by Mary Wine
Like having a child.
Her hands covered her belly, wondering if there was a tiny flicker of life inside.
It suddenly sickened her to think that she might have snuffed out that life before she was even aware of it. Such a selfish thing, to deny life to anyone just because the road might be rough. She would love her babe.
“Well, ye are a picture this morning.”
Baeth opened the door without knocking. Shannon let out a startled sound and grabbed at the bedding to pull it over her bare body.
“Come now, lass. Ye have nothing that I do nae have myself.”
Two more maids followed the head of the house. One of them bore a fresh undergown that Shannon was grateful to raise her hands for.
“Well, yer hair does have life of its own.”
Baeth pointed at the mess her hair was, and one of the maids began working the comb through it. Before it was restored to order, both girls were needed to work the tangles from it.
But Baeth did not give her an overgown. Instead the woman pulled a measuring ribbon from her apron.
“Ye need some clothing that fits. I’ve never seen a more shameful trunk with a bride-to-be. Yer father is deplorable. A true miser.”
“He taught me to be strong by having me make do just as others do.”
Baeth began taking her measurements and writing them on a small piece of parchment. She placed an inkwell on the table, carefully pulling the stopper from it so that no ink might drip and ruin anything. She dipped a quill into the well to make her notations.
“I suppose that is a good thing, but sending ye out in shoes instead of boots was neglectful at best. Ye will be off to see the cobbler as soon as I am finished with ye.”
“I do nae need boots. It is spring, and the weather fine.”
Baeth snapped her fingers, her face becoming an expression of authority.
“This is the Highlands, lass. It rains more here than where ye grew up. Ye need boots, and ye shall be measured for them, or I’ll have Brockton take ye to the cobbler.”
Shannon pushed her lower lip out. “I do nae want a guard. It is insulting. Yer son must have plenty of other things more worthy of his attention. I detest wasting his time as much as I hate being distrusted.”
“Well now, if there is trust between ye and the laird, I agree.” Baeth wrote down the last measurement and put the stopper back into the inkwell. “But that is something ye shall have to discuss with the laird. He set Brockton to watching ye, and only the laird can undo that. But I would think yer own stepmother is looked after by McBoyd men.”
“Well, that is expected. She is married to a laird and must be protected, else someone might steal her away and demand a ransom.”
Baeth watched her with a serious look that Shannon shook her head in the face of.
“Torin has nae offered to wed…” Her words trailed off, because Torin had suggested that they marry. The gown hanging from the window was his way of proclaiming to all that he considered himself bound to her.
Baeth held up her McBoyd arisaid. “Ye might begin by having done with wearing this, lass, if ye have not come to terms with anything else concerning yer future.”
Shannon felt the girls freeze behind her, and tension filled the room. She stared at her father’s colors, the scarlet and blue that she had worn since the day she could walk. They looked so foreign to her now.
“I have, Baeth, but do nae burn it. They are my father’s colors. That is unchangeable. I’d be a poor daughter to burn my sire’s plaid.”
But she would not wear them any longer. Her future lay in a different direction.
“Just leave it here. I’ll see McBoyd colors only at night from now on.”
“In this chamber?”
Baeth’s voice was low but solid, seeking an admission that Shannon realized she was skirting.
Torin was not hiding their relationship, and it would no doubt gain him the anger of many of his own people. She was being very selfish not to do the same. His parting words rose from her memory, and she realized that he was very correct. The time they had together was short, for the Douglas would not forget her.
“Yes, Baeth, in this chamber.”
Baeth nodded approval. “I’m going to have the girls make up a new undergown for ye out of the fabric the laird bought for ye.”
“What fabric?”
One of the girls brought forward a bundle of soft linen, and Shannon instantly recognized it from the festival. She reached out to finger it, feeling tears sting her eyes. Torin did treat her better than a whore, and she was a fool to keep sniping at him. She drew in a deep breath, wondering why her pride was so swollen. There was much to be happy about. Sometimes being content was only a matter of looking at the good instead of the woes. Perfection was only found in heaven.
Or in the embrace of a man whom she loved.
“Aye, such a grand gift does make one misty-eyed.” Baeth blew across the ink to help it dry faster. “Ye are wise to notice that the laird has affection for ye.”
“I do nae feel wise.”
But she did feel the tenderness, and it shocked her to think that she had lived life until now without knowing love. Stroking the fabric once more, she felt a lump lodge in her throat. It was a surprise to discover that a man might be so caring, even when he was being so stubborn when it came to setting his man to watch her. Like a velvet-covered iron gauntlet. Her feelings were a tangled mess that defied her understanding.
She felt very unwise indeed.
***
The moment her foot touched the lower floor, Shannon felt eyes upon her. It was different than the night she had arrived. Now curious looks were aimed her way, and even several approving ones. Most of the tables were still in use, the younger boys all watching her while they sat in front of bowls of hot cereal.
Brockton inclined his head when her gaze touched on him. He fell into step behind her when she made her way toward the hearth. A bowl was handed to her with a smile this morning.
Shannon resisted the urge to be annoyed. Allowing her temper to rise would be to say she preferred to be hated. Her belly rumbled, so she sat down to eat. A moment later another girl sat down next to her.
“I am Isa. My mother told me to sit with ye because no one should have to eat alone.” The girl had a dusting of freckles across both cheeks, and her eyes danced with merriment. “But truthfully I am dying to know if the rumor is true, and to my mother’s shame and my father’s delight, I’m bold enough to ask ye straight.”
“If what rumor is true?”
Isa smiled and leaned close. “Did it take four men to bring ye down?” The girl’s eyes had gone wide with her question, and she looked as though she was holding her breath while waiting on the answer. “Tera told me so. She’s sister to Devyn, who was one of the four the laird sent after ye. He claimed it was four, but I still have to hear it from yer own lips.”
The girl chattered faster than a spring river ran, but there was something irresistible in being included in conversations again, especially ones that were about nothing important but made you feel like you were at home.
Shannon suddenly smiled, because no matter what colors they wore, Scots liked their legends. Apparently she had become a bit of one herself.
“Well… I did have a horse… and the night to shield me…”
***
“The laird has guests arriving. The Cameron and the Lindsey.”
Baeth began issuing orders for the cook and maids, but her eyes kept straying to Shannon. It was clear that the other Highlanders were arriving to discuss the murder of the king and what her fate would be.
“Laird Lindsey asked that ye bring him up a pitcher of water.” Baeth paused with a frown on her lips. “But ’tis the first time I’ve ever heard that man asking for water.”
Shannon felt her cheeks turn hot,
and it was most definitely due to her temper. Connor Lindsey might just get his pitcher of water poured over his arrogant head. She followed Baeth through the hall and toward the smaller tower. This one was the oldest, and the construction was very basic. Sound echoed more because there were no tapestries hung on the walls to absorb it. Built in a round fashion, the stones were light gray, with mortar holding them together. On the main floor sat large tables pulled together to form a triangle. Torin sat at one with his captains, and Connor Lindsey was at another. The third man in the room wore a plaid that was yellow, orange, and black. He had dark hair, and even sitting down, she couldn’t miss the fact that he was a large man. Secretaries were sitting behind their lairds, a slight scratching coming from their quills. Shannon felt the muscles across her back tighten. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.
She followed Baeth toward the cupboard. It was nothing more than a long table behind the main tables. It was where the young boys stood with their masters’ cups, each lad assigned the task of ensuring that no one had the chance to slip poison into the vessel that he was guarding. When one of the men at the main tables lifted his hand, the boy tending to him would move forward with his cup, but the lad would return the cup to the cupboard, because there were parchments on the tables and paper was very expensive.
More than one man turned to look at her. Shannon refused to tuck her chin, and that gained her more than one approving grin. Baeth snapped her fingers, and the sound drew Shannon toward the doorway along with the other women, but she hesitated in the hallway, wanting to remain and hear what was being said. Whatever those lairds and captains decided, it would affect her more than anyone. But her gender set her apart from them.
It also protected her.
She shivered, suddenly realizing that if she were a son, she would no doubt be dead now.
“Come along, lass. There is nothing to gain by standing here worrying.”
“Ye’re right.”
But that did not make it any easier to pick up her feet.
***
It rained in the afternoon. There was much to be done, and a crack of thunder across the sky surprised all of them. Shannon raced around the tower with the rest of the McLeren women to rescue the drying laundry pinned to ropes that ran up the stone face of the tower. The storm did not come in gently but shook the ground with thunder that echoed between the hills. Lightning split open the dark clouds, and rain pelted them while they tried to pull in the laundry. Shannon filled a basket and ran for the doorway, her own clothing plastered against her skin. Her shoes slipped on the stone floor once she was inside. Her basket flew into the air as she tumbled toward the floor.
But she never hit it. A pair of strong arms caught her, pulling her away from what promised to be a painful landing.
“And Baeth says ye argued about going to see the cobbler.”
Torin didn’t put her down but held her as though she weighed nothing. He frowned at her. “I told ye that shoes are foolish in the Highlands, lass.”
“I went to the cobbler.”
One dark eyebrow rose, but his lips also curved with arrogant satisfaction. Shannon pressed a hand against his chest.
“Go gloat somewhere else.”
He allowed her feet to drop but held onto one wrist. His eyes flickered with something else now, and she stared at it, mesmerized by the heat.
“But I came in to steal a few moments with ye, sweet Shannon. And why can I nae be pleased that ye will be comfortable in my tower? Those shoes are meant for summer.”
His fingers clasped her hand, and he pulled her along behind him, away from the bustle of the women crowding into the kitchens with their loads. Their chatter faded as Torin tugged her farther into the maze of hallways. He finally stopped and looked both ways before ducking behind a large weapons stand. There were only a few feet of space behind the huge wooden stand used for long bows and spears.
Torin pressed her up against the stone wall.
“Ahh, just what a stormy afternoon was truly made for. Trysting in dark corners.” He leaned down and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. There was water on her cheeks, but that didn’t stop him from claiming her lips and pressing them open for his tongue. Passion began to burn inside her, her passage clamoring for attention.
“Torin…”
He didn’t give heed to her tone but reached for the sides of her gowns.
“Someone will come upon us.”
He pulled her garment up, baring her ankles and knees. “I shouldn’t have told ye about fucking up against walls. I haven’t been able to get the idea out of me head since the words crossed my lips.”
She slapped at him, but he grinned at her and pulled her gowns higher. He slipped his hands beneath the fabric and onto the backs of her thighs. A shiver shook her, delight racing down her legs as he gently smoothed his warm hands over her.
“Do ye like this, Shannon? My stroking yer thighs?”
He was whispering against her neck, intensifying the pleasure his touch produced with his words.
“Ye… ye shouldn’t talk about it…” Her voice shook, but a soft moan escaped her lips as those warm hands continued to slide and massage her thighs. He bent his knees so that he might cover the area between her knees and bottom.
“Haven’t ye ever enjoyed hearing a story told to ye?”
“This is nae a story.”
His hands slipped between her legs to stroke her inner thighs. Sensation rushed through her, igniting a need that was very receptive to his moods.
“Why can it nae be a story? Just because it is about trysting and passion?” He laughed low and deep. “Well, I’ve heard more than one tale of that.”
“Is that so?”
He laughed again, this time soothing her with another kiss. It wasn’t as hard as the first, which made it intoxicating. She moved her lips beneath his, kissing him back because she just didn’t want to ignore the moment. It was wicked to be sure, but it was also exhilarating to know he’d come looking for her when there were no doubt plenty of his own clan who would ease his lust.
Torin wanted her.
She flattened her hands against his neck and smoothed them up to where his hair began, mimicking the motions of his hands. A soft groan came from his lips, so slight, she felt the vibration more than heard it. She was suddenly eager for each stolen touch, savoring the forbidden moment. Baeth’s words echoed in her memory. She reached down, moving his kilt aside. His cock was hard and swollen, and he didn’t waste any time. He lifted her up, her knees parting so that he might step between them. He did press her back against the wall, using his strength to keep her there. The head of his cock nudged her folds, testing how receptive she was. His breath hit her neck, and she wrapped her arms around his.
She felt too hot, longing for privacy that would allow them to shed their clothing. But the hard press of his cock against her passage was too delightful to postpone enjoying. Her body longed to be possessed right then, and she allowed more of her weight to press down onto that hard flesh.
A soft grunt teased her ear, and Torin surged upward, his hard length filling her completely. She whimpered, unable to contain all the pleasure flooding her.
“I see I am not the only one thinking of the other.” Torin meant to tease her, but his voice was harsh with need. His hips thrust back and forth, pushing her closer to the point where she would not be able to hold in her pleasure.
It was deep pleasure too. Hot and shearing, urging her to move faster because she could not bear to wait. She craved him, craved the pleasure that would soon be hers.
“More.”
Her voice was a mere whisper, but Torin heard her. He bit her neck, a sharp yet intensely pleasurable sting that raced down her body to join the boiling need threatening to have her whimpering loudly enough for anyone to hear.
Torin pressed a hard kiss against her li
ps, sealing both their cries inside her mouth. Every muscle strained, pulling taut while rapture broke deep inside her belly. The sides of her passage clasped his length tighter to pull his seed from him. She didn’t have to wait very long. Torin strained toward her, lodging his cock deep inside her while his seed flooded her.
Shannon lost track of time. Her fingers toyed with Torin’s hair, and she wondered why she had never played with it before. He remained deep inside her, his chest rising and falling rapidly against her own. They were both wet, but neither of them was chilled.
“Sweet Shannon, I’m becoming yer slave.”
His words pleased her too much. Dread wrapped around her heart as the future stretched out with its shadows of plots that neither of them might prevent.
Yet at the same time they were completely hidden away, with no one and nothing to interrupt them. Torin allowed her legs to come down, and her gowns fell to cover her once more, but he wrapped his arms around her, turning her away from him before pulling her tighter against him and binding her firmly to him. The thunder rumbled, echoing along the hallways, but Shannon discovered herself listening to Torin’s heart more.
“Ye should be wearing an arisaid, but there is a part of me that enjoys seeing that ye have set yer old one aside.” She realized why he was in back of her now; the man was hiding his expression from her. But trying to move proved impossible. Torin sighed and nuzzled her neck.
“It would please me greatly to see ye in my colors, Shannon.”
It was an admission, one that she doubted many lairds would make. He was setting aside his pride for her, and she did not miss that fact. It would be simple for him to force his will on her, and once again she noticed that he didn’t do so. He asked, which was a greater freedom than she had ever known.
“I thank ye for asking.”
“So ye’ll think on it?”
There was eagerness in his voice. Part of her wanted to say yes so badly, she struggled to keep it contained.
“And what of the widows that my father recently made among yer people? I do nae think they will be very pleased to see me in McLeren wool.”
