by Mary McCall
Leonce rolled his eyes. “Queen Matilda never told William that."
"I'm sure she meant to if she didn't,” Hope grumbled. “I know I'm sick of feuding and fighting, and I did not have to live through the Norman invasion."
"What happened next, Mam?” Bertie asked.
"Well, there were The Canmore and The Usurper engaged in a raving argument, when along comes a Saxon serf pulling a small cart containing a one-legged pig. The two monarchs were so stunned by the sight that they quit yelling. Queen Matilda saw what silenced the men. A wee bit curious herself, she asked the serf about the poor pig."
Hope lowered her pitch. “'Well, now, Queen,’ the serf said, ‘this here is a real special pig. When he was a wee thing, a fox got into my chicken pen. This pig caused an axe to fall and chop the fox in two, saving all my chickens. A year later one of my daughters fell into a pond. This pig jumped in, grabbed her with his snout, and pulled her ashore. Another time my cottage caught on fire. This pig rushed in, grabbed my baby son from his crib by the four corners of his blanket, and carried him to safety just afore the roof collapsed.'
"Queen Matilda looked at the serf like he was crazy. ‘You expect me to believe that cursed creature did all those things with only one leg?’ she asked him. The serf looked at Queen Matilda as if she were daft and said, ‘With all due respect, Queen, he used to have four legs, but a pig this special—well now, cannot be eatin’ him all at one time.'
"Queen Matilda was horrified. She turned to her cursed husband and said, ‘Quick, William, make peace with The Canmore if we're going to keep this cursed country. We'll need the Scots to help us teach these animal-abusing Saxons how to care for the livestock.’ William saw the rightness in what his wife said and told King Malcolm that he would call the battle off if The Canmore would take care of the one-legged pig. King Malcolm agreed, and he and his warriors left safely the next morn after feasting on pork the night afore."
"You mean our cursed king ate the poor pig!” Bertie cried, horrified. Harry fluttered his wings and flew to Hope's lap.
"Of course he did, Bertie,” she said, stroking Harry's chest. “The poor creature was suffering with only one leg. The Canmore simply showed the Saxon serf that no matter how special a pig is, ‘tis still best to eat him all at one time."
A riot of guffaws shook the walls after Hope explained the moral of the story. Harry fluttered his wings and retreated to the mantel.
"Where do you come up with these tales, wife?” Leonce shook his head. “Our king will have my head if this one gets around."
Hope twisted and grinned at him. “He will bloody well have to go through me, Lion."
"Angelaspera, ‘twas priceless. And I'll be the one making sure Malcolm hears it.” The MacKay wiped mirth from his eyes. “'Tis as good as the ones Julien's Toril tells."
Hope stilled. “Who is Toril, Julien?"
"My wife. I got her last year when we raided a Viking port on the Orkney Isles."
Hope frowned. “Does this Toril love you?"
"Of course, ‘tis her duty,” Julien said indignantly.
Hope flew from Leonce's lap and grabbed Julien by the front of his tunic. “Forget duty, brother. Does her heart beat in yours?"
Julien nodded. “Aye, Angelaspera. Mine beats in hers as well."
"How long from the time my husband took you would it take for her to learn you were missing and where you might be found?"
"Less than half a day.” Julien frowned. “Why?"
"Zounds, cursed and bloody rot!” Hope released Julien. “Bowyn, send word down the mountain to light the path. Freya, have another bath prepared in Julien's chamber. Jeannie, make more lamb's wool and keep a warm meal ready. Aonghus, put Artair in the crib and get Courageous to help you carry the twins upstairs. Leonce, go to our chamber and wait for me. Where is my cursed whip?"
"'Tis on your girdle.” Leonce walked to her side. “Calm down an—"
"Calm down!” Hope pulled her whip from its binding. “How can I bloody well calm down when a Viking woman named for a killer with Thor's strength is coming here to get her husband and kill mine!"
"Toril would not—"
"Aye, she would, Julien. Angelaspera is right,” The MacKay said. “Toril will go for the kill if she lays eyes on The MacPherson afore she sees you're well."
Hope suddenly caught the glint of light reflected from flying metal. She reflexively knocked the dagger to the ground with her lash, a scant foot in front of her husband's chest.
A tall, agile woman with flowing moon-white hair charged Leonce with a snarl and talons unfurled. Hope's whip cracked. The lash wrapped around the attacker's wrist, jolting her to the ground. Before she could react, another snap resounded. The whip coiled around the woman's throat.
"Toril, you're my brother's wife, and I do not wish to hurt you, but I'll break your neck if you go for my lion again!"
Raging violet eyes warred with turbulent sapphire orbs. The captured woman bared her teeth and hissed.
"Talk to her, Julien. Let Toril see you're well so she'll lose the bloodlust. I'll not release her until she does."
Julien stepped in front of his wife. “Toril, I'm well. The feud is over. Father and I are guests of The MacPherson."
Some of the fire died in Toril's darting eyes, and she looked at her husband.
"You can release her now."
"Might not be too wise just yet,” Hope warned.
"I said release my wife,” Julien ordered, a churlish frown on his face.
"As long as you remember I offered to hold her longer."
Leonce placed a hand on Hope's arm. “Let her go, Hope."
She exhaled an exaggerated sigh and uncoiled the lash.
The violet eyes narrowed as Toril launched herself at Julien, knocking him backward. She landed astride his hips and pummeled his chest. “You should have listened to the lion's woman, you black-hearted pig! How dare you let me find you afore a cozy fire when I have worried you might be dead! If I did not love you so much, I would kill you myself!"
"Have you told her ‘tis not a wife's place to raise her voice with her husband, Julien?” Leonce gloated. A few of his warriors chuckled.
"Leonce, do not roast Julien. He has enough problems.” Hope tapped the newcomer's shoulder. “Toril, I'm your sister-in-law Angelaspera, but most people call me Hope. If you'll quit pounding Julien, I'll show you to a chamber with a steamy bath, and Freya will bring you a hot meal. When you're warm, we can get to know each other. I'm certain we have much in common, considering how Highlanders get their wives. Have not met one yet that charmed and wooed a woman into agreeing."
Toril raised suspicious eyes toward Hope.
"Zounds! You must be the most beautiful woman in the world!"
The Viking woman grimaced. “Nay. I am the ugly sister. Are you the wild woman who kills wolves for fun?"
"I cannot play wolf-bait anymore.” Hope snorted. “Scares the lion."
"Neither can I.” Toril raked her fingers through her long mane and glared at Julien.
"You played wolf-bait?” Hope said in an admiring tone.
"Nay. I prefer bears. The Scot here has a problem with a woman who is useful. Wants me to sew. You see what needles have done to my fingers.” Toril held up her pinpricked digits. “Never has a bear wounded me so painfully."
"You poor thing. Julien, you're an unfeeling brute.” Hope helped Toril to her feet, slipped an arm around the taller woman's waist, and led her guest toward the stairs. “Come, Toril. I'll mix up a salve for your wounds. We're having a festival next fall. We'll bloody well compete with our men so they can learn our value."
* * * *
As the two women disappeared, Cardinal Brodie, wearing a God-fearing frown, turned toward the two husbands. “Chief MacPherson and Julien MacKay, as the ecclesiastical authority in the area, I give you nine months to either convince your wives that you know their value or get them bairned."
Leonce narrowed his eyes. “And if we do not? Do you commi
t us to an eternity of hellfire in the hereafter?"
"If you do not, then heaven help us all, and you'll not have to wait on death. Hell will break loose upon the Highlands. Every clan in the hills will come after the MacPhersons and the MacKays for letting two women best their warriors.” He gazed toward the stairs. “I doubt not that those two would win."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Fifty-Seven
* * * *
Time dragged for the next few weeks. Hope didn't mind while her family visited. She delighted in their company and cherished each moment, trying to wring a lifetime of memories from their brief stay.
She befriended Toril, who felt lonely in a strange land. Other than Julien and her father-in-law, no one in Clan MacKay socialized with the Viking woman. Toril frequently found herself alone, which led her into trouble. She expressed delight concerning her nephews and confided to Hope that she expected her first child in early summer. She begged Hope to keep her secret because Julien might become enraged if he found out before they returned home. She had journeyed after him in the blizzard after all. Hope, considering herself an expert on the workings of the protective male mind, agreed and promised she would talk Leonce into letting her visit Toril when her confinement drew near.
Leonce spent time with The MacKay and Julien, showing them the fortifications and discussing plans for the holding's defenses. Both MacKays expressed an interest in the stone design and modern safeguards employed for the protection of the mountain and offered suggestions. With the feud over, the men developed a mutual respect and forged a powerful alliance.
Nights were the hardest for Hope and Leonce as they shared the heat of their bodies without pursuing baser activities. Tension arose, ending all intimate contact. Leonce quit holding Hope in his lap during story hour and stood brooding by the hearth. On several occasions he stayed up well past the hour she retired. On two nights he fell asleep in the hall.
When her family left after a ten-day visit, Cardinal Brodie accompanied them. From then on, Hope rarely saw Leonce. If she entered a room, someone called him to an urgent task or he fled her presence. At first she lodged no protest. The problems seemed genuine, and Leonce needed the diversions. She wished someone would come up with a calamity for her to handle.
Eventually she noticed a pattern. All summonses came from either Aonghus or Bowyn, and the problems reminded her of Courageous's roof cave-in. If the events were real, she would soon feel like a fool. But they were prolonging her deprivation! And zounds if Leonce hadn't looked exhausted when last she glimpsed him. He would need a week of rest before he could enjoy everything she had planned.
Hope entered the hall one day and marched toward the table where Bowyn and Aonghus lounged. They began to rise.
"Keep your seats.” She waved them back down. “And mind your cursed tongues while I have my say."
Bowyn and Aonghus went slack-jawed at Hope's irate tone and sat down.
She settled her fists on her hips, spitting daggers through her eyes. “Over the last week, the stable has caught fire. A temporary one was built to shelter the horses, all of which were miraculously unharmed. Three almost-new roofs fell under the weight of too much snow. Two have been repaired. One is under construction. Here you sit on your cursed rumps while my husband labors in a blizzard on the last hut, and I believe you are behind these disasters."
Aonghus held up both hands. “Now, lass—"
"Milady, we—” Bowyn said at the same time, his brow furrowing.
"Let me finish!” Hope took a deep, calming breath. “I understand why you did these things. I'm not here to berate you. I am here to tell you the reason for these diversions no longer exists as of three days ago, and I want my lion back."
Bowyn grinned broadly. Aonghus cackled and slapped his knee.
Hope clenched her angry jaw. “Leonce will be home soon, because I am sending him a red ribbon. In the meantime, you'd best bundle up and join him so you can finish rebuilding Rob and Mauri's hut. Then you can plan on handling any other cursed problems that come up. Once I get Leonce in our chamber, I bloody well plan to keep him there for the next week. Do you have any questions?"
"Nay, lass. We're on our way.” Aonghus stood and hitched his plaid.
"Praise the Lord, the waiting is over.” Bowyn rose.
"One thing more afore you leave."
"Anything you wish,” Bowyn offered.
Hope averted her gaze from their knowing grins. “I want the biggest tub in the keep filled with steamy water in the chieftain's chamber."
"Consider it done, lass. Do you want me to send Freya to help?"
"'Twould be bloody grateful if you would, Aonghus."
"Nay, milady. We're the grateful ones,” Bowyn said.
"Aye.” Aonghus winked. “'Tis too cursed cold for raiding."
* * * *
"Hope!” Leonce burst in and scanned the room with an anxious frown. “Hope, where are you?"
The door closed behind him, and the board dropped, barring entrance. He turned around. Hope stood before him, wearing only a flimsy, short shift and holding her lash. One fisted hand rested on her hip. She pointed toward the tub by the hearth with her whip. “Undress, MacPherson, and get in the bath."
"You just scared the hell out of me, woman! Are you injured?"
"Nay, and keep it down, or you'll wake the bairns."
"Are you in danger?” he asked in a steely tone, crossing his arms.
"Someone in this room is in danger of frostbite. Now take off your clothes so I can make sure you have none."
"Move away from the door, Hope. Rob and Mauri need a roof above their heads afore night falls."
The whip snapped and coiled around his neck. “They will have a roof, MacPherson. There will be no more cave-ins, nor any more cursed fires. And anything else that happens can be handled by your clansmen, who have kept you from me by creating the calamities."
"What are you talking about?” he gritted out, ignoring the lash around his neck. It took all his control to keep from drooling at his near-naked wife.
"Those homes are barely two years old. Do you truly believe the construction so poor?” Hope snorted. “'Tis too cursed cold for raiding. Your men kept you occupied so they wouldn't have to freeze. And I would appreciate it if they would check the timing with me in the future. Our cursed waiting ended three days ago."
"Did it now?” Lust blazed through his loins, but he forced more menace into his frown. “Why are you just now telling me?"
"Every time I got within sight of you, someone snatched you away. I wished to be discreet and not blurt out our carnal agenda for the whole mountain to hear. Of course, they all surely know now.” Hope snorted.
"And how would they know if you didn't blurt it out?"
"I told Bowyn and Aonghus they could cease their cursed diversions and not to expect to see you for a week. ‘Tis the truth, MacPherson, you are my prisoner.” She thrust her stubborn chin forward, daring him to contradict her.
He raised a brow. “Did you say a week?"
"Aye. I started to tell them a month, but I didn't want them to think me a cursed wanton."
"Just what are you planning to do with me for all this time?"
"First, I intend to inspect every speck of your body and make sure you have no frostbite. Then, I will warm you with a hot bath. If you find yourself in dire agony from an engorged limb, I may join you in the tub.” He lowered his amber eyes to take in her scantily clad body. She walked toward him, relaxing the tension on her lash. “Then, you will lie on a pelt in front of the hearth so I can massage you with a warm herbal oil until you glisten all over.” She caressed his cheek with the handle of her whip. “I'll keep it up till you're in dire agony again. I will, of course, relieve your suffering whenever ‘tis unbearable.
"At some point I will have to feed the cubs, but that will not take long. Then I will drink wine from your mouth and eat honey from your skin.” The lash uncoiled from his neck and slid to the ground.
Hope unfastened his clothing, pushing each layer to the floor. “I may spill so much sticky honey on you that you'll need another bath."
The last of his garments hit the ground. Hope stood back and raised a gaze of sensual promise. “Tell me when you wish to start. I turned into The MacFury a few hours ago when I realized what was going on. You do remember me, do you not?” She arched a sly brow. “All hot and wet and yearning for a mating."
"Aye, MacFury. As I recall, you're a cursed heathen, so you probably do not know your plan is flawed."
She cocked her head. “How so?"
He snaked out one hand to grasp her wrist and pull her against him. He encircled her in his arms and let his hands rove down to massage her bottom. “The flaw, MacFury, is I'm bloody well throbbing and aching for the mating now. The bath will have to wait."
He nudged her belly with his hard arousal. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck as her right leg hooked around his thigh. “Zounds, Leonce! You feel so good. How can you be so warm after all that time in a cursed blizzard?"
"Mayhap ‘tis my special gift, like your extra sense.” He lifted her until she raised her other leg and linked her ankles, hugging his waist with her thighs. “Or mayhap ‘tis you being damn near naked and knowing you want me."
Leonce captured her lips in a kiss of savage dominance and sensed the fire and sensed the fire burning within her as she tightened her legs around him.
Without breaking the kiss, he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed. He surged into her before her back landed on the mattress. Once his throbbing flesh nestled within her heat, he tensed and gentled the kiss. Hope moved restlessly beneath him. He gripped her hips, stilling her. A growl erupted in her throat. She grasped his head with both hands and tried to reinvigorate the kiss.
Leonce tore his mouth away and leaned his forehead against hers. “Ah, love, I want to take you slow and gentle."
"Be slow and gentle later, Leonce. Right now, just take me."
He rumbled in his chest. “Does The MacFury suffer overmuch?"
