Kilty Pleasures (Clash of the Tartans Book 3)

by Anna Markland

  The crowd muttered its understanding of his sentiments.

  Nicolson then told of Lochwood’s suspicious behavior when the vessel docked overnight at Mingary. “If ye ask me, James Stewart, he wandered the docks in search of illicit cargo.”

  Most held their breath, waiting to see the king’s reaction to the Highland brogue and the informality of his assertion, then chuckled after a condescending smile tugged at the corners of the royal mouth.

  The navigator described his shock when Lochwood refused to heed the Warden’s warning and held a pistol to the captain’s head.

  James stroked his beard. “As a result, two men drowned and the birlinn lies at the bottom of the Firth, along with whatever he was smuggling.”

  Someone in the crowd muttered Opium, and the word rippled through the hall, the murmur silenced by the king’s glaring countenance.

  Nicolson concluded his testimony with an account of the journey from Gretna, the attempts to get through the inner gate, and the subsequent brawl in the ditch.

  “We’re curious,” the king said. “What were ye doing outside the walls with blacksmithing tools?”

  Nicolson shifted his weight. “I canna lie, Sire, we were so desperate to inform Yer Majesty o’ yon mon’s crimes, we thought to get in through the postern gate.”

  “And ye just happened to have the tools.”

  Nicolson studied his feet. “Aye.”

  James arched a bushy eyebrow. “And a good thing too. The sledgehammer came in useful after all, eh?”

  When Adrian was called upon, the king lavished praise on the youth and tutted loudly when told of Lochwood’s craven behavior after the sinking.

  Broderick began to wonder nervously what new information he could possibly add, but he was required to describe in detail the sinking of the Lanmara, the efforts to rescue the shipwrecked sailors, the discovery of Cladh’s body, the journey to Darling Abbey to converse with the abbot, the kidnapping of Lily Maxwell and Kyla MacKeegan, Lochwood’s theft of Broderick’s clothing and weapons and his subsequent intent to consign the Maxwell laird to a watery grave.

  Throughout his testimony, he never took his eyes off Corbin Lochwood, but the wretch gave no indication he knew what was going on. It was as if his wits had abandoned him altogether.

  There was a flurry of excitement when the king got to his feet, pulling his ermine-lined cloak around his shoulders. “Lairds Maxwell and MacKeegan, ye have suffered much at the hands of the mon who stands accused this day. The only good thing we can say is that ye and yer womenfolk survived the ordeal.” He turned his steely gaze on Lochwood. “We pronounce ye guilty o’ the crimes of murder and abduction perpetrated against these worthy families and their servants, and guilty o’ treason against our royal personage.

  “Yer lands and castles are hereby forfeit to the Crown until such time as a new and more suitable laird can be found and installed. We are certain nay all the Lochwoods are as corrupted by evil as ye.

  “Ye’ll be taken from here, transported to the Tower of London, and beheaded. Do ye have aught to say?”

  The day the Royal Court had pronounced sentence on Broderick’s father, Alasdair Maxwell had squared his shoulders, nodded stoically and accepted the justice of his sentence.

  Corbin Lochwood dissolved into loud sobbing, causing those present to avert their eyes in embarrassment as he was dragged away to his fate.

  The King’s Darlings

  Kyla twirled in front of the looking glass in the well-appointed chamber in Carlisle Castle, admiring her reflection. “I’m nay fond o’ frocks, as ye ken,” she admitted to Lily, “but I can make an exception in this case.”

  Lily laughed. “I should think so. ’Tisna every day ye get to wear a queen’s cast-offs.”

  Kyla feigned a pout. “The lady-in-waiting didna say ’twas a cast-off.”

  Lily eyed her cheekily. “Nay, just that Her Majesty no longer wears it.”

  Kyla ran her hands over the luxurious silk folds of the opulent gown’s skirt, delighting in the feel of the hard, little bumps where emeralds had been sewn into the fabric. “Nevertheless,” she replied haughtily, “we’ll be the best dressed Scots at the king’s reception this evening.”

  Looking lovely in a jewel-encrusted blue silk gown, Lily mimicked her stance. “Aye, Lady Lily Muckwell and her soon-to-be-sister-by-marriage, Lady Kyla Muckeegan.”

  They clasped hands and dissolved into fits of giggles.

  “Seriously,” Lily said, struggling not to smile, “I was so happy when Broderick told me ye’d consented to be his wife. I love my brother and I ken ye do too.”

  Kyla squeezed her hands. “And I love ye like a sister, Lily Muckwell.”

  A light tap at the door interrupted their amusement. Broderick opened the door a crack and peeked in. “Laird MacKeegan and I were wondering if…”

  He gaped at Kyla, eyes wide.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Lily enthused.

  Kyla felt the heat rise in her face and spread across her breasts. There could be no mistaking the lust in Broderick’s eyes, but there was admiration and appreciation too. “Lily looks like a princess,” she added in an effort to break the silence.

  Broderick licked his lips and smiled. “Ye both take a mon’s breath away.”

  “Indeed they do,” her father echoed as he entered the chamber. “Away, lass, ye should wear a gown more often. If only yer mother could be here to see ye.”

  It was a poignant reminder that Isabel wouldn’t be present at the nuptial celebrations planned for Caerlochnaven. “I always imagined she would be at my wedding.”

  Her father kissed her hand. “Weel, who’d have thought ye’d marry a Lowlander? But she’ll be with ye in spirit, and will no doot expect me to describe every last detail of the event.”

  She cradled his face in her hands and kissed his forehead. “I’m glad ye will be there. ’Twould have been easier for ye to turn yer back on me when I was born, but ye didna.”

  “And I ne’er regretted it for a minute,” he confirmed, offering his arm.

  “I’m glad of it too,” Broderick quipped, offering to escort Lily. “Shall we?”

  Loud applause greeted their arrival in the Great Hall.

  “Surprising,” Broderick remarked. “Considering the guests are mostly English folk.”

  “Aye,” Darroch replied through a feigned smile, “the sooner we’re back in Scotland, the better I’ll feel.”

  Another, smaller throne had been placed next to the king’s. Queen Anne sat beside her husband. The Danish princess may once have been considered beautiful, but bearing seven bairns had taken its toll. Kyla prayed she would never have to face losing four children in infancy. The king’s wife stared off into the distance as if what was happening was of no importance, lending credence to the rumors of royal marital disharmony.

  Smiling broadly, James beckoned them to the dais.

  “We’re in favor now,” Kyla said, “because we are the king’s darlings.”

  “And I plan to take full advantage of it,” Broderick replied with a wink, just before the four of them bowed and curtseyed before the thrones.

  Kyla hadn’t had much practice curtseying. She hoped she was doing it correctly and that she didn’t topple over in the heavy gown, a cast-off of the very queen to whom she was now being introduced.

  Having informed his wife of who knelt before them, James bade them get to their feet. “Ye’ll be departing for Caerlochnaven,” he said to Broderick.

  “Aye, Yer Majesty. On the morrow, though first we must retrieve my galley from Gretna.”

  James extended his bejeweled hand. “Our Court will take the same road north. We’ll make arrangements for yer party to accompany us as far as Gretna.”

  Broderick bent to kiss the large ruby, then hesitated. “I’ve a boon to ask, Sire.”

  Kyla’s heart fluttered, but if the king was surprised at Broderick’s boldness after his generous offer, he hid it well.

  “I wish to marry at Ca
erlochnaven, but I dinna want to wait o’erlong. If ye’ll grant special permission…”

  The king slapped his thigh and laughed out loud, drawing everyone’s eye, including his wife’s. “Granted,” he declared.

  Queen Anne suddenly smiled benevolently, then spoke to Kyla. “I wish you every happiness,” she said in heavily-accented English.

  Kyla searched her memory for brief snatches of Danish she’d learned in her reading. “Jeg takker dig,” she said, relieved when the queen’s eyes brightened as she nodded.

  *

  “The Borderlands have been relatively quiet since James instituted the transportation orders,” Broderick whispered to Kyla as one group of nobles left them and another edged closer. “It seems everyone in attendance wants to speak to the Scottish laird at the center of the biggest scandal in years.”

  He acknowledged inwardly that wasn’t strictly true, given his own father’s sensational behavior, but no one betrayed any sign they were even aware Broderick was the son of an executed assassin. Of course, there was no reason the English nobles who’d accompanied the king from London would know or care about the long-standing feud between the Maxwells and the Lochwoods.

  “’Tis likely only those from Cumbria ken the reason for Lochwood’s determination to kill me,” he confided to Darroch.

  The Hebridean paid scant attention, immersed as he was in proudly watching his daughter mingle with peers of the realm and their ladies. “She’ll be a good wife,” he told Broderick.

  “Of that I have no doot,” he replied. “Ye’ve a right to be proud. She’s a credit to ye and yer wife.”

  “And to her ancestry,” Darroch reminded him. “Ne’er forget she’s a MacKeegan and a Highlander. The clan will rise up against ye if…”

  Broderick put a hand on his shoulder. “Dinna fash. I’ll do naught to harm her.”

  Darroch smiled weakly. “Forgive the ramblings of an auld mon. ’Twill be hard to say goodbye. She’s been part of my life for so long, longer even than my wife.”

  Kyla linked arms with him and pecked a kiss on his cheek. “Ye’re getting sentimental, Dadaidh.”

  He patted her hand. “I’ve always been sentimental about ye, lass.”

  The genuine love between father and daughter was a sharp reminder for Broderick of what had been sorely lacking in his and Lily’s childhoods. Clan hatreds had taken root and choked out all notion of paternal love. He made a silent vow that if God blessed him and Kyla with healthy bairns, he would make sure they knew their father loved them every day of their lives.

  He glanced over at Lily, holding court on a divan in a corner of the hall, three royal children sitting cross-legged on cushions arrayed at her feet, hanging on her every word. It gladdened his heart to know Kyla cared for his intelligent sister and would bring light and love into her life as well as his own.

  Now, if he could just convince her about Aiglon.

  *

  Kyla was flattered and excited the next morning at breakfast when Broderick informed her that she and Lily were to ride to Gretna in the royal carriage. “But we’re nay suitably dressed,” she fretted, doubting the Danish queen would approve of females wearing trews and shirts.

  “I’m told the royal ladies-in-waiting have laid out appropriate clothing,” he said with a smile before brushing a kiss on her lips that chased away any thoughts of royal carriages. “I think I’d rather ride with ye,” she murmured.

  He traced his fingertips along her cheek. The tingle traveled up her thighs and into her womb. “Ye canna disobey a queen,” he whispered.

  Lily pulled at her sleeve. “Come on.”

  Resigned to her fate, she returned to the chamber where they changed into elegant dresses that Kyla considered too fancy for traveling. Arriving breathless in the outer ward, they discovered the empty carriage, flanked by elegantly uniformed footmen.

  Broderick and her father stood by their mounts, reins in hand, waiting for the king’s arrival; protocol dictated she and Lily wait for the queen and her children before entering the conveyance.

  The royal couple eventually appeared. Queen Anne’s hand rested atop her husband’s as they processed through the inner gate. Minions scurried around them; ladies-in-waiting lifted the hem of the queen’s gown—an exquisite creation that made Kyla feel like a ragamuffin. They both stared straight ahead, as if playing a part in an elaborate tableau. Neither spoke.

  “They dinna love each other,” Lily remarked.

  “That may be true,” Kyla conceded, “but most royal marriages are arranged and have naught to do with love.”

  “I’m glad I’m nay a princess,” Lily replied.

  Kyla made no reply, but she considered how fortunate she was to have stumbled across what she’d hoped to find for years—a fine man she loved, who loved her in return.

  James escorted his wife to the carriage, then walked to his horse where he was assisted to mount.

  At his signal, all the other men mounted their horses.

  Installing the overdressed queen in the carriage took the combined efforts of three ladies-in-waiting. Her Highness then gave leave for her children to join her.

  Accompanied by nursemaids, Princes Henry and Charles, and Princess Elizabeth trooped through the gate, their faces brightening when they caught sight of Lily.

  Their mother hushed their excited voices as they clambered into the carriage.

  The footmen who’d stood like statues suddenly came to life and assisted Kyla and Lily to climb aboard and soon they were off.

  They’d been underway less than five minutes when it became evident their presence in the carriage had been requested by the children.

  Kyla and Queen Anne were superfluous to the excited chatter in the crowded carriage.

  At a loss to know if one was expected to begin a conversation with a queen, Kyla was taken aback by Her Highness’ words. “Your father tells me you read and write.”

  She might have known Darroch MacKeegan would brag of her talents. “Aye. Yes.”

  “You are lucky.”

  “I ken. Er, I know. My parents have spoiled me.”

  “On the contrary, if more women were given the opportunity to learn, the world might be a better place, instead of leaving matters entirely in the hands of men.”

  There was an edge of bitterness in the queen’s voice that made Kyla nervous. She sought to lighten the mood. “I hope someday to publish my writings.”

  “Why not? Elizabeth Melville did.”

  Kyla was astonished. “Ye’ve heard of Elizabeth Melville, Yer Majesty?”

  “Of course, though we find her writings a little too…how do you say…pious.”

  For the rest of the journey, they chatted like two ordinary women. Kyla suspected the king’s wife got few opportunities to simply share opinions with another woman—one she trusted at least.

  “We have enjoyed our discussion,” the queen said softly as Kyla prepared to descend at Gretna. “We wish you well with your publishing. If you need a sponsor…”

  Overwhelmed by the unexpected honor, Kyla must have babbled her thanks. The princes and princess unsuccessfully begged their mother to command Lily to travel on with them to Edinburgh.

  Broderick had already dismounted and came to put his arms around their shoulders as they stood watching the royal procession disappear on the road north. “How was that experience?” he asked.

  “Incredible,” Kyla breathed.

  “Awful,” Lily said. “I’m ne’er having any bairns.”

  Reunions

  The joy was apparent on Delft’s face when he caught sight of them striding along the dock. He scrambled up the ladder and embraced his laird. “I kent ye’d survive, laddie. Ye’ve always been a braw swimmer. ’Tisna the first time ye’ve challenged the bore.”

  A cheer rose up from the oarsmen who’d watched him drown.

  Broderick slapped his captain on the back. “There were moments I feared I’d nay live to see ye again.”

  Sniffling, Delft
backed away and swiped a sleeve across his eyes. “Mistress MacKeegan, and Lady Lily, thank God ye’re safe.”

  “This is Laird Darroch MacKeegan,” Kyla explained, gesturing to her father.

  Delft shook his hand vigorously. “’Tis an unexpected honor to meet the famous MacKeegan.”

  “And his daughter has agreed to be my wife,” Broderick declared with a broad smile.

  It was gratifying that Delft’s pleasure upon hearing the news was genuine. For Kyla it augured well. She would need the support of Clan Maxwell.

  Broderick descended the ladder to the deck and reached up to assist her. “Allow me just this once, Captain Kyla,” he jested, “since ye’re wearing a frock.”

  Her father took her by the elbow. “Ye ken ’twas a challenge for Isabel when she first came to Dun Scaith,” he whispered, “but ye’ll fit in right well at Caerlochnaven. His people will love ye.”

  She smiled. “As usual, ye’ve seen what’s in my heart.”

  But she hoped he couldn’t discern her thoughts when the warmth of Broderick’s big hands circled her waist and lifted her to the deck. He held on, even when she was safe, pressing her hips to his, his gaze locked with hers. She opened her mouth as he closed his eyes and his lips drifted closer.

  A loud ahem from her father broke them apart.

  Broderick smiled and pecked a kiss on her nose. “Soon,” he rasped.

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  *

  “My galley isna as grand as yer Banamhara,” Broderick conceded to Darroch, “but ’twould be an honor if ye’d take over as master.”

  He was relieved when Kyla’s father agreed readily after an enthusiastic nod from Delft. Their journey across the Solway to retrieve the birlinn from Bowness would be short, but Broderick acknowledged he was in the presence of a superior mariner. Darroch would be much happier taking charge of the vessel.

  Happily, ceding responsibility provided an opportunity to stand amidships with Kyla and Lily. Though he knew it wasn’t necessary, he put an arm around Kyla’s waist to steady her, gratified when she leaned into him, accepting his support. There was enough breeze to fill the sail and carry the scent of her windblown hair into his senses. “Ye intoxicate me,” he confessed as they swayed together with the movement of the boat.