Timeless Tales of Honor

by Suzan Tisdale

  She raised an eyebrow. “Summon me? That isn’t the way your message to me read, Laird McEwan. It professed that you missed me and wished to see me as soon as possible. Had I known it was official business that you summoned me for, I would have come straight away.”

  His scowl deepened as his voice began to take on a note of anger. “So if I summon ye, ye shall hurry. But if it be a romantic moment alone with ye that I want, ye make me wait?”

  She cupped her hands in front of her. “Perhaps, Laird McEwan, you would like me to follow you around like a pup, waiting for your commands to retrieve for you? Or perhaps like a concubine, to be there to serve your needs whenever they arise?” Outwardly she remained calm, or at least hoped for the appearance of it. Inside she was frightened as well as angry with him.

  He saw the flame of anger rise in those deep green eyes of hers, “That is no’ what I meant, Aishlinn.”

  He came and towered over her. “I have many duties to tend to and my time is no’ my own to do with whatever I please.” It was true that he had only but a little while to spend with her. Could she not see or understand that any free moment he had he wished only to spend it with her?

  “I do apologize most sincerely, Laird McEwan.” There was coolness to her voice as the flame of anger intensified. “So which is it you want me to be this day? Pup or concubine?” She would not shrink, would not cower and would not bend to him. “Is there something you wish me to fetch for you? Or should I lift my skirts and let you take me here and now, m’laird?”

  It wasn’t just anger he saw in her eyes, there was hurt there as well. He’d been yelling at her as though she were a possession or one of his men, not the woman that he loved with every fiber of his being. “Did ye make me wait fer ye on purpose?” he asked.

  “Aye, I did. But only for a few minutes.”

  “Why?” he asked as the scowl began to soften.

  She swallowed hard, not wanting to admit why. “Because I am not a pup nor a concubine nor one of your soldiers nor your mistress.” She looked into those piercing blue eyes and truly wanted nothing more than to have him kiss her, but she would not admit to it.

  He sensed there was more. “And?”

  She took a deep breath. “Sometimes the kisses are better when you are made to wait a moment longer to receive them.”

  She worried that he would become so incensed with her that he would be done with her, would send her away, either to her room or from the clan altogether.

  But he didn’t. With no warning he pulled her to him and began to kiss her hard on the mouth, his tongue forcing her lips open as he wickedly searched for hers. As much as she wished to not respond she could not help it. Grabbing his shoulders she pulled him closer as his hands held her waist with a firm grip and she felt his excitement growing against her. The passion was so intense in the kiss that she would have stripped herself bare had he asked her.

  As she melted into him, her body weak, her heart pounding, she knew she wanted to be with him for all their days. She wanted to know what it would be like to lay with him each night, and to feel his hands upon her bare skin.

  As quickly as the kiss began, it ended when he pulled away from her. A wry smile had come to his face as she stood trying to catch her breath. “Is that what ye meant by better, lass?”

  The slightest breeze could have knocked her over as she stood with quaking knees and shuddering body. “Aye,” she said breathlessly, wishing he would kiss her that way again and damning herself for wanting him to.

  “Well then, I shall no’ be so angry with ye the next time ye make me wait.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  God’s bones, this woman was going to drive him completely mad! “Because I said nay,” he gritted, arms crossed over his chest. “And I’ll hear no more of it.”

  Aishlinn was standing before him with her hands on her hips and a fierce look of determination set in her eyes. Over the past days she had changed. It wasn’t necessarily a new Aishlinn that stood before him. This was the Aishlinn he had been determined to set free, the one he had been sure had lay hidden just under the surface by the many years of abuse and harsh treatment. A small voice inside his head told him he had gotten what he had wished for and he had no one to blame but himself.

  It seemed to Duncan that the more kisses he bestowed upon her, the stronger and more determined she became. He was wondering if perhaps he should not hold back on the kisses for a bit. But as he looked at her now with the fire in her eyes and the willful determination to have him hear her out, he knew he could not. She looked absolutely beautiful in the early morning light with the sun casting streaks of red through her hair. He was angrier with himself more than he was with her. ’Twas all he could do not to drag her across the field to the trees and ravish every inch of her body.

  “Laird McEwan,” she said, trying to hold her anger in. “Would you prefer then, that when we are ever attacked in the future, that the woman go screaming about in a panic, unable to defend themselves?”

  “The women can defend themselves, Aishlinn, and they be quite good at it.”

  He was beginning to miss the days when all he had to do was scowl at her in order to tame her temper. As far as the women she spoke of, they were good with knives. And there were a few he would put his money on in any wager against any man in either contest or battle.

  “Aye, but with knives and pots and pans and nothing more. If you would but at least allow them to learn to use a bow--”

  Duncan cut her off with a raise of his hands. Although he was glad to see her becoming a beautiful, determined young woman there were limits to how he would allow her to behave in front of his men. She was quickly approaching a line he could not let her cross.

  He was silently cursing Isobel for teaching the lass to read, as well as Bree for reading to her the book where she got this cursed notion of hers. A book about a woman who could outshoot any man with a bow and arrow and who had defended her land, her people and her castle to her death. He’d have to talk with Bree later about what stories she’d be allowed to share with his betrothed.

  “Nay,” he said firmly. They had been arguing back and forth for at least a quarter hour and were standing near the field where the archers practiced. Wee William and Black Richard had come to listen to the argument Duncan was having with Aishlinn. They stood on either side of Duncan with crossed arms, creased brows and firm expressions to show they gave Duncan their support on the idea that women should not be taught to use the bow and arrow.

  Aishlinn was trying very hard to not let her temper get the better of her but it was not easy as these three men stood in front of her. Any one of them was big enough to crush her with their hands, but she was not going to allow them to intimidate them with their size. Well, Wee William perhaps, for one couldn’t help but be intimated by a man as large and tall as he.

  “Laird McEwan,” she said, “I can shoot, and quite well, and I see no reason why we,” she stopped when the men snickered. The sweet smile she’d been trying to maintain quickly evaporated.

  “Do you not believe me when I say that I can shoot, or that I can shoot quite well?” she asked them. Why must men be so thick headed, she wondered?

  “Now lass,” Duncan began. “It isn’t that we don’t believe ye.” This was quickly getting out of hand and he needed to put a stop to it.

  The patronization in his voice was enough to send Aishlinn over the edge of reason. If neither he nor his men would listen to a good and valid argument, then by God, she would show them. She turned on her heal and headed down the slight incline towards the archers, mumbling under her breath as she stomped along. “Stupid, stupid men!”

  “This is why the Sassenach do no’ teach their women to read!” Wee William said to Duncan as they watched Aishlinn stomp angrily towards the archers.

  Duncan was calling after her, but she ignored him. As she neared the archers, she heard Wee William boom out an order for the archers to hold. Some twenty-five men immediately stopped sh
ooting, lowered their weapons and looked towards him.

  Aishlinn approached the first archer and without asking, yanked his bow from his hands and pulled an arrow from the quiver that sat at his feet. The poor archer seemed uncertain as to what he should do. If she were any woman other than Duncan’s, he would have reclaimed his weapon and given her a lecture as well as a smack or two against her rump. The archer knew that Duncan would have killed him in the blink of an eye for doing just that, so he stood flummoxed and looked to Duncan who was fast approaching.

  “Put that down before ye hurt someone!” Duncan boomed. She had just crossed the line.

  Aishlinn continued to pretend she could neither see nor hear him and took aim towards the targets the men had been using. The large bales of straw draped with cloth banners stood at different intervals, some at seventy-five yards, others at one hundred, and others yet at one hundred fifty. She decided against a simple target -- even though she was dealing with simple-minded men. If she were going to impress them, she might as well go all out.

  She cared not how angry Duncan was at the moment, for she was determined to prove to him that women can defend themselves and could be quite useful in the event of an attack. They only need be taught properly. It was the principal of the matter.

  Holding the bow firmly, taking only a moment to choose her target, Aishlinn took a steady breath as Duncan had stopped just steps away from her.

  “Do. No’. Release. That. Arrow.” He seethed as he pointed his finger at her.

  She did not take his words as a command, but as a challenge. Looking away from her intended target she stared right into Duncan’s eyes, paused long enough to cast him a look that told him she’d not be treated like a weak minded fool, then let the arrow loose.

  The arrow flew over the field, across the bales of straw and landed dead center of a tall pine tree that was a good fifty yards beyond the furthest target. She turned to see if her aim had been true.

  “Ha!” Duncan called out as he saw the arrow had missed the large straw targets the archers had been using. “Ya missed!” he said wagging his finger at her and looking as though he had just won a very large wager against a very wee young woman. His delight was short lived however, when he saw the triumphant gleam in her green eyes and a twitch of a smile on her lips.

  “Did I hit the tree behind your men’s furthest targets?” she asked calmly as she lowered the bow to her side.

  Duncan looked confused, for the tree where her arrow landed, was a good fifty yards beyond the furthest targets.

  “Wee William!” Aishlinn said. “Please check the arrow. I believe you will find it firmly imbedded into a bit of purple cloth that hangs on the tree.” While Wee William ran to the tree, Aishlinn and Duncan continued to glare at one another.

  Wee William was utterly astonished to see the arrow had indeed pierced a bit of faded purple cloth, a remnant of an old target the archers had used months ago. The cloth clung to the tip of the arrow when he yanked it from the tree.

  He rushed back to Duncan and Aishlinn, shaking his head in amazement at Aishlinn’s shooting abilities. “She be right, Duncan!” Wee William smiled as he handed the arrow to Duncan.

  “See, there be a bit of purple cloth there on the tip!” he sounded rather impressed, and it was not easy to impress Wee William. “Never seen anythin’ like it!” He stopped talking the moment he noticed Duncan’s hard-set jaw, furrowed brow and piercing eyes.

  Duncan could see that his men were impressed with Aishlinn’s shooting skills. He had done enough to wake the fierceness in her. The last thing he needed was his men’s encouragement fanning the flames of her independence. While he would have loved to admit that she was good, quite good in fact, he had given her an order that she blatantly ignored. And she had ignored it in front of his men.

  Duncan yanked the bow from her hand and gave it to the stunned archer before grabbing Aishlinn by her arm. His face was purple with an anger he had not thought he could ever feel towards her as he pulled her up the incline and towards the castle. While he might enjoy the fact that she was maturing and turning into a fine woman, he could not have her openly defying him in front of his men.

  He said not a word until he was near the kitchens where he paused momentarily and yanked her around to face him, not once releasing the hold on her arm. “Do no’ ever defy me in front of me men again.” He was beyond anger and his face had twisted into a fury she had never seen in him before and it frightened her.

  She refused however, to allow him to see how his anger was affecting her and willed her arms and legs to not quake. “I merely wanted-” she began before he cut her off.

  “I care no’ what yer intentions were, Aishlinn! Ye openly defied me in front of me men and ye’ll never do that again.” His voice resembled a low growl.

  He pulled her to the kitchens, threw open the door and nearly tossed her inside. He took one step inside and searched for Mary who stood motionless near the basins, surprised by the commotion and the look upon Duncan’s face.

  “Mary!” Duncan boomed. “Take Aishlinn to her room immediately.” He refused to look at the subject of his wrath, who stood just a few steps from him.

  “Do no’ allow her out. She’s to stay there until I say otherwise! Is that understood?” Everyone in the kitchens stopped dead in their tracks as he yelled his command.

  Mary could only nod her head yes, for she had never seen Duncan as angry as he was at that moment. Duncan turned his scowl to Aishlinn for only the briefest of moments and without a word he left and slammed the door closed behind him.

  Aishlinn had been holding her breath while he was barking his orders and did not let it out until the door slammed behind him. She nearly collapsed to the floor as she released it. She stood shaking as Mary and Laren rushed to her side.

  “Lass!” Mary said. “What on earth have ye done?”

  Aishlinn could not speak, unsure if she was angrier or more frightened. She lifted her skirts and headed out of the kitchens to go to her room, which she had no intentions of leaving, whether he bid her to or not. Mary and Laren followed after her.

  “Lass, tell us, what have ye done to anger Duncan so?” Mary was as shocked as anyone to have seen Duncan that furious.

  “I merely wanted to prove him wrong, to show him that I could use a bow and arrow. But he would not listen, the stubborn fool!” Aishlinn said as she climbed the stairs. “I only wanted him to listen to me, to listen to my idea, to hear me out, but he would not,” she said, holding a firm grip on her skirts as she tried not to fall down for her legs were still shaking.

  “He told me not to shoot the arrow, but I did it anyway.”

  “Ya mean ye shot it after he said no’ to?” Laren asked breathlessly, surprised at the young woman’s audacity.

  “Aye, I did,” Aishlinn said trying to regain some of her resolve.

  Mary whistled. “No wonder he’s so mad at ye!” shaking her head as they walked down the hallway towards Aishlinn’s room. “Were there men about when ye did it?”

  “Aye,” Aishlinn said, pushing her shoulders back.

  Laren opened the door to Aishlinn’s room and led them in. “Why would ye do such a thing, lass?”

  “He would not listen to me!” Exasperated by the entire incident, she sank down onto the stool near her fireplace.

  Mary and Laren stood smiling at her and shaking their heads. “Lass,” Mary began. “There be better ways of getting’ what ye want from a man. Better n’ makin’ him so mad he locks ye away in yer room.”

  Laren nodded her head in agreement. “A lot more fun for the both of ye too!”

  Aishlinn stared at them blankly for she had no idea on earth what they were talking about. “What do you mean?” she asked, growing more frustrated as each moment passed. How dare he think he can order me around as if I were one of his men?

  “Ya leave him satisfied with ye.” Mary winked at her.

  “Aye. A man will give ye anything yer heart desires if ye’ve just
left him feeling,” she searched for the right word. “Fulfilled.”

  Mary and Laren giggled but Aishlinn was too angry to make sense of it. The women caught note of her confusion.

  “Lass, it’ll do ye good to know, for future reference, that ye have more power over a man than ye realize.” She looked to Laren who nodded her confirmation. “When ye’ve laid with yer husband, or yer man, and ye’ve just knocked the wind from him with a good bout of lovin’, that’s the time to ask fer what ye want.”

  Aishlinn cocked her head and suddenly realized what the women meant. Horrified, she said, “I’ve not done that with Duncan!”

  How on earth could they even suggest such a thing? Especially right now. The last thing she wanted at the moment was advice on the delicate intimacies between a man and a woman. What she wanted was a large club with which to pound on Duncan’s skull.

  They laughed at her. “Lass, we ken ye haven’t!” Laren said. “’Tis probably why Duncan be so frustrated of late!” She and Mary burst out laughing again.

  “Aye!” Mary agreed. “Nothin’ can make a man more frustrated than not havin’ those physical needs met!”

  Laren smiled broadly. “Aye! Me Rupert? If he goes more than just a few days without me attentions, he gets to be a beasty!”

  Aishlinn was appalled. “Do you mean to suggest that I,” she paused for she couldn’t say it aloud. Foolish auld women. They think everything can be solved with a kiss or a tumble under the sheets.

  Mary shook her head. “Nay, lass. We mean only to explain to ye one of the reasons Duncan might be a wee frustrated of late.”

  “But ye must know too, lass, that ye canna defy him in front of his men,” Laren offered. “Such a thing makes him look weak and he canna lead his men into battle if they dunna believe in him. If a woman’s able to make him daft and weak in the knees and be allowed to walk all over him, well then, what of the enemy?”