Chieftain's Rebel

by Frances Housden

  Heat radiated off both of them as if the sun’s flames had indeed licked them all o’er.

  Gilda was shaking—nae sobbing. His shoulder was damp where her forehead rested in the crook betwixt shoulder and neck. “Gilda lass, did I hurt ye? I wouldnae do that for all the world.”

  Gilda lifted her head. Her cheeks were sodden with tears at odds with the beatific smile on her lips. “I cannae help it.” Her mouth trembled, the pout of her full bottom lip, red frae where his had mauled it in passion. “It was wonderful, unbelievable, the feelings welling up inside me. It’s just that I remembered how it was last time when ye left and I thought how can I go through that again?”

  He let out a sigh, his chest shuddered with such relief he almost laughed, holding it back for fear he insulted her. “Gilda, lass, di ye think I would do that to ye twice—do that to both of us.” He hauled her close again and kissed away the tears frae her cheeks murmuring soothing nonsense such as ye might to a bairn until she turned her head to follow his lips with her own. A touch that made him need to lie her down on the bench and take her again, and he would but not yet. He owed Gilda more than that.

  He put her from him and wiped the tears frae her lashes, a thumb under each eye. “I love ye lass, I always will, and when I leave for Dun Bhuird, I’m taking ye with me.”

  Chapter 10

  Axel was grizzly and Ainsel knew she was to blame, could see her tension had set her son off. He wouldnae settle, refused to drink. Lifting Axel up on her shoulder, she patted his back and began humming a song her mother often sang when Ainsel was a girl. She could see her mother now, listen to her, but it was nae lullaby to sooth a child. Nae, it was a tune her mother would softly whisper in her father’s ear at night when she thought Ainsel and Finn were asleep, a song of love.

  A memory that turned her thoughts back to Rory.

  Should she feel disappointed that he had nae notion it was she he had made love with in the dark last solstice. Aye, compared to what Nils had put her through, it had felt like loving. She felt ashamed of herself for feeling jealous of Gilda. It was fair obvious that Calder had returned especially for her and wasnae afraid to show it. As for the other two frae Dun Bhuird, well young Ghillie had ne’er been to Caithness afore and curiosity could be behind his journey—she was minded, though, of what Olaf had heard about the lad’s mother, minded of the way he had looked at Axel as if the truth wasnae hidden from him. As for Rory, he still made her blood thrum in her veins, and that’s why she envied Gilda. Calder had returned to find her, and Rory, whau had nae memory of her, was merely keeping him company.

  True, the tension she felt wasnae one-sided. It made nae difference to Rory that she would ne’er be aught than another man’s widow, mother of another man’s son.

  Axel interrupted her though by releasing a loud bubble of air and she brought him back to her knee to let him latch onto her breast, more settled again, as was she.

  Come what may now, she knew she had left it too late to tell Rory the truth about Axel. Soon everyone at the settlement would be fighting for their lives—a bigger problem than one wee bairn. Best she left it in the lap of the gods, for the truth of the matter was she had nae notion how to resolve it herself.

  If there one thing she was fixed on, it was that if the opportunity came her way, she would encourage Rory to take her again. She’d had but one night of pleasure since Nils took her virginity, and it hadnae come frae him. How could she face the Irish, mayhap die without knowing the thrill of Rory’s arms once more?

  Following Finn’s example, Rory spoke to the auld Jarl. “Ye have naught to be ashamed of Olaf, yer men are bonnie fighters. The biggest worry is have ye enough of them. We have nae notion how many Irish we’ll be facing and then ye say there will be Norsemen frae Orkney with them.”

  Rory shook his head, unashamed at wishing that his father were here. Aye he was well trained; Gavyn Farquhar had made certain every man at Dun Bhuird would be ready to face a strong opposition but, unlike the auld Jarl, because of Gavyn’s reputation other clans were wary of threatening Dun Bhuird. It didnae diminish the excitement Rory felt at being in a real battle at last. If his father’s training had given him aught it was confidence.

  Olaf slumped in his chair and smoothed a hand o’er his white moustaches, yet his still bright blue eyes were fixed on Rory frae under his bushy eyebrows. “I did send a man to Orkney to spy on them, but we’ve heard nae news, which makes me worry he’s been caught out. Now all we can do is prepare the best we can.”

  It struck Rory that frae Olaf’s intent stare he was hoping that Rory might come up with a plan. The trouble with that was that he and Calder were out of their element. He had only to look at all the dragon boats moored in the Ness to realise that though he could help train Olaf’s warriors to fight on land, there was naught he could teach them of battles fought on water. “Preparation is all well and guid but we need a plan. My father is the man we want for that, but give me a wee while to see if I can come up with aught. It’s a truth that it’s easy to become immured in the way ye have always done things. Mayhap I might be able to look at the situation with a fresh pair of eyes.” He then stood up, seeing Ainsel arrive with her bairn on her hip. A handsome lad, he would make it his task to see he wasnae left motherless.

  Olaf had seen her as well and waved her o’er immediately, holding his arms out for the wee lad. Easy to see how much he thought of Axel, nae matter how bad a reputation the lad’s father had. The thought sent his mind spinning back to Ainsel’s comment earlier: ‘What I learned frae my late husband was how to duck.’

  What else could he make of that, except that her late husband had been a bully? ‘I’m glad he’s dead,’ she had uttered last night when she thought she was alone. If only he had been at the Ness back then, he could have helped her. The huge question he asked was why had nae one else—her grandfather, her brother Finn—done so?

  Olaf tucked the bairn in one arm and grinned out of his moustaches at Ainsel. “Rory and Finn have been telling me how well the training went.” He chucked the bairn under his plump wee chin making kissing noises afore turning back to Ainsel. “How do ye feel it went? Did they tire ye out, lass?”

  She turned to Rory with a lift of her brows as if asking him, ‘What did ye say’? He answered with a smile he hoped was reassuring. The slight tremor of her lips was hesitant, as if she didnae quite trust him. “Some things ye ne’er forget, like the way yer muscles ache after a solid afternoon of practice, but I’ll be fine. It will all be forgotten if the Irish arrive bull-headed and ready for a fight.”

  Ainsel reached out and ruffled Axel’s curls. “Ye will care for him if need be, grandfather?”

  “How can ye ask? The lad is blood of my blood.” He waved her doubts away with a hand. “I cannae see it coming to that. That’s tiredness talking, all these months of the lad on yer own. Leave the bairn with Jenna o’er night and think of naught but yerself for once,” he said, jiggling the bairn innocently on his knee as if he had nae notion he was playing right into Rory’s hands.

  Afore Rory could say aught, she took the wind out of his sails. “My thanks grandfather. Mayhap Gilda and I…” she broke off to look round the Great Hall, “Have ye seen her?”

  Rory chuckled under his breath so as not to give offence. “I would gauge that where e’er Calder is ye will find Gilda. She’s the reason he returned to Caithness.”

  Her eyes travelled the length of him as if she doubted his word. “Truly? She hardly mentioned him, but mayhap that in itself was telling.”

  Olaf cut in, “Then since she’s nae here, why dinnae ye take Rory here for a wander round after yer meal. Show him around, for he said he would put his mind to working out a plan to help keep the Irish at bay. A bit of fresh air would do ye nae harm,” he finished, as if Ainsel and he hadnae been dancing around in the open with swords in their hands.

  He couldnae help but hold his breath when Ainsel looked up at him frae under her long gold lashes and blinked at him, a sli
ght sensual flare lifting her nostrils that he felt certain was the result of this afternoon’s dance with shield and sword. There was something betwixt them—a feeling that made his shirt feel tight across his chest, pulling on the laces, while his pulse pounded in his ears and his prick quickened. “I would be happy to do that. There must be wee hidden glens I’ve nae knowledge of where we could lure them into a trap. Places a stranger wouldnae be aware of.”

  She nodded and it was settled, whether or not there was aught to set his brain humming with notions, the one he’d had in mind ever since Ainsel twirled around him as they trained. He wanted her and he would have her. The looks she had tempted him with told him she wanted the same.

  Dun Bhuird

  “Dinnae glower at me, Gavyn Farquhar.” Kathryn paced their chamber.

  “I warned him not to go.” Gavyn flung up his hands, a show of his disgust at his eldest son and heir’s actions. “He disobeyed me, all to go dancing round a bonfire like a heathen.”

  “It’s the solstice, a celebration of everything our ancestors believed in—my ancestors and his—but that’s not why he’s gone.” She turned to her husband, surveyed him with a lift of an eyebrow and the shake of her head. “Do ye ne’er pay Rory any heed?

  “I see him every day except when he’s haring off on some scheme or another with Calder, but this time he’s taken wee Ghillie with him. What am I going to tell Nhaimeth when he arrives? Nae question, Rowena will have been in his ear about this already. The surprise is that the pair of them are nae already here.” Gavyn fisted his hands and braced one on each hip. “And where Nhaimeth goes…” without another word he poured himself a tankard of ale frae a jug the maid had brought in when he’d left the midday meal at Kathryn’s bidding to have a private word with his wife.

  “Nae need to tell me, Rob will be with him.” Kathryn smothered a smile with a grimace. “And all this because of a lassie.” She whirled away, one of her favourite blue kirtles twisting around her legs on her way to open a wooden kist sitting against the far wall. Gavyn would definitely be in need of a few bits and pieces he hadnae worn for a while, and if she had her way, so would she.

  “What do ye mean because of a lassie? He ne’er mentioned a word to me.”

  “Well yer his father, so that is not unheard of, but he ne’er said anything to me either. Did ye nae notice how moody he’s been? Staring off into space.” She lifted an undercoat frae the kist and laid It on the bed, smoothing the dense padding with her hand as she considered how long it had been since she put it out for him to wear it into battle. Pushing such distracting thoughts away, she finally told Gavyn what had been on her mind: “It appeared to me that he might be in love.”

  “Lo-o-ve?” the word spluttered o’er Gavyn’s lips in the midst of a laugh. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth afore he spoke, “Love ye say? He could have his pick of a hundred lasses—nae need to go to Caithness for one.”

  She was annoyed to find that her voice shook as she replied, “Dinnae think I have forgotten how ye were compelled to wed me Gavyn, but we have love do we not—my husband and me?”

  Two long strides and he was upon her, hauling her into his arms. His mouth swiftly covered hers, hot and demanding as he slaked his passion, as if determined to eradicate any doubt she might have of his feelings for her. When he lifted his mouth he stared deep into her eyes, his own dark, glittering while her breath came in short shocked gasps. “We have love, Kathryn, only death can change that truth.” He pressed another hard rapid kiss on her lips. “We have love,” he reiterated, “and if that’s what is pulling Rory north, then we have to help him.”

  Kathryn reached up and bussed him on the cheek. “We’ll go together.”

  She ignored the skerrick of hesitation as he recovered well, asking, “What of the bairns? Whau will mind them if we’re both gone?”

  “Rowena will, with Merida’s help, after all they are not exactly bairns anymore, but wee as she is, they’ll mind Rowena. The lass has a way about her.” She forbore to mention it, but they would listen to Merida as well. Her cousin Brodwyn’s daughter had become like Kathryn’s shadow in the stillroom, soaking up every bit of knowledge, helping her make potions and tinctures—even came up with new recipes that had proved their worth. Ach aye, Merida was clever and bonnie, too clever mayhap. The words ‘wise woman’ were already whispered along with her name—a label that could be a blessing or a curse; only time would tell.

  Gavyn still held her, his arms corded with muscle keeping her close and unable to ignore the tightness of the cords in his neck and the tense jut of his firm jawline. She kissed him on the chin and their eyes clashed as he looked down and said, “I cannae hide aught frae ye, so I might as well tell ye, I dread the thought of us all back there again. I’d like to pretend I was well o’er yon awful experience but there are nights when it comes back to me in dreams. I thought I’d lost ye.”

  “I can well believe that but, my love, we survived. The woman yer holding is flesh and blood, and Rory had still to be born.” She couldnae help smiling as she thought on how she had ridden afore Gavyn—him with big hand curved around her belly. “I admit he was mightily impatient to arrive while ye carried us both home to Dun Bhuird, but we made it.”

  Clasping her to him with one arm, he ran a palm o’er the body pressed so close it hardly seemed there was room for the hand that lingered on the curve of a belly that had cradled his bairns, smoothing a circle round and round and she was well aware of the hard length pressing against her—hard against soft as her body naturally prepared for his invasion. “As usual, yer correct, I have to go to Caithness and I know ye’ll ne’er be happy unless I take ye with me, Kathryn. There’s but one more thing I need to do afore we each go about the business of getting ready to travel north.”

  Afore she could say aught, he had lifted her the short distance to the bed and placed her atop the undercoat she had just retrieved frae the kist. “Have ye the least notion what I feel driven to accomplish afore we leave this chamber?”

  Hands under the skirt of her kirtle he pushed it up until it ruched in folds around her waist. “I have, I have … some might say I can read yer mind,” she confessed as his hands went to his buckle and the plaid he had so carefully kilted round his waist that morning fell to the floor.

  “And they would be right,” he growled as he covered her with his body and thrust inside.

  Some things ne’er changed, she mused as she took him into her and let pleasure and love have their sway.

  Chapter 11

  Ainsel marvelled at how tall he was as she walked along the shore by Rory’s side. To be sure she had known that when she fought against him that afternoon, but then she’d had other matters on her mind such as showing him she had the skills needed to stay alive in the worst of melees. In some ways the struggle would have been easier had it been against one of the other men, or even the blasted enemy, as she had come to think of the Irish.

  When she bathed Axel afore taking him up to the Great Hall, she had recognised frae where her son had inherited his long limbs and solid build. Rory’s long legs ate up the ground and sometimes she had to take two or three wee skips to his one in order to keep up when at last he espied another shadowy cutting in the trees that edged the beach. None of the earlier ones they had found were suitable, and this one too was fairly shallow. She could tell he was disappointed, and felt diffident about telling him they had reached the limit of their search, as frae there on the river spilled wide and fast into the Ness. “We’ve almost arrived at the river.”

  Shaking his head, Rory groaned, “It would seem I’m far o’er confident for my own guid. I was certain that by the time they arrived I would have worked out a plan to help us overcome the Irish. Instead, I’m afraid I will have to disappoint ye Ainsel, ye and Olaf both.” His broad shoulders shook as he released a sigh. “I had this notion that I could make yer grandfather proud of me. I’ve heard tales of Olaf all of my life. First yer grandmother was abducted then my
mother too was taken while she was carrying me in her belly. When ye begin to realise frae a young age that ye were part of something of great importance to both families, it makes ye want to prove yerself.”

  She put her hand on his arm, tried to ignore the burn where they touched, and said, “I wish I knew what to do to help, Rory. I want ye to remember naught ye attempt will disappoint me. How would it when this fight is not of yer making, not yer fault? If anyone’s to blame it would be me.”

  “What’s that ye say? So far I’ve met naebody in the settlement whau would blame ye.” He placed his hand atop hers and asked, “Why would they?”

  Ainsel wished she had the courage to cover his hand with hers. She’d become aware of her grandfather and his finagling, trying to push them into a situation meant to draw them together and undoubtedly end with the pair of them in her bed making love. Olaf had a high regard for Rory’s father, and that respect had flowed down on to Rory. “It cannae be a secret that Nils—the man I married—has brought this war upon our people. Now with Nils dead they have nae one left to blame but me.” She chuckled, her laughter low and rough. Wry humour scraped painfully up the sides of her throat. Her heart shuddered deep in her chest, pummelled by all the injustices she had suffered by keeping the truth to herself.

  “There are a guid few women in the settlement whau would simply delight in casting aspersions in my direction. There’s nae guid of me pretending that Nils was backward about spreading his sexual prowess around. The truth of the matter is I’ve ne’er been certain why he married me. It wasnae long afore I became more accustomed to the weight of his fist on my mouth than his kiss.”