Their Private Arrangement

by Saskia Walker

  Duggan was still there, dressed and standing by the fire, head turned in her direction.

  She urged Mr. Grant to lock the door.

  “We heard shouting,” Mr. Grant said uneasily.

  She pressed her back hard to the door. “Aye.’Tis the bailie from Dundee and his men—they are hunting for a woman who is charged with witchcraft.”

  Mr. Grant paled. “The bailiff from Dundee?”

  Duggan rose to his feet, as if making ready to protect her. Anger flickered in his handsome eyes.

  Morag did not like to see him with such a dark expression. “No, the woman is gone, and the men are following after her now.” Her belly tightened, for the woman they hunted had been good to her and Morag hoped the men would not find her, or her protector. Morag had done her best to warn them and hurry them on their way. “I came to tell you, lest they come back here to question you about her.”

  “Is it the black-haired lass, Jessie Taskill, who they seek?” Mr. Grant asked, as if surprised.

  Morag nodded.

  Duggan came to her side and took her hands in his. “We heard the men, and for a moment we thought…” He glanced in Mr. Grant’s direction, but he did not complete his sentence. Instead he lifted her hands in his and kissed them, first one and then the other. “Thank you, sweet Morag, for coming here to warn us.”

  Morag realized that they thought the bailie had come for them. She had not thought of that, but now it made her think on it. Both men were tense, and her concerns renewed. Danger lurked close by for these two—who she now thought of as her menfolk—and that disturbed her greatly.

  There was a proud but wary look to Duggan’s expression and beyond him Mr. Grant paced the room, a frown darkening his expression. “If they demand entry now,” he said, “I beseech you to say that Duggan has come here to meet with you, Morag, to protect him.”

  Duggan looked angered. “I can protect myself. I will not lie about what I am if they come after me.”

  “Duggan, be wary.” Mr. Grant’s gaze flitted back and forth. “It is always a possibility. If the bailiff is hereabouts, caution is sensible.”

  Mr. Grant looked her way, as if he still sought her acknowledgment.

  Morag nodded immediately. “Never fear, I am always cautious.”

  An uneasy silence descended upon them.

  Even when all had fallen quiet outside the inn, both men looked concerned. Morag went to the table to clear the dishes, and as she did she began to understand the shadow that they lived under because of their affection for each other. When her tray was loaded she nodded at Duggan. “Stay here. If they return I will come back and take you to my bedchamber. That will be no lie, for we have bedded together, have we not?”

  It was with pleasure that she saw amusement light his face, chasing the dark shadows away. “That we have, lass,” he said. “That we have.”

  Duggan watched her go with reluctance. It was not only because he feared for himself and James; it was because he wished to protect her, too. If they were seeking a woman charged with witchcraft, they might take Morag, suspecting it was her. He had heard of such wrongdoings. His mother used to sit beside the fire and tell his young sisters tales about the witch hunts that had taken place in Fife. It made his gut twist and knot, and he sat on the edge of a chair with his head in his hands, angered by the situation.

  “She cares for you greatly,” James stated.

  “She protects us both,” Duggan retorted, the burden of blame and who she cared for making him uncomfortable.

  James turned away for a moment.

  That pained Duggan. He knew that he had been harsh in his response and tempered it by adding, “She is a generous soul.”

  “She is that.” James had a thoughtful expression.

  Tension rang through Duggan. The situation had pushed him to confront matters. “I should leave here now, for I draw attention to you.”

  James was quickly by his side, one hand on Duggan’s sleeve. “No. Morag will tell you when it is safe to do so.”

  Duggan nodded. In truth he did not want to leave. It would make him wild not knowing what was going on here, once he had returned to his home. A year ago his life had been simple. He cared only for his aged mother and his two younger sisters. Now he also had two lovers that he wished to shield, and yet he would have it no other way. “I have brought danger to your door.”

  James shook his head. “Danger followed me from the moment I knew what I was. Even when I did not have you in my bed, my desires warranted scorn from those who would judge me.” They exchanged lingering glances. “However,” he added, “I’ve hit upon a solution, if you are willing to consider it.”

  Duggan felt wretched in his soul, but at that moment hope still filtered through, so keen and honest was James’s expression. He listened as James put forward his suggestion, and felt humbled by it. “You would be happy, were I to take a wife?”

  “You would be happy, and that is all it would take to make me so.” He smiled. “You would be safe too. That is important to me.”

  “And you?”

  “That would depend on Morag. If she were willing, then I could visit you both as a friend.”

  Duggan ached for it all. To raise bairns with Morag…to see James. “I feel unworthy of such a solution,” he responded gruffly.

  James closed the gap between them, resting his arm around Duggan’s shoulders. “We have been living a dangerous life these past weeks, and we’ve had a canny warning here this morning. Let us heed it.”

  “Aye, it has been an awakening, thinking how easily it could be one of us, hunted down and condemned.”

  James kissed him heartily. “It will not happen, I will not allow it. Now, shall we discuss it with Morag?”

  Duggan thought about it, and the more he did the more he felt as if his chest were burning. “She knows I want her. You understand us both, and you are an educated man and you are better with words than I, James. You must raise the subject with her, and help me with it.”

  James nodded. “And you are undoubtedly much better at pleasing her than I, so I will lay the path and you must tell her your aspirations.”

  Duggan nodded.

  “If she is amenable to the plan,” James added, “you must put the seal on the deal.”

  Duggan sighed. “I hope it will be so.”

  Morag attended to her duties for the rest of that morning as best she could, while the alewife and the other servants gossiped and watched for the return of the lawmen, but they did not come back. When midday came around and she was sure that all had returned to near normal inside the inn, she returned to Mr. Grant’s rooms to reassure them.

  Mr. Grant studied her cautiously. “Stay with us awhile, if you will.”

  Duggan looked directly at her with a wistful gaze.

  At first she thought that they wanted more reassurance, but as she looked from one to the other of them she saw that something weighed upon them. They were relying on her to protect them from discovery—that much she knew. As a lowly serving girl at the inn she often saw and heard more than those who took their lodgings there. Those who had secrets to hide and needed the loyalty of a reliable go-between. Levelheaded as she was, Morag judiciously assisted those who were kind to her. Mostly, she thought nothing more of it. Not today. It had been the strangest day of her life, and she had the feeling it was not yet over.

  She took a seat where Mr. Grant indicated, on a stool by the fireplace.

  “There is a matter we wish to discuss with you,” Mr. Grant stated. “You’re a sensible young woman, and I feel sure you know that Duggan and I are closer than most men.”

  He looked at her expectantly. They both did.

  She shook her head quickly. “No, I am not sensible, sire.” She glanced from one of them to the other. “But I confess that I know of the unusual nature of your relationship.”

  “It does not repel you?” Mr. Grant asked.

  Again she shook her head. “I do not claim to have knowledge of such
things, but there are many things in this world that I do not know about and I decided a long time ago that it is not my place to judge something that I do not fully understand.”

  Mr. Grant smiled her way, and there was fondness in it. “You are a good-natured woman, with your feet firmly planted on the ground.”

  She blushed at that, finding herself pleased. At that moment Duggan moved closer. Standing alongside Mr. Grant, Duggan watched her with caution.

  “Others think more harshly of us, even though we harm no one,” Mr. Grant continued. “They call our bond indecent. The punishment they would dole out is cruel. The pillory, jail, or the death penalty.”

  The harsh images he conjured made her shiver. Morag wrapped her hands around her upper arms and allowed herself a lingering glance at Duggan. When she did, it drove the fears deeper.

  Mr. Grant drew her attention back, continuing slowly with his explanation. “If we were to be called out we would be scorned, hated, for that which we call love.”

  She shook her head, denying it, even though she knew it to be true. The thought of her menfolk suffering such things made her sick in her belly.

  “But we know these things, and there is no changing that,” he added. “What we really need to know is what you see, Morag, when you look at us?”

  Morag was not used to being asked for her opinion on anything further than what turn the weather might take that day, or if the stable hands had the horses ready, and she was quite startled. She looked across at the two of them and meshed her fingers together over her apron. The room fell somehow overburdened, as if the immensity of what was being said weighed heavily upon the place itself. She felt as if they were tethered yet held apart. Three isolated folk who had been strangely drawn together in this room, the goings-on at the inn that day making them more aware of what was at stake.

  “I want your honest reaction,” he added, “please do not be afraid. It is important.”

  “I see that you two are together in spirit, heart and deed, more so than some wedded couples are.” It was the honest truth.

  Duggan glanced at Mr. Grant with hope in his eyes, but Mr. Grant focused solely on her.

  “That is true, and you are a decent woman to notice such things.” He paused and grew even more serious as he continued. “What about the fact that we sometimes lie together as a wedded couple might, does that disturb you?”

  Morag’s fingers meshed together more tightly. She felt her face grow hot.

  Mr. Grant fidgeted with his necktie. “Honesty, remember, we need to be open about such things if we are to remain…friends.”

  Again Morag was startled by his remark. Friendship was not something a man of his status would normally think of regarding a servant such as herself. “It is odd, sire, but I found myself quite pleasantly roused by the notion that you two are bedded down together.”

  Saying that aloud made her feel agitated. It was the truth, strange though it was. She felt lusty whenever she considered it, and hung her head in shame. Here was Mr. Grant trying to have a serious discussion with her and all she could think about was how it made her want to know more of them. It made her desires heap one upon the other.

  However, she was glad she had spoken her thoughts aloud, for when she dared to glance his way she saw that passion flared in Duggan’s eyes. Staring across at him, it seemed as if he was proud of her. Did he like the way she had spoken her mind? Most men did not, but then these two were like no other men she had ever met.

  Duggan crossed the room to her side, drew her to her feet and stroked her upper arm through the rough wool of her sleeve. “You’re a canny lass.”

  The flattery was almost too much to bear, for she was not used to it.

  He took her into his arms. “Would you have a man such as me, in your bed at night?”

  Morag peeled her upper body away from his in order to look him more clearly in the eye. She knew that Mr. Grant looked on, and that was part of her reason for stating her feelings, so that they would both know. “You know the answer to that, Duggan Moore! You do not have to win my favors. Whatever we offer one another, we should do it without false platitude or false promises.”

  Duggan grinned. “The only trouble I foresee with you is bending you to my will. You are a headstrong young woman who knows her own mind.”

  Morag lifted her eyebrows at him. “Your will and mine seem to be aligned on most occasions, and that is quite pleasing in itself.”

  His hard body pressing against hers pleased her tremendously, and she hoped that he was about to tumble with her again, for her cunny was hot with longing for him there.

  “What would you have me do now?” she asked.

  “I would have you make yourself available to me on the bed.”

  She could not withhold her smile, and her core tingled expectantly.

  “But first Mr. Grant has a proposition for you, and I think you should hear what he has to say before we pursue this matter further.”

  Morag put her hands on his shoulders, enjoying him for as long as she might be required here. “It is you that interrupted Mr. Grant’s conversation, not I.”

  She swayed her hips from side to side and suppressed a smile when his hips followed hers. The solid rod of his erection pressed against her skirts, his breeches barely restraining the insistent pressure of it. Despite that, she did wish to know what Mr. Grant had to say, because the day’s revelations had been astonishing and he was not yet done.

  When Duggan saw her glance over at Mr. Grant, he set her aside.

  “I will not hinder your affection too long,” Mr. Grant stated, as if amused at the lusty urges between the pair of them. “My proposal is this. Duggan works for another man. I would like to set him up with his own tenancy. I have the funds, and no family of my own. Duggan currently supports a mother and two young sisters, and he wishes to take a wife.”

  A wife? Morag shifted uneasily, her mood sinking as fast as a heavy stone in water.

  Duggan wrapped his arm around her waist. She turned her face into his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment, her happy moment gone. This would be over soon, that was what they were about to say.

  “A sound tenancy would allow him to do so, and a wife such as yourself by his side would make him happy.”

  Morag’s head lifted, and she gaped at Mr. Grant.

  “In point of fact,” he added, with what appeared to be relish, “it would make us both happy.”

  “A wife,” she stammered, “such as meself?”

  “Aye,” Duggan whispered. “I am far from perfect, but if you are willing I promise you hard work, a good family and friends…and many a fine tumble.”

  Morag was so startled she stared up at him in wonder. She thought it was another favor he was after, not something so immense.

  “If you are agreeable,” he added, “and accept my proposal. Then James could visit us as a friend.”

  He had made a proposal. They both had. Morag was astonished. Could she accept it, under the circumstances? As she thought on the question she realized it seemed most natural, for Duggan and Mr. Grant had already been lovers when she was invited into the situation. If she was his wife, and Mr. Grant’s affections made Duggan happy, it was not so hard to imagine them continuing as they already were. She had enjoyed Mr. Grant’s gaze upon them while they were engaged in intimate physical congress. In fact, her arousal grew as she thought upon it.

  “Come, Morag,” Duggan whispered in a low, hoarse voice, his body taut with desire alongside hers, “you know I want you.”

  Morag stared up to him. “And I want you.”

  He broke into a smile, and without a moment’s pause he lifted her into his arms and carried her across the room. He kissed her heartily before he threw her on her back on the bed. With a hungry gaze, Morag stared at his manly form, starkly outlined as it was with the light from the window behind him. He was so virile, so powerful. Could it be true? Did he really want her as his wife?

  “Forgive my haste, but I must ha
ve you right now for you have made me a happy man.”

  “There is nothing to forgive.” She chuckled, dizzy with joy as the true nature of her situation dawned on her. “For I want this as much as you do.”

  She picked up her skirts and revealed her puss to his gaze, for it was damp and ready for him. Her legs fell apart readily as she invited him in. He was on her in a flash, stripping off his shirt and casting it aside.

  When his fingers parted her folds and the crown of his manhood pressed against her opening, she moaned and clutched at him, her knees rising about his hips.

  “You’re a lusty lass,” he whispered to her, and his eyes glinted. “Tell me, have you ever known three in bed?”

  “Oh.” Morag could barely muster her thoughts, because his rod was pushing against her opening, stretching it. He was mightily aroused, for it felt even larger than it had been on their previous encounters. As she tried to order her thoughts and give an appropriate response, he pressed her further.

  “You have, you lusty wench.” He gave her another taste of his length before easing it back out, forcing her to answer before giving her more.

  “I have known three in a room. One whose eyes were upon me, just as Mr. Grant’s were on our previous encounters.”

  Duggan gave her another taste of his girth, pushing deeper this time. “But you have not known the delights of three in a bed?”

  Morag felt distinctly taunted. She punched him on the shoulder. “I will say no more, until you fill me.”

  “You are a demanding sort.” He gave her another measure, torturing her.

  She gasped for air then responded as best she could. “I think that is what you like about me.”

  On that point she was sure, and she flashed her eyes at him.

  “You are like me.” He announced that while he pushed into her very center, making her cry out in sheer bliss.

  “Aye, and needy of this.” She flashed her eyes at him.

  Duggan grinned. Thrusting in and out of her slick channel, he tossed his hair back and looked over his shoulder at Mr. Grant. “Join us, if you will.”