“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that Lachlan is rather big and long down there I just wondered if–”
“Stop!”
She looked surprised.
“Never talk to me about the size of Lachlan’s cock.” There was fury in his face.
“I didn’t say it was bigger than yours, yours is much bigger but his looks–”
“Enough. I forbid you to think about any mans’ parts.”
“All right.”
They walked in silence for a while.
“And the answer is no. They are not all big and mine is the only one you need concern yourself with.”
“All right, husband.” She kissed his scarred jaw. “I was just curious.”
He just shook his head, “Daft woman.”
***
The following morning Beiste woke to a pleasurable sensation between his legs. He peered down to the view of his buxom wife licking the tip of his very stiff length and pumping him slowly with her fist. She then parted her lips and sucked his entire length into her mouth, giving him a mischievous wink. He groaned and threw his head back, writhing in rhythm with her ministrations. When he could not take any more of her hot wet tongue he growled and in one swoop had her pinned beneath him, her legs spread apart and his head between her thighs.
She was pouting her upper body resting on her elbows glaring down at him, “Beiste! I was trying something new.”
“I appreciate it love but right now I prefer the old way.” With that he began his ministrations and Amelia abandoned her argument. Soon after Beiste was braced above her, a hand resting on either side of her shoulders, hips thrusting driving deep. The sounds of their loud coupling could be heard through-out the Keep, especially when their joint climax resulted in her screaming his name in ecstasy. An hour later Amelia emerged from her chambers looking dazed and well and truly tumbled. As she meandered down the stairs, she had to admit she did not mind the old way either.
***
Chapter 17
Mysterious Plant life
It was a sunny morning and Amelia felt a little queasy and a little under the weather. With Orla accompanying her, she went below to the storeroom to see if she could find some ginger and peppermint to chew. It was a room she had yet to visit since Deidre had kept it under lock and key. “I’ve never been down here.” Said Orla with excitement as if she were going on a grand adventure.
The walked through the opening and marvelled at the sheer delight of the vast expanse of stores.
Amelia found some peppermint and started chewing, “Why has no one been receiving their spices and shares when this place is stocked full?”
“I am surprised as well because cook is always complaining about not having enough stock.” Orla said.
“Come on, we better record what we find here, and I will tally it with the books.”
After a while she and Orla were rummaging in the stores Amelia came across a faint lingering odor; it reminded her of something she had smelled earlier above stairs.
Amelia moved trays and containers and jars until she found the scent and there in the back of a shelf at the top in a dark corner she found it, a strange plant. A vague memory warned her it was dangerous. She wondered why anyone would have this here of all places in with food supplies. She carefully pulled out the tray, noticing there were a few rows missing. It appeared someone had been using this plant, but for what purpose?
It took a few hours to catalogue stock and by then Amelia felt better chewing the ginger and mint.
When she retired upstairs, she went to her private chambers and pulled out her notebook she scanned the sketches until she found an exact match in her mother’s neat drawings including the properties “Datura Stramonium–Jimson Weed a branch of nightshade—a deliriant.”
Why would someone use deliriant on purpose? The smell was so familiar, where had she scented it before? She put her books away and was pacing the room when the door flew open with such force it hit the wall.
She rolled her eyes. Could the man not enter a room quietly like a normal person?
“Are you unwell?” Beiste crossed to her straight away, “Orla said you looked slightly pale?” He started feeling her forehead. “Are ye running a fever? Have you eaten?”
“Beiste I am fine, I just needed to clear my head.”
She moved his hand away from her forehead and clasped it in hers; she kissed his knuckle. “Truly I am all right, I was going to come to bed soon.”
He visibly relaxed.
“I don’t like it when you’re not in our chambers it’s too far.” He blurted out.
“Husband I am right next door.”
“I’m thinking of taking this wall down so there’s no separation at all.”
He began walking the length of the room as if to work out measurements.
“Don’t you dare Beiste MacGregor. You’ll just create unnecessary dust and mayhem.”
Beast knew he was being unreasonable, but when had he been reasonable around his wife? When Orla told him, Amelia was feeling unwell he had panicked. He had gone to their room and waited patiently for a whole ten minutes before the sound of her pacing bothered him. For someone who could never stomach the company of a woman before, he just could not get enough of her and he did not care. Men could be needy too.
“Well, come on then, wife.” He dragged her out of her chambers and locked the door behind him. They walked straight into their room he slammed the door shut. Bent down and kissed her.
After a passionate embrace Amelia asked, “What was that for?”
Beiste replied, “That was for not arguing with me once on the way here, granted it’s a brief walk but we should celebrate milestones.”
She burst into giggles then.
Later that night as Amelia lay in a state of half sleep and half dream it came to her, where she had smelled the Jimson Weed. Jonet’s morning porridge, she first smelled it the morning after the Wedding and once in her evening broth. Deidre prepared her meals each day. Amelia sat up immediately.
“What is it love?” Beiste was awake and alert and sitting up beside her
“Beiste, I think Deidre is poisoning your mother.”
Beiste and Amelia both sat up, dressed and went directly to Jonet’s room. The guard let them pass. Beiste knocked and after no sound they entered and checked on her. Jonet was sound asleep but within minutes of being in the room Amelia smelled the Jimson Weed it was faint but the scent lingered on a cup beside her bed, there was also a scent of valerian a sedative used for sleeping draughts. “What is it, love?” Beiste asked.
“Beiste, your mother has been consuming Jimson Weed in her morn and evening meals and in her sleeping draughts. No wonder she is confused so often.” Beiste wanted to kill someone. Right under his roof someone had been poisoning his mother. Making her confused. But why? What was the purpose?
Beiste immediately made his way to Deidre’s quarters, Amelia holding his hand and following behind. He had already notified the guards to rouse Dalziel and Brodie. Poisoning was a heinous crime it needed three heads to decide the punishment. When he knocked, there was no answer. He opened the door to look inside, but it was empty. Where the devil would Deidre be at this time of night?
He put a guard on her door to notify him when she returned. All the guardsmen were on high alert to look out for her through the Keep. At no point was she to approach Sorcha, Jonet or Amelia.
***
An hour later Dalziel dragged Deidre into the Council room. The first thing Beiste noticed was she looked a mess, which was highly unusual. Her hair was dishevelled whereas it was usually tied back in a tight bun, although she kept her back ramrod straight. She wore a loose-fitting dress with a shawl.
“Before you ask, I have not hurt her, I found her like this wandering around the South wing.” Dalziel put in, lest any Councilman accused him of manhandling her.
After an hour of interrogations, Deidre insisted, she never knew Jimson Weed was a deliriant, and any harm wa
s unintentional. None of the men believed her at all, they knew she was hiding something, but Beiste want her gone so they banished her from MacGregor lands. She cried and pleaded she became so hysterical, but they would not budge. The order went out that if she was spotted anywhere near the Keep; she was to be thrown in the dungeons.
***
Amelia set to work straight away trying to undo the effects of the Jimson Weed on Jonet. She started by changing her entire diet to add more fresh produce and meat and breads and including saffron in her tea. Amelia also wanted the flavour brought back into her fare. Jonet seemed to respond immediately to the taste of fresh oatmeal with stewed apples and a drizzle of honey. Amelia realized how remiss she was not seeing to Jonet’s food earlier and she was determined to see her mother-in-law well again.
***
Chapter 18
Arch enemies
It was some days after the incident with Deidre and all seemed to have settled into a gentle flow over the Keep. Jonet was slowly regaining her appetite and faculties and Amelia continued managing the Keep with Orla’s help. The ledgers were still a mystery, but Amelia needed more time before she took the matter to Beiste.
Another addition to her schedule was she made time to take archery lessons with the new bow Orla fashioned for her. It was at one such lesson Amelia discovered something strange was going on between her close friend and Brodie Fletcher.
Dalziel had scheduled time for the women to use the Archery range for practice down by the Training Grounds and Orla had set up their session. Amelia would join her once she finished her lessons with Sorcha. It was when Amelia approached a little later that she witnessed something she had never seen before. The quiet calm Orla spitting mad and the affable Brodie raging at a woman.
***
Brodie watched Orla polishing the reed of the bow she had made for Amelia. It shone and would provide her mistress an excellent weapon for defence and for hunting. Brodie saw the intricate design and inlay for what it was, superb craftsmanship. He knew she was an exceptional bowyer he had seen her work before. Most men thought it beneath them to take weapons crafted by a woman, but the few archers he knew who had commissioned her to do their bows swore by her skill. She knew how to craft the right specification for each man and her arrows struck true every time. Brodie had admired her from a distance for as long as he could remember, but the feeling was not mutual. Her sharp tongue could flay him alive.
Brodie came closer, mesmerised as he watched her practice. He loved this time of the day when she came to the training grounds. He purposefully made sure he was around to watch as she stretched and taut the bow imagining the direction of the target before she let her arrow fly true, he saw her visibly relax and focus and her breathing slowed; he watched her chest rise and fall and he had never wanted to be a bow so much in his life, to have her touch him like that. He moved even closer and realised his mistake. His shadow threw her off her game when she had just been taking a deep breath to shoot. She turned with the arrow ready to fire and stopped when she saw it was him. She scowled at him.
No woman ever looked at him like he was nothing other than God’s gift. Quicker than she could think he had disarmed her of the bow and arrow and went on the offensive “Well if it isn’t little Orla playing at being a hunter.” He did not even know why he taunted her.
Then the little hoyden mimicked back “Well if it isn’t little Brodie playing at being a man.”
His smiled vanished, replaced by annoyance. “Come now Orla you know I am all man there is nothing little about me. Oh, but wait, you wouldn’t know because you’ve never had a man.” He smirked.
Her quip was instant and biting, “And glad I am of it. Better to be untouched than riddled with the pox.”
Brodie gritted his teeth and towered over her “I do not have the pox.”
She did not even flinch “Oh sorry I didn’t mean you I just meant half the women you bed.”
Now he was livid “I do not lie with pox riddled women and I’d watch my tongue if I were you to spread such vile rumours.”
Orla’s hands were on her hips as she faced off with him “Trust me Brodie Fletcher I don’t talk about you at all. You’re not worth the time.”
Brodie clenched his fists. “Good, make sure you don’t… orphan!”
She grimaced at that word then yelled at him “Asshole.” She then grabbed her bow out of his hand and stormed over to Amelia who had witnessed the entire thing and looked a little shocked.
Brodie could not believe how much that woman got under his skin. She mocked him at every turn. It was unheard of. Women fell over themselves for his attention. There must be something wrong with her was the only explanation he could summon. Touched in the head. That would explain it. That was the last time he would think kindly of her bowyer skills.
“Are you all right Orla?” Amelia asked tentatively as Orla was seething mad.
“Aye I’m fine. Just that bloody brute always gets in my way. Now come on, let’s get started.” She practically ordered. It amused Amelia to see this bossy side of Orla. It was high time her friend stopped letting people walk all over her. Amelia made a note to keep a closer eye on her. She owed her a lot and she would protect her in return.
***
The Missive from Mull
The Council gathered for their regular meeting when a missive arrived. It was from the Macleans. He wondered what business they would want with him. When the parchment was handed over, he paused when he saw the wax seal. He had seen that symbol before on a silver brooch his wife was holding the night he found her in the healer's cottage. He had meant to ask her about it and just never got around to it.
He broke the seal, but dread, and curiosity was already seeping into his veins. When he read the contents it took him time to get his head around it, then he stood and shouted at the messenger.
The Council men stopped their meeting as Beiste threw the letter on the table. “No. You tell your Laird he is not taking my wife.” the messenger paled.
“What is it, brother?”
Brodie gestured for Dalziel to pick up the parchment as he was seated closest, Dalziel immediately picked up the missive and summarized the contents “Chieftain Maclean from the Hebrides claims Amelia as his granddaughter. He’s on his way from the Isle of Mull to retrieve her… he will petition the King for an annulment if he has to.” The entire room went silent. Dalziel spoke again “Brother they will not take her for we will deal with them when they come.”
Beiste who had been standing quietly until then agreed, “Aye, I will cut down any man who tries to take my wife from me.”
That night when Amelia returned to their chambers, the room was in disarray with drawers and chests opened, clothes strewn about the floor and Beiste sat by the fire drinking ale. He kept staring at the flames and his mood was brooding and dark. She had not seen this side of him for sometime and could only guess what had happened.
“Husband? Are you well? What is the matter?” She was instantly by his side, kneeling before him with concern.
“Where is your brooch, Amelia? I searched for it and could not find it.” She opened her mouth to say something, “Do not lie to me wife. I want to know about your brooch.”
“Aye husband, calm down I will show you.” She retrieved the box from the chamber next door and brought it to him. He stared at it like it held vipers. Amelia opened the box, took out the brooch and gave it to him. He sat and studied it and said nothing.
“How long have you had this brooch?”
“Since my ma died. She gave it to me with her belongings in that box but asked me not to show it to anyone.”
“So, all this time you have known you were a Maclean, and you never told me?”
“A who? What are you talking about?”
He took the box from her, opened it and pulled out the contents.
“This is the Maclean plaid and their crest badge.”
Amelia was stunned and then excited, “Really? Husband, you mean to t
ell me you know which clan these belong to?” Tears instantly fell.
“Aye, you mean you never knew?”
“I never knew.” She was wiping the tears and talking excitedly “My ma told me on her deathbed to find my kin and give this to them so they would know who I was, but I could never figure out who they were, until now. She failed to mention their name and her letter only mentioned the box.” She held the plaid in her hands and lovingly caressed it, then looked up at Beiste “My kin are the Macleans? Truly?” The awe and wonder in her face was something Beiste could not ignore.
“Aye love they are from the Isle of Mull.” She looked so surprised.
“They are from an Isle… Oh Beiste, I am sure it must be a gorgeous place.” There was a wistful look upon her face.
She was killing him; she had no idea who her family was all these years and now they wanted her and Beiste could not let her go.
“Amie, why did you not trust me with this information?”
“I am sorry husband I just thought I’d find them myself, eventually.” She shrugged.
Beiste knew why. It was because all her life she had to do everything on her own, rely only on herself. It was his job to make sure she trusted him with everything from now on.
“Husband do you think these Macleans would want to know me if I were to send them a message?” That’s when he saw it. The vulnerability in her eyes, she yearned to meet her kin, and she wanted them to accept her.
Beiste took a deep breath, reached out for her and pulled her onto his lap. He stroked her back as they both stared into the fire “Aye love, how could they not want you? You are the most precious woman on God’s earth.”
Amelia smiled, then she kissed him deeply. “Thank you this is why I love you so, you ken how to sooth my soul.” With that, she rested her head on his shoulder.
Beiste stiffened. He could not breath. His wife had just said she loved him and for some inextricable reason it struck him with fear and elation.
Amelia did not care if Beiste knew. It was the truth she had fallen in love with her own husband and he would just have to deal with it. Beiste relaxed and pulled her tighter, it was then the revelation occurred to him he loved her, from the moment she yelled at him on that dusty road, but he would not tell her that because he was a Warrior not some emasculated poet prancing about town writing love sick sonnets. He remained silent. He had decided however that he would let the old Maclean bastard see his granddaughter but if he tried to take her from him Beiste would just have to kill him and hope that someday his wee wife forgave him.
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