She dropped her dress, her brow furrowed in anger. “Now listen here, Alec Bowie. I be yer wife, no’ one of yer men. Ye do no’ order me to do anythin’. If I want to go below stairs to cook, then I shall.”
He let out a short breath. In two long strides he was in front of her, lifting her into his arms. “Then do no’ consider it an order. Consider it a request.”
Alec would be damned before he allowed her to work herself to the bone again. He kissed her forehead before depositing her onto the bed.
Sullenly, she folded her arms across her bosom. “I really do feel better Alec,” she told him.
“I can see that you do,” he said. “But ye’re to remain abed.”
“I am no’ a child,” she mumbled under her breath.
Alec leaned in and kissed her, sweetly at first. But it soon turned wild and passionate. He knew that if he did not stop now, he’d soon have her naked and writhing in passion underneath him.
“I ken verra well ye be no’ a child,” he told her after breaking the kiss.
Her lips were swollen, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight as she tried to steady her breathing. Playfully, he added, “Now do as ye’re told.”
Contentment turned to fury in the blink of an eye. Swinging her legs over the bed, she tried to escape. He caught her around the waist. “If ye do no’ wish to be treated like a child, then stop actin’ like one,” he chuckled against her ear. “Else ye will force me to take away yer clothes and leave ye naked.”
“Ye would no’ dare!” she exclaimed as she fought to free herself from his tight grip.
Once again, he put her in the bed. “Gylys! Kyth!” he called out.
With wide, uncertain eyes, she asked, “What are ye goin’ to do?”
“Tie ye to the bed if I must. The choice be yers.”
Chapter 23
Two days had passed since Leona’s battle with table and rope. Two full days where Alec would not let her out of their bedchamber. He’d caught her once, the day before, trying to slip out of their room. Being the stubborn lout he was, he did the only thing he could think to do. He removed her trunk, her cloak, her boots, and left her with nothing but her nightdress. He even had the audacity to take her robe! He knew full well she’d rather die than have anyone, least of all his men, see her in such a state.
I told ye that ye were no’ leavin’ this room again until I gave ye permission. Ye are to rest.
Oh, she understood, she truly did, the reasons behind his actions. In truth, it did make her feel cared for. However, a body could only take so much looking after before she lost her mind.
To add insult to injury, she was hungry. Bloody hungry! Oh, she appreciated her husband’s efforts to cook for her. But he failed at every attempt. The food was either burnt or horribly undercooked. She had taken to having Kyth and Gylys smuggle her apples, cheese and bread after each of Alec’s meals.
What she would not give to have a bowl of stew. Or a hunk of venison. Anything but burnt ham or apples and cheese.
She sat now, alone in her chamber, trying to remain hopeful that on the morrow, he would ease up on her restrictions and allow her to do that which made her happiest: take care of him and the keep.
Alec was doing his best to provide a good meal for his wife. He decided that instead of cooking as she would for him, he would cook the only way he knew how: on an open fire and out of doors. ’Twas not exactly like he would were he on a hunting trip or travelling across the country, but ‘twould do for now.
Thankfully, the rains had let up that morn, leaving behind a muddy yard, but an otherwise fine, bright day. The chickens squawked each time he walked by. In the distance, he could hear the occasional snicker from the horses in the stables. Birds flew silently overhead: little black dots against the pale blue sky and wispy white clouds. In a small pen, in the farthest corner of the yard, a sow and her babes slept contentedly in the mud.
Earlier, he had sent a handful of men to fish and he was grateful that they’d been quite successful. They’d just returned with baskets filled with fine, good-sized trout they’d caught from the wide, meandering stream that ran through the northern part of their lands. It lay not far from the old keep, crooked and twisted. Deep in many parts, it could almost always be counted upon to provide a good bounty.
Alec took what fish he wanted — three goodly sized trout — and left the rest to his men. Before they left, he asked for their assistance in pulling one of Leona’s tables out of doors, to use as a workspace to clean the fish and prepare the meal.
Once the table was placed where he wanted it, he fetched two buckets of fresh, cold water. One, he set on the hearth to warm, the other, he kept on the table. Before long, he not only had the perfect fire built, he also had the fish wrapped in clay and baking in the fire.
Knowing his wife as he did, she would appreciate a wee bit more than fish. Loping along to her garden he picked carrots, leeks, onions, and various other vegetables. He’d roast those in the fire along with the fish.
For once, he did not leave the mess to wait for another day. Tossing the scraps and scales into a bucket, he took them to the pig pen and tossed them in. The pigs squealed their appreciation, and fought over the bits and pieces.
Grabbing cloths from his wife’s kitchen — which he had yet to clean — he wiped down the table as well as his knife. ‘Twould take a while for the fish and vegetables to bake in the open fire. With time on his hands, he decided it might be best to tackle the messes he’d been leaving in Leona’s kitchen.
Once he stepped back into the building however, the task seemed daunting. Ye’ve certainly mucked it up, he thought with a heavy sigh. ’Twill take hours to clean it all. Mayhap ye should just wait and start in the morn.
Although he knew his wife would have a fit if she saw the destruction he’d wrought in her favorite place on earth, he convinced himself he would get to things on the morrow, when he had more time to devote to it. For now, he had to tend to the foods cooking in the open fire.
Setting the stool against the outside wall, he sat down. With his long legs stretched out, he rested his head and shoulders against the wall and closed his eyes. Immediately, his thoughts turned to his wife, who was above stairs at that very moment. Why do I think of her so often? He wondered silently. Has she put some sort of spell on me, to make me forget all that my father taught me? ’Twas doubtful. Nay, there was not an evil bone in Leona’s body. She was no more a witch than he was the King of Scotia.
He could not remember falling asleep and was startled awake by the sound of someone speaking softly to him as they nudged his shoulder. He flew to his feet, his hand immediately reaching for the sword at his side.
It took only a moment for his eyes to focus, another moment to realize he was in no danger.
“Yer food was burnin’, m’laird.” ’Twas the wee lass from the day before. The one Hexie and Matildis were so eager to be done with.
Instantly, he went to retrieve the foods, but they were no longer in the fire.
“I took it out,” the young girl said. “It all be on the table.”
Glancing at the table, he could see the smoke rising from the clay.
“I think it be no’ too far done,” the girl offered.
Alec looked back to her. “Thank ye,” he said, unable to recall her name.
A long moment passed as they looked at one another. ’Twas the girl who finally broke the silence. “I be Adhaira,” she told him. “We met yester afternoon.”
“I remember,” Alec told her. ’Twas only a partial untruth. He recognized her face, but his mind had failed to produce a name to go with it. “What brings ye here this day?”
She neither hemmed nor hawed, choosing instead to get right to the point. “Hexie and the others have asked me to leave.”
“Bloody hell,” he cursed under his breath. Frustration rose. Had he not specifically told the women that he expected them to keep the lass under their protection? At least until he had discussed the matter with
his wife? He was fully prepared to have them brought to the keep immediately so that he could mete out an appropriate punishment.
“They have been askin’ me to leave fer some time now,” Adhaira added. “I ken ye said I was to stay with them until ye talked to yer wife. But m’laird, I simply can no’ do it any longer.”
Confused, he asked, “Do they ken ye be here?”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “Nay, m’laird. They be too busy entertainin’.”
He was in no mood at the moment to deal with the insignificant arguments of a group of women. “Unfortunately, I have yet to discuss the matter with me wife.”
Disappointment flashed in her light brown eyes. “I understand, m’laird,” she said with a curtsy. “Ye might want to tend to yer meal before it grows cold.” Without saying another word, she picked up a satchel from beside the fire and left him.
He grabbed a tray and set the still smoking foods on it. On the morrow, he told himself. I shall clean the kitchen and discuss the matter of Adhaira Bowie with me wife.
Leona was astonished at the meal Alec had placed before her. A trencher of fine baked fish and roasted vegetables, fresh fruits, bread, and he’d even remembered the butter and jam. “Who prepared this meal?” she asked.
“I did,” he replied with a proud smile. “The fish was caught just this afternoon. I built a wee fire out of doors and cooked it like I would have were I on a huntin’ trip.”
She pulled off a bite of the steaming fish with her fingers, inspected it as she blew it to cool it off. It smelled heavenly and tasted even better. She closed her eyes, as if in the throws of ecstasy. It all but melted in her mouth. “’Tis divine,” she said with a happy moan. “I did no’ ken ye could cook so well!”
Just why he felt so proud at the moment, he couldn’t rightly say. Neither could he explain why it made him so bloody happy to see her so happy, so content.
While his wife dived into the meal with the same fervor as a religious zealot, Alec watched, barely eating, for he was too enraptured with Leona.
“I swear,” she said with a mouth full of vegetables, “that I shall never complain about being ordered to bed. Especially if ye’ll be cookin’ like this.”
He could only chuckle at her declaration, for he knew that, come the morrow, she’d be back to complaining and insisting she was well enough to get back to being the chatelaine of the keep.
They ate the rest of their meal in companionable silence. Leona finished before he did. “If I dare say it, Alec Bowie, ye have surprised me this night! I thank ye fer such a fine meal.” She smiled as she tried to suppress a yawn, but failed miserably in the attempt. Snuggling back into the bed, ’twas her turn to watch as he ate.
“Ye be a confusin’ man at times,” she said as she folded her arms behind her head.
“Me?” he asked with quirked brow. “I be as easy to understand as any man.”
Leona laughed. “Which be no’ at all,” she told him. “Most men are as confusin’ as the day is long.”
Setting his trencher on the floor by his feet, he leaned over the bed to look her directly in the eye. “Now, what be so confusin’?” he asked playfully.
“Sometimes, I think there be two Alec Bowies,” she told him. “And at times, I do no’ ken which one I will be speakin’ to.”
He had no earthly idea what she meant, and told her so.
“When we be alone, ye be the kindest man. Verra carin’, and aye, even sweet.”
He raised an insulted brow. “I am never ‘sweet’,” he told her.
“Think ye no’?” she asked. To her way of thinking, the way he’d been caring for her was beyond kind. Sweet was the only word she could think to describe it. “Would ye feel better if I called ye a bloody bastard?”
“I would!” he declared with a devilishly handsome smile.
“As I was sayin’,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “There be two of ye. The one ye are when people be about and the one ye are when we be alone.”
“I am the same at all times, lass,” he argued.
Leona gave a slow shake of her head. “Ye never kiss me when others are around. And ye never tell me ye think me beautiful, like ye do when we be alone.”
“Of course I do no’ do or say those things when others are about.” He looked appalled at the notion of such public displays.
“That be what confuses me,” she told him.
Alec was dismayed. “What happens when we are alone, is betwixt ye and I. ’Tis private, lass.” What he did not say was that he found it special, something he wanted only unto himself. The rest of the world could find their own special moments, their own little bit of paradise.
Believing she had upset him, Leona apologized. “I be sorry, Alec. I only meant to say it be confusin’.”
He realized that Leona was always herself, no matter who was about. She did not know how to put on a false front, to present herself differently in public. It struck him then that never had he met a more honest person, nor a more giving or caring one.
Would it be so wrong, on occasion, to show the rest of the world what he thought of his wife? That he appreciated her goodness, her generosity? Uncertainty fell over him. This, this he would have to give much thought to.
Alec woke, the sunlight streaming in through a tiny crack betwixt the furs covering their window. As was beginning to become ritual, Leona’s round bottom was pressed against his groin, his arm around her waist. He had to admit ’twas an awfully nice way to wake each morn.
In all his adult life, he’d never actually slept with a woman. He thought back to the days before he was married, before he was chief. Back to those days of drinking and visiting the whorehouses in Edinburgh.
Not once, in all his days, had a woman voluntarily shared his bed. And those that he purchased, he’d never bothered to stay with for more than a few moments after the deed was done.
My, how his life had changed in just a few short weeks. Was it simply his life that had changed, or had he become someone different as well? Circumstance alone, or something more? Something deeper and far more profound?
Leona stirred next to him, drawing his arm more tightly around her waist. Experience and time told him she was still asleep. His heart began to pound ferociously against his chest. In her sleep, she seeks me out. Draws me nearer and holds on to me. Even after my mistreatment of her.
Was it truly mistreatment or ignorance? Definitely ’twas ignorance. He had never intentionally mistreated her. ’Twas his own lack of experience, he supposed, with the opposite sex, that made him ignore the signs that most men probably would have seen.
Mayhap, just mayhap, his wee wife saw something in him that he could not see himself.
Or mayhap, they were simply two tetched and daft people who fate had brought together.
There was little doubt in Alec’s mind that he’d be unable to keep his wife abed for much longer. He simply needed one more day in which to get her kitchen back in order. If she were ever to see the hopeless, chaotic state in which he’d left it, she’d most likely kill him with her bare hands.
Quietly, he dressed in the near dark room and slipped out without waking Leona. Though he dreaded the task that lay looming before him like a scourge, he knew he must face it head-on.
Bracing himself for the chore ahead, he swung open the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. Shock turned to abject confusion when he saw the condition of the kitchen. ’Twas as clean and organized as if Leona herself had cleaned it. Nary a dirty pot or spoon was anywhere to be found. The flour he’d spilled on the floor had been swept away, the tables and counters cleaned of the debris and messes he’d created over the past few days. A fire blazed in the hearth, the candles were lit and all aglow.
Had his wife somehow managed to slip away from bed during the night, seen what he had done, and set it to rights before he’d even known she was gone?
’Twas then that someone stepped out of the larder.
Adhaira?
“Go
od morn, m’laird!” she beamed happily. “I ken ye said to return to Hexie and the others. But when I came back last night and saw the state of this kitchen, well, I could no’ just leave it. And rumor has it, ye have been burnin’ one meal after another, tryin’ to take care of yer wife.”
For a long moment, he could not find his own voice.
“I kent ye would no’ mind a little bit of help,” she said as she began to unload the items from her arms. “Gylys was tellin’ me last eve, that were yer wife to see what ye had done to her kitchen, she would be sorely upset. So the two of us set it all back to rights. Up quite late we were.”
“How?” he stammered. “How did ye get in here?” His memory of the night before answered his own question.
“Through the door, of course,” she answered. “How else would I get in?”
He had not returned after supping with his wife, had not come back to lock the doors. “We usually keep the kitchen locked,” he mumbled.
“Well, it were no’ locked last eve,” she said as she placed one hand on her hip. “M’laird, be ye angry?”
Alec shook his head. “Nay, lass. I be quite grateful to ye.” Although it might have been considered a sweeping intrusion, he was so ecstatic with how clean everything was, he did not care. Were he not a married man, he would have swept the young woman up and kissed her, so great was his relief and gratitude. He’d also have to thank Gylys for his help.
“I can leave if ye wish,” she told him, eying him closely.
“Nay!” he all but shouted. “Nay,” he tried once again. “I am certain me wife will be grateful to have ye here.” I ken that I be!
“Good!” she replied with a relieved smile. “I was about to make ye a bit of somethin’ to break yer fast. Unless ye’d like that chore to yerself?”
“Good, God, no!” he exclaimed. “I mean, I would thank ye kindly if ye’d see to it.”
Her expression said she thought him awfully odd. He couldn’t rightly blame her.
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 29
