?”

  “Aye. The wee spark inside Meg is much like yer own.”

  Niall leaned his back against the wall. The chill proved he was awake, not dreaming. “Meg carries a babe? And ye ken ’tis mine?”

  Ewan rolled his eyes. “Did ye nay listen? Aye, she is carryin’ a spark of life made from the two of ye. Sometimes the spark fades and the lass loses the babe, but this one burns bright. If all goes well ye’ll be holdin’ yer son by spring.”

  His heart near stopped, and then pounded. He was going to be a father! A real father, nothing like the one who’d spawned him and walked away. Joy burst through him, quickly followed by terror.

  “How can I be a good father? I ken naught of it, nor does Somerled.”

  “Ye ken naught?” Ewan’s eyebrows went up with his voice. “What about the fourteen lads ye raised?”

  “’Twas Tearlach and Rory what did most of that after Mary died.”

  “They acted as mam to the wee ones, but ye and the laird were all we kenned of a da. Anyone with a hard cock can make a babe. It takes heart and soul to be a da, and that’s what ye gave us all.” He shook out his shoulders. “So dinna say ye’d nay be a good ’un,” he growled.

  Niall found himself choking up. They never spoke of such things. Life was about survival. They’d done what they had to and ignored, or joked about, what they couldn’t change. They’d raised their brothers on instinct. They’d had little else but a high stone wall to keep out their enemies. It hadn’t fed, warmed, or taught them more than survival. Many a winter night he’d worried if they would all be alive come the summer.

  “Thank ye,” he said quietly into the night. “It means much to me.”

  “Aye, well, yer bairns will have good uncles as well,” he replied gruffly.

  “They will at that.” Niall hesitated. “Do ye think ye might be able to hold a babe, as it doesna have evil in it?”

  Ewan was quite a long time. “I’m hopin’ to. We’ll see with Fiona’s Morag.”

  “If ye canna be a da yerself, ye’ll be the best uncle a lad or lassie could have.”

  Ewan nodded but said nothing. They stood there, close but not touching, looking into the night.

  “I’d best try to sleep,” said Niall. “’Twill be a busy day on the morrow.”

  Ewan looked toward the stairs. His face lightened. “Ah, good.”

  Out of the dark came a streak, orange tail not even knee high. Fearchar attempted to climb Ewan’s bare legs. He smiled, knelt, and allowed the kitten to climb up his plaid and onto his shoulder. He stood, scratching the loudly purring kitten with his fingers.

  “A kitten’s thoughts are of naught but food, hunting, sleep, and cuddles,” murmured Ewan. “It eases what’s in my head.”

  “What is that?”

  “’Tis like I am in a battle with blades flashing and screams and…” Ewan swallowed. “When Fearchar or Shadow is near, or lies around my neck, it eases.”

  “Are dogs the same?”

  “Aye, though dogs will stay with a man and keep him company while cats take what they will and go off on their own.” Ewan paused. “Cats hunt at night so dinna stay with me long. A dog dreaming of chasing rabbits may let me sleep for hours.”

  He’d had no idea it was so bad for Ewan. “We will do all we can to help ye get, and keep, a dog for ye. If we’d kenned this afore, we’d have—”

  “We didna have the meat to feed a dog, so I said naught. The young lads needed food more than I needed sleep.”

  Niall shuddered a breath. They’d survived, all of them. That was all that mattered. Good times were here, with better coming. He would focus on that future, not the hungry, painful past.

  “Ye are a brave man, Ewan MacDougal. Ye mayna have held yer blade and swung at an enemy to cut into his flesh, but ye are a warrior.” Niall bowed to him. “I wish ye good sleep, brother. Mayhaps not tonight, but soon. Yer dog, when it comes, will be as a brother to us.”

  Ewan’s brief nod was thanks enough. Niall was across the bailey and halfway to their chamber when his cock suddenly rose.

  “Satan’s horns, they’re at it again!”

  If Somerled and Meg were not back soon after he broke his fast he would go after them!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Meg had taken refuge in her bed. She was exhausted from the walk, the lack of sleep, and relief. Relief that Somerled had lost his great fear of attack, no longer saw her as a potential enemy, and that she wasn’t barren. Her retching that morning had concerned Somerled until she explained why. Once her stomach had settled, and she’d convinced him it wouldn’t hurt the speck of life growing inside her, she’d ridden him to a very successful conclusion.

  She didn’t like that others learned of her babe before Niall. She wanted to tell him first but Somerled couldn’t wait. They’d been approaching the village when he saw some lads hunting rabbits. He’d boasted about his bairn and said they may help teach the laddie how to hunt when he was old enough. The children ran to the village with the news, so when she and Somerled passed through it had been to great cheers.

  Her hulking laird of a husband boasted as if he’d achieved something unimaginably difficult, all by himself, and was the first to do so. He seemed to forget all about his inability to walk farther than the stables without breaking into a sweat. When she rolled her eyes the village wives had laughed and agreed their own men had been the same.

  They’d been so busy when they got back to Duncladach that she hadn’t had a moment alone with Niall. She was debating whether to sleep when the door opened.

  “Finally I get ye alone,” said Niall, eyes flashing and grin wide.

  “I’ve been wanting the same,” she replied, reaching for him.

  “The kitchen’s empty, and the water is hot.” He held out his hand. “I will bathe my wife. And then I will carry her back to bed and put her to sleep.”

  “I would like that.”

  Meg was barely awake when Niall carried her into their chamber. The heat of the bath had eased her sore muscles. Niall gently set her on the bed and backed away.

  “Where you going?” she murmured.

  “If I get in that bed with ye ’twill be a while afore ye sleep.”

  “Then I will sleep after,” she said. “Methinks you’
ve gone without for long enough.”

  “But I’m thinking of you. Ye are tired.”

  “Aye, but I will sleep much better after I peak.”

  “I would sleep much better after ye peak, as well.”

  She smiled and opened her arms to him. He joined her on the bed.

  “I need to hold ye, Meg. That more than anything.” She snuggled into him, lying on his chest. He released a sigh of content. “I missed ye, Meg.”

  “I wished to tell ye about the babe myself. But that brother of yours had to announce the news to all.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Ewan told me last night. He kenned the spark within ye, and that it’s made of the two of us.”

  She turned to him in joy. “’Tis your babe?”

  “’Tis our babe, the three of us. The first of many healthy ones. Now hush. I didna sleep last night. I’d rather sleep with ye. For now,” he added. “’Twill be different when we wake.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Somerled had been working, sitting on his arse since he broke his fast. His desk faced a window, one that looked west. It gave him good light but didn’t blind him. He hated doing accounts but it had to be done. Tearlach and Rory had arrived from Calltuin and were settled with Isabel, whose belly was rounded with their babe. Meg wasn’t showing yet, unfortunately. He wanted to prove that he was as virile as his brothers.

  He hoped either Angus or Gillis made it home. There was no chance of the others as they lived too far away. The youngest four seemed to think there’d be more than the ten of them to celebrate the Gathering, but he disagreed. The others were lairds of their own towers and castles with wives and babes to think of. They’d not travel so far for a mere ceremony no matter how much he wished they could. He wanted to show them how Duncladach had changed thanks to Meg, their Lady MacDougal. He wanted to show Meg off as well, and that she carried a babe. He’d wanted many things in life and been disappointed. He’d survive this as well.

  He totaled up the last column of numbers, checked it twice before writing it down, and then shoved it all away. He rubbed his eyes, looking across the bay toward Mull. A slight scrape made him turn.

  “Laird, ye wished to be told about visitors, aye?”

  Had Ewan waited outside his chamber until he was done?

  “Aye,” he replied, drawing the word out. “And what visitors are these?”

  “For the Gathering.”

  “Our brothers are nay visitors. Is it Gillis or Angus?”

  “Both. Fiona and the babe, as well.”

  He shoved his chair back and stood, stretching his arms near as wide as his grin. “Finally a MacDougal lassie will enter Duncladach!” Ewan didn’t move. “Why are ye grim about that?”

  “Ye didna ask how they got here.”

  “Why would I ask—”

  “’Tis a strawberry flag!” yelled Finn from the top of the wall walk.

  “Gimme the spyglass!”

  Somerled hoped Dougal wouldn’t drop the thing as they fought for it. It seemed not, as Dougal’s roar burst out.

  “There’s brothers aboard! I see six of ’em!”

  “All six? On a ship?” asked Somerled. If he was a praying man, he would have prayed for this. “How can that be?”

  “Laird Fraser must have taken his ship to Wick to get Cormac and James from Keiss Castle, then to Cromarty to get Malcolm and Duff at Kinrowan.” Ewan tugged at his ear. “Guess he stopped at Inverlochy to get Angus and Gillis as well.”

  Somerled blocked out the roars and yells coming in the window. He looked out the east window. A ship came about, entering the harbor.

  “You guess?”

  “Herald Cam told Tearlach ’twas likely, and Zander told us.”

  “And no one thought to tell their laird a ship was on the way?” he asked, dangerously quiet.

  “Why worry ye when it mayn’t happen? Ye had enough with the rest of it.”

  Ewan looked smug, like Shadow when he wasn’t hungry yet had a mouse under his paw. If he’d known Laird Fraser was bringing six of his brothers he’d have…lost even more sleep. He blew out his breath. Too late now to complain.

  “What of their wives and bairns?”

  “Aye, them, too. I’ll warn ye, laird, ’tis likely one of the lasses will win the chess tournament.”

  “What chess tournament?”

  “The one to go with the wrestlin’ and the battlin’ and all.”

  Somerled stared at Ewan. “The lads planned all this?”

  “We wished to give ye sommat. ’Tis hard to give a laird a gift when he holds the purse strings. So we planned this so ye didna have to think on what must be done.”

  Somerled’s eyes were a bit blurry from ciphering. He rubbed them. They came away wet.

  “You didna expect the lads to miss this, did ye?” asked Ewan softly. “Aye, ’tis the Clan Gatherin’, but they came for ye.”

  “Me?”

  “Aye, ye and Niall. The two of ye are why the brothers on yon ship have wives, bairns, and a roof o’er their heads. Without ye, none of ’em would be lairds of their own towers and castles.”

  He shook his head even before Ewan stopped speaking. “They did it themselves.”

  “Aye, they did much on their own. But they couldna do it if they were dead. We’re all alive thanks to our laird and his twin. This is to say thanks for all ye did.” Ewan sniffed and cleared his throat. “Put on yer new plaid to greet them, Laird MacDougal. And wear the Brooch of Lorn.”

  “To greet my brothers?”

  “Yer brothers are now Sir Tearlach of Calltuin, Laird Malcolm of Kinrowan Castle, Laird Cormac of Keiss Castle, and Angus of Andrath Tower.” Ewan fidgeted. “And mayhaps Laird Fraser brought one or two more guests to keep him company.”

  The hair at the back of his neck rose. “More?”

  Meg rushed in. She wore a pretty gown he hadn’t seen before. He wouldn’t have thought so, but light brown suited her. “Best get dressed, husband.”

  “Who, exactly is here?” he demanded.

  “I’ll tell you as you dress.”

  He allowed himself to be pulled along to their chamber. “Tell me now!”

  “Lochiel Cameron and The MacKenzie.”

  He stopped. She tugged on his arm. When he didn’t move she undid his belt. His ragged plaid dropped.

  “Laird Kenneth Mackenzie, Lord of Kintail, is here? Ye kenned this and ye said naught to me?” Meg fussed at him so he hauled his shirt over his head. His good plaid, a new one Isabel had brought, lay on the bed. “Ewan,” he roared. “When did ye ken this?”

  “Dinna blame him.” Niall, already dressed in his own new shirt and plaid, stuck his head in the doorway. “We werena sure they’d come. Herald Cam thought MacKenzie would want time with his grandbabes, and Cameron is kin from our great-granny.”

  Somerled put on a new shirt and belted on his plaid, mind racing. “What will we do with them?”

  “Torquil’s in charge of that. Hamish is doing archery and hunting. Dougal and Finn are in charge of the wrestling, swordplay, and shinty, and—”

  “Enough!”

  He thought the games would just be with his brothers. Fraser was in good shape and Lochiel Cameron joined in games with the lads when they were growing. He didn’t know Laird MacKenzie, but from what he’d heard, the man would eagerly jump into the fray.

  There was nothing Somerled could do at this point except be a good host. It might be difficult as the only times he’d done so was for Fraser and his wife, and that pair of heralds.

  “Aye, they have wealth and power,” said Meg as if reading his mind. “But you have your health, your youth, and you have us. Your kin, your clan, your wife, and the babe that will be ours come spring.”

  Her words cut through his worry like a hot dirk through butter. He turned to the wee blonde at his side. He lifted Meg by her bent elbows, bringing her face near his.

  “Aye, I do have ye in my heart,” he whispered, and pressed his mouth against hers.

/>   “Dinna forget the brooch, laird,” said Niall, interrupting.

  By the time the anchor was down he was striding to the beach, Meg trotting at his side. He liked Fraser, but what would he be like with his cronies? All three men were far more wealthy and powerful. He stopped on the beach, Meg and Niall on one side, Tearlach and Rory with Isabel on the other. The four youngest, dressed only in their shirts so not to wet their plaids, waded toward the ship, exchanging insults with their older brothers.

  “I bet the name of my next babe that I will beat you at chess, Father.” The high-pitched voice rang out over the water.

  “That would be Lady Kiera,” said Niall.

  “Herald Cam says Kiera has beaten her father on occasion,” said Rory.

  A high-pitched shriek rang out. “Nay! Put me down ye blethering fool!”

  “Is wee Morag fed and dry, Angus?”

  “Aye, Gillis, she is.”

  “Then o’er ye go, wife.”

  An orange head appeared at the side of the ship. Gillis, grinning wide, lifted a small, struggling bundle.

  “If ye drop me ye’ll get naught from me this night!” roared Fiona. “And for the next while, as well!”

  “There’s more privacy in Duncladach than on board a ship, aye?” said Duff.

  Gillis thought on it, then dropped Fiona into his arms rather than the water. He kissed her thoroughly, which she returned. A hard poke in Somerled’s side made him turn.

  “Dinna ever think on tossing me about like that.” Meg glowered up at him.

  “Fiona was raised as a lad and kens how to fight,” explained Niall. “She may win the knife-throwing challenge.”

  Meg looked thoughtful. “Dinna give our wife ideas,” growled Somerled at Niall.

  As the most powerful lord, it was MacKenzie who stepped off the ship first. He was a bull of a man with blazing eyes that took everything in with one sweeping glance. That was followed by a wide grin.

  “’Tis glad I am to be off that boat, MacDougal.”