A Perfect Wife [Highland Menage 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  What didn’t confuse him was how he felt having Kiera sleep in his arms. Powerful. Protective. If anything happened to her, if anyone tried to harm her, he would not stop until she was safe, and avenged.

  Perhaps she spoke those words because their marriage finally allowed her to come to Kinrowan? Yes, that must be it. She was convincing herself that her life was as she’d dreamed it.

  “Aw, lass, ye drive me mad,” he whispered.

  She was a puzzle, a perfect lady outside their chamber and a wild woman inside it. None but he and Duff saw her concentrate at the chessboard as if the outcome would determine whether their castle would lose a siege, or triumph. None heard her laughing in delight as she came while riding them.

  Duff was right. She was beautiful, inside and out.

  He would easily give his life for her, especially knowing his brother would take over when he was gone. He would die for her, but he’d rather live to watch their bairns grow and, if they were blessed, have babes of their own. The child she carried was Duff’s. None would know who the father of the rest were. Nor did it matter.

  He let her sleep. Growing a baby was a miracle that took time, energy, and rest. His cock had other ideas. It hardened, inching up between the cleft of her arse. Should he move to let her sleep? Her breathing didn’t change, but a knowing smile appeared on her beautiful face.

  “Did I wake ye, lass?” He whispered in case it was a dream smile.

  “Aye, but ’tis a wondrous way to wake.” She wiggled her hips, rubbing her arse against him. Somehow she caught his cock between her cheeks and squeezed.

  “Jesu!”

  She giggled. “Why don’t you put that where it would do the most good?”

  His cock jerked in agreement. “Ye need rest.”

  “I’ve had a rest. I need your cock in me. Now.”

  Lust hit him like a strike of lightning. “Are ye sure?”

  She got up on one elbow to look over her shoulder. He chuckled at her glare. He set the tip of his cock on her pussy and entered in one thrust. They both gasped. He held her body tight to his chest, just feeling her clench around him. Lying on their sides like this he had access to her breasts.

  “I like how the babe has changed yer body.” He gently squeezed her breast, making a good handhold for his thumb to flick her nipple.

  “My arse is spreading, my waist disappearing, and I’m top-heavy,” she complained.

  “Aye, ye are even more beautiful than the night we met.”

  She groaned in exasperation. “’Twasn’t a compliment I was giving.”

  “Ah, lass, what a woman thinks of her body is not the same as what her man does.” He looked in her eyes and shook his head. “Ye have beautiful breasts and a fine arse, aye. But ’tis yer smile and yer laugh, and the way yer eyes turn green when ye wish me inside ye that makes me bless yer father for bringing us together.”

  She blushed, looking away for a moment. “And I like your strong arms and deep voice, and the way you bellow ‘mine!’.”

  He frowned. “I do that? I thought ’twas only Duff?”

  “You are not listening when you do it,” she replied with a laugh.

  “I’ve heard you say it yerself once or twice.”

  Her mouth dropped and eyes opened wide. “Nay!”

  “Aye.” He gripped her breast in emphasis. “’Tis not just men who wish to claim what is theirs.”

  She crinkled her nose, something he found most endearing. “I dinna like the way some of the women eye you as if you were a sweet they’d been craving for years.”

  He’d seen them look. It made him uncomfortable. The ones who flashed an ankle and gave him a saucy eye, thinking they’d gain by bedding him, were the worst. He’d made it known he respected women and would keep his wedding vows. Taking a whip to a man’s back for rape had shown them he was serious, but only time would prove that Kiera was the only one he wanted.

  “They can look,” he said, “but none can touch me but my wife.”

  She drilled her eyes at him. “They'd best not look too close!”

  “Good to know,” he replied, hiding a smile at her fierceness. It quickly faded. “’Tis like me and Duff are two halves of a whole. We shared a womb, and now we share our woman.” He toyed absently with her breast. “We dinna remember our mother. Ye’re the first woman to hold us, or to care since Mary died. Mayhaps that makes us more fierce to hold ye.”

  “I do care for you, husband.” She clenched his cock with her pussy muscles. “And I care for your hard cock as well.” She tilted her head and gave him a look of impatience. “I also care for food. So shall you do something about this”—she squeezed him again—”or shall I get up and break my fast?”

  She’d not spoken of love, just caring this time. And then she’d reduced that to daily things. It relieved him of the burden of speaking comforting words to her. ‘Love’ was a nothing word, one most often used in a lie to allow a man’s cock to find release inside a woman rather than his hand.

  He rolled them both over onto their knees, still joined. One hand went to her clit while the other clutched her hip. He’d not last long but would be damned if he’d let go before she peaked once more!

  The slightest touch on her eager clit had her moaning.

  “Is this what ye wish from me, wife?”

  “’Tis a start,” she said coquettishly. She gasped when he pinched. He gathered her fluid on his finger and entered her arse. That, and his fingers on her clit, held her in position while he slowly filed. Faster and faster, the wet slaps filled the room.

  “Ye wish more?” he demanded.

  “Aye!”

  He twisted and drilled his finger in her arse while pinching her clit. She keened, high and shrill as her orgasm caught his cock in a vise. He set both hands on her hips and plowed into her, hard, as she rippled around him. He gritted his teeth, growling his roar of possession.

  When the shudders faded he leaned over her, resting on his fists with his elbows locked to keep from crushing her. They both fought for air. When he could inhale he moved her hair aside and kissed her shoulder.

  “I missed ye, Kiera,” he said between kisses. “And I missed sharing this with ye.”

  “Then the laird of Kinrowan had best put pleasing his wife on his list of daily chores, aye?”

  He chuckled at her demand.

  “Aye.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Duff passed through the laird’s office and into Fergus’s lair. The old man perched on his tall stool and peered out the north window over the village to the sea. He didn’t turn around.

  “Ye’d best have brought me sommat to break my fast, laddie.”

  The only place Duff could set his tray of bread, cheese, and ale was on the extra stool. The rest of the flat surfaces, other than the floor, were covered in things Fergus insisted he needed to keep in sight. Fergus was a cantankerous old man who loved to battle with words. That suited Duff well this morning.

  “Could ye mayhaps put a thing or two away?”

  “The laird kicked ye out of the lady’s bed, did he?”

  Duff narrowed his eyes at the cackling old man. “I wish my brother hadna outlawed the use of the whip for insubordination. My arm would even now be swingin’, ye auld goat!” That made Fergus slap his leg in glee, which was Duff’s purpose. “Do ye never leave this place? Ye sit on yer wee stool and watch out the window like a corbie waitin’ for sommat to die, so ye can feast on the carcass.” He poured a mug of ale and held it out.

  “I see a lot, laddie.” Fergus glowered at Duff as he took the mug. “’Tis quiet here, and I have all I wish to do my duty. Aye, and a thick pallet for me auld bones, a fireplace, and a garderobe all me own!”

  “The garderobe’s for all those workin’ in the laird’s office.”

  “Aye, but the laird dinna use it much, ’less he swilled too much ale the night afore.” Fergus cut himself some bread and cheese, using quick efficient motions that didn’t match his coarse speech. “Ye’ll b
e thankin’ me for keepin’ an eye out. ’Tis good I have my wee Trumpet of Doom to sound an alarum.”

  “Trumpet of Doom?”

  Fergus, a serious look on his face, pointed to a dark corner. Peering, Duff saw an ancient, well-tarnished straight horn. “Aye, for if I must use it, ’tis deep trouble we are in.”

  Duff doubted the man could lift it to the window much less make a blast but one never knew what might be useful. Fergus could always drop the thing out the window on someone creeping up and knock them out.

  “What have ye seen today?” he asked.

  The old man had lived in Kinrowan all his life. He had keen eyes and knew everyone, by the way they moved as well as their faces. He’d told Duff how Malcolm held himself stiff like a guard dog while Duff moved with loose limbs, like a cat. Duff had practiced moving like Malcolm when alone in case the worst happened and he had to take over as laird.

  He’d be free of this damned job but as becoming laird meant his brother was dead, he’d rather it not happen. MacDougals do their duty with pride, not shirking in their tasks, he reminded himself.

  “’Tis nay what I’ve seen yet, laddie, ’tis the day,” said Fergus ominously. “The sea is full on Michaelmas. ’Tis a day to take yer womenfolk out in yer wee boats. A wife tosses wheat to feed the fish so St. Michael will keep her man safe for another year.”

  “So there’ll be lots of boats at the shore, with people coming in and out.”

  He’d not thought about that. Cromarty Strait was so narrow there’d be nothing to tell if a boat held a Ross or a MacKenzie.

  “Aye, and since yer laird and lady said all could feast with ’em, and ’tis a sunny day, ye’ll have strangers stopping by to have a wee peek at the new laird and lady.”

  “Aye, we kenned that would happen.”

  “But did ye think yer lady would wish to traipse around the village? Ye havena let her out for any wee visits yet, aye?”

  Duff cursed. “You’re right. Lady Kiera hasn’t passed through the bailey gate since we rode in. She’ll wish to explore the village, and to meet all.” He ran his hands through his hair, growling at his stupidity. Looking at life secondhand through papers had made him forget about reality. “We’ll put a guard on her.”

  “Nay, lad, ye canna. They’ll think ye dinna trust them, or that their lady fears them. And afore ye say it, ye canna stick to the lady yerself. The three of ye must meet every soul, and that means ye must spread yerselves out.” He shook his finger to make his point. “A man willna fight as well for a laird he doesna ken. If the womenfolks like yer lady ’twill be far easier on all of us.”

  “I’d best talk to the keeper.”

  “He’s at the stables but will be off to the armory next. Then ’tis the hall to break his fast. Aye, a man of habit is our Ramsay.” Fergus cackled again. “Though his wee wife is changin’ a few things about him.”

  Duff didn't know the man well, having spent most of his time with Fergus. “And what would that be?”

  “He came near to a smile the other day. He ne’er did that afore Bessie.”

  Duff thumped his fist against his chest as if needing to start his heart again in shock at Fergus’s words. He left the old man chortling, but he cursed as soon as he left the chamber. He hurried down the narrow stair and out into the bailey. Ramsay was just leaving the stables. Duff slipped into the armory as he didn’t want to be obvious about meeting him.

  Ramsay didn’t miss much. He nodded as he came through the open door. “Master Duff, to what do I owe the honor on this fine Michaelmas Day?”

  “I just had a wee word with Fergus. The man has eyes like a hawk.”

  “Aye, but he keeps most of what he sees to himself. Did ye ken he hasna left that room since ’twas built? Mistress Hetty sends him all he needs.”

  Duff grimaced at the thought of experiencing life only through watching others, or reading about them.

  “Did Fergus speak of the boats, and our lady wishing to wander in the village?”

  Duff nodded. “Aye, and I dinna like it. We need someone to stay near her, someone she’ll accept without kenning ’tis a guard, yet has keen eyes, is a quick thinker, and can pretend to be eager when he’s lookin’ around, not searching for the damned Rosses. Our laird willna wish Lady Kiera to ken she may be in danger. We’ve let her think all is sweetness and light so as not to upset her with the babe and all.”

  The keeper swore, long and loud, something about a goat, a pig, and a horse that was anatomically impossible.

  A high-pitched snicker had them both turning. The young boy holding a polishing cloth blanched. He was the one who’d stabbed Laird MacKenzie.

  “Camden, what are ye doin’ in here?” demanded Ramsay. “Ye should be off with the rest of the lads!”

  “Pardon, keeper, but I have nay family to go to. I’ll guard Lady Kiera. None will think aught of a wee lad at her side.” He imitated Ramsay’s expression. “I be fierce, Keeper!”

  Ramsay scratched his chin as he thought it over. “It could work,” he murmured quietly to Duff. “Lady Kiera willna accept a guard, but if we tell her Camden will be her page as a reward for stabbing her father in the arse with his waster—”

  “’Twasn’t on purpose, Master Duff!”

  Duff hoped his twitching lip was hidden by his mask. “Did the MacKenzie thank ye for stabbing him in the arse?” he asked. Camden hesitantly nodded. “Do ye ken why?” He got a head shake in return. “’Twas a reminder that even those who seem small and weak can still attack, and defend.” He clapped the boy on the shoulder. “When ye attacked yer liege lord ye reminded him to watch his back no matter what. Aye, today we’ll have ye defend our lady.”

  “By that Master Duff means ye will stay with Lady Kiera, no matter what,” ordered Ramsay. “Dinna go off to fetch something, ye must get another to do it. Can ye whistle loud with yer fingers?” Ramsay waited for the boy’s nod. “Good. Do it three times to sound an alarm.”

  “Aye, keeper,” replied Camden seriously.

  “Ye may look wee,” said Duff with quiet intent, “but yer heart is fierce and that ’tis all that matters. I will trust ye with our lady.”

  “Thank ye, Master Duff, Keeper.” Camden bowed to them. “I willna leave yer lady. Will she have her wee dog with her?”

  “Aye, to start, but Chester goes where there’s food.”

  “I’ll keep some dried venison in my pouch and give him a piece here and there,” said Camden. “Do ye think the scent will keep him near?”

  “’Tis a good idea,” said Duff. “Ye are a smart lad.”

  “Do ye have aught else to wear?” asked Ramsey, gesturing at Camden’s clean, though well-mended, shirt.

  Camden’s cheeks darkened. “I have a shirt an auld granny gave me. She put colored thread on it.” He shuddered, grimacing in disgust. “’Tisn’t manly.”

  “Did the lads tell ye that?” asked Duff. Camden nodded. “Then tell them sometimes a man wears such things because the lassies like it. Ye’d nay be wearin’ it for yerself, mind, but so the lassies will give ye a kiss.”

  His face showed even more disgust. “I dinna wish any kisses!”

  “Aye, ye’re too young,” said Ramsay, chuckling. “But the grannies may give ye a sweet bun as ye look so fine. Do ye ken that?”

  “Och, aye!” Camden nodded eagerly.

  “Then go change your shirt, lad.”

  “Aye, sir.” The boy turned to Duff. “Thank ye, Master Duff. I willna shirk my duty.” He bowed and rushed off.

  “That is one well-trained lad. How are the others treating him?” asked Duff.

  Hazing was a normal part of military life. Duff couldn’t, and wouldn’t change that as it toughened them up. But there were limits. William Sinclair of Braal had beaten Kiera’s brother Colin so badly while fostering with the Earl of Caithness that Colin had lost an eye. Such a thing would not happen at Kinrowan.

  “The lad got a few thumps from the ones who ran when MacKenzie bellowed, until the rest jumped
on them for bein’ cowardly.” Ramsay picked up the polishing cloth Camden had set aside. “The lad was born in a village halfway to Redcastle. He was orphaned when he was about four. As he was a bright lad he was taken in by an old soldier from Kinrowan who’d been released to return home. When the old man got sick Camden cared for him. He died a few months back, leaving instructions the lad was to be sent here, and enough coin to do so.”

  “The boy has a place in Kinrowan now,” said Duff. “Will his being with Lady Kiera cause more trouble for him?”

  “Nay. I’ll tell the lads ’tis a penance. If he’s with the lady he willna be able to play after we feast, aye?”

  Duff joined in Ramsay’s chuckle. Any red-blooded male would hate to miss out on proving themselves in a wild game of football.

  “I’ve been inside for too long. I’m eager to do some thumping.” He slapped his right fist into his left palm. “My wee wife may need to put some witch hazel on her laird’s bruises this night.”

  Ramsay raised an eyebrow in challenge. “There’ll be many who wish to thump the laird and his steward, just to make sure they’re good men.”

  “And the keeper as well, aye?” Duff nudged Ramsay, grinning lewdly. “Ye’ll be showin’ Bessie yer bruises this night and havin’ her kiss them better.”

  He ducked out, laughing, before Ramsay could clout him. A last look showed the usually stern man had a hint of a goofy grin. Did he look like that when he thought of Kiera?

  * * * *

  “What delights are next, Camden?”

  Kiera strolled along Shore Street. The sky was brilliant, finishing off a wonderful day with a wild display of color. All sorts of boats had dotted the strait all day. The tide was high, so they didn’t have to cross the sand to climb in and out. Chester had raced around so much he’d headed back to the castle a good hour ago. It had upset Camden, but she told him it was that or carry the dog. The lad had tried, but Chester fought to get free and raced off.