by Reece Butler
Highland Menage 7
King’s Pawn
Isabel Graham loves caring for the land of Calltuin, alone but for her highborn housekeeper. An orphaned ward of King James, she's just discovered Calltuin is her dowry when she's ordered to Stirling Castle to be married. She is determined not to lose Calltuin to a vile fortune-hunter.
Tearlach and Rory MacDougal are eager for a strong, hard-working wife for Duncladach. The herald ordering them to Stirling suggests the king might approve a marriage to the woman they're to escort. Isabel's lovely but it's her wit and determination that win them over.
Isabel's first impression of the pair of huge warriors riding is awe, shortly followed by arousal. Learning they're her escorts, she decides to seduce one of them in hopes the king will allow their marriage. Then she learns MacDougals share a wife, and are far better at seduction.
But the MacDougals are not the only contender for her hand and land, and the other fights dirty...
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 45,107 words
KING'S PAWN
Highland Menage 7
Reece Butler
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at
[email protected]
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
KING'S PAWN
Copyright © 2015 by Reece Butler
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-483-9
First E-book Publication: July 2015
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of King's Pawn by Reece Butler from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Reece Butler’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Reece Butler’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
www.SirenPublishing.com
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to all those who post their trip photos, blogs, articles, historical information, and research for all to see. You have no idea how many of us find value in them.
I did a lot of online research to write about Isabel Graham, and found so much to enhance the story. Calltuin is, in reality, Claypotts Castle, located next to a housing development in Dundee. Historic Scotland’s educational booklets for teachers, Investigating Claypotts Castle and Investigating Sterling Castle, provided many details. For instance, Janet Wilkie really was the housekeeper, and was mentioned in John Strachan’s will of 1594.
I spent many hours researching maps, heralds, hazel trees, and even a PhD thesis on Gaelic place-names in medieval Menteith (University of Glasgow). The Centre for Scottish Studies at the University of Guelph in Ontario, Canada, provided me with excellent information. Specifically, I wish to thank Heather Parker, PhD for posting her PhD thesis “‘In all gudly haste’: The Formation of Marriage in Scotland, c. 1350-1600,” and her paper “Family, Finance, and Free Will: Marriage Contracts in Scotland, c. 1380-1500”.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
About the Author
KING'S PAWN
Highland Menage 7
REECE BUTLER
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
“Keep yer hands to yerself!” snarled Isabel Graham. She shifted to put the broad kitchen table between them. “Ye have no right to me!”
Though she was but two inches over five feet and he was tall and heavy, she would not let him intimidate her. Unfortunately she’d put the knives away and she couldn’t waste a pottery bowl by throwing it at him in case it broke. But her rolling pin was of wood and should bounce off his head. If she could reach it without him noticing…
“I’ll soon be your husband. And then I will own you and Calltuin!” Roderick Graham licked his lips, sticking his vile tongue out to do so. Though she had no experience in what he meant by it, she still gagged.
His back was to the fireplace. She wished his fine cloak would catch a flame but unfortunately she’d banked the coals. Maybe if he stepped back he’d put his foot on them. Too bad he wore thick leather boots. As the spoiled third son of her wealthy guardian, Laird Graham of Duchray Castle in Aberfoyle, he dressed to impress. She, an orphan with little but the title of Lady Isabel and whatever her guardian allowed, was barefoot under her rough work gown.
“Aye,” she replied, raising her chin. “Calltuin is yer father’s to gift to whoever he wishes. But I am a ward of King James and he will say who I marry.” She curled her lip. “It willna be yer face I see each morn when I break my fast!”
Roderick crossed his arms to better sneer down at her. She wondered if he practiced the look in a mirror. She didn’t have even a tiny sliver of on
e to see herself in.
“Our marriage is as good as done,” he boasted. “My father asked the king for you. He’ll say aye. And when you’re mine I’ll beat you black and blue. That will shut your insolent mouth.”
She had no doubts he would beat her. His father had done it when she was a wee lass. None had harmed her since, and she would do all she could to keep it that way.
“I have the right to say nay to the priest.”
Roderick smirked, his arrogance and distain destroying what might be handsome in another.
“You, Lady Isabel, are a ward of King James. He will say aye for you.”
The king could even have her married by proxy. While she’d dreamed of having bairns she would like a choice in the man she must create them with.
“When I see His Majesty I will tell him I despise ye!”
“See the king? You?” His eyebrows disappeared under his hair in mock astonishment. “He is in Stirling Castle, many days ride on horseback. How would you get there?”
“I have horses.” Two, who were so old they could barely make it to the village and back.
“You think a maid dressed as a servant, riding alone on an old horse, could get through Callander without being taken?” He looked her up and down. “Though scrawny, you’d bring a coin or two. If you show your temper you might be sold to a man who enjoys breaking a woman’s spirit to suit him. Your owner might get an extra coin from one who likes ripping away a lass’s maidenhead.” He paused. “If you still have one.”
She knew there was far more to life outside their small village, but she’d not been farther than Callander. Along with a group of villagers she’d attended the harvest fair three times. That was the extent of her worldly experience, other than the few vague memories from before her parents died.
Isabel stiffened her spine and her voice. “No man will take my maidenhead and live.” She brushed at her braid, using the motion to move a step closer to her rolling pin.
“So you are a virgin.” His eyes showed an awareness that turned her stomach. “I will sample what will soon be mine.”
“I would sooner lie with a drooling idiot.” She stepped closer to her chosen weapon.
“I’ve a mind to give you the back of my hand.” He flicked his eyes over her rough clothing. “You’d need to be scrubbed afore I’d put my cock near your filthy body.”
One more step. All she’d have to do now was reach for it.
“Why are ye wanting me?” she demanded.
“I must marry you to gain Calltuin.” He snorted, sounding rather like his horse. “I’d not wed a scrawny, viper-tongued woman without a rich reward. Thanks be to God I’ll be rid of you in a year.”
“A year? Are ye planning to divorce afore ye even wed?”
His evil smile curdled what little food lay in her stomach.
“Divorce?” He laughed. “You’ll have a wee accident after a year or so. I’ll then marry a sweet woman with a bit of meat on her bones, keeping your dowry for myself.”
She tilted her head, frowning. “Dowry? Yer father said I was left with naught. That he’d allow me to live here if I worked the farm and sent all to him.”
Roderick leaned his palms on the table, bringing his head closer. She would have to scrub it very well as soon as he rode off.
“Aye, he told you all that.” He chuckled, a hollow, disgusting sound. “’Twas a lie. Calltuin is your dower land.” He straightened, face hardening. “And ’twill soon be mine!” He stabbed himself with his thumb.
Calltuin was hers?
Shock held her in place. A woman without a dowry, even one born a lady such as herself, had little worth. She’d wondered why her father hadn’t set something aside for her. She’d been a child when her parents had died within days of each other and had believed all they had was wiped out by debts.
She tried to breathe but her bindings forced her to pant. Calltuin was why Roderick wanted to marry her. No, not marry her. He wanted the land and would keep her for a year before disposing of her body. The lump of fear in her throat was so big she had to duck her head to swallow. She would not be cowed by this fool!
“We’ve been going without for years, yet this is all mine?”
Roderick taunted her with his superiority. “’Tisn’t yours. The king made Father your guardian, so he can do what he wishes with Calltuin. He took everything from here afore you arrived. I have the bed from the master’s chamber. Soon it will be back, and me in it.” His sneer took up his whole face. “I may allow you to lie on the floor at the foot of it.”
Her fingers curled into claws. She and Janet, and wee Jenny, had gone hungry to send her farm’s bounty to Graham, and all along it was hers? She would hit him. Somehow, before he left, she would get some revenge. She couldn’t do it to his father so would attack the one in front of her.
“If Calltuin is my dowry ’tis an even better reason to keep it from the likes of ye. I will order that all that was taken, is returned.”
“Order? Pah! You are a woman and have no say.” He leaned forward again, stuffing his face at her. “You’re only fit to be wed, bed, and bred.”
Rage hit at the insult, a final blow. She climbed on the table, teeth bared in a snarl. Stunned, Roderick didn’t move. She slapped him hard across the face, making his head whip sideways. She scrambled back down, grabbing her rolling pin as he staggered back. He swelled up in fury.
“I’ll take ye now,” he roared, his fine accent gone in his rage. “I’ll have ye right on this table. None will want ye after I’ve plowed ye hard. And then I’ll beat ye so hard ye’ll be crawling for days!”
She was fast and small. If he climbed on the table she’d duck under, race down the passageway and out. She could run a long time, especially if such a monster chased her. Roderick reached for her, bending over the table. The war cry of a cat filled the room. An orange streak landed on the table. It’s paw slashed. Roderick screamed and slapped one hand on his cheek. She grabbed the rolling pin and thunked him on the head. He bellowed in rage and pain. It felt so good she wanted to do it again.
“Well done, Tommy!” she cried over Roderick’s howls. “Ye’ll have cream for yer supper!”
Tommy yowled again, raising a paw to strike. Roderick, eyes wide, rushed out the door. She followed, stalking him with weapon in hand, ready to run if need be. There were two staircases at Calltuin House so she could go up one, race through the center rooms and down the other if she must.
She peered around the doorway into the yard. Thin trails of blood ran from under the hand he held to his cheek. His other hand gingerly touched the back of his head. He stared at her in shock, eyes wide and mouth open, when she stepped out.
“You hit me!” he cried.
Had no one ever fought back before? She felt powerful for once, in control of her destiny if only for a few minutes.
“I did. And I’ll do it again if ye threaten me.” She held her rolling pin in her fist, waving it at him. “Begone, or I’ll hit ye again!”
* * * *
Sir Parlan Murray of Strowan, herald to King James VI, grinned from the far corner of the stone house. He’d heard a man’s threats when he’d walked into the yard with his peddler’s pack on one shoulder. He’d been ready to step in when the yowl of a cat followed by a high-pitched male scream suggested Lady Isabel Graham had a protector.
“Well done, lass!” he murmured as she waved her rolling pin at Roderick. Four red lines, blurred from rubbing, marked his cheek.
Murray had spent the previous night at Duchray Castle, using his usual disguise, that of a peddler. He hadn’t bothered to inform Laird Graham a herald was near. Murray had been surprised to discover few knew of a Lady Isabel Graham. Cook knew Isabel had been sent to her dower lands at Calltuin. She was quite pleased by the food Isabel sent to Duchray, and the well-made baskets the lass crafted from hazel and willow. She also remembered how loud and long the wee lassie had screamed after Laird Graham beat her. Beatings were an expected part of life so the ser
vants thought Isabel must be touched in the head to react so strongly.
Murray knew better. Isabel had been an intelligent, curious lass. She had no siblings or cousins and was adored by her parents. She was used to politely questioning her father in order to learn as he took enjoyment from teaching her. Isabel had disagreed with something the laird said and had spoken up. She’d been right, which made it worse. Laird Graham had hit her, surprising no one. When she screamed, he did it again to shut her up. And again, and again, until her nursemaid, now companion, was ordered to take her away. Isabel hadn’t stopped screaming her voice gave out.
Murray was pleased to see she’d regained her ability to think for herself. King James had sent him to bring her to Stirling Castle to be wed. He had another mission to complete first but had stopped by to see if Isabel would need anything before going to court.
Was there anything she didn’t need?
Her bare feet poked from under her coarse brown gown, that of a servant. A gray apron matched the kerchief covering her brown hair. As he watched she pulled her thick braid over her shoulder and held it in her left fist. To keep herself from punching Roderick? He liked to think so.
“You can’t tell me what to do!” Roderick whined like a spoiled child.
“I can if Calltuin is mine,” she replied, head high and back straight. “I willna have ye stinking it up. Get out and ne’er return!”
“I’ll be back, as your husband. And then you’ll pay the price for this day!”
“Ye are just a spoiled child wearing the body of a man.” She looked him up and down with disgust. “Nay, not a man. A lad dressed in his father’s clothes, pretending to be laird. I’ll find meself a real man for my husband, one far better.”
