by Reece Butler
“Then ye wouldna have a pair of braw laddies to wrestle with when ye get fashed,” said Niall.
“They shouldna say such to a lady,” muttered Somerled.
She turned. His face was red, his eyes down. Was he blushing? She pressed her lips together to hold back a smile. It didn’t work. His frown deepened.
“Are ye laughin’ at me, wife?”
“Is it true?” she asked. “That ye wish to do that with me?”
His frown faded, but his unease remained. He cleared his throat, still avoiding her eyes. “Well, ’tis one of the things a man can do to give his wife pleasure.”
He flicked his eyes at her. She fought a losing battle with her smile. A glint appeared, small lines around his clear blue eyes crinkling.
“Ye dinna mind?”
That he cared enough to ask, and to wish to give her pleasure, brought a burst of joy. Because he cared, she held some power over him. Not much, but enough to give her courage. She stroked his chest, right over his nipple.
“Why would I mind that my husband wishes to please me?” she asked softly. “I was married to a man who saw me only as a shell, there for his amusement. Mayhaps we have things to teach each other, and to learn.”
Somerled placed his hand over hers. He bent his head. “Ye wish my tongue there, Meg?”
“Aye,” she whispered, only for his ears. “And more.”
* * * *
Niall sat in the shadow of the hall watching his twin cuddle their wife in his new chair. She said something to Somerled that made his jaw drop. He leaned in and kissed her roughly. She grabbed him and returned it, equally wild. Would she ever act that way with him? It was too painful to watch. He turned to the herald beside him.
“Ye said our wife is a Stewart?”
“Aye. Lady Margaret, ah, Meg, tripped between the stable and the castle,” said the herald. “Ewan caught her. He was kind to her after, so must ken she is no threat to Clan MacDougal.”
Niall focused his attention. His laird was occupied, so he had to take over. No matter how hard his cock or how much he wished to taste their wee Meg, he would stay true to his task.
Whether Meg was a Stewart or not didn’t matter. Somerled liked Meg. Niall hadn’t seen him so relaxed since they were young lads. She was good for him. Whatever happened in the future, tonight Meg was giving Somerled a priceless gift. For a time she’d lifted the heavy chains he’d taken on his shoulders when he became laird.
“King James chose her as our wife so it doesna matter if she’s the daughter of an enemy.”
Cam was silent. His lack of denial suggested there was more than a chance it was true. Niall would let Meg settle in while watching her well. He’d saw nothing to his laird about his suspicions.
“She kens the wedding must be consummated tonight,” said Cam. “I suggested it would be easier with a cup of wine to relax her.”
“Does she need wine to face bedding our laird?”
“Lady Margaret was taught that a lady must tolerate her husband’s right to her bed. She was married at seventeen to an old man to pay her father’s debt. She has never known a man’s tender touch, until now. Will it continue?”
“Meg isna the only one who kens little of tenderness, herald. Our mothers didna like brats. Mary loved us all but she died when we were fourteen, though Somerled took on most of the duties of laird years afore that.”
“I thought he was sixteen?”
“Aye, as ’twould need the king’s approval afore that. But Father was mostly gone makin’ more bastard brothers and cared little for the ones he’d already made. Somerled said what to do, and we did it. When Mary died Tearlach and Rory took over the wee ones as best they could. Ewan and Torquil were ten but they—” he tilted his head toward Finn and Dougal “—were four. They ken nothing but a brother’s fond clap on the back when they do well. Or to the head when they say what they shouldna.”
Niall’s cock jerked, startling him. He could turn his back yet he still felt his twin’s reaction to Meg. They wouldn’t be in that chair much longer.
“That explains a few things,” said Cam. “However, naught matters but Somerled consummating their marriage tonight. If the two of you live up to your brothers’ reputations your lady should be content with her lot. ’Tis far better than what her father planned for her.”
He did not want to think of his twin enjoying Meg if she refused him. A change in subject was required.
“Why did the king decide to marry Meg to Somerled?”
“King James heard good things about the MacDougals from lairds Fraser and MacKenzie, and the Earl of Caithness. He was impressed by Sir Tearlach and Rory’s fighting skills at Stirling Castle.”
“Aye,” replied Niall with more than a touch of sarcasm, “when Sir Tearlach defended the brave king from a hoard of armed attackers and slew them all, so was knighted.”
When Cam grinned ten years came off his age. “Nay, ’twas one fool with a dirk who wished to take Isabel and her land. He was nowhere near the king, and Tearlach easily disarmed him, though he got a wee cut in the shoulder.” Cam nodded when Niall rolled his eyes. “There is more to the story of knighthood. King James must be seen to reward Tearlach since the Crown kept most of Lady Isabel’s dowry.”
“That doesna explain this woman here, now.”
“James may one day be king to both England and Scotland. He wishes the Highland clans settled so will reward lairds who support him. He, of course, wishes it done without affecting his purse. We heralds were given the task of finding a suitable wife for Clan MacDougal. We needed a lass strong enough to stand up to Somerled, accept you as well, and be experienced in hardship as you dinna have much.”
“Aye, a lass used to fine things wouldna wish to live at Duncladach.”
“Herald Murray thought of Isabel but was correct in that she is best at Calltuin.”
“Isabel didna stand up to Somerled. She wouldna back down, either, and worked herself far too hard. We didna ken she was too stubborn to tell the lads what our laird ordered her to do.”
“Sometimes what is seen as stubborn in one, would be called determined in another. It depends on who has the advantage of the result.”
Niall agreed, and nodded to encourage the herald to continue.
“Meg didna have an easy life. She told me she willna bend her head again, and will do what she thinks is right. She has the wit and intelligence to stand up to both of you.”
“Did her father beat her hard?”
“Aye, but ’ will fade as she realizes she is safe here. I suggested she push Somerled hard, forcing him into a rage with others nearby in case. She would then see that he willna harm her no matter how angry.”
Niall thought of the tiny woman going after Somerled with words and pointed fingers. “I would like to see that. I remember Fiona standing nose to chest with Gillis, poking him in the gut with her finger as she railed at him.”
“What did Gillis do to her?”
Niall chuckled in memory. It had stirred all of them, making them wish for the same. None had believed they’d find it, yet another three pairs of brothers had married strong-minded women since Fiona’s visit.
“They were near the shore so Gillis picked her up and tossed her in the sea. When she staggered out, swearing and pulling her dirk to stab him, he disarmed her, put her over his shoulder, swatted her arse, and brought her up to their chamber for a sound spanking.”
Herald Cam’s eyes widened. “And the result?”
“We heard her scream and curse all the way to their chamber, then more from the spanking. They were quiet for a while, and then she screamed a wee bit differently, if ye ken what I mean. She did it again just afore Gillis bellowed. When they came down after a wee nap they both looked…” He stopped. Soon, Meg willing, he’d be doing the same. He cleared his throat, shifting in hopes the movement covered his rising plaid. “They both looked well rested.” He sought another topic. “Ah, what of her mother? Meg is such a wee thing and we be larg
e. What of bairns?”
“Her mother was the same size as Meg and her father tall. She has nine brothers, all still living.”
That took their greatest fear away, or at least reduced it. “Her clan?”
“I told you, she is Lady Margaret Stewart.”
He gave the herald a piercing look. “What can ye nay tell me?”
“I canna tell you more of her people or her dowry.”
“She has a dowry?”
“Mayhaps it will come, in time. There’s little chance of coin.”
He would keep that to himself for now, bringing it out if Somerled thought to turn on Meg or their marriage. “That ye willna tell us more of her clan is an answer in itself.”
Herald Cam moved to stand in front of him. There was twelve inches difference in their height, but the man stood tall. As he served as the body of King James, he did, indeed, rule.
“The answer, Niall MacDougal, is that your king says the marriage between Somerled and Meg will last. It doesna matter if you are bedding the enemy, or your closest ally. Do you understand?”
It was not a question. Niall gave a short nod in answer. They had no choice but to obey the king.
“I must leave in the morning, likely afore your laird leaves your chamber. Will you ensure the marriage is fully consummated this night?”
Niall shifted uncomfortably. His cock liked the idea of Meg. His body liked the idea of a soft bed. He’d been with few women, the last being years past. Yet he would wait until their wife was ready to accept him.
“I will watch to give proof and willna touch her unless she asks me to join her.”
Herald Cam nodded, relaxing. “I thought as much. She is not to be forced, by either of you.”
Niall glanced at the couple. “The way they’re kissin’, force willna be an issue this eve.”
The herald nodded approvingly. “The wine helps. ’Tis good to see them both enjoying themselves. Neither has had much of that. Nor have you.”
Niall took a closer look at his twin. He was concentrating only on Meg, totally uncaring of who watched. Niall could feel his twin’s befuddled and aroused state in his own brain and cock. Not befuddled by wine as much as the shock of having a laughing woman on his lap, one he had the right to enjoy.
What if they fought and Meg turned to him for consolation? He would have to choose his laird over their wife. He hoped Meg would understand she would have come first if Somerled had not been his laird as well as twin.
“Somerled willna try to back out of the marriage if his own twin says he’s truly wed.” Herald Cam’s expression was a warning in itself. “This marriage will stand. Aye?”
Chapter Six
Ewan paced along the wall walk, nerves still vibrating from Lady Meg’s earlier touch. His brothers, the herald, and Meg had gone up to the hall. None of his brothers knew she was a Campbell, born, bred, and married. They would be horrified yet he knew she held a purity of spirit, which gave him hope. Her touch had seared him. Not physically, but the effect was no less. She held pain and more than a touch of bitterness for the life she’d been forced to lead.
Yet she held hope, for herself, and that of the bairns she would birth. That hope would bear fruit if her threads of potential futures meshed well with those of Somerled and their brothers. Each thread showed the effects of choices made, and affected the future. A path chosen to avoid one thing could lead to something less desirable.
Now that the clan could focus on more than basic survival their laird needed the hope that a wife and bairns could bring. With the clan’s fortunes improving Somerled had to adapt. He was relaxing tonight for the first time since becoming laird, having a few cups of wine with his wife.
Ewan’s curse was that he could see what could happen yet do little about it. His brothers thought he saw the future but it was far more complicated. He saw threads leading to all possible futures. The more likely appeared bright. Most of them showed King James had done the right thing in marrying Meg to Somerled. One thread that gave him hope showed Meg still married to Somerled and Niall as their grandchildren played around them. Unfortunately that light was dim.
The one shining like a beacon had Somerled discovering Meg was a Campbell and banishing her. The brother she loved could face death. The souls of the children that could have been born to her could choose other vessels. Clan MacDougal could reopen the feud with the Campbells against the orders of King James. Duncladach could be given to the Campbells, and the MacDougals could become broken men, a price on their heads.
Yet it all could change. Which path came true depended on the choices made by each of them. He could do little but guide Somerled, Niall, and Meg toward the trust and respect needed to survive the truth of her heritage.
Somerled and Niall could have lived out their lives without Meg but they would not be whole. She could fill their aching need for acceptance and gain the same in return, but only if they opened their hearts to one another.
Somerled believed lairds could not have a heart, that caring for a woman was a weakness. Ewan thought it had something to do with the murder of their uncles. Their father, the youngest, had become laird because of it. He never spoke of it, other than to say the Campbells poisoned his brothers before slaughtering them. There was no proof who had done the deed, or why.
“How do I help my laird realize Meg is the key to the future of our clan?”
And to his own future. His greatest hope was to be uncle to many wee MacDougals. He could never be a father, but perhaps he could hold the innocent souls born to Meg. If he could tolerate their touch as infants, perhaps he could be near them as children…
This threads of this tiny woman’s life wove through all of theirs. Somerled and Niall could have the love of a passionate woman, something he had no hope of ever finding.
“Tcha! Be glad ye are alive, man. Think on what yer curse gives yer clan.”
His lairds and lady, and his brothers, would make their choices, twisting the threads of possibility. He could encourage and suggest actions to bring Meg closer to Somerled and Niall to help that dim thread leading to healthy grandbabes grow bright.
A flash of sun pierced the clouds like a beacon. Ewan opened himself to it, accepting its strength as it flowed through him. He closed his eyes to use his Sight. The background hum of life faded. Behind him a flash of gold showed their new lady. His brothers’ sparks were familiar though Somerled’s was brighter than usual. The wine had relaxed his tight control, releasing more of his life force.
A golden thread connected Meg to Somerled, another to Niall. As he stood there watching, the threads brightened. Their souls had found a connection. He looked at the possibilities again. The one promising Meg’s grandbabes had brightened a wee bit, with others fading.
“Thank ye,” he murmured to the light, releasing a bit of the tension that had gripped him for so long.
Something itched at the far edge of his sensing. A change was coming, one that had little to do with Meg. He tried to look deeper, to learn if it held danger, but was blocked. He couldn’t See if it involved himself.
Ewan slammed his fist on the stone in frustration. If he was a normal man he’d be inside the hall, drinking with his brothers, enjoying the hope for the future with no knowledge of potential doom. He would have at least once sat a pretty woman on his lap, and maybe even kissed her. Instead he was alone, untouchable. He set both hands on the stone, dropping his head like an exhausted horse. Would he ever find someone he could touch without pain?
A life form darted toward him. Shadow’s spark was familiar, and welcome. He turned, catching the cat as it leaped. He crawled up Ewan’s damp cloak, nosed his way under his hood, and lay across his shoulders. Shadow peered out, his whiskers tickling Ewan’s cheek, protected from the mist. The slow rumble of a purr filled his right ear.
Shadow’s thoughts, so simple and pure, were a balm to his mind. Cats were solitary hunters and lived in the now. They didn’t fret about the future or mourn the past. He gave
Shadow a rub, thanking him for the comfort. A cat went where it wished, unlike a dog, which preferred to stay with its owner. Perhaps now they had meat they could get a dog. He lightly scanned the future horizon to sense the possibilities.
Yes, there it was. A dog would find its way here. A large dog that would give him company. Shadow stayed inside Duncladach whereas a dog could walk the land with him. Yes, with a dog at his side to lower the pounding in his head he could leave these protective walls.
“Let Somerled and Niall have Meg. I have Torquil and Shadow, and will soon have a dog, and more freedom.”
It wasn’t much, yet was more than he had now.
Chapter Seven
Somerled tickled her ribs, making Meg giggle. Proper Lady Margaret would never giggle. She’d never drink enough wine to make her do so, either. Nor would she sprawl across the body of a giant husband with big hands, clever fingers, and a delicious scent.
Thinking of the herald’s suggestion, she’d tossed back the cup of wine Dougal had offered. Everything had gotten a bit fuzzy since then. Fuzzy was good, as were Somerled’s kisses. No horrid cold, slimy fish lips like Edgar. No, this husband’s warm lips had nipped and enticed. Now those hands were making her feel things she’d not known existed.
“Isabel sent ye a gift,” said Somerled. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“A gift? Other than that wonderful tub?”
“Aye, though ye’ll be sharin’ it. ’Tis a bed. Ewan says ’tis soft. He wouldna let us near once ’twas put together.”
“Why would Lady Isabel do that for me? None kenned that I’d be marrying you.”
“Well, ’twasn’t to ye, but to…” He paused, scrunching up his face as if it took a lot of effort to think, yet his eyes glinted with humor. “’Tis for the puir waif forced to marry Laird MacDougal.” He nodded abruptly, and turned to Niall. “Is that what the lass said?”
Niall nodded, though his eyes gleamed as well. “Aye, and that she hoped it would give ye comfort as Somerled is as warm as a rock in the cold January sea.”
