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

by Reece Butler

  “My lady, ye must ken sommat afore ye get to land,” murmured the marshall. “Laird Malcolm has gone to rescue ye, but Laird Malcolm will greet ye at Kinrowan.” He winked and touched his face as she’d seen Duff do to adjust her mask.

  “Duff is Malcolm?” she whispered back.

  “Aye, my lady. Ye need to ken it so ye’ll say aught.”

  “But if I’m rescued from the cave why would the laird need to rescue me?”

  “We ken ye’re safe, and the laird will ken it, but Ross will not.”

  “Ross?”

  “Aye. This was done by Alexander Ross of Balnagowan. The laird and steward, as well as me, the keeper, and Fergus, agreed he must have something done to stop him from doing this again to ye.”

  “You mean to kill him?”

  The marshall patted her hand. “We may like that but King James willna wish it.”

  “I would gladly make my sister Catherine a widow,” she said. "My father didna wish her to marry the man. He isna kind to her." Her teeth began to chatter.

  “Again, King James willna agree with ye.”

  “So what is the plan?”

  “Laird Malcolm will leave the castle wearing Master Duff’s mask. The keeper will go with him until a certain point, when the laird will go on alone to exchange with ye. The laird is to be there alone, as is Ross. We expect him to cheat, so Malcolm will carry his whips. Master Duff said he’s good with them.”

  “Whips?” She shuddered. “I canna abide them.”

  “They may save our laird’s life.”

  She couldn’t imagine losing him. “I wish him back, Marshall.”

  “We trust he will return.”

  “Unharmed,” she added.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Where is my wife?”

  Malcolm stared coldly at Laird Alexander Ross. He clasped his hands behind his back to stop himself from reaching for the bastard’s neck and breaking it. He knew Ross did not have Kiera but could not let on. Walking down the steep road to the village, masked as Duff, he’d caught a glimpse of her face in the cart of servants that trundled past. In case he was watched he could not give her as much as a wink to say he’d seen her. Her head was down, but Camden had seen him. The bright lad had winked but made no other sign.

  Having Kiera and Camden safe was all that mattered. That, and vengeance.

  He would like very much to do something to Laird Ross. Something painful and permanent. Unfortunately he could not kill him without bringing King James’s wrath down on the MacDougals and the MacKenzies.

  Ramsey stood at his back, too far away to do much more than throw a knife. In his left hand he openly held Malcolm’s claymore in its baldric. Duff’s mask was hidden in the folds of his plaid, as were the set of whips in Malcolm’s.

  As expected, Ross had come on a ship that waited offshore. Once Malcolm arrived on the beach Ross had come in by boat with two men and a heavily cloaked woman pretending to be Kiera. One man now stood guard on the shore while the other waited in the boat, ready to row Ross to safety. Anyone who knew Kiera would not be fooled. Not only was this woman too small, Kiera would never sit still.

  “Sitting in my boat, of course.” Ross swung his arm wide and behind him. “You are lucky to have such a quiet, well-behaved wife. Her sister took some time to learn manners. Yet since my man rowed her out to me this one has not spoken or moved.” He laughed. “I’d heard she had a vicious tongue. You must have tamed her well.”

  Ross didn’t know the woman was an imposter?

  Todd had left Kiera and Camden in a cottage by the shore and returned to the castle. He’d reported they’d cleared out the cave so anyone coming to get Kiera would not be able to tell if she’d ever been there. Todd said Kiera told him the sister, Molly, was still and silent as she could neither hear nor speak. It matched the figure in the deeply hooded cloak. Perhaps the same man had returned that morning, bringing his sister across to give him a reason for not fishing. When he discovered Kiera was gone he must have decided to replace her with Molly. It didn’t matter, Malcolm would not force her to return with Ross.

  “Now that we have exchanged pleasantries, I wish to have my wife.”

  “You will come forward and I will give you your wife.”

  “She is to be brought onto the land first. Carefully.”

  Ross smirked. “What, ye dinna trust me?”

  “In a word, nay.”

  “Put her up there,” said Ross to his guard, who picked her up as if she weighed nothing.

  She made no sound as she was carried out of the boat and set on shore. He pointed, motioning for her to walk. She hurried as far up the beach as she could before the trees while he returned to his position. She clasped her hands in front of her trembling body as Ramsay approached her. His face and body were relaxed, hands low with fingers spread, palms down. As Malcolm turned back to Ross he thought perhaps the keeper did it to prove he wouldn’t slap or punch her.

  “You have your wife, Laird Kinrowan.” Ross spoke the title as if it were a curse. “Now I will have you.”

  He beckoned for Malcolm to move forward. Malcolm let his hands fall into the open pouches of his plaid but didn’t move his feet.

  “Come here so my man can bind your hands,” ordered Ross.

  “Ramsay, show her face.” Malcolm watched Ross, not the keeper. All three men, Ross, his guard, and the man in the boat, gaped in shock.

  “Aye, she is not Kiera MacKenzie,” said Malcolm without looking at her. “We got her back safely while ye were still in yer bed, drunk as a sot. So I willna be going with ye.”

  “Seize him!”

  Malcolm dipped his hands and pulled out his whips. Keeping his body relaxed, he put himself into the throw from his feet on the sand, through his body to his arms rising over his head as the whips uncurled. Before Ross could do more than open his eyes in fear the cracker popped against the hollow under his left cheekbone. Blood spurted as a piece of flesh exploded. Seconds later the right side of his face matched. Malcolm continued the flow, cracking his whips behind him and forward again.

  Ross screamed and fell to his knees. Once more the whips struck, popping like a bullet shot to either side of his head.

  His guard hauled his sword and rushed forward with a bellow. Malcolm heard the swish of the Kinrowan’s keeper’s knife pass him before it embedded itself into the guard, who collapsed on the sand.

  Ross scrabbled backward on his hands and knees before rising and stumbling to the boat, which was already being shoved into the water by the wide-eyed rower.

  Malcolm, calm and relaxed, followed them, whips still snapping. He set one to touch Ross’s arse in encouragement. Another scream showed he’d hit his mark. The thick plaid meant there’d likely be no wound, but he’d feel the welt for days.

  Ross staggered to the boat. Knee-deep in water, he fell more than climbed in. The man left his laird where he'd fallen and frantically rowed. His oars skipped a few times in his panic, splashing the laird, who howled in outrage and pain.

  “You’ll be scarred for what is left of yer miserable life,” yelled Malcolm, whips still snapping around him like lightning. “All will ken those marks and see a coward. And if ye come near my wife or my clan again, I’ll find ye and cut chunks of flesh from yer cock same as I did yer face!”

  With Ross gone he made a show of his battle technique, popping the tips in a circle all around him. As each was six feet long his safe zone was an eighteen foot wide circle. He showed his accuracy by touching on stones that shot toward the retreating boat.

  Ross found his seat. He pressed a hand to each cheek. “King James will hear of this!” he shrieked.

  “Aye, for I’ll be sending him a note myself, as will the Lord of Kintail. Ye’ll soon be back in Tantallon Castle, a guest of the Douglas!”

  It was no idle boast. King James had been furious at Ross’s violence and lack of scruples, forcing his clansmen to fight with no regard for the law. James had finally released him with the agreemen
t he would live peacefully. Kidnapping Kiera proved Ross had no intention of doing so.

  Point made, Malcolm let his whips fall behind him. He left them hanging over his shoulders and dropped his head.

  It was over.

  He shook, an aftermath of his fear of losing Kiera, lack of sleep, and getting the revenge he so desperately wanted.

  Kiera was safe, as was the boy. Ross would, no doubt, continue to harass Clan MacKenzie, but he would not attack Kinrowan again. Malcolm could return to Kiera. Now that she was safe and Ross banished, he had a few things to say to his wife.

  “I told Kiera to be careful,” he growled at the keeper.

  “Aye, but ye didna wish to worry her on the first day ye let her out.” Ramsay sent a glare after Ross. “Mayhaps if ye told her of the danger from boats this wouldna have happened.”

  His sigh came from the bottom of his lungs. He curled his whips, running his hands over them to ensure they had not touched the sand. They went back in his pouches.

  “If this hadna happened, ’twould be ever hanging over our heads. ’Tis done now.”

  “Laird MacKenzie will be pleased.” Ramsay chuckled. “And he’ll rage that he had no part in it. He’s been wanting to get his hands on Ross since they were youths.”

  Ramsay pulled his knife from the guard and wiped it on the man’s shirt. He seemed calm, but Malcolm still twitched from the tension. He shook it off and then breathed slowly and deeply, calming himself. With Ross now climbing into his ship he looked at the woman who’d been left behind.

  Molly had left her hood back. Either she never moved without permission or she wished them to see the ugly scars covering her cheeks. She may have cut herself elsewhere as well to ensure no man would touch her. Malcolm looked past the scars to her eyes, which were bright with intelligence and fear. She’d spent her life in a prison of silence, misunderstanding, and cruelty.

  “Why would someone do that to a woman?”

  “She did it to herself,” said Ramsay. “Kiera told Todd her dear brother sold her innocence for coin. She was so distraught she slashed her face so she’d be too ugly to be wanted.”

  Malcolm cursed. “We’ll find a place for her.” He bowed with respect, looking her in the eyes. She stood a little straighter, swallowed hard, and dipped a servant’s bob in return.

  “I had a cousin like that,” said Ramsay. “We learned to use signs to speak with her. Her husband would say with a smile that she never lectured him.”

  “There is that. She needs someone with patience who likes it quiet.”

  Ross’s ship had come about, sailing toward Dunskeath Castle. Molly looked to Malcolm. He put his hand on his heart and bowed respectfully to her, smiling in welcome. She pressed her lips together, blinking hard. A tremulous attempt at its return pulled up one corner of her lip, then the other, but not both at once.

  “Do ye think Molly would find a place, perhaps even marry after what’s been done to her?”

  The keeper nodded. “I was thinking Fergus could use some company. He likes it quiet and is kind and gentle. He’s lonely but doesna wish to be a nuisance. Kiera said Molly was a weaver, and Fergus has space for a loom. Over time, if she is interested they may share his pallet. But he will not force her.”

  “And if she canna hear, read, or speak she willna pass on secrets from his papers.”

  Ramsay nodded. “Glad ye are thinkin’ again, Laird Malcolm.”

  “What I am thinking is that I need to see my wife.”

  He needed to do more than see her. He needed to hold her and tell her that he didn’t want to live without her. That he was so thickheaded he’d refused to understand about loving her until he’d almost lost her. That he would spend what life he had left, making sure she understood he loved her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The boot she’d thrown missed Malcolm’s head by six inches. A very precise six inches.

  “Why didn’t you tell me!”

  “We didn’t wish to worry ye on yer first day out, sweetling.”

  “Dinna ‘sweetling’ me!”

  Kiera narrowed her eyes at Duff. Not liking his attitude, she bent to remove the one boot that still fit. She’d waited, and waited, and waited for Duff and Malcolm to join her in their chamber.

  “’Tisn’t seemly for the Lady of Kinrowan to throw her boots at her husbands,” chided Malcolm.

  It wasn’t his words as much as his smirk that drove her fury.

  “In this chamber there is no lady, nor laird,” she replied furiously. “Nor steward,” she added, directing her glare at Duff as she struggled to get her boot past her ankle.

  “Nay, but there is a wife, and two husbands.” Malcolm’s tone was colder, his voice deeper. “A wife who vowed to obey, serving and being submissive to me.”

  Keeping her head down she growled a rude reply, making sure she kept it too low for him to hear. She finally yanked her boot off. The toe of her stocking needed mending.

  “As I vowed to be faithfully loving and caring.”

  His words made her catch her breath with hope. And then she realized by loving he meant physical, not from his heart. She curled forward in pain, but only for a moment. She would not give in to pity! She would serve the people of Kinrowan. If she had to put up with a pair of arrogant husbands as part of it, so be it!

  “Loving? Ha!” She gave them her best scowl. “You mean the touching of me. Well, I wish more from a husband than his body!” She reached under her skirts to undo her stocking. “I tried to be a perfect wife so that you’d love me the way my father loved my mother. As love is something you canna give, I have a wee bit less interest in following the vows I gave.”

  Her eyes prickled at her shrewish, bitter tone. She’d hoped never to feel that way again. She could act as she chose inside this chamber. Her people would never hear that tone from her.

  Instead of taking the time to roll her stocking neatly she shoved it down her leg and yanked it off. The hole doubled in size.

  “Satan’s left toenail!” She stuck her finger through the hole.

  “Why do ye say we canna love?”

  Her throat tightened at Malcolm’s quiet words. She knew he cared for her. But was it enough? She slumped, silently wishing there was hope.

  “Because you’ve naught seen love,” she croaked. “Because you feel you must act the manly laird with a face like stone. Because God forbid you be seen as weak.”

  Her words rang in the silence.

  “Kiera, I said I’d always tell ye the truth. Do ye trust me to do so?”

  She crushed her stocking in her hand, fury spent. “Aye, Duff, I do.”

  “Ye said we didna have love growing up. Ye’re right. Our mother never cared for her children. Our father thought of naught but himself.” He snorted. “He loved many women but, as ye say, ’twas only physical.”

  Her belly cramped at the thought of such a life. Perhaps they could love an innocent child, the product of their seed. An adult woman was a threat, and a challenge.

  “Kiera, the first time we saw love between a husband and wife was with the Camerons at Inverlochy Castle, then with Laird and Lady Fraser. A light shone when their eyes met, and they shared sweet smiles.”

  “My father was like that with my mother,” she murmured. She remembered them sitting by the fire of an evening, each working on some task, comfortable in each other’s presence.

  “Both Cameron and Fraser are hard warriors, experienced men who rule well.” Duff scratched the back of his head. “They’ve also been with their lady wives for longer than we’ve been alive. It made me think ’twould take until the babe ye carry was grown afore I’d know the same.”

  She looked up when he fell silent.

  “Kiera, we dinna have that kind of love with ye,” he murmured.

  An arrow of pain pierced her heart. She flinched.

  “Nay, but we will!”

  Duff strode forward and knelt before her. She stared at the wet drops falling in her lap. He took her hands in
his, first tossing her stocking aside.

  “I love ye, Kiera MacKenzie. I even love that look ye had in yer eye as ye judged the weight of yer boot afore heaving it at my twin.”

  Her lip curled up, thinking of his look of shock.

  “And I ken that ye would have hit him if ye wished.”

  “My mother said a wife is allowed to throw things at her laird husband, but not hit him.” She sniffed back her tears and straightened her spine. “I have good aim.”

  “Aye, ye do.” Malcolm cleared his throat from the frog that had caught in it. “Laird MacKenzie told me of yer mother doing the same. ’Twas after something hit the closed door of yer chamber right where my head would have been, the first time we met.”

  She pinned his rough chuckle with her glare.

  “And what of you, Laird Kinrowan? Does Duff speak only for himself? For I kenned I loved him afore he left my sheiling. Afore I was forced to accept his twin as my husband!”

  Malcolm flinched.

  “We kenned naught of yer father’s plan,” replied Malcolm. “I was watching in the hall the night ye returned from yer sheiling. I looked for the woman I was told ye were. Bitter, scowling, angry at the world, and wearing ugly clothes that suited yer mood.” His face eased. “I saw a smiling beauty in a green dress walk with Colin and cursed his luck in finding such a stunning, tall, bride. But I put it aside and decided I would treat my own wife as if she were beautiful, inside and out. That mayhaps in time she would believe it herself.”

  He was right in that she’d not believed herself beautiful. Not in her heart, nor in her skin. She was a different person here at Kinrowan. It had started when she first met Duff. He'd not known who she was, or her past.

  “When I heard ye’d been taken I felt like I’d died,” continued Malcolm, his voice hoarse. “The world stopped, and my eyes went dark. I put my fear aside and acted the laird, doing what was needed for the clan.”

  He shut his eyes, hands in tight fists at his sides.

  “All night as I paced, or lost at chess with Fergus, I cursed myself for not seein’ what ye mean to me. I was giving all to Kinrowan, accepting yer gift of yerself as if it was my right. All that changed when ye were stolen from us. We were so busy getting Kinrowan ready for the winter. I thought we’d find time in the long nights of cold and dark to ken each other. Being laird of such a place was everything to me. I thought ye’d be there, waiting until I'd have time for ye.”