Неизвестный

by Kinley MacGregor

  He'd been terrified that they wouldn't make it in time. His body throbbed and burned in protest, but he didn't care.

  Nora was his.

  There was no way he would ever let her leave him again.

  No way he would ever allow anyone else to come between them.

  Luckily, he made it through the ceremony and Mass, but Nora refused to partake of the feast that awaited them.

  Instead she forced him up to her room and into her bed.

  Ewan sighed as he lay on the softness of her feather tick mattress and she fluttered about the room.

  The walls of her room were painted soft pastels that were soothing and cheerful. Just like the lady herself.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  "Nora?"

  Ewan recognized Catarina's voice.

  Nora went to answer it while he closed his eyes and inhaled the pillows underneath his head. Pillows that smelled of flowers and woman.

  Nora's scent.

  It burned through his body, making him instantly hard for his wife.

  His wife…

  Even now he couldn't believe it. How had he been so lucky as to have her stumble into his life?

  She rejoined him on the bed.

  "What did Cat want?" he asked.

  She bit her lip, then held up the dress she'd worn the night at the inn. "She thought you might want me to dance for you tonight."

  Ewan forced himself up on his elbows as he raked a hot, lustful stare over her body. "Aye, my love. I want you to dance for me tonight. But I'd rather you do it naked."

  Nora squeaked at his suggestion. "Why, Ewan MacAllister, you are an evil one, aren't you?"

  "To the bottom of my rotten and depraved soul, Nora. Now come here, wife, and let me make sure we consummate our union."

  She lifted the hem of her gown and stepped up into the bed. Leaning over him, she straddled his swollen groin.

  "Hmm," she said as she rubbed herself against his erection. "What have we here?"

  Ewan cupped her face in his hands and pulled her to his lips for a scorching kiss.

  He pulled back a moment later to answer her question. "What we have here, my lady, is a bear who wants to be tamed. Know you someone with a stout enough heart to lead him home and suffer his dismal ways?"

  She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Aye, my lord, I do. But having been brought home, is it possible for the bear to stay happily away from his cave?"

  He smiled at that and the winsome look on her face. "Aye, it is. I want only you in my life, Nora."

  "Only me? What then should I do with our baby when it comes?"

  Ewan couldn't breathe as her words permeated his head. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, 'tis early yet, but I missed my flow. I think my bear may have a cub coming to follow in his father's footsteps."

  Joy made him delirious. "When will you know for sure?"

  "A few weeks."

  He pulled her on top of him, then groaned as her body contracted with his wound.

  But he didn't care.

  His wife, nay, his heart, carried his child. This was the sweetest moment of his life. "I love you, Nora. With every fiber of my soul. I love you."

  She smiled at that. "And I love you, too."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  It was long after dark when Lochlan, Braden and Sin sat with Nora's father alone in the great hall of Alexander's keep. The overhead candles had been doused and the hall was illuminated only by the fire in the large fireplace that was built along the right wall.

  Its light played against the banners and weapons that decorated the whitewashed walls, dancing strange shapes all around them while they joked and sampled the food that had been left out before the servants had taken their leave of them.

  The happy couple had retired hours ago, and no one had seen a single sight of Nora since.

  Not that they expected to.

  Indeed, Lochlan fully expected days would go by before either of them showed themselves again.

  It was something that made his heart soar.

  He was glad happiness had finally come to his brother. Ewan had needed it.

  "I can't believe we got Ewan married off before Lochlan" Braden said as he picked at a platter of sliced fruit that was set before him. "We needs be careful, Sin. I think the Second Coming might be upon us. I feel the sudden urge for confession."

  Sin laughed. "Perhaps."

  "Have you any more word about the MacKaids?" Alexander asked.

  Lochlan shook his head. How he wished to find them. And he would. He wouldn't rest until they paid for what they had attempted to do to his family.

  "None of my men have found a trace of them," he said to Alexander. "Have yours?"

  "Nay."

  "That sits ill with me," Sin said. "I have a feeling we haven't heard the last of them."

  "Most likely not," Lochlan concurred.

  "So what should we do?" Alexander asked. "I've notified my cousin what they've done, and he has issued an order of execution for them, but until they're caught…"

  "There's not much we can do," Braden said.

  Sin finished off his tankard of ale and poured more. "Sure there is."

  "What?" Braden asked.

  "Marry Lochlan off."

  Lochlan shoved playfully at Sin's arm. "You're drunk."

  "Is he?" a feminine voice asked.

  They looked up to see Sin's wife, Caledonia, approaching the table.

  She moved around the side of the table until she was behind Sin's chair. Looking down at her husband, she gave him a chiding, gentle smile. "I had a feeling my wayward husband was spending far too much time down here."

  Sin looked a bit sheepish.

  "Come, my lord," she said, taking Sin's hand. "We have a long journey home tomorrow, and I promised my brother Jamie that we would be back in time for his birthday."

  Sin kissed her hand, then rubbed it against his cheek.

  Lochlan was amazed by the gesture that was so alien to Sin. He was glad to see his brother so well suited with his wife.

  Sin was another one he had never expected to see happy. It did him good to know life had finally treated his elder brother kindly.

  "Good night, gentlemen," Sin said, rising to follow after his wife.

  They passed Maggie in the entranceway.

  Lochlan smiled as she came forward, eyeing the three of them suspiciously. He remembered a time when he had contemplated her death and had wished many vile things upon her.

  Now he was glad he had refrained from the urge to kill her.

  "Look lively, Braden," he said to his, youngest brother. " 'Tis your turn to have your ears boxed."

  Braden scoffed, "My sweet Maggie knows better than to box my ear, eh, love?"

  There was a saucy sway to her hips as she approached the table. "It depends on if you've done anything to have them boxed for."

  She smiled sweetly at Alexander and Lochlan. "Do you mind if I steal him away from you?"

  "Not at all," Alexander said.

  Braden got up, swept her up in his arms and headed for the stairs at almost a dead run.

  Lochlan watched them leave, his heart light at his brother's antics. No doubt Maggie would be gifting him with another niece or nephew soon.

  "So," Alexander said once they were alone. "Have you any plans to take a bride?"

  Lochlan swirled the ale around in his cup as he considered that. In truth, there was no woman in his heart. He doubted if there ever would be. But still, his duty commanded him to take a bride.

  There was only so long he could put off that particular responsibility.

  "Mayhap one day," he said quietly.

  Alexander arched a brow at him. "Aren't you a little old now not to be looking?"

  Perhaps he was. But Lochlan had too many things that demanded his time, and marrying a woman sight unseen wasn't something he relished.

  "To everything there is a season."

  Alexand
er laughed at that.

  Footsteps sounded outside the room, followed by the main door opening and closing.

  Lochlan and Alexander exchanged puzzled frowns.

  It was far too late for company.

  An old servant entered the hall with a youth behind him. The boy hadn't quite reached his majority.

  Dressed in rags, the boy carried a weathered satchel.

  "Forgive me, my lord," the old servant said to Alexander. "The lad said he had news of Lysander."

  Alexander motioned the boy to come forward. "Is there a problem?"

  The boy hesitated, then shrank back. He looked warily at the servant, then to Lochlan.

  "Speak, lad," Alexander said patiently. "No one will harm you."

  Still the boy looked doubtful. "I have word, my lord. This man came to our village and he told me I was to bring this to you."

  The boy rushed forward, dropped the satchel on the table, then ran back to a safe distance as if he expected the wrath of hell to fall down upon his young head.

  Lochlan frowned at his fearful actions.

  Alexander ran his hand over the worn leather. "Is this Lysander's?"

  The boy swallowed. "I know not, my lord. I was only told to give it you and to not open it."

  By the pallor of the boy's face, Lochlan could surmise the child hadn't listened.

  "Who gave you this?" Lochlan asked.

  The youth scratched his neck nervously. "He said there was a letter for Lord Alexander inside and… and to tell his lordship that next time you should hire yourself someone better than a French knight." The boy was shaking. "Can I go home now, please, my lord?"

  Alexander nodded.

  The boy shot from the room as if Lucifer's hounds were after him.

  Lochlan's frown deepened.

  Alexander studied the bag. "How very strange."

  "Aye," Lochlan said, leaning forward to look at it as well. "It is indeed."

  Alexander opened the satchel and dumped its contents onto the table.

  Lochlan stood up the instant he saw the green and black plaid that their father had commissioned years ago for his sons. He'd never known anyone other than he and his brothers to have it.

  His blood went cold as he stared at it in disbelief.

  Alexander opened a small piece of parchment while Lochlan pulled the plaid closer to examine it.

  "Canmore," he read aloud, "I don't like being made a fool of by anyone. You can tell the gypsies that they are next on our list. You should have never told the king about us. Had you stayed quiet, your daughter might have lived. Now we'll be coming for her and the rest of the MacAllisters. Guard your backs carefully."

  Alexander's hands shook and his face turned dark red with rage. "It's signed Graham MacKaid."

  Lochlan barely heard the words. He was too fixated by the initials embroidered in the corner of the tattered and worn plaid.

  K.M.

  Kieran MacAllister.

  But how?

  Who would have had his brother's plaid? No one outside their clan would have access to it.

  Seeking more clues, Lochlan unfolded the material and cursed as a disembodied hand fell to the floor.

  Alexander's own curse rang out as he saw it and the strange brand that was on the back of the hand.

  "So help me," he growled. "I'll kill every one of those bastards for this."

  Lochlan found it hard to breathe. Hard to focus. He ran through his mind the man whom he had met briefly. A man he had paid all too little attention to.

  "Who was Lysander?" he asked Alexander.

  "I don't know, to be honest. I found him in France about five years ago when I went to visit a friend. He had just come back from Outremer and refused to speak of it."

  "And this plaid?"

  Alexander shrugged. "It was wrapped around him when he asked for work. Does it mean something to you?"

  It meant more to him than his own life. "Did he say how he came by it?"

  He shook his head. "I only know it was very dear to him. My wife's maid tried to take it from him once to clean it and he almost tore her arm for the trouble. He was rather feral in the early days of his employment."

  Alexander retrieved the hand and went to find the priest to dispose of it.

  Lochlan ran the monogrammed corner of the plaid through his long fingers as he stared at the initials his mother had placed there.

  How had a Frenchman found Kieran's plaid?

  None of the brothers had ever journeyed farther than England except for Sin, and Sin had never taken a plaid with him.

  If not for the initials, he might think that perhaps the weaver had created more of the design and sold it.

  But those initials matched the one for his plaid, Braden's and Ewan's.

  Nay, this was Kieran's. He knew it. There was no doubt in his mind that it was his brother's, and by the looks of it, it was quite old.

  A souvenir of Outremer.

  Which meant that Kieran hadn't died that day when he'd gone out to the loch on his own.

  For some unknown reason, his brother had faked his own death and then left Scotland.

  But why?

  Why would Kieran not send word to them. Why would he allow them to believe he was dead all these years?

  Lochlan sat down as the news sank in.

  No doubt the MacKaids had found the plaid after they killed Lysander and had sent it back to them.

  They would have known exactly who this belonged to and what it meant.

  Lochlan drained his ale in one gulp.

  Somewhere out there, Kieran MacAllister might still be alive.

  And God have mercy on his brother should he ever find him.

  * * *

  Epilogue

  « ^

  A month later

  Ewan held Nora's hand as they walked through the framework that would one day soon be their new home. It would be a fine manor home fit for his lady wife and their new babe, whose arrival was now confirmed.

  His heart light, he watched Nora tell the steward exactly what she wanted the great hall to look like while his own thoughts drifted.

  He still couldn't believe what Lochlan had told him about Kieran.

  None of them could.

  Kieran was alive.

  If he ever got his hands on him, Ewan would kill him for it.

  Damn his brother for his selfishness that had cost all of them untold years of suffering.

  But it was hard to hate Kieran, for it when all he had to do was look at his wife and think of the joy she gave him. For her, he would gladly suffer all over again.

  Ewan was still wary that the MacKaids would make good their threats against them.

  So far no trace of them had been found.

  Not that he was worried. It would take more than them to come between him and his wife. Not to mention that Pagan had sworn to see them dead over what they'd done to Lysander.

  Ewan held little doubt the man would make good on his promise. Something about Pagan said that he would make a formidable enemy.

  Surely the man would make them regret the very day they had been born.

  "Ewan?"

  Looking up at Nora's call, he went over to her side.

  She stood in the center of what would one day soon be their own hall, where they would entertain and live out a life he had never dared hope for.

  "Think you this will be finished by the time the baby comes?"

  Ewan nodded. "Aye, my love. I'll make sure of it."

  He cast a meaningful look to the steward, who quickly assured him all would be done in plenty of time.

  Nora smiled at her husband as the steward rushed away and told the workmen to hurry their labors.

  These had been the happiest months of her life. She couldn't imagine anything better than the life they had now.

  Well, except that she still wanted to travel.

  But Ewan had promised her that as soon as the baby was old enough, he would take them to Aquitaine to visit her mother's f
amily.

  She took his hand and laced his fingers with hers. "You know, my lord, I am suddenly feeling very tired."

  He cocked a brow at that. "Are you?"

  She tried to keep her face straight as she frowned, but couldn't quite manage it.

  Instead, she feigned a yawn. "Aye, you needs get me home soon or else I could fall asleep where I stand."

  Ewan laughed and scooped her up in his arms. "In that case, love, I'd best be on my way."

  Nora laughed as he sprinted with her toward their horses.

  Once he had her astride her own, she leaned down and whispered in his ear.

  "You know, Cat sent me a package."

  A deep, lustful glint came to his eyes. Every time a package arrive from Cat it always heralded something that made her husband extremely happy.

  "Did she now?" he asked.

  "Aye," she said, thinking of the sheer gown that awaited them. The material was so thin that it would scarce cover her. "This time, it's a red one."

  She saw the fire in his eyes as he leaped onto his own horse. He set his heels into the flanks and tore off at a breakneck speed.

  Nora followed along at her slower speed.

  "Nora!" he called, urging her on.

  How she loved this man, impatience and all.

  But then when taming a bear, one could only do so much.

  * * *

  Author's Note

  Please note that in Taming the Scotsman you will find the term gypsy, which modern readers will most likely attribute to the wandering bands of Romany who traversed Europe at a much later date.

  As with most terms, the word had an earlier meaning that has been lost in "modern" English. During early- mid-medieval times, gypsies or gipsies took their name from gipser, the medieval term for a man's purse.

  Since thieves were known to cut "gipser" strings, they were referred to as gipsies or gypsies. Most gypsies were thought to be of the peasant class, but not all were. To Ewan and Nora, a gypsy would just be someone who traveled about and was up to no good. They would be similar to a wandering outlaw band.

  It's not until the very end of the medieval period that this term is associated with the Romany.