Just Beyond Tomorrow

by Bertrice Small

  He pulled her hard against him—so hard that the pearls bit into her tender flesh—and she cried out, surprised. His mouth was fierce and demanding. His tongue fenced with hers. His lips moved from her mouth and began to travel over her face, her throat, her shoulders. He knelt before her and kissed her breasts. She murmured softly. His tongue licked slowly over her nipple. His mouth closed upon it, and he began to suckle her. One of his hands held her by a buttock. The fingers of his other hand began to push into her sheath, and finding her already wet, he thrust hard even as his teeth came down upon the nipple.

  Flanna felt herself going weak with the pleasure he gave her. She pushed herself against him, encouraging him. Her hands pulled at his dark hair. She moaned as his mouth moved to her other breast, his fingers relentlessly thrusting, thrusting. Her love juices spilled forth as she reached her first peak. He groaned and, pulling his hand away from her, sucked his fingers hungrily as she sagged half fainting against him. “Ye’re a wicked man, Patrick Leslie,” she said low, and then bending down, she began to tease at his ear with her tongue.

  His breath hissed from between his lips. Then he pulled her down roughly onto the floor by their bed, and covering her body with his own, he entered her in a sharp, swift thrust. Flanna wrapped her legs about her husband’s torso. Her fingers dug deeply into the muscles of his shoulders and back. As he began to move rhythmically upon her, she clawed at his flesh.

  “Ahh, the cat will scratch, will she?” he husked, thrusting harder and harder against her. “Ye’re a wicked little wanton, wife, but by God I hae nae ever wanted a woman before the way I want ye, Flanna!”

  His words sent her heart racing furiously. It was the closest he had come in their brief acquaintance to saying that he cared at all for her. She wanted him to love her. She didn’t understand what love was all about, but she knew that she wanted it. She cared for him. She didn’t know how such a thing had happened, for he was a very aggravating man, but Flanna knew she cared for Patrick. Was it love? She didn’t know, and if it was, would she know? But she did know she wanted him to care for her.

  “I never knew until ye wed me how it could be between a man and a woman,” she admitted. “Dinna stop loving me, Patrick! Dinna stop! Ye make me feel as I hae never felt before, and I like it.”

  He laughed, and it was a joyous sound. “Shut yer mouth, woman, and let me love ye, then. I canna, it surprises me, get enough of ye.”

  Their bodies moved together, finding a passionate cadence that pleased them both as they writhed and strove to seek perfection. Their limbs were intertwined. Their hearts raced. Their mouths were dry with a surfeit of lust, yet their bodies were wet with their exertions. He knew what he strove for. She didn’t. Her ignorance was exciting, and he worked to bring her to a little death such as she had never before known. His mouth found hers again.

  She was almost unconscious with the immense font of pleasure welling up in her body. It was like an enormous wave that threatened to overwhelm her, and suddenly Flanna, feeling out of control, began to panic; but Patrick calmed her, murmuring softly against her mouth.

  “Nah, nah, lassie, let it happen. ’Twill be the greatest pleasure ye hae ever known. Trust me, lovey.”

  And she did, and was quickly swept up and away in a rush of such incredible enjoyment that she believed she was dying, and to her astonishment she didn’t care. Warmth suffused her body. She felt weightless. She soared while about her her world exploded with delight. And then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. She felt herself falling into a darkness that reached up to enfold her tenderly.

  His own pleasure mushroomed with hers, erupted, and then burst forth in a flood of his love juices even as she cried out and fainted in his arms. He collapsed atop her, gasping with their exertions. Then, coming to himself, he rolled away, cradling her in his arms as he did so. His big hand caressed the tangled mass of her red-gold hair. It was soft and fragrant. Even now it sent his senses reeling. Jesu, he thought to himself. I love her! I love this impossible, wild girl I took to wife only for her property, but I can’t say it to her. What if she didn’t believe me? How can this have happened?

  Flanna slowly opened her eyes. Her heart was still beating a bit quickly. Her cheek lay against his damp chest, and she could smell the now familiar scent of him. “Are we alive yet?” she ventured.

  “Aye,” he replied with a chuckle.

  “Can it be that way again, Patrick?” she wondered.

  “Nae every time, lass. That’s what makes it so special,” he told her softly.

  “Did ye . . .”she began, not quite knowing how to ask, but Patrick Leslie understood.

  “Aye, it was . . . splendiferous!”

  “What kind of a word is that?” she demanded, propping herself up on an elbow to look into his handsome face.

  “A fancy one, lassie. It means glorious, magnificent, splendid!”

  She thought a moment, and then she said. “Aye, Patrick, it was indeed splendiferous!”

  “Ye hae better don clothing the next time ye wear yer pearls,” he said, fingering them with a grin.

  “We’re fortunate they dinna break all over the floor,” she noted with a mischievous twinkle.

  Reaching up, he gathered the strand in his hand against the base of her throat and pulled her down to him. “Come, and kiss me, wife,” he said softly to her. “I believe I am regaining my longing for ye, Flanna Leslie. Ye could tempt the angels.” Their lips met once again in a torrid touch.

  As their mouths separated, she said with a little smile, “We hae several hours until the dawn, Patrick. The pearls were my Christmas Eve gift. What hae ye got for me for my Christmas gift?”

  “More, madame, than ye can imagine,” the Duke of Glenkirk told his beautiful wife. “Much, much more!”

  Chapter 8

  Charlie announced on Christmas Day that he would be leaving Glenkirk on the twenty-seventh of December for Perth, where the king would be crowned on January first. His children cried their protest, but Charlie explained to them that it was a long ride to Perth, and he had little time as it was to get there. His royal cousin would desperately need some friendly faces about him on that most auspicious day. Sabrina, Freddie, and Willy were the king’s own blood. Now that he had explained it to them, Charlie said, his children certainly must understand their duty, which was to see their father off with good cheer and to send along their prayers for the king’s success. Reluctantly the trio of Stuart children agreed.

  Flanna thanked providence that her brother-in-law had made his announcement early. She sought out a young man-at-arms she had seen looking at her admiringly on several occasions. “Ian, is it nae?”

  “Aye, my lady,” the young soldier replied, his cheeks reddening, amazed that the duchess should know his Christian name.

  “I need ye to perform a small service for me,” Flanna said. “Will ye take a message to my brother, Aulay Brodie, at Killiecairn?”

  “Aye, my lady!” he replied eagerly.

  Flanna smiled a brilliant smile at him. Then she hung her head and shuffled her feet slightly. “And ye must nae tell my husband,” she almost whispered. “I would nae hae the duke know how much I miss my family. I want my wee nephew to come and visit wi’ me. The duke will welcome him, I know. Will ye help me, Ian?”

  “Aye, my lady!” Ian responded, delighted he might be of service to the beautiful duchess he so admired.

  “Go now, and say to Aulay Brodie that the Duchess of Glenkirk, yer mistress, would hae his son, Fingal, return wi’ ye this same day. The Brodies will offer ye hospitality, but thank them and say the duchess is anxious to see her nephew. Do ye understand me? Ye must return wi’ my nephew today. The weather is dry again, and I sense nae storm approaching.”

  “I’ll leave at once, my lady,” the soldier said.

  “Take an extra horse from the stables for the lad, but dinna let anyone see ye go,” she instructed him.

  “I understand,” Ian answered her, and giving her a quick b
ow, he turned and hurried off.

  At Killiecairn he was met with much questioning by Aulay Brodie. Ian repeated his mistress’s request, adding politely that he thought his mistress, while obviously happy with her lot, nonetheless missed her family; and that the duke would welcome this nephew by his marriage to Flanna Brodie.

  “ ’Tis a grand opportunity for our Fingal,” Una said, pleased. “If he pleases the duke, he’s apt to be educated and hae a better chance in life than to be just one of our sons, one of the many Brodies here at Killiecairn. Flanna always hae a soft spot for Fingal. He was the only bairn I gave ye after our Mary died. Remember how Flanna used to lug him about and watch over him for me? ’Tis her way, I’m certain, of thanking us for our care of her after her mama died and yer da lost interest in his daughter.”

  “What could he aspire to at Glenkirk that he could nae hae here?” her husband demanded.

  “Well, he might learn to read and write,” Una said. “He could study to become a minister of the kirk.”

  “Fingal?” Aulay Brodie laughed heartily. “He’s as rough and determined as Flanna herself. We beat him more than any of our bairns. He is as wild as they come.”

  “Well, and no wonder,” she replied, “being the youngest of our sons and, indeed, many of his cousins. If he were nae rough and wild, they would hae killed him long ago. I want Fingal to go to Glenkirk, Aulay. I want him to hae a chance at a better life. Besides, yer sister has sent for him. Would ye insult the Duchess of Glenkirk? Flanna is nae longer just yer wee sister. She is a great lady. Besides, what do ye need our laddie here for, husband?”

  “Oh, verra well, woman, hush yer nagging. The lad may go to my sister at Glenkirk.” He turned to the messenger. “Ye’ll remain the night and eat wi’ us?”

  Ian bowed deferentially. “I should like to, sir, but my mistress hae instructed me to bring the lad back immediately. She even sent a horse for him to ride. The king’s cousin is at Glenkirk, and I think she would hae him see the royal,” Ian answered, thinking quickly.

  “What king?” Aulay Brodie demanded.

  “Why, King Charles Stuart, sir, the last King Jamee’s grandson. He be driven out of England, ’tis true, but he hae been welcomed home to our fair Scotland and will be crowned next week at Scone, as God intended,” Ian explained to the Brodies.

  “I’ll fetch my son at once,” Una said, excitedly. “Aulay, our Fingal is to meet wi’ a royal prince!” She ran out of the hall.

  “Nae a prince,” Ian quickly amended, “just the king’s cousin, sir. He is the Duke of Lundy and also called Charles Stuart.”

  “Glenkirk’s bastard brother?” Aulay asked bluntly.

  “Aye, sir,” Ian said, instinctively knowing that honesty was the best policy with Aulay Brodie, who obviously knew more than he was ready to admit to any other. “They call him the not-so-royal Stuart. He is a widower and has brought his three bairns to Glenkirk to shelter.”

  Aulay Brodie nodded. “ ’Twas wise, and wi’ my sister there, those bairns will be well taken care of, I’m thinking. Now I understand why she wants Fingal wi’ her. This duke has lads, eh?”

  “Two, and a daughter,” Ian answered him.

  Aulay Brodie smiled. “Aye, Flanna wants a lad to help wi’ those lads, and though he be wild, my Fingal can be trusted. Is my sister breeding yet?”

  Ian blushed red to the roots of his nut brown hair. “Sir!” he sputtered. “I would nae know such a private thing. I am just a man-at-arms, one of many who serve the duke.”

  “Humph,” Aulay grunted. “Dinna fret, laddie. I just thought ye might hae heard a rumor, or two, and be willing to share them wi’ yer mistress’s older brother.”

  “To my knowledge, which is nae great, sir, there is nae yet hope of an heir for Glenkirk,” Ian responded.

  “She hae been wed two months now,” Aulay Brodie grumbled almost to himself. “What is taking the lass so long?” He looked up at the Glenkirk messenger again. “She and yer duke are on good terms?”

  “Oh, aye, sir,” Ian enthused. “The duke is mad for her. ’Tis all the talk among my mates, meaning no disrespect, of course, to either the duke, or yer good sister.”

  “None taken, lad. I’m glad it worked out so well for the both of them. ’Tis nae easy to be wed, I can tell ye. Come now, while my wife is getting our lad, and tell my father what ye hae told me. He loves his lass, and I know he misses her.”

  By the time Ian returned to Glenkirk with Fingal Brodie in tow, it was almost dark. Leaving the horses in the stable, he brought the boy to his aunt. Wide-eyed, Fingal Brodie couldn’t stop looking all about him, for he had never been anywhere in his whole life other than his own home. Seeing Flanna, he ran to her, and she hugged him.

  “Remember, Ian, ye know nothing of this lad,” she said softly.

  He bowed and was gone without another word.

  “Thank ye,” she called after him. Then, turning to her nephew, she said, “Listen to me, laddie. My husband is to believe ye were sent here by yer da in order to bring me back to Killiecairn for my da is not well and wishes to see me. Do ye understand?”

  “What mischief are ye up to, Flanna?” he asked cheekily, and he grinned at her, his blue eyes dancing wickedly. “My mother said me fortune was made by yer calling me to Glenkirk.”

  “If ye like it here, ye can stay wi’ me, laddie,” she replied, and she ruffled his chestnut brown hair. “I’ll nae send ye back.”

  “If ye want me to help ye, then tell me what ye’re doing,” he repeated. “I’m quick, Flanna, but I canna help if I dinna know what it is ye want of me.”

  She explained, and when she had finished, he said, “Ye’re daft, Flanna Brodie, to even consider such a thing.”

  “Flanna Leslie,” she said. “Ye dinna know what life is like away from yer backwoods, Fingal. I do. I’ll take ye to the gallery where hang all the paintings of the ladies of Glenkirk who came before me. Great ladies, every one of them, I tell ye. And here come I, wi’ only Brae to recommend me. I dinna want to be known in the future as the duchess who did naught, Fingal. I want to be like those women before me, nephew. I dinna hae great wealth, but I can be a woman of action as they were. The king needs an army. We are his subjects. Where can he go but to the Highlands for help? Those Scots in the south are more English than Scots, and the English are the ones who drove him out of his realm and murdered his father. He must be revenged! And who but his blood to do it?”

  “Verra well, aunt, but what do ye want of me?” Fingal asked.

  “The day after tomorrow the Duke of Lundy, my brother-in-law, the king’s cousin, leaves Glenkirk for Scone. We’re going to follow him, but Patrick, Angus, and the rest will think we hae gone to Killiecairn.”

  “They’ll send ye back,” Fingal predicted gloomily.

  “Aye, they will, but nae before I’ve met the king, and pledged myself to his cause, and received his permission to raise troops for him, Fingal,” she said. “That is the whole purpose of this deception.”

  “And why not just go wi’ yer husband?” the boy demanded.

  “Patrick has some foolish notion that the royal Stuarts bring ill fortune to the Leslies of Glenkirk. His mother told him that, but she was only distraught over losing her husband at Dunbar. Ohh, Fingal, I do want to help the king! And a hundred years from now, I want it said of me when they see my portrait hanging on the wall here: ‘Oh, that’s the Duchess Flanna. She raised fighting men and helped put King Charles II back on his throne.’ Willna that be grand, Fingal?”

  “I still think ye’re daft,” the boy replied, “but I’ll go wi’ ye, auntie, because ’tis an adventure, and ’tis away from Killiecairn and all our family. But when we get back, I want ye to get yer Angus to teach me to read and write. I dinna want to be a dunce like my brothers and my cousins at Killiecairn. I’ll nae live my life there, marry some local wench like the others, and add more unwashed bairns to the family. I want to go to Edinburgh.”

  “The English hold Edinburgh,” Flanna told h
im. “Tell me, Fingal, what do ye want to be?”

  “I dinna know,” he answered her honestly. “How can I when my whole life has been spent at Killiecairn? But I do know, Flanna, that there is more than eating, drinking, brawling, hunting, wenching, and the like. Whatever it is, I want it!”

  “Help me, and I’ll help ye find yer dreams,” she promised him. “Now, remember to say yer da sent ye when my husband comes into the hall. And remember to beware of Angus. He can see a lie. And dinna confide in Aggie. She gossips wi’ everyone.”

  He nodded. Then he gave her a wink. “Speak of the devil!”

  “Fingal Brodie!” Angus had entered the hall, seen the boy, and now came over to where he sat with Flanna.

  “Aulay has sent him,” Flanna quickly said.

  “Why?” Angus demanded suspiciously.

  “Grandsire has been low ever since our Flanna wed and left Killiecairn. Da thought she might come and visit. He dinna sense any storms, and ’tis but a few hours’ ride,” Fingal said smoothly.

  “Hae ye asked yer husband, lady?” Angus said.

  “Fingal only arrived a short while ago,” Flanna told Angus.

  “Ye rode?”

  “I walked, and it took me two whole days,” the lad said indignantly. “I’m hoping to gain the loan of a mount to go back wi’ my aunt.”

  “If ’tis all right wi’ Patrick, we’ll go in another day,” Flanna said quietly. “God forbid the old man die! I should feel guilty, but I’ll nae leave while my husband’s brother is our guest.”

  “Yer da will live to be a hundred,” Angus said dourly, and Fingal laughed aloud. “I’ll go wi’ ye, then.”

  “Dinna be silly,” Flanna countered easily. “Ye’re needed here, especially wi’ Charlie gone. The children will need cheering. Fingal will ride wi’ me. We’ll be on Glenkirk lands almost all the way, and then on Brodie lands. There are no robbers hereabouts except our own,” she finished with a small smile. Then she added, “Besides, Angus, ye know I fight as well as any man. I am not some delicate flower needing protection from the wicked world.”