A light pecking tapped on the door, so light Alexander barely noticed it.
Ever so gently, he slid out from under Catriona, holding his breath and freezing in place when she stirred for a brief moment then rolled away from him and snuggled deeper into her pillows. Once her breathing had evened out again, he rose from the bed, yanked on his trews, and padded to the door.
He eased open the door and peered into the sitting room, dark with only a single candle burning on the round table in the center. Magnus stepped out of the shadows and motioned for Alexander to join him.
“You and the lads did well.” Alexander kept his voice low as he eased the bedroom door shut without a sound.
“Aye. 'Twas the lads. Give them the praise.” Magnus’s tone was grim and filled with trouble. “Both cannons are ruined, warped by the explosion and heat of the fire. But it pains me to tell ye that one of the boys didna make it.”
Alexander’s heart fell. He’d feared such. He shouldha ne’er allowed a pack of lads who’d ne’er fired a gun nor wielded anything other than a kitchen knife or a crofter’s plow, to do a man’s job. “Who?”
Magnus shook his head. “The one they called Oakie. I could no' place the name until they reminded me of his looks.”
“Were they able to bring him back so we might honor him with a proper burial?”
Magnus cringed as he scrubbed a hand across his mouth and made a face as though the entire situation tasted foul. “There was no' enough left of the boy to bring back. When they lit the fuse, it slipped free of the main barrel and Oakie ran to shove it back into the powder. The barrels shifted as he climbed across them and pinned his leg.”
“Damnation.” Alexander heaved out a groaning sigh, feeling as though he’d been gut-punched. “His family?”
“Only a father. No other kin.”
“Let me dress and then see to the man. He needs to hear how grateful we are for his son’s sacrifice. His boy was a fearless warrior.”
“Aye.” Magnus turned toward the door then paused. “Sawny also heard word of the king’s regiment whilst we were in the Campbell camp.”
“What word?”
“Two days.” Magnus pulled the door open. “They arrive in two days.”
Chapter 24
“No more word or any form of attack.” Catriona studied the Campbell camp below as she and Alexander paced side by side along the top of the curtain wall. The clear skies and warm touch of the sunny spring day did little to brighten her disposition or ease the sense of impending doom crushing in from all sides. “It’s been two days and still no reaction to the loss of the cannons.” She shifted her attention to Alexander’s scowling countenance, his eyes narrowed against the windy brightness of the cloudless sky. “What is his strategy?” Alexander had been in plenty of skirmishes. Surely, he’d ken Jameson Campbell’s tactics.
Alexander gave a slow shake of his head, never taking his gaze from the glen below. “I think he waits.”
“For what?” They paused at the wide landing atop the left guard tower. The battlements were higher here but the parapets atop had notches cut wider to permit the emptying of cauldrons of boiling water or fiery oil on intruders attempting to scale the fortress’s walls.
“The king’s regiment.” He paused at a wider than usual crenel, rubbing a hand across the flat shelf of the notch as though he found it lacking. “Your brother mentioned the Earl of Crestshire on the day he died.” He turned to Catriona. “Do ye know the man?”
“No. I dinna ken any Earl of Crestshire.” Catriona leaned a shoulder against the wall, snugging her arms around her waist and tucking her arisaidh tighter about her. She ached with weariness. Sleep brought her nothing but troubling dreams colored by the fear and worry of her waking hours. She’d healed from the stab wounds with the swiftness found in good health. The occasional pains she now felt were hardly worth mentioning but the inability to rest wore her down. “Maybe he leads the king’s regiment.”
“Perhaps.”
There was something about Alexander’s tone that pulled her attention from Campbell’s camp to him. “What are ye not telling me?”
“I canna be sure, mind ye, but I may know the Earl of Crestshire well.”
Catriona couldn’t tell from Alexander’s tone whether that was a good thing or bad. “Be ye enemies?”
“If the man is who I think he is, we were once close as brothers.” Alexander scratched his well-trimmed beard along his jawline, squinting one eye shut in the process. “But who’s to say? Would the English allow a man who’d fostered in the Highlands to claim the title of earl and the estate that goes along with it? An estate that lays within a stone’s throw of the palace?”
“I canna imagine what a Sassenach would do.” Catriona fidgeted in place, tracing a fingernail along the mortar in the wall. She’d never done well with waiting. Patience was not among her scarce collection of virtues.
The deep, somber sound of a horn, followed by two higher-pitched blows traveled to them on the wind.
Catriona searched the horizon. Movement at the far end of the glen, close to the southernmost pass leading to Neal lands, caught her eye. She pointed just as Alexander leaned out over the embrasure and looked. “The king’s regiment.”
“In full force,” Alexander said under his breath. “I dinna ken if the glen will hold them all.”
Soldiers poured into the valley at the front of the keep, filling every space like ants swarming across kitchen scraps. Catriona’s heart sank. She swallowed hard and did her best to bolster her waning courage to keep from dropping to her knees and weeping. All appeared lost. No way could they emerge victorious over so many. The Campbells and the English would obliterate Clan Neal, erasing them from the Highlands of Scotland. But even worse, she’d lose the man she loved and never see him again. She couldna bear the thought of what might happen to him.
“I shall go forth and speak to Campbell and the earl.”
“You cannot!” Shock filled Catriona that he’d harbor such a notion. “Ye be our chieftain. We canna risk your capture.”
Alexander pinned her with an icy stare that chilled her to the bone. “I willna send any more children to do the job I should do myself.”
Oakie’s loss still pained Alexander a great deal. He blamed himself for the boy’s death, saying he never shouldha lost his good sense in the imaginings of young lads plotting to win a battle.
“Send Alasdair,” she said. The man’s nickname was the ‘judge’ because he had an uncanny talent for settling arguments and reasoning out differences. “Name him Clan Neal’s solicitor.”
With a gentle grasping of her shoulders, Alexander pulled her close, and gave her a patient smile that neared to breaking her heart. “I must go myself to meet these men.” He gave her a conciliatory nod. “I shall take Alasdair with me. Ye’ve got the right of it there. The man is excellent at arbitration but I willna send him into the den of lions alone. 'Twould no' be proper and ye ken that as well as I.”
Farther down the path running atop the curtain wall, the door to the guard tower swung open and Magnus and Graham appeared. Both men kept their attention locked on the glen in front of the keep as they made their way to where Alexander and Catriona stood.
With a perfunctory nod to Catriona, Graham cut straight to the point as he motioned toward the two armies below. “So ye're aware?” he said to Alexander.
“Aye.” Alexander gave his brother and best friend a grim nod. “A meeting with Jameson Campbell and the Earl of Crestshire is in order with Alasdair accompanying as our clan solicitor. What say ye?”
“And the rest of us as your personal guard, aye?” Magnus added.
“And your wife,” Catriona said, knowing Alexander would ne’er allow it—or at least he’d do his best to forbid it. But she had the right to be there. If Calum had no' betrothed her to Campbell, this standoff wouldha ne’er happened. “I dinna wait well so I’ll have none of it, thank ye. I’ll be at your side.” She braced herself for Alexander’s
reply. “I’ll no' have ye riding into the enemy’s camp and I’ll no' discuss it further, ye ken?” she added.
Alexander gave her a pointed look. The look said the discussion was at an end and had also veered dangerously close to breaking her oath to trusting him as chieftain. A different tactic would serve her better.
“Would ye consider allowing them, the Campbell and the Earl of Crestshire, to meet here? Within the keep?” She rested a hand to his forearm, praying he’d consider her request. “Then I’d know ye safe. I could remain in the gallery and watch over ye while ye met with them.”
Alexander gave her a perturbed look and eased away from her touch. “Ye're saying ye’d be willing to stay in the gallery and no' chirp out nary a word whilst I speak with them.”
“I dinna chirp,” she said in a snappish tone before thinking better of it. With a hard swallow, she hurried to smooth any damage to the plan that her attitude might have caused. “I’d be most grateful, husband, if ye would allow this so I can see with my own eyes that ye’re safe.”
“Lady Catriona’s idea holds merit,” Magnus said.
Catriona made a mental note to name one of their children 'Magnus.' Of course, if that was the only way she could think of to favor people who’d served her well, she’d best hope for a keep full of sons and daughters. That thought sent a warm flush through her. She couldna think of a thing that would make her happier. A keep full of Alexander’s children. 'Twould be wonderful, indeed.
Alexander turned and studied the forces below. “Think thee they would accept such an invitation?”
“If worded proper,” Graham said.
“Alasdair and Sutherland are the best persuaders I know,” Magnus said. “The both of them can tell ye to go straight to Hell in such a way that ye look forward to the trip. Shall I get them?”
Catriona noticed Alexander’s knuckles whitening as his hands fisted atop the stone ledge. She could tell by his stance that whilst he wasna in full acceptance of the idea and was, in fact, fighting it, he couldna think of a safer option. She knew he realized that riding into Campbell’s camp was a foolhardy thing to do. Which stirred another quandary: If they wished to invite the two men, how the hell would they do it without risking a life?
“How shall we extend our invitation?” Alexander asked.
Catriona caught her breath and stared at him all the harder. Was she so transparent? Had her husband read her mind? “Uhm…” As much as she wanted the plan to succeed, she couldna think of a viable option.
“Arrows,” Graham said.
Another name for another child. Catriona smiled and agreed with a nod. Of course, arrows. They could wrap a note around the shaft and launch it into the camp without risking life or limb.
“A shot from that wee bluff overlooking their camp. Hit the pole in front of Campbell’s tent easily. Ian could do it. I grant ye.” Graham turned to leave, then paused and looked back at Alexander. “I’ll fetch him, aye?”
“Aye,” Alexander said. “Have our brothers pen the invitation and seek Alasdair’s counsel as well. Tomorrow. Noon. We’ll offer them a meal along with the conversation.”
“It shall be so,” Magnus said as he joined Graham and the two men set off to accomplish the task.
“I’ll set Mrs. Aberfeldy and Cook to planning a fine repast.” Catriona stretched to the tips of her toes and pecked a kiss to Alexander’s cheek. “Thank ye, Alexander.”
He darted an arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his chest. “I believe I deserve a proper kiss for bending to your wishes.”
“Oh, do ye now?” Catriona pressed both hands to his chest, leaning back in mock refusal. While meant to be coy and teasing, the position had the additional benefit of pressing her lower half snugger to Alexander, revealing that her husband was verra pleased to be with her. She couldn’t resist a covert wanton wiggle against the delightful hard length of him, hidden from anyone who might watch by the fullness of her skirts whipping in the wind.
“Ye're a wee vixen, ye are,” Alexander growled out in a low rumble right before he took her mouth and kissed her deep and long. “I’ll never get enough of ye, Catriona,” he whispered against her lips then kissed her again.
A wicked idea came to her as Alexander slid his hands down her back and cupped her behind through the layers of her skirts and squeezed. Merciful heavens. Perhaps a wee detour from her duties wouldna be amiss. After all, keeping her husband happy was a wife’s primary function. Was it not?
“The benches in the tower room,” she said in a breathless whisper against his temple as he pressed heated kisses to her throat. “We could…sit and rest a bit. Aye?”
“Aye, woman. That would please me well.”
They hurried the few feet to the tower room. Alexander opened the door and held it for her.
With a stolen glance down the path of the curtain wall to ensure no one followed, Catriona darted inside and hurried to slide the iron bar across the other door to the staircase leading down into the keep.
Alexander stepped inside and locked the door behind him, then did the same to the door leading to the curtain wall. As he turned, Catriona rushed into his arms and resumed the smoldering kiss they’d paused whilst in their search for a more private place.
“I’m so glad ye wore your kilt without your trews this fine day.” Catriona eagerly reached down with both hands and hiked up his kilt to rake her nails up the backs of his thighs and cup his fine sculpted arse.
Alexander rumbled with a low laugh as he gathered up her skirts and did the same, kneading her buttocks and sliding his hardness against her as he walked them back to the bench. “Shall we sit awhile, wife?” he teased as he positioned her astraddle his lap and lowered her down upon him.
“Most definitely.” Catriona slid down his shaft, burying it to the hilt inside her. Settling into a slow rocking motion, she loosened the laces of her bodice just enough to allow Alexander entry to her bosom. She clutched his head to her chest as he kissed and fondled then suckled and squeezed some more, all the while riding his shaft at a steadily increasing pace.
The latch on the door leading up from the keep rattled, and the door bumped against the bar. “What fool bolted the tower door?” said the voice on the other side.
Alexander grinned and pressed a shushing finger to his lips as his other hand squeezed her buttocks and pulled her hard against him. Shifting on the bench, he met her thrust for thrust. Whoever was on the other side of the door could just be damned.
“We’ll have to enter through from the wall,” the irritated voice advised. “Come!”
A glance over at the door leading to the curtain wall assured Catriona that it was bolted, too, and they were free to finish what they’d started.
“Faster, woman,” Alexander said with a barely stifled groan as he bucked beneath her.
“Gladly.” Catriona rode harder, arching her back and holding tight to Alexander’s shoulders. He filled her to perfection. So hot. So hard. Such fine exquisite strokes in all the right places. She bit her lip to keep from shouting as she increased the momentum then exploded with pure bliss.
Alexander rumbled with a low growl, clutching her buttocks tight as he emptied inside her, pumping and jerking with the effort. He arched so tense and hard with his pleasure he lifted her into the air. She sat astraddle him, feet dangling above the bench. His moment spent, he eased back down and pulled her to his chest.
“I’m verra glad ye needed to sit awhile and rest, dear wife,” he panted into her hair as she struggled to catch her own breath.
The latch to the door on the side of the skirting wall rattled, and it bumped against the brace across it. “Son of a bitch! Who the hell locked all three doors?” The door thudded with the angry thumping of a fist. “Open this door! Whoever ye are! Open this door this instant!” Another thud, one much closer to the floor, shook the door. More than likely a kick. “I dinna ken who ye are, ye lazy bastard, but come out! Your shirking of your duties is over!”
Catriona burst into a fit of giggles, burying her face against Alexander’s throat to muffle them as best she could. She couldn’t quite place the voice on the other side of the door but she thought it sounded like Ranald, one of Clan Neal’s best hunters and also one of their best fighters with a spear. She pressed a kiss to Alexander’s salty-sweet skin. “Reckon we should make ourselves presentable and open the doors?”
Alexander smiled and winked. “As soon as ye’ve sworn that I’ve no' shirked my husbandly duties.”
“Oh no, dear husband.” Catriona squeezed him with her thighs as she gave him a slow kiss and teased him with her tongue. “Ye’ve no' shirked anything. I’m verra pleased indeed.”
The door rattled and thumped again. “I fetched the chieftain’s brothers! Ye best open this door afore we knock it down.”
“Hold fast!” Alexander shouted. “Impatient bastard,” he added under his breath.
Catriona shook with stifled giggles as she climbed off Alexander, fluffed out her skirts, and snugged the laces of her bodice. With a hurried pat to her hair, she retrieved her arisaidh from the floor and wrapped it back around her shoulders. She pressed her legs tight together, reveling in the warm wetness of Alexander’s release and praying a wee bairn had taken hold.
Alexander stood and straightened his kilt then looked to Catriona.
“I’m ready.” She gave him a smile and a nod. Aye. She was ready indeed. Alexander had turned her into a wanton. She’d be more than pleased to spend her days in their bed, loving the moments away. She wondered if many wives felt this way about their husbands.
Alexander strode across the room, unbolted it, and yanked it open to a very sheepish looking Ranald and a beaming from ear to ear Duncan and Sutherland.
“At work planning battle strategies, brother?” Sutherland asked, a knowing smirk on his face.
The Chieftain: A Highlander's Heart and Soul Novel Page 24