Thistles and Thieves

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by Elizabeth Preston


  “Bargaining with your king now, Tam?”

  “I am a desperate man. I’d bargain with the devil if I thought it would save Juliette from the debauchery of the French court.”

  The king tapped his fingers together. “Well, let’s hear it. What’s the deal you offer?”

  “I shall deliver you the Orkney Islands and Shetland too. I shall fight till I have both Isles secure and under your control.”

  The king smiled. “But I could order you to do that anyway.”

  “Aye, but . . .”

  The king stood abruptly. “Away with you Tam. I have much to think on.” He pulled his robes aside and marched toward the window. Tam had barely left the room before there was another rap on his door. “What is it now, Tam? Am I not to be given any peace this eve?”

  Prince Augustus strode into the room. “Uncle, I shan’t keep you long.”

  King Alexander moved toward his nephew and patted him on the back. “Ignore me, Augustus. Come in, help yourself to wine.”

  Augustus poured a small measure. “Uncle,” he said, then paused. He sipped his wine then placed the goblet down again. “I have an unusual request to make.”

  “It is a night for unusual requests.”

  His nephew looked confused. “I am honoured to be marrying a Scottish lassie, or English lady. Whatever she is.”

  “Good man.” The king raised his goblet in a toast.

  “Honoured indeed. But I can’t help wondering . . .”

  “Wondering?” the king repeated.

  “Wondering if I might marry the other sister instead? The younger Vienna is more to my liking.”

  The king shook his head in disbelief. “This is a most quarrelsome night.” He let his face fall into his hands. Then, after a moment’s silence, he said, “But Vienna is not favoured by God. It is Juliette who God smiles upon. Surely you want a wife that will guarantee your passage into heaven?”

  “Dearest Uncle. I am too young to be concerned with heaven. I have my journey on Earth to get through first. I have met the young Vienna and am drawn to the maiden. I wish to journey with her, and only her.”

  The king stood again. “This is a day I am not keen to repeat. Away with you, Augustus, and rest. You have a long day ahead on the morrow. I’ve had quite enough talk for now.” The king feared he needed another measure of uisge beatha. That was always the tipple he turned to when in a quandary. But he’d barely poured another measure before his manservant was back darkening his door. “Oh no, Giles. No more visitors.”

  “Shall I send her away, Sire?”

  With the deepest of sighs, he asked, “Who is it this time?”

  “Lady Juliette. The bride-to-be.”

  “Yes, yes. I know who she is. You may send her in, but first, make sure she understands. She has two minutes, and no more. After that, she must leave.”

  “Very good, Sire.”

  Juliette rushed into the room, bowing and skipping in her haste to make good use of her scant two minutes. “Sire, I am sorry to disturb.”

  “Sit down, Juliette.”

  She sat.

  “It is natural for a bride to feel anxious the night before her wedding.”

  “I am anxious. I’m anxious because I do not wish to become a French princess, nor live in France.”

  The king cussed. “I am having one of those days, Juliette. A day when no one wants the generous gifts I offer.”

  “Your Majesty, I know you are a kind and generous man. I thank you sincerely for offering me your nephew’s hand. But his is not the hand I seek.”

  The king found he could not keep the grumble from his voice. “Let me guess. You wish to wed Tam instead. Is that it?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “Right. I have heard your request. Be gone.”

  Juliette jumped up and tripped over her feet in her rush to leave. The king took another deep drink. Surely the morrow would prove to be a happier and more contented day.

  Chapter 25

  Juliette stood at the Church’s grand entrance, listening to the Scottish crossbills sing. ‘Twas a fine late noon. The birds were frolicking in the warmth; it was a good omen.

  Juliette smoothed the silk of her beautiful wedding gown. Of course, the gown had not been made especially for her, but no matter. ‘Twas a most flattering style, and the detailing was most exceptional. She especially loved the embroidered thistles that decorated her hem line. Tam told her once she was just like a thistle flower, and still that memory lingered.

  The chapel was brimming with folk. Her father was at her side. He looked like a peacock in his finest regale. Mama was inside, her head exploding with self-import. A royal daughter: her mother had boasted loud and oft to anyone with ears. This handfasting would make her family happy. That was something.

  She was yet to meet her groom. Already she could see a shadowy figure standing by the altar, but it was too dark inside—a strong contrast from the bonnie Scottish weather outside the chapel. She was a privileged girl, indeed, to be marrying royalty. Yet what she wouldn’t give to be back in the forest with Tam. In her dreams, they found a serf willing and able to marry them, and the service happened in the forest with the bride and groom dressed in rags. In her thoughts, she had a garland of wild forest flowers circling her hair.

  She raised her hand and felt the delicacy of her fine lace veil. It was her husband’s place to remove her veil and see her face for the first time. By rights she should be fearful he might not like what he saw, but it was hard to care. Appearances did not matter so much anymore. She only hoped he would have a good heart and let her do something worthwhile with her life.

  “The time has come,” her father said, patting her hand.

  She nodded. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Slowly they paced forward until they were inside the shadowy, candlelit chapel. She smiled to those she recognised, Mariot, Florie, and even Isabel. Mother sat in the front row, ablaze with pride.

  Juliette squared her shoulders. As she neared the altar, she decided it was time to be brave and face her future. Her husband was standing naught more than a few yards away. They’d dressed him in the king’s paid, which was odd considering he was French. Mayhap the idea was to honour the king.

  He was a big fellow for a Frenchman, wide backed with arms of forged steel. His hair was long and tied back in a thin leather bind. He was dark-haired, the colour of . . . Lord in Heaven. Tam. Her heart nearly bolted from her chest. She gasped and wanted to yell and run into his arms.

  It had worked. There he was. Tam, standing proudly at the altar, waiting to become her husband. He must have heard her laughter because he faced her, and the angels sang. He did not wait for her to finish her steps. He rushed to her, grabbed hold, and swung her around. He carried her the rest of the way, amid everyone’s laughter.

  “Quick, Minister, marry us forthwith. The girl must not be given time to change her mind.”

  Everyone laughed some more. But they both knew it was not her mind they feared would change. The king sat close by, his royal French kin at his elbow. The French Prince looked pleasant enough, but Juliette had the only man she wanted, and she was wrapped in his arms.

  The poor minister. He tried his hardest to do the service proud. But Tam was having none of it. He rushed through his lines, as did she, and then harried the clergyman. “On with it, man, can’t you go quicker? Do not bother with all that fluff and nonsense. Pronounce us wed and be done.”

  The minister looked cross. He was not accustomed to such harassment or urgency. But, as quickly as was decent, he pronounced them handfasted, man and wife.

  Together, they scurried back down the aisle and out of the chapel. Everyone rushed to leave their seats and follow. By rights they should have stopped and conversed with everyone and a
ccepted thanks. But Tam had other ideas. He called for silence. “Everyone must now make their way into the great hall. Our honourable king offers a great feast. File in, my friends, and do not await us. My wife and I shall join you shortly.”

  The crowd stood, open-mouthed, as she and her new husband raced to the keep, toward their marital chamber.

  “He is a fickle king at best,” Tam said. “And with that French prince of his hovering so close by, and unwed still, I fear it would be unwise to tarry. We must seal our marriage right now.”

  “I’m with you, Husband,” she said, yanking the veil from her head. She kicked aside her soft, kid slippers, and she tore at her tunic trying to match her husband’s state of undress.

  Chapter 26

  Tam eased her wedding gown over her head. She stood before him in her shift, and it wasn’t till that moment she felt the first fluttering of anxiety.

  He eased the shift away too, till she stood there, naked and shy. “Lass, you are the most beautiful sight on God’s earth.”

  She whispered back, “You are not so bad looking either.”

  He tugged his linen shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. “There, now you can see me as I am. And you can see the effect you have on me too.”

  Juliette’s eyes lowered. His flesh sword was so prominent. She’d heard the older castle women chuckle, and claim that a well-hung man was what every lassie deserved. His body was indeed beautiful, and as different to her own as could be. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lips.

  “I promise to protect you with my body and do all in my power to make you happy. Nothing in the world means more to me than you. If you only knew how precious you are, Juliette.”

  “Make me your wife, right now. We cannot linger till it is done.”

  “But I wish to kiss and savour you and pleasure you too.” He was kissing her neck and trailing a path along her shoulder blade with his mouth.

  Already, he was making her happy. She let her eyelids close. His mouth moved downward until he reached one nipple. He pulled it into his mouth and suckled until her back hunched. The feeling was delicious and making her ache. Then he moved on to her other breast, and she felt the tug of pleasure in her deepest womanly place.

  She knew she should be hurrying him on, but right now, her body hungered for more of his tongue. He trailed his mouth down her belly and toward her mound. Surely, he wasn’t about to kiss there too?

  Aye, he was. He parted her legs and lapped her womanly part with his tongue. She cried out, unable to keep her voice still and her words inside. He used his mouth until she could scarcely stay on the mattress. And when the pressure inside her built, she recognised what was about to happen. “Tam, I’m doing it. I’m spiralling undone.”

  “Aye, just as you were made to do.”

  “But your mouth . . . I shall spill.”

  He lapped harder until she gasped and screamed and her excitement was no longer contained.

  He stretched over her then, his sword even larger. “Dig into my back. The pain will be fleeting.”

  She didn’t care. “Now,” she cried. “Do it now.”

  He eased inside her, and she could tell he was doing all he could to be loving and gentle. But he must not be so. She gripped him tight, forcing him inside her. The pain did make her cry out. But then he stilled and waited for her to calm.

  “Tis done, you are my wife, Juliette. Mine, and none other. You can never be given to the French prince now.”

  She could not hide her happiness either. “Aye. I’m yours. Only yours. Show me, husband, how much you love your wife.”

  With a slow hand, he proceeded until she overcame her pain and rejoiced in his skill. He refused to allow his own release until he’d undone her one more time. And then, he spilled his seed into her.

  They lay together, sweaty and happy.

  “Wife, I think we must go join our wedding party.”

  “Hmmn,” she said, trailing her fingers along his muscles. “I could spend all day here, under these pelts, enjoying my husband.”

  “Later, Lass, later. You have a lifetime to put me to work on your behalf. Now, let’s get back into those wretched wedding clothes.”

  ~ ~ ~

  A giant cheer erupted as they entered the great hall. Juliette could face no one save Sybilla. Her elder sister had clearly done this also and was now blooming with child. Juliette expected her parents to be angry, but their congratulations were warm and generous.

  Vienna would have congratulated her too, Juliette felt sure, if only she could tear her eyes from the prince. He was looking back at Vienna with an equal amount of ardour. Juliette squeezed her husband’s hand.

  “Husband, I am the happiest person on earth.”

  He squeezed back. “Nay, wife, the happiest person on earth is me.” Then he leant down and kissed her on the mouth, right in front of everyone. The roar nearly bought the dining hall down.

  Also from Soul Mate Publishing and Elizabeth Preston:

  Historical Romance

  THISTLES AND THIEVES

  Scottish Highlands

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  A great sickness is striking down the Highland folk of Caithness Castle. They are dying from ergot poisoning, from eating infected crops. But this is the year 1244, and almost no one has heard of this condition, a disease later called, St. Anthony’s Fire.

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  Laird Gus tracks down Lady Sybilla and kidnaps her. Only trouble is, she keeps insisting that she has no magical abilities, nor healing skills of any sort. She’s not even clever with herbs. He has captured the wrong lass.

  English Lady Sybilla might not have the ability to break curses and cure a castle of folk, but she is clever. And cleverness turns out to be exactly what he needs.

  Available on Amazon: THISTLES AND THIEVES

  THE OUTCASTS

  In 1889, the Northern Australian Rainforests are cruel and prejudiced places to live.

  Hunter, born from an English mother and a native Australian father, does not fit well with either group. He is an outcast. The new English settlers fear and demonise him because he is dark skinned, unpredictable, and frighteningly strong.

  Long ago, Hunter survived his mother’s murder. An Aboriginal witch doctor found the dying boy and used tribal magic to save his life. Hunter grew fearfully strong, but this gift of ferocity and strength came at a cost.

  Now, as an adult, he wanders the rainforest at night venting his anger and frustrations. He is not safe to be around.

  But wayward Alice thinks otherwise.

  Available on Amazon: THE OUTCASTS

  Contemporary Romance

  I WILL NOT RUN

  Winter has made up her mind: she will kill her husband. Out of necessity, his death must be long and slow and blame-free. Problem is, as Bruno is dying from steroid poisoning, he will become even more irrational and dangerous. There is much that could go wrong with her plan, but no matter what happens, she will not run. She owes her sweet dead sister that, at least.

  Winter’s husband, Bruno, is one of Australia’s wealthiest steroid dealers. Believing that his wife is up to no good, he lays a trap to test her loyalty, and dark family secrets emerge.

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  Available on Amazon: I WILL NOT RUN

 

 

 
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