Finally, the bid to enter was given. Duncan pushed open the door and followed behind Ailsa.
“Màiri, your laird has come to check upon your progress.”
Ailsa folded the plaid strewn on the stool. Duncan went to the sturdy chair. “Nay, Duncan. Don’t sit there. That’s Màiri’s seat.”
“What nonsense? I can sit wherever I please,” he pronounced.
“I see the ladies did your laundry. That’s good. Of course, I’ve never done laundry. It certainly isn’t an easy chore. I suppose no chore is easy. That’s why it is a chore.”
Duncan gawked at his wife. Her steady stream of chatter was painful. But a part of him was impressed she never stopped for breath and she never seemed to run out of topics to speak about.
“My lady, I’ve told you I don’t need you helping me. I have children for that.” Ailsa gripped the broom handle until she was white knuckled.
She ducked her head. “’Tis no bother.” Ailsa returned to sweeping the house.
When her back was turned, Duncan leaned down. “Be nice or I’ll shoot your other cheek.”
Màiri laughed.
“Oh Màiri, ‘tis so heartwarming to hear your laughter. I was happy when Duncan accompanied me here as well.”
“She means well so I try to never forget that,” Màiri confessed. “But I’m weary of her help. It’s her guilt but that lass couldn’t hurt an Englishman.”
“Come Ailsa, let’s depart. Màiri is in need of rest.”
Ailsa set the broom against the wall and bid Màiri goodbye and swore to pray for her health.
Duncan wrapped an arm around her waist and swept her from the cottage. “You have a good heart, Ailsa.”
“Thank you, husband.” She reacted as though he bestowed her with a priceless gift that kings would envy.
She knocked on Siobhan’s door. “They are down at the moor playing,” Malcolm said as he walked by them.
“May we go there, Duncan?”
“If it pleases you.”
She dragged him to the moor. Her other hand was busy waving and calling out questions to every person they passed, whether a child or elder. Standing at the moor’s edge, they watched as the children stood around in a circle.
“There she is. She looks well.”
“Well, let’s find out.” He drew her forward and squeezed her hand. The children fell silent.
“Duncan, we’re playing. Want to join us? It does build endurance,” Niall called out, rubbing his hands together with glee.
“Sure. Want to play Ailsa?” he asked, taunting her.
She looked at the water-filled pig’s bladder. “I don’t know how or for that matter what.”
“It’s easy. You have to kick the bladder between those two trees.” Niall pointed to the two trees behind him. “And you have to make sure that we don’t get it in yours, right there.” Duncan looked at the two wooden swords buried in the ground. “Also you can’t use your hands, feet only. But you can push people out of the way.”
“It’s easy, my lady,” Siobhan added. “You can be on my team.”
“Duncan is on mine,” Niall retorted.
“Come on, it’s fun. I played this as a child,” Duncan said, feeling like the little boy he once was.
“Very well.” She went to Siobhan’s side.
Duncan stood across her. “You know you are going to lose.”
“Nonsense. We shall be victorious,” Ailsa boasted, raising her hand in triumph.
“I’m bigger than you,” Duncan said.
“Aye, but I’m a woman and that makes me smarter than you.”
Duncan froze in befuddlement. “That’s daft.”
Ailsa shrugged and then the game started. Niall pushed Ailsa out of the way to get to the bladder. Siobhan pushed him to the ground and kicked the bladder to the other side.
“Ailsa, you have to kick it,” Duncan said, trotting next to her.
“It’s disgusting.” Ailsa scrunched her face.
Duncan chuckled under his breath. “I will win,” he said, leaping over little Angus.
“No jumping over my team.”
Duncan laughed. Niall booted the bladder through the trees, scoring. They cheered. Duncan threw Niall in the air.
“Don’t worry, my lady. We’ll get them,” Siobhan vowed, her little brow furrowed with the desire for vengeance. This was a bloodthirsty game.
Siobhan kicked the bladder to her. Ailsa kicked it. She saw the two swords and ran for it. The bladder bounced everywhere. She was running zigzag and closed the distance to the swords. This was going well for her. The swords were getting bigger. She was so close.
Then she was off her feet and in Duncan’s arms. He kicked the ball to Niall.
“No fair,” she yelled, holding onto Duncan as he carried her to the other side of the field.
“I can use my hands.”
Siobhan knocked Niall to the ground and started to the other side. “Go Siobhan!” Duncan never let her down as he started back.
Siobhan’s leg reared back and she kicked it through the swords. Ailsa cheered and as much as she could, she jumped up and down in Duncan’s arms.
“Ha! We…what did we do?”
“Score.”
The children dragged their feet as they walked back to them. Duncan set Ailsa on her feet. . He held her to him. He dipped his head as she rose to meet him.
Niall held up the empty bladder. “We can’t play anymore. We need more water.”
Duncan pulled back and steadied Ailsa when she teetered. “Well, I believe we’ve played enough. But there’s nothing stopping the rest of you. Have fun.”
He put his arm around Ailsa’s shoulder. “I hope you win, Siobhan,” Ailsa cheered.
“I always do, my lady.”
Niall snorted, earning Siobhan’s laughter.
“Did you have fun?”
She jumped up and down like a thrilled child. “Aye. I didn’t want it to end.”
“Good, I know something else we can do that is just as fun, actually it’s better.”
Ailsa’s eyes widened and she clasped his hand, tugging at it in her desire to know. “Tell me. Tell me.”
“We can go back to our chamber and I can make love to you until the sun goes down.”
“Oh,”—she drew out the sound like a purr that shot straight to his loins—"that sounds like fun.”
The laird took his lairdess back to the chamber and did exactly that. Well, not till the sun went down because his wife exhausted him and he needed to regain his strength.
Chapter Eleven
As peat was brought indoors and the winds shifted, bringing rain, Duncan still hadn’t realized he loved Ailsa. However, her life changed—the clan began to accept her. Màiri consulted her about the meals and fled when Ailsa held anything sharp. Niall bathed nightly but remained wary around her. And every night Duncan and Ailsa’s passion exploded whereas the days were mundane. He was beginning to infuriate her. Ailsa employed all her limited female wiles without even gaining a flickering of love from him. She attempted to win his heart through his stomach, making sure his favorite meals were served.
That didn’t work.
She only tired of trout in leeks and honeyed pears. For one daft moment, Ailsa thought about bowing to his every wish but such a mad action would make her more crazed. She blamed that inane idea on too much honey.
Her only solace was Moira’s company. The two women spent precious time complaining about the hardheaded men who still failed to realize their love. Their complaining had actually become an enjoyable experience, filling most of the day as it did now.
“The man actually asked me if I was in my cups,” Moira groused as they passed through the postern gate. “I guess I laughed too hard at his stupid joke.”
“Duncan sent me away when I cheered him for knocking Galvin on his behind.”
“Men are worthless.” The ladies waved to the guards watching from the ramparts.
“Most of the time.” They saun
tered down the hill toward the bustling clachan. Another MacLean warrior had come into this world late last night. “At least, the one we’re bearing gifts for brings joy to a woman.”
Moira shifted the basket of food to her other arm. “Have you realized most bairns are birthed during the summer?”
“I know why too,” Ailsa answered, feeling very worldly.
Moira stopped. “Tell me. You must share. It is your womanly duty,” Moira informed her with a knowing nod.
“You are unwed so I mustn’t share what occurs in a marriage bed.” Ailsa had become one of those married women behaving superior, having pledged their troth. She liked it too.
“From how dense Hector is, I may never know.”
“Well, I won’t give you particulars but there is no better way to spend a long winter night than in bed with your husband. Nay, I will not say any more.” She held up her hand.
“My lady, winter hasn’t come upon us yet,” Moira retorted, a stifled grin tugging her lips. Ailsa blushed, knowing where she wasted away most of the nights.
“Then let me rephrase—there is no better way to spend every night than in bed with your husband.”
The fast friends giggled on their way by the clan’s mud-encrusted children kicking around a water-filled pig bladder. Ailsa waved to them and even received a wave from Niall before he remembered he didn’t like her.
“There is not enough water to wash away all his filth,” Ailsa said, watching Niall wipe his filthy arm over his filthy brow, smearing more mud around his face.
The ladies fell silent for a brief instant. “My lady, I don’t think flirting is working.”
“You could tell him.”
“And risk him telling me, ‘I think of you as a friend.’” —She mimicked Hector—”I cannot handle such an embarrassing rejection. What are you doing about the laird? Maybe you should flirt with him.”
Ailsa tapped her finger against her lips. “Nay, I’m a married woman so I think it will not work for me. I think I ought to show him how much he needs me.” Her eyes lightened with her bright idea. “I shall see to his every comfort and want. In fact, it all shall be waiting for him.”
His needs were already catered to by the servants but Moira didn’t want to hurt her mistress’s feelings. The Lairdess always plotted and most of the time, they failed. “And that will make him love you?”
“I truly hope so because I know not what else to do.” Ailsa noticed Moira’s stricken countenance. “You believe it will not work.”
“Nay, my lady. I think he must discover how much he needs you.”
“How do I accomplish that?” Ailsa bemoaned, unsure of how to solve her problem.
Both women became lost in their contemplation. Not one brilliant idea sprung to the forefront of their minds. A pounding started behind Ailsa’s eyes from thinking so hard. Making a man fall in love was difficult work. Moira reached out and clasped her arm, jerking Ailsa to a stop.
“My lady, I think I’ve resolved your problems. The laird and Hector are brothers so both are thick-skulled twits so he must not know that you care for him.”
“Aye, Moira, you’re brilliant. I shall show him how much he is cared for then he shall see how to care for me.”
“Then he will love you,” Moira gasped. “You have inspired me.”
“How?” Ailsa tilted her head to the side.
With her back straight and determination gleaming in her blue eyes, Moira pronounced, “I shall make Hector miss me then he’ll see how much I mean to him.”
“I don’t see how I did that.” Ailsa’s nose crinkled.
“It’s opposite of your plan but in the end Hector will dig deep in his heart and realize he loves me.”
“Speaking of our men,” Ailsa said, noticing Hector and Duncan inspecting a cottar. “Come, let’s go to them.” Ailsa dragged Moira alongside her, never giving her the chance to run.
Halfway to them, Hector spotted them. “Moira, I need you.”
She stumbled to a stop and if not for Ailsa’s hold, she might have tumbled heels over head. Hector, engrossed with his duties, missed Moira’s blush that set her alabaster skin on fire.
“Truly Hector?”
“Aye, I have a great deal of work to finish—” she was tempted to knock him over the head with his cane—“and I can’t do it without you.”
Those weren’t the words she longed to hear from his lips.
“’Tis a start,” Ailsa mumbled in encouragement.
“I’m so hungry I’ll take the crumbles. To be honest, I do enjoy assisting him,” she confessed out the side of her mouth.
“What are you two whispering about?” Duncan inquired, his eyes darting between them.
“Nothing of import. What occupies your day, husband?”
“A tour of the clachan to see if the clan is prepared for winter.” He pushed her hair off her shoulder. Ailsa stilled at his tender action. It felt so intimate, a caring act that only happened between a man and woman. A tingle zipped through her body. She was getting close to winning his love.
When Ailsa’s mind began turning again, Duncan was contemplating Moira. His gaze skimmed over her face. The furrow of his brow deepened with his inspection.
“Is there something different about you?” Hector’s attention flew to Moira.
“Nay, laird,” her voice croaked.
“There is no difference. She’s still the same old Moira.”
She glared at Hector, who ought to have gone up in flames from her look. “You make me sound dull.”
“What?” Hector sputtered. He looked imploringly at Ailsa then Duncan. With no help from them, he threw up his hands in surrender.
“Something is different about her. I can’t place it though. Has Ailsa harmed you in anyway?”
“Duncan,” Ailsa hissed as she flattened against his side. “You must never speak of such things. Tis unladylike.”
“I’m not a lady.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am and such comments are unseemly.”
“Very well. But I find great pleasure in teasing you.” He stroked her bottom lip. “You pout. It makes me…” He cleared his throat. “We’ll speak of this later.”
From the promise in his eyes, Ailsa knew later neither would speak but a great deal of touching would occur. She loved that intense look on his face that darkened his eyes to a chestnut flamed with gold. Her insides went gooey and she cared for nothing but to touch him.
“Is it a man?” Duncan questioned, snapping Ailsa back to the present. “Women get that look when a man is involved,” Duncan informed his glowering brother. Now Hector looked ready to beat someone with his cane.
Hector’s bark of false laughter drowned Ailsa’s question. She had to know what that look was. Not just for Moira but for herself. Maybe she had the same look.
“There is no man in Moira’s life. She would have told me.” Hector faced Moira, expecting her agreement.
Ailsa cut in before the topic turned. “What look?”
She must have asked louder than she thought because Duncan goggled at her. His lips parted but not a word was spoken. Finally, he recovered.
“The lasses get this simpering look. That’s how they all look at Lachlan.”
“Oh! Well, we must be off to welcome the new MacLean,” Ailsa pronounced and spun on her heels. Moira followed. Abreast to one another, they hurried to the other side of the clachan.
“Don’t forget Moira, I need you,” Hector called out to her.
“I know his meaning but it still warms my heart.”
* * * *
After spending a great deal of time cooing to a bald baby with a cry to echo through the highlands, Ailsa set off back home. She spotted the last remaining wildflowers in bloom and picked more than a handful, thinking to add more beauty to the hall.
After putting the wildflowers in an earthenware jug, she ambled into the great hall, humming to herself. From the passageway, Ailsa saw Duncan and Caelan at the table. Whatever the topic of the
ir conversation, from their low tones and huddled body language, she should walk away.
Duncan looked up and sat back before he waved her in.
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You’re not,” Duncan replied.
Ailsa mentally shrugged but passed into the hall. Both men appeared so calm Ailsa almost believed she placed more importance on their body language than truly existed.
“Why are you not sitting on the chairs?”
Their gazes drifted to the seats Duncan rarely used. “I had forgotten they were there.”
“I specifically placed them there for comfort so please next time, use them.”
Ailsa stretched and set the flowers in the middle of the table. She rearranged the flowers, spacing them so each bud wasn’t crushed. While she smiled, both men stared at the flowers as though the sweet scented blooms were a snarling bear ready to attack.
“What’s this?” Duncan demanded, pointing at the wildflowers. He couldn’t be seriously asking her such a thing and she decided he really didn’t desire an answer.
“Ailsa.”
“They’re flowers.” She snatched a piece of cheese from the platter and popped it into her mouth. “It’s to make the hall look lively and they smell nice.” She lifted the jug for Duncan to take a whiff but he flinched back so she waved the flowers under Caelan’s nose. To appease his mistress, he took a quick sniff and gave her a tight smile.
As she made sure the jug was in the center of the table, Caelan inquired, “Do we smell?”
“Oh nay. You smell just fine—not that I’ve ever smelled you so that must mean you’re not rank. And I’ve seen people standing downwind of you. Besides, your sister hugs you and she’s quite clean so I don’t think she would hug you if you smelled.”
Caelan stared stupefied.
“Ailsa, stop before you insult someone.”
“But Duncan, Caelan thinks I think he smells and I do like him so I refuse to have him insulted.”
“Thank you, my lady, but I was joking.”
Her hand flew to her O shaped mouth. “I thought you were serious. I don’t wish to instruct you but you really ought to smile when jesting.”
“I do.”
Ailsa searched his face but his lips remained a straight slash, no twitching, not even a barely perceivable shift. She giggled. “You’re not smiling now.”
The Marriage Alliance Page 14
