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

by Reece Butler

  She’d met Maggie and said how lovely she looked with her pearl brooch. Roddy had smiled so hard she thought his face would burst. Their babe was far enough along that it showed, so Kiera praised that as well.

  She’d gotten many comments from women for the things she’d sent. She found herself tearing up each time. When she said it was the babe the women laughed, the old ones reminiscing. She’d promised the village would not starve while the castle ate well, that her laird and his brother had near starved themselves and would not do that to any of their clan. That had made the women tear up.

  It had been a tiring day, but she was not going to miss a moment of her freedom. The perfect wife would have returned to her castle long ago, meekly accepting the need to stay close to her husbands. She’d done her best to be perfect, but for this short time, she wanted to enjoy herself.

  “Are ye sure ye dinna wish to watch the football, my lady?” Camden’s eyes pleaded with her. “’Tis ever so exciting.”

  She heard the yearning in his voice. “I ken you wish to watch, and mayhaps play. Seeing my laird and steward get soundly thumped is nay pleasant for me. But dinna let me stop ye. I’ll just walk on the shore for a wee bit more.”

  Camden, eyes wide, shook his head rapidly. “Nay! Lady Kiera, I willna leave ye. I ken why ye willna wish to see a game different from a man. The other lads told me the Great Hall is so big ye can play running at the glove when the weather is bad. I shall wait for that.”

  As the game involved grabbing a glove from the floor and keeping it away from every other man just as eager to snatch it, she doubted she’d be watching it, either. Castle Leod was far too small to do such things indoors. It was less dangerous on the turf as fewer bones and heads were broken there, than on a stone floor.

  “I’ll be sure to ask Master Duff if he can arrange for some games the next time we have a half day off.”

  “Oh, my lady, thank ye!” Camden, problem solved, strode forward with her eagerly.

  “Shall we go to the headland afore starting back?” It wasn’t that far, and it would give her a sense of achievement rather than just strolling along the sand.

  He judged the sun before answering. “Aye. Have ye been out on the sea afore?”

  There were still quite a few small boats nearby, though the numbers were dwindling with the evening.

  “Nay, have you?”

  He shook his head. “I dinna like the sea. The man what raised me said ’tis filled with monsters. Great beasts with tentacles to wrap around ships, and worse!” He shuddered.

  “Mayhaps on the great open ocean, but not here. The strait is nay deep.”

  “If ye say so, my lady.”

  They walked on for a bit. Camden seemed to be gauging the distance they had to go. He tilted his head up at her. She recognized a touch of devilry, mostly because she knew it in herself.

  “I’ll race ye to the end. If ye think ye can run, since ye are a lady and all.”

  She laughed at the challenge. It was just what she needed. There were few around to watch, and who knew when she’d have the chance again. She grasped her lovely dress to lift it over her ankles and set her bare feet in the sand.

  “Go!” she yelled as she set off.

  “One of those, are ye!” he yelled as he followed. She laughed as she ran, with him roaring after her. She took a chance to look over her shoulder and stepped on a rock. Her ankle twisted and she went over into the sand.

  “Lady Kiera!” Camden was immediately at her side. “Are ye harmed? Is the babe?”

  He looked devastated. She held up her finger for him to wait until she caught her breath. The poor boy looked terrified.

  “I’ve had my breath knocked out, and my ankle’s a wee bit sore, but I’m fine, Camden.” The pain wasn’t that much, so she forced a smile. “’Twas wonderful to run like a lass again.”

  “Laird Malcolm will send me away for harming ye.” Camden’s chin quivered.

  “Whisht, laddie, ’tis my fault as I said ‘go’. Anyhow, my father wouldna wish the only man whose sword has touched him in years to be sent away.” She got to her knees and, with his help, tried to stand. She winced when she put her toe down. “Mayhaps if I had a stick to lean on.”

  He immediately ran the few feet to the headland and thrashed through the trees, eager to find one.

  “Are ye hurt, my lady?”

  Kiera whipped her head around, almost falling over in the process. The voice came from the water. A man stood in a small boat. A caped woman sat in the front, her back to them.

  “Do ye wish to get back to the village? I could take ye there.”

  Camden sidled close. “I dinna like this,” he whispered.

  Kiera tried to walk but the sprain was worse than she’d thought.

  “’Tis just me and my sister, out for Michaelmas. Ye are Lady Kiera, aye? I be Harold and this be my sister, Molly.”

  Kiera looked down the shore. In the sun with two good legs it was a nice walk. With the sun going down and a foot she could not put down without pain, it seemed miles.

  “I either crawl, hop, or ride in a boat with them,” she said to Camden. “I ken ye dinna like the sea. You could walk along the shore with us.”

  “Only if that man’s sister walks with me.” He eyed the two as if they were evil. “Have her as a hostage, ye ken?”

  Harold had rowed the boat to the shore and pulled it close to the sand. He stood beside it with his hand out. He looked happy to help her. Or perhaps he was thinking of the reward he’d get from her husband for returning her safely.

  “I dinna have much choice, Camden.”

  “Ye always have a choice, my lady. Sometimes ’tis atween bad and worse.” He glared at the couple. “Methinks this be one of them times.”

  “I’ll carry ye to the boat, my lady.”

  “Yer sister can walk the shore with me,” said Camden boldly.

  Something flickered over Harold’s face. “She canna walk that far,” he said.

  “Then I will stay here with her until ye leave my lady on the shore by the village. Then I’ll run to her, and ye can row back and pick yer sister up.”

  “’Twill be too dark by then,” said Harold. “Ye can sit in the back with the lady.”

  Camden got in first. His white face and tight jaw proved his courage. When Harold picked her up she realized he’d not bathed to put on his best clothes. She wasn’t sure if he’d ever bathed, or cleaned his teeth.

  She held her breath while he set her in the boat beside Camden. Molly’s head was bowed and the large cowl hid her face. She neither spoke nor looked up. Harold pushed off from shore. They all jerked forward with every pull of his oars. It seemed he went out a bit farther than necessary to turn around.

  “Harold, should we not be heading the other way?”

  “My lady, he isna taking us to the village!” Camden stood up, waving his arms toward Kinrowan. He let loose three whistles, so loud she covered her ears.

  “Sit and be quiet or I’ll throw ye overboard!”

  She hauled Camden down beside her. “I apologize, Camden. You were right. I should have crawled home.” She sent an icy glare to the man rowing. “You said you’d take us to the village.”

  The flicker she’d seen in Harold’s eyes was back with a vengeance. “I said I could take ye there. I didna say I’d do it.”

  “Whatever Ross of Balnagowan is paying ye for this, my husband, the Laird of Kinrowan will pay ye twice!”

  “I’ll nay go against my laird.” He pulled deeply to turn, making her jerk to the side. “Laird Ross will find a husband for my idiot sister. She moved in when Mam died, but my wife canna stand to have her creepin’ about.” He curled his lip in a snarl. “She canna hear nor speak, just grunts like a pig.”

  “Could you nay find a kind husband for her?”

  “She’s like a stick, and her face and all is cut. ’Tis ugly as sin now.”

  Kiera blanched. “What happened?”

  “Ungrateful whore cut her
self so I couldna get more coins for her. All she’s good for now is weavin’, and we’ve no place for that.”

  A man who’d sell his own sister would not listen to her pleading. Kiera sent a prayer for the poor woman and turned her mind to herself.

  “Where are you taking us?” she demanded.

  “There’s a wee cave ’round the headland. Ye’ll stay the night then Ross will trade ye for yer laird on the morrow. Now shaddap!”

  “He’s lying, Lady Kiera,” whispered Camden. “Ross will kill Laird Malcolm so he can marry ye to one of his men and take Kinrowan!”

  “Ah, but a MacKenzie laird is smarter than a Ross!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oof!”

  Malcolm fell to the ground, fighting to breathe. He didn’t recognize the man who’d grinned before putting his head into his laird’s gut, and then grabbed the ball and ran away with it.

  “Taking a wee bit of time to breathe again, my lord?”

  A hand appeared. Malcolm peered up, then grunted. Ramsay had got him a few times already. Of course he’d knocked his keeper on his arse in return. He took the hand and was pulled to his feet. He rubbed his sore gut, absently noticing blood on the back of his hand. It looked like it was from someone else. Perhaps from a split lip?

  “Is not this game over yet?”

  “’Tisn’t quite dark yet, laird.” Ramsay pointed at the full moon rising across the sky from the descending sun. “When—”

  The deep moan of a supernatural creature echoed around the bailey. Malcolm whipped his head around. He could see nothing other than players and observers, all stunned into immobility.

  “Jesu! What is that?”

  Ramsay grabbed his shirt and yanked him toward the castle. “’Tis Fergus’s Trumpet of Doom. He’s seen sommat.” They raced to stand below the window where Fergus waved his arms.

  “Laird,” Fergus yelled out the window into the silence. “Two men in a boat took yer lady wife and the wee laddie. He sent three whistles afore they went ’round the headland, and now I canna see ’em!”

  Kiera was gone? He clutched at his heart, unable to breathe. Ramsay pounded him on the back. He lurched forward, inhaling deep.

  “Close the gates and doors!” roared Ramsay. “All of ye make four lines. Keep families together, babes and grannies and all. None are to go in or out of the bailey. None!”

  All scrambled to obey, yelling, screaming, and rushing about to find children and organize families in lines as ordered. Malcolm stared up at Fergus in frustration. The man’s mouth moved but he could hear nothing. He needed to know more! He beckoned for Fergus to come down. The man blanched and backed into the room, shaking his head.

  “He willna come down,” said Duff, running up. “He’s not been out of that room since Kinrowan was built.”

  Duff had been quietly furious when Malcolm ordered him not to play because of his mask. The game was so rough someone would have ripped it off, revealing their secret. Malcolm had never felt Duff quivering with so much rage before. He’d offered to switch places halfway through and pretend to be Duff, but his brother had stiffly refused, citing his duty.

  There was no trace of rage now, only fear of Kiera being harmed, or worse.

  “Camden’s with Kiera,” said Duff. “He’s the one who stabbed MacKenzie in the arse with his wooden waster. He has a good head on his shoulders.”

  “Aye, and if Camden’s in a boat with Lady Kiera then ’tis dire indeed,” said Ramsay. “The old soldier who cared for him told tales of the sea, of monsters and krakens and the like. He may not have kenned how it terrified the wee laddie.” Ramsay looked over the bailey, but Malcolm thought he saw something different in his mind. “If wee Camden got in with yer lady it was because he couldna stop her. The lad has courage. As does Lady Kiera.”

  “She wouldn’t get in, especially this time of night, without a good reason,” said Malcolm. He took another look up at the window, but Fergus had disappeared.

  “Laird, the two of ye would help the rest if ye get in line. ’Twill settle them, like.”

  Malcolm jerked his head in agreement at Ramsay's suggestion. There was a roaring in his ears, so loud he couldn’t think. He told himself his inability to breathe was due to the headbutt to his gut and not terror. He strode toward the lines, Duff at his side. Kiera and the laddie were in danger, but he had to be strong for their clan. They had to believe all would come home safe.

  Nothing else mattered but Kiera’s safety, and that of her wee guardian. Not a castle, no matter how grand, and not his life.

  He waited with the others, heading one column with Duff at another. Mistress Hetty stood at the front of a third and Father Patrick at the fourth. It was likely no more than five minutes before they were all lined up. Each second grated on Malcolm’s patience.

  The guard sent to the bailey gate called out. He pointed at the door. A square of white, head height, showed clearly against the dark wood. Duff growled and took a step. Malcolm grabbed him by the back of his shirt to stop him from leaving the line.

  “I wish to see what it says as well, but we have to set an example of calm and trust,” he said to Duff. “The keeper is in charge of Kinrowan’s security. We are new here and must trust him. And aye,” he added, “it burns me to wait and not do sommat when Kiera's in danger.”

  “It looks like parchment, a note stabbed there with a dirk,” said Duff in a low growl.

  A Ross had come this close? Malcolm’s fear turned to fury. He fought both. There was no way to tell one person from another when all were dressed in their finery.

  The guard brought the note to Ramsay, who was standing near the armory door. Ramsay read the note. He met Malcolm’s eyes and gave a brisk nod.

  “’Tis a note about Kiera,” said Malcolm. Duff grunted, showing he’d heard.

  The door to the small stair’s entrance to the bailey opened a crack. Ramsay opened his mouth to blast whoever dared to come out, and then beckoned with his fingers. A guard opened the door. An old man shaking so hard he could barely walk, shuffled out.

  “Jesu! That’s Fergus!” said Duff.

  “Laird!” Ramsay beckoned.

  Malcolm and Duff ran to Fergus, who shook like he had palsy. His face was so white he looked as if he’d been drowned for a week. He stared into the bailey as if it were the very gates of hell. To a man who’d lived in one room most of his life, it must have been.

  “Fergus! Ye came down!”

  “I had to, Laird Malcolm,” he croaked. “They took yer lady!”

  “Ye are a far braver man than me,” said Duff. They each took an arm and helped Fergus back inside. He was shaking too hard to walk. Once the door shut out the crowd Malcolm picked Fergus up in his arms. He weighed what Kiera did.

  God, he would carry her again like this. He would!

  “I watched yer lady all day in the village, as much as I could see.” Fergus spoke in a trembling whisper. “She were walking slow, tired like, but she went down the beach with the laddie. When she got near the headland she hiked up her skirts and ran. She caught the laddie by surprise as it took him a moment to follow. She were near the end when she went down.”

  “Down?” demanded Duff from below.

  “She must’ve twisted her ankle as she couldna walk. She got up on her own. I’d seen a wee boat with a man and a woman rowing near the shore, following her, like. The woman never moved. The man turned the boat and came in. They talked. Methinks they offered the lady a ride as she couldna walk.”

  “Damn! They must have been waiting for a chance, and this was perfect!” said Duff.

  “Aye. When he rowed out and didna turn to the beach Camden stood up in that wee boat and waved his arms at me, yelling, and then he whistled three times. Ye ken Camden’s an orphan. He comes up and we have a chat. He’s a good lad, and kens that I watch.”

  Malcolm topped the stairs and strode through his office to Fergus’s laird.

  “He is a brave laddie,” said Duff.

 
“Not as brave as Fergus for coming down those stairs and stepping out into the bailey,” said Malcolm. He set the man down on his pallet, sitting beside him. He put his arm around Fergus’s shoulders to keep him from falling over. “Duff, methinks this brave man needs a wee tot of whiskey.”

  Duff touched a finger to his brow and strode out. Malcolm kept quiet, letting the man calm himself and speak in his own time.

  “Laird, I tell ye, I couldna breathe when I put a foot out of this chamber. For years I told meself I could leave if I wished. I just didna wish it.” He shook his head. “Every step I thought I’d die, but I had to tell ye of yer lady.”

  Malcolm squeezed his shoulder. “But ye did it, Fergus. Ye went to your laird though it near killed ye. That’s as brave as a man who takes up a sword and saves my lady at the peril of his life.”

  Malcolm decided that Fergus would be the first man he knighted. Respect, and whiskey, was all he could give the man. He noticed a chessboard in the corner, almost hidden.

  “Do ye play chess, Fergus?”

  “I used to, but none will play with me now. I’m thinkin’ on teaching wee Camden. ’Twill pass the time for both of us.”

  He was getting some color back. “Aye, and why will none play with ye?”

  “I beat them.” His chuckle was rusty, but there. “Laird MacKenzie gave me a few games whilst he was here. He beat me once,” he said with obvious pride.

  “I ken someone who’ll give ye a wee battle on the board. Someone who has beat our liege lord often.”

  Fergus ignored the glass of whiskey Duff held out. “Who is he?”

  “’Tis a lass.”

  “A lass? Play chess?”

  “My Lady Kiera not only plays, Fergus,” said Duff. “She wins, too damn often. Now drink yer whiskey so ye can tell us all what ye saw today.”

  * * * *

  “We have blankets, an oiled canvas to keep off the wet, bread, cheese, ale, and a wee lantern,” said Kiera brightly. She hoped it would cheer up Camden as the boy blamed himself for their predicament.

  As they hadn’t searched her she’d used her blade to cut strips from her shift to wrap her ankle as well as to cut into the food. Or, rather, Camden had cut. She’d been in too much pain after climbing from the boat up to the cave. She’d used her knees as much as possible but had to put her foot down a few times. She was lucky she hadn’t slipped and landed in the sea.