Home encompassed all those things. Home was where one felt at peace, safe, and content. Those were the things that had been missing in her life.
In addition to a home, she wanted very much to make Alec proud of her. Never did she want him to come to regret his decision to marry her. Completely prepared to do everything and anything she must in order to achieve that end, she looked forward to this new beginning.
They rode for several hours, stopping only long enough to rest their horses or tend to nature’s call. The men rarely spoke, which was fine with her, for it gave her time to think. To gather her thoughts and to plan on how she would behave as mistress of the Bowie keep.
Today, she did not fall asleep in her saddle. Her eagerness to see her new home from a different perspective, propelled her forward.
Alec called for a stop again. This time, they rested near a meandering stream. He helped her down, for which she thanked him. She could not help but notice his hands lingered at her waist a bit longer than was necessary. Not that she minded. Nay, she rather liked how tiny his large hands made her waist feel.
Kyth spread a blanket out in the tall summer grass. Dougall brought the basket of food Rose had sent with them.
“Thank ye, Kyth,” Leona told him, offering him a bright smile. “Ye are far too kind.”
He looked as though she’d just slapped him, but she was in too good a mood, too happy to take notice.
Sitting as elegantly and as ladylike as she could, she looked out at the land before her. ’Twas beautiful, with the tall grass, the stream, the azure sky. Birds fluttered overhead, calling out to one another. Their horses nibbled at the grass next to the babbling brook.
All in all ’twas as serene and peaceful a day as she could ever remember having.
Gylys handed her a mug of cool ale, for which she thanked him kindly. “Ye’re a good man, Gylys. Such a gentleman. I thank ye.”
Mindlessly, she took the hunk of cheese Dougall offered, along with a handful of berries. “Och, Dougall, I be famished! Ye’re such a good, kind man. I thank ye.”
’Twas then she noticed them staring at her. They were appalled by something, but what, she did no’ ken. “Have I something on me face?” she asked, as she began to wipe at her face to dislodge whatever the offending thing might be.
Alec chuckled as he sat down beside her. “Ye have to quit insultin’ me men, lass.”
Insulting his men? “Surely ye jest,” she said.
He gave a slow shake of his head. “In the past few moments, ye’ve called them good and kind. Ye even called Gylys a gentleman.”
Dougall cleared his throat. “Pardon, me mistress, but we would all thank ye kindly to no’ be sayin’ such things about us. It be insultin’.”
Her eyes grew wide right before understanding set in. These were Bowies. Thieves, murderers, and God only knew what else. They took pride in the reputations they’d incurred over the years.
“Verra well, Dougall. Should anyone ask how ye behaved on this journey, I shall tell them ye were unkind and rude.”
He smiled at her. He actually smiled. Proudly.
“And if anyone should ask of Gylys? Why, I shall tell them he was just as rude, makin’ me sit on the prickly grass. Very un-gentlemanly.”
Gylys’ eyes lit up, his shoulders righted with such pride and relief ’twas almost laughable.
“As fer Kyth? He made me to suffer with drinkin’ from the stream. A rude lout if ever there was one.”
He was just as proud as his companions.
“And what of our laird?” Kyth asked. “What will ye say about him?”
Leona turned to stare into her husband’s eyes. What would the opposite of generous, handsome, kind, passionate, tender, or sweet be?
Taking in a deep breath, she said, “I shall tell them he was the most ruthless, meanest, and biggest bloody bastard of them all.”
Leona could not tell if he was hungry or angry. Long moments stretched by as they ate in silence. Suddenly, he declared she needed to make use of a tree. “But I really—” He gave her no time to argue.
Hauling her to her feet, he pulled her away from the stream, and headed for a small thicket, a good distance from his men.
More than half an hour later, they emerged from that thicket, looking quite blissfully happy. Dougall and the others had repacked the food and were waiting by the horses. Each of them dared not look at their laird, elst he would see their knowing grins.
Alec picked bits of twigs and leaves from his wife’s hair as they strode toward their mounts. Dougall cast him a knowing smile, which he answered with a furious glare that warned his cousin to be silent.
Chapter 7
Leona had been to this castle only once before, when she was helping Rose Mackintosh escape from it. Back then, she’d been far too worried about getting out alive to pay attention to any of its finer qualities.
If there were any ‘finer qualities’ to this keep, she was hard pressed to find them.
Twilight had fallen and it only leant to the ominous air and presence. Dark and unpromising, three towers stood high and menacing, each five stories tall. They were positioned on the north, east, and west sides, with the main keep — three stories high — in the middle. The structure was surrounded by a thick, massive stone wall, manned by even thicker, massive men.
Silently, she prayed her husband was unable to sense her trepidation. If she’d been on her own mount, she might have been tempted to flee.
Oh, she searched for something positive to say. Searched and searched until her head throbbed. Finally, she settled on complimenting her husband on how safe the keep appeared.
“I doubt anyone will try to lay siege, aye?”
He took her compliment with a great measure of pride. It even caused him to smile. She found she rather liked his smile, for it made his eyes twinkle.
The drawbridge creaked and groaned as it was lowered across the moat. Alec gave her a slight hug as he clicked his tongue and encouraged his horse to proceed forward.
Once through the main wall, they spilled out onto a large yard. Men came out from seemingly nowhere to take their horses. Alec slid down first, then helped Leona. Sharp needles of pain pricked at the soles of her feet, but she said nothing.
They swept through the second wall and into a wide yard. A tall man with light brown hair, came rushing around the northern corner of the keep. Leona thought he looked apprehensive, quite worried about something. Ready to do battle, dressed from head to toe in padded vestments, mail, and armor. In one hand he carried a large stick, with a loop of rope at one end. In his other, a steel studded targe.
“M’laird!” he called out as he approached.
“Seamus,” Alec said curiously.
Before Alec could ask the man anything, he started shaking his head. Beside himself, he stammered, “He’s out, m’laird.”
Alec sucked in a deep breath. His men unsheathed their swords, taking stances as if to prepare for battle.
Just who he was, Leona hadn’t a clue. But he must be a terrifying madman to spark such a response from Alec and his men, and to have Seamus dressed for war. Seeking out her husband for safety, she clung to his arm, terror seizing her heart. “Alec? What be the matter?”
“’Tis the beast, m’lady,” Seamus answered. “She be yer lady, right m’laird?” he asked Alec as an afterthought.
“Aye, Seamus, she be my lady and yer mistress.” That was as far as introductions would proceed. “How long has he been out?”
“More than an hour m’laird. Chased every man to the walls.”
Alec raked a hand through his hair. Dougall, Kyth, and Gylys were making a wide circle around their laird and his lady.
The beast? She envisioned a tall, hulking man with a bald head, fangs for teeth, and hands the size of buckets. What on earth was Alec doing with someone so terrifying in his keep? Was he a prisoner who had escaped the dungeons? More fear raced up and down her spine.
Just as she was about to inquire as to why her husband wa
s holding such a dangerous man, she heard each of her champions gasp. Their attention was on something to the east.
Leona followed their gaze. Coming toward them was a massive bandogge. With his square jaw, long legs and giant feet, he was by far the biggest dog she’d ever seen. He was covered in black, bristly hair, save for a patch of white around his right eye.
Dougall held out an arm in front of Leona. “Do. Not. Move,” he warned her, his words clipped, jarring.
Relief washed over her. A dog she could handle, but not the murderous man she had conjured in her mind.
Slowly, Dougall took Leona’s hand. “Just step away from our laird, m’lady. ’Tis him he wants.”
Upon seeing his laird, the dog began racing across the yard.
“Alec be the only one he likes or listens to,” Dougall whispered, as he carefully drew his mistress away, one tiny step at a time.
The dog ran to his master, stood on his hind legs with his paws on his chest, where he summarily greeted him with a wagging tail and slobbery kisses.
“Och, ye big beasty!” Alec exclaimed as he petted the dog’s back and head.
Relief surged through her. Alec had the matter completely under control. Mayhap the men were over-reacting. Her shoulders relaxed, her face softening.
Until the dog turned to face her. Normally, she was not at all frightened by dogs, until Dougall began behaving as if her life were in great peril. The dog licked his chops once, then again, and began to saunter toward her.
All at once, she was frozen in place and came dangerously close to losing control of her bladder.
Dougall was fully prepared to plunge his sword into the dog’s heart, to protect his lady. Alec immediately withdrew his own sword, apparently ready to do the same.
But the dog did not attack, nor growl, or present an aggressive stare or stance. Nay, instead, he sniffed her hand, then licked it. Before she realized it, he was bestowing much dog-like affection on her. Slobbery kisses, whimpers, and the like.
“Och!” she said playfully. “Ye’re no beast, are ye?” she squished his face betwixt her hands and kissed his nose. “Nay, ye’re just a puppy. A big old, slobbery wittle puppy.”
Alec and his men stood dumbfounded. The bandogge liked no one, save for his master. But he was licking and slobbering all over Leona, as if the woman had raised him from a pup.
’Twas beyond astonishing. ’Twas bloody unbelievable. The bandogge was licking his wife’s face. She was kissing it in return. And speaking in irritatingly sickening sweet voice. As if the massive dog were a wee bairn, and not a beast trained to protect the keep. A beast trained to answer only unto him. A beast who could tear a man from limb to limb at Alec’s command.
“That be a good wee puppy,” Leona cooed affectionately.
His wife had broken his blood-thirsty hound.
Broken him.
“And what is yer name, ye handsome puppy?” she asked, as if she expected the damned animal to answer.
Seamus stuttered a response. “We call him Satan, lass.”
Alec could only watch, stunned mute, as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that his bandogge, his dog, was not ripping out his wife’s heart. Nay, he was nuzzling his nose against her face, licking her, with his tail wagging gleefully.
“Satan?” Leona repeated. Looking to Alec, she said, “Certainly, he jests?”
“What did ye do to me dog?” Alec asked Seamus.
“N-nothin’, m’laird, I swear it. He damned near took a chunk out of Fergus’s arse no’ more than an hour ago.”
Tempting fate or the gods, Kyth took a step forward, stunned with the miraculous change in Satan’s countenance since last he’d seen him. He was but three steps away when the dog turned and snarled at him. A low, guttural growl that turns a man’s blood to ice.
“Satan!” Leona called his name as she stomped her foot. “Be nice!”
Be nice?
Was his wife mad? Insane? Tetched?
“He is a bandogge, fer the sake of Christ! Not a puppy!” Alec stomped toward his wife and grabbed the dog’s collar. “He’s a vicious, blood-thirsty animal, meant to protect me, my family, and my keep.”
Leona did not know what she’d done to elicit such an angry response from her husband. “Was he supposed to bite me?” she asked before casting a loving smile toward the dog.
“Of course he was supposed to bite ye!” Alec ground out. “He is a bloody bandogge!”
“Really, Alec, I do no’ ken why ye’re shoutin’ at me. I did nothin’ to yer dog.” She attempted to point out the folly of his argument. “The fault is no’ with me, but with yer dog. Och! But please, do no’ yell at him. He be just a puppy. Ye can yell at me.”
A distinct throbbing began in his temple, right behind his left eye. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten, took another cleansing breath and opened his eyes.
His wife stood before him, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes diverted to the ground, and looking as though she was bracing herself for his wrath. She was perfectly willing to subject herself to his tirade so he wouldn’t yell at Satan. As if he would do either.
To the dog, he said, “Satan, go with Seamus.” The dog did as he was bid, happily padding toward the not so assured Seamus.
“I be terribly sorry, Alec,” she murmured softly.
It dawned on him that his dog was behaving much like himself. A simpering fool when it came to Leona. ’Twas irksome. Irritating. Terrifying.
Alec held out his hand to his wife and said, “Come with me.”
He took note of the tremble in her fingers, the way she swallowed repeatedly, either swallowing back tears or retorts.
With her hand in his, he led her up the steps and into the keep. He paused just inside the foyer. “Lass, I need ye to understand that Satan is a guard dog. He is no’ a puppy, nor a lapdog. I can no’ have anyone treatin’ him as such.”
She apologized again, her voice but a whisper.
“Ye must understand that I can no’ have ye treatin’ him as if he were a kitten.”
“Of course no’, Alec,” she murmured.
“Good. As long as ye understand.”
She said nothing but he could not help but think there was much she did want to say. The last thing he wanted to do was to argue with his wife. Nay, what he truly wished was to take her to their chamber and join with her. Pushing those lustful and lascivious thoughts aside for the time being, he led her into the keep.
At such a late hour, the keep was dark, save for a few lit torches. The flames skittered about in the drafty castle, casting everything in the eery glow of dancing shadows. She expected to hear a banshee’s cry at any moment.
They stood in the gathering room, which was completely devoid of anything she might have considered ‘homey’. The walls and floors were bare. Not even a carpet or handful of rushes spread out to stave off the cold seeping through the stone floors.
Two massive fireplaces, both empty, flanked either side of the long, narrow room. Even the dais was empty. The only place to sit was at the one table in the center of the room, surrounded on two sides by wooden benches. The three massive chandeliers drawn completely up, almost to the ceiling, were also bare. The only decoration was the Bowie crest that hung over one of the massive fireplaces.
’Twas a far cry from the opulence she remembered from her last and only visit.
The entire space screamed of desolation. ’Twas enough to bring tears to her eyes.
’Twas not so intolerably late that the people were all abed. At least she didn’t think so. “Where is everyone?” she asked as she crossed the room.
“Everyone?” Alec asked. “What do ye mean?”
Leona peered into the hearth. There had not been a fire set in it for quite some time. “Yer people,” she replied.
Alec shrugged one indifferent shoulder. “In their cottages, I reckon. The unmarried warriors all sleep in the armory.”
Her lips turned to that that delicate ‘o’ again. “And the u
nmarried women?” she asked, trying to gain a clearer image of how things worked here.
“There be no’ many, lass. But of those we do have, they share cottages.”
“But who lives here. In the castle?”
He thought it an odd question. “We do,” he replied, studying her closely.
Just then, Gylys and Kyth stepped into the room. “We’ll put yer bags above stairs,” Gylys said. They did not wait for a response before bounding up the stairs and out of sight.
“The five of us?” She nearly squawked the question.
“Nay, just ye and me.”
Seeing her flash of distress — or disapproval, he wasn’t sure which — Alec came to stand just inches from her. “Be there a problem?”
“Nay,” she said breathlessly. ’Twas impossible to think when he was staring at her like that. She was beginning to recognize that look. The one that said he was secretly divesting her of her clothing and desiring nothing more than to love her wickedly and without abandon.
“There are no servants?” she asked him, tearing her eyes away from his.
He was disappointed in her question. Had she married him hoping for a life of luxury? Of being waited on hand and foot? “No,” he finally replied.
Something close to fear flashed behind those odd eyes of hers. “Does that displease ye?”
“Nay, I am merely trying to gain a sense of how everything works.” She swallowed once, then again, and began to fidget with the strings of her pouch.
Alec’s brow drew inward as he tried to gain a sense of what she was truly thinking. “How everything works is that ’twill be just ye and me livin’ here. After me brother’s death, I gave my people the option of remaining here to work or not.”
“And they chose the ‘or not’,” she said.
“Aye. I gave each of them a bit of land to work in exchange fer workin’ in the bigger fields.”
Clarity finally settled in. He could see it in her eyes. “There were too many bad memories here fer too many people.” ’Twas not a question, more a statement.
Alec nodded.
“So they live away from the keep, but work here during the day,” she said, proud she had figured it out.
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 7
