Duty of the Chieftain - a Highland 'Lord's Right of the First Night' novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #3)

by Jonnet Carmichael

  Lady Elinor was taking her research task most seriously. Now that the initial shock was over, and her personal involvement accepted as going beyond necessary and into the actually beneficial, she was determined to impress her new family with her diligence.

  The amount of notes she was dictating had Ishbel's quill scribbling furiously, and the Wisewoman was glad of the portable wooden board with the integral spring-clip. The carpenter had devised it especially to carry her parchments with the ticklists of criteria.

  Her only worry was the timing of its affixed inkwell running dry, as it surely would with the Lady Elinor's enthusiasm for her task. For all the Scribe had supplied spares of inkwells, plus enough quills to look like a turkey's rear end, she did not want the need for a changeover to come at a crucial moment.

  "Bathing in here… yes, definitely," said Elinor. "Bare feet on flagstone corridors is to be avoided. Perhaps an even thicker floormat?"

  "We'll have more tufting latched in," said Ishbel. "Next is the general ambience."

  "Oh heavens, yes, you have all done marvellously with the décor in so short a time. It really is most fetchingly adorned. I particularly like the translucent silk bedhangings swagged in with the accents of MacKrannan tartan."

  Beatrix beamed, the tartan accents being her idea, and Ishbel put a Ten and a √√√ on her parchment, and recorded the extras. The Lady Elinor was so ideal for this. It wasn't every day you got someone like her to give you feedback, a true lady who had been through a commoner's Lord's Right.

  Beatrix pointed to the table of wines and meads. "And the hospitality offered, milady? Enough to have the fruit basket with the drink, would ye say, or should there be proper food? We could bring up one of those little pantry cupboards with an iceblock in it."

  "Hmmm… it all rather depends on the amount of time we need to allocate. Let's leave that question until we see how long this one takes."

  "The Chief tends to take a shorter time than the chieftain, milady," said Beatrix.

  "His age, I suppose." After all, Thommas and Agatha were nearly forty years old now, having wed at sixteen. "We should not expect the same inclination nor stamina."

  "Nay, it is no' that. He is the cleverest at it. And he beds the Lady Agatha only an hour or so before, so that she knows where his heart belongs when he must do his duty."

  Elinor found her eyes misting. To be loved like that must be a wonderful feeling. No wonder Agatha always looked so contented. "Shall we take our places now? I think I hear footsteps."

  The solar had been chosen for its spaciousness because a range of chairs were needed for witnesses, now that this was a Tradition, and the castle store had been rifled for the best of the upholstereds. The Wisewomen curtsied to the Chief and his wife, and invited Lady Agatha to sit beside them on the most comfortable of the array a few paces from the bed.

  Elinor did not curtsy to Sir Thommas. Most noticeably, she did not even rise from her chair at the fireside. Instead she inclined her head and bade Sir Thommas sit opposite her, which he did, adding a magnificent presence to the bower in his polished boots, dress kilt and Chief's bonnet, while she sat barefoot in a new silk chemise.

  "Good eve to you, milord," said Elinor.

  "Good eve to ye, Elinor. May I offer congratulations on yer marriage to… Agatha! Remind me, who is the imaginary bridegroom?"

  "Alex the Wheelwright."

  "Oh aye… sorry… May I offer congratulations on yer wedding to Alex the Wheelwright of Clan MacKrannan."

  "We are grateful for your good wishes, milord, and for your generous gift of silver."

  "SILVER…? Hessa! What bloody silver would I be gifting? Is this a new thing?"

  "Aye, milord," said Hessa. "A token amount to keep their marital home safe from faeries and witches."

  "It is the paradigm shift, milord," Beatrix added. "Instead of the bride-price silver going to the Chief to buy his protection, as in some places, the MacKrannan Chief will gift silver to the bride to protect her, do ye see?"

  "Ahh. Right. Carry on, then."

  Elinor swept an open hand to the hospitality tray. "May I offer you wine? A piece of fruit? And you'll notice that I stop calling you 'milord' at this point. We become more as equals, for you are my guest in the Bride's Right Bower, and here at my invitation to perform your duty to me."

  The Chief's eyebrows shot up, but he acquiesced, and cordially inclined his head in agreement.

  "No wine."

  "Hmmm… would it be better for the bride if you accepted? A sharing of refreshment and a little preamble of conversation, perhaps?"

  "Ranald might oblige with that," grunted the Chief. "I would usually just get on with the job."

  Hessa cut in here. "Milord, for future reference, four out of five past virgin brides consulted said the sharing of refreshment would have been a palliative to their apprehensions. The incomers especially, since they did no' know ye at all..."

  "Ahh. Right."

  "…The older clanswomen remember when ye did so, afore ye were wed."

  "I was better inclined to do so then… Agatha! Yer opinion on the matter?"

  "Take a drink with the brides, Thommas… give them a decent welcome!"

  "Wine, Elinor, if ye please."

  Elinor played hostess, filling their goblets and making inane chat about the relative merits of iron versus wooden spokes from her pretend husband's wheelmaking craft.

  The Chief stole a glance round to Agatha and found her trying to keep a straight face, just as he was, at the homework their new daughter-in-law had done for this. He turned back to Elinor and took off his bonnet.

  Elinor immediately said, "If you could please stay fully clothed until invited to undress...?"

  Hessa said, "Maybe if ye took yer Chief's bonnet off upon entering the bower, milord, ye might look less intimidating at the start."

  Beatrix said, "I don't know… it's the three eagle feathers makes him definitely the Chief that's not getting called 'milord', so the bride feels more power."

  And Ishbel said, "I'm torn. It does lend to the sense of occasion and the rules do say fully clothed, but taking it off at the door might make the Chief look and feel more of an underdog in the situation."

  The bonnet never moved from the chair-arm, and the Chief said nothing more. He emptied his goblet and placed it on the tray with a decisive thud. And he sat forward, looking Elinor directly in the eye as if daring her to a who-blinks-first contest.

  No-one but the king himself ever gave him orders. He was currently in the unfamiliar position of having a bunch of women telling him what to do, when to do it, and what he'd previously been doing wrong, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

  Sir Thommas was greatly amused by this, for it would occur to all these women, as it had to him, that all their blethering was a useful thing but there was no' a single one of them had the necessary equipment to take his place in this bower.

  Elinor could see that the Chief was now hiding his impatience. Sir Thommas had been a gracious host during the short time she'd been at MacKrannan Castle, never once flirting with her or treating her as anything but his wife's young friend. She now saw something in his eyes that reminded her very much of his son Ranald at the highboard in the Great Hall when she'd first been introduced and her trick discovered.

  The wand of power had moved firmly to the Chief's side of the fireplace, and without a word spoken.

  She swallowed hard, and stood up. Sir Thommas stood up to his height, a good foot taller than her, same as his son.

  "Chief of the Name of MacKrannan, I invite you to my bed for the Tradition of the Bride's Right of the First Night," she announced, wondering if he'd remember his lines since he'd forgotten Alex the Imaginary Wheelwright.

  The Chief's eyes turned even darker than normal as he boomed, "Elinor, bride to Alex the Wheelwright, I am honored. Gladly will I welcome ye to my clan in this way."

  A bit loud and not strictly accurate, but more than sufficient. And she was relie
ved that Agatha was present, for it would prevent any potential awkwardness between them all afterwards.

  The Chief stepped close to her and bent down on one knee, a gallant gesture the Wisewomen had not put in his instructions. But he then hoisted her chemise up to her belly and held it there in one hand while parting her thighs with the other and peering this way and that at her nether regions.

  Elinor looked in horror to the Wisewomen and Agatha for guidance. The Wisewomen and Agatha looked to each other.

  "Milord, is this part of yer bedplay technique?" asked Hessa.

  "I am checking for the pox, as always," said the Chief, his face not inches from Elinor's mound, and his eyes screwed to slits for better vision in close-up. "It was once a clever battle trick, ye know, sending in a diseased wanton and having her kill hordes of lads in their prime. Ishbel! Make formal note that the pox would invalidate the marriage. The bride would have her legs tied and sent home with coin to pay her burial."

  Elinor tried to pull her chemise down and the Chief yanked it all the higher.

  "Indeed, milord," said Ishbel. "And do ye see sign of anything there tonight for the record?"

  The Chief peered even closer. "I see the reddening of Elinor's embarrassment reach her bonnie loins as we speak." He let the chemise go and stood up, giving her a playful wallop on the backside which near knocked her over.

  The Chief was perfectly correct. Elinor had felt the blood course through her right to her toes, though she was unsure whether this came from embarrassment or from the prolonged heat of his breath as he spoke directly into her private places. If the first option, a virgin should not be put through this ordeal, not after all the nice wine and chit-chat. If the second, it would be cruel to titillate her thus if the possibility existed that she'd be ejected from the castle with her legs tied.

  She looked past the Chief to the Wisewomen. "Could this be done much earlier? Perhaps when you bathe the bride?"

  The Chief's wife had a better idea. "I'm thinking it should be done before the wedding," said Agatha. "A poxed lass should no' get as far as a castle bathtub."

  "Ye speak true, milady," said Hessa. "We should add such Physick Examination to the pre-marital counselling list. Would ye agree to that, milord?"

  The Chief shrugged. "Twice inspected is fine with me. I am too long in the habit of checking brides to no' take a look for myself. Ye must realise I would be risking my cock and my dear wife, and every following bride too, of course. And I would say that any man marrying into the clan should be well checked and all, aye?"

  Words of hearty agreement and further discussion buzzed around the chamber, and Ishbel had to swop her empty inkpot for a full one by the time the matter was finalized.

  Elinor could contribute no more on the topic, being ignorant of such things, so she stood demurely and applied her thoughts to her role. This was the first duty the clan had asked of her, and she wanted to do it well. Of course, her handicap was that she'd only done it once before, and this was likely to be much different. She was already finding that the theory so thoroughly discussed with the Wisewomen was far removed from the reality of being the sample bride in the client interface.

  Still, it was oddly appropriate to lie with the Chief on her own wedding night instead of with her husband the chieftain. She had, after all, cheated a real bride out of the same ritual hardly more than a sevennight past. Fate had intervened to have Ranald arrive home to trade places with the Chief, and stupidity had intervened to have Elinor trade places with the bride.

  This was the outcome of her folly. So be it. Both herself and the Chief were to act as if she were still virgin, which in anything beyond the breach was actually true.

  Everything done would be recorded and analyzed for the benefit of future brides. The Wisewomen would not be drawn on the specifics. "Take it as it comes," they had told her. "He is much practised at his art."

  All present now looked expectantly at her. She led the Chief to the bed, and made formal request that he should divest himself of his garments.

  Except for some stray white in the wings of his black hair, he bore a striking resemblance to Ranald with his shirt off. She supposed this is what Ranald would look like some years from now, and it pleased her to see not an ounce of scrag nor podge. The weathering of time showed a little, though, and their scars were in different places. The Chief had been sliced across his ribs and she winced at how close he had come to certain death.

  His kilt hit the floor beside all his other garments. The inert item now visible was still a novel sight for Elinor. She was to learn bedplay from the Chief tonight, and how to please a husband. And no matter what he did or did not do, she was to aim for her own bliss through encouragement without demands. This was the Chief, they'd said. None of us can tell him what to do, not even you, and not even in the Bride's Right Bower. Elinor suspected that they'd all made a poor start in that regard, herself the worst offender, and that she might soon pay the price for it.

  Hessa called over, "If ye would begin yer commentary now, milord?"

  The Chief cleared his throat. "Well, I would usually take her straight to the bed and start the seduction at this point, her in her gownie, and me with just my chest bared and boots off. There would no' be any wine by the fireside, nor talk of her new husband's wheelspokes or the like. This is all about the bride, and how bonnie she looks this day and other sweet words, and getting her used to me, and settling her down and working at her until the talking stops and she wants what she sees..."

  The three Wisewomen sighed like a choir.

  Agatha grinned knowingly. Elinor would learn never to act superior with a MacKrannan man, and then she'd find life the more enjoyable.

  "…But fair enough if ye think she should see what's on offer at this stage and do something about getting it."

  The Chief stood there, legs astride and unabashedly naked, one hand on his considerable bicep and the other stroking his jaw as he waited for some action from the bride. And with studied timing, when it became clear that Elinor didn't know what to do, he said, "I'll begin in my own way, shall I? According to my individual assessment of the bride's needs?"

  Without waiting for an answer, he hoisted Elinor onto the bed and began talking so low that the witnesses could not hear a word.

  It must have been something highly amusing, because Elinor burst into a fit of giggling, and the Chief petted her and smoothed her hair all down her back. And he pulled her head close to say something more, and she went into fresh convulsions. He still had hold of her head in one hand, working her hair away from her face with fingers spread. His other hand was kneading her shoulder, his big thumb moving itself further in with every rub until it was her neck he was stroking.

  Just as Elinor began to draw breath, the Chief laughed aloud, and she was in stitches again. When the first four buttons of her gownie were undone, she hadn't even noticed she was flat on her back with a shoulder bared.

  He bent not quite close enough for her to hear what he said this time, so she pulled his mouth right to her ear. He murmured low, and off she went again, and he had wee nibbles down the skin of her throat while he was there. And Elinor cradled his head lest he escape before she heard the next bit.

  Her breast were jiggling in her mirth and his hands were working at the buttons one, two and three at each visit. When the gownie was open as far as her waist he started tickling her sides and talking right at her mouth, taking light kisses in between bits of story, and she pecked back at him in between bouts of laughing, for it seemed to be a sharing thing like his naughty story.

  Elinor was squealing and giggling all at once now and her breasts bared to the room. Her eyes were so tear-filled with laughing that she couldn't even see beyond the Chief's beaming face and his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as he laughed along with her. Where on earth were his hands now… oh my, he was going to tickle under her arms…

  The Chief watched her squeal even more as her elbows clamped to her sides, which shoved her teats n
icely upwards for his tongue to take swipes at in the passing. He told her another bit of story and fondled one breast while he tickled under the other arm. Then he told her the last bit, and she was weak with laughing now, and her gownie completely open, and her eyes tight shut, and his hands kneading both her breasts while he suckled hard at her.

  Her laughter eventually subsided. Her groaning for breath did not. Her whole body was trembling with the merriment, right down to her moist private places, and she thought of Ranald and how she had felt like this with him even without the hilarious story and the tickling.

  The voices seemed to come from far away, and her nipples were suddenly without attention. She opened her eyes and lifted her head from the pillow to find the Chief sitting back on his heels, and Hessa talking.

  "…bride will get to keep it. Now, have either of ye any notes for us at this stage?"

  Elinor shook her head in puzzlement.

  The Chief said, "Aye. Tell the dressmaker the buttons need to be looser in their holes. I had a hell of a job there in getting them undone."

  And he looked to Agatha and winked. The Wisewomen suspected Lady Agatha had heard the complaint before.

  It was apparent to all women present that the Chief's efforts so far had brought him quite a bit stiffer towards being fit-for-purpose.

  "Milord," said Ishbel, flipping the page and inking her quill, "would this be a good point at which to start the bride's tutoring in how to please her husband?"

  The Chief scratched his chin. "As I told ye earlier, I never encourage brides to touch my equipment... nor any part of me, for that matter, except for holding onto my arse near the finish. It's a bit too personal, if ye get my drift, and I am a married man. But the rules are to be changed on rousing, ye say?"

  "Milord, many of the brides' husbands are also virgin," said Hessa. "We think it helpful for the bride to be taught just a little for the benefit of both." She omitted mention that his chieftain son habitually did so, even immediately upon return from battle and even when very tired.