Highland Belle

by Patricia Grasso

  Magnus perused Lils tempting mounds of flesh, then raised his eyes to hers and smiled. I want the copper-haired wench to serve me.

  Shes busy, Lil snapped, unaccustomed to having her charms rebuffed. Ya have ta settle for me.

  A mug of ale and a bowl of stew, then.

  Lil raced to the bar, where Marianne stood. That new wench is bad for business, Lil complained, irritated. Five of my customers have already asked for her. Is this a tavern or brothel?

  Oowww! Berties loud wail of pain sounded from the kitchen.

  Keep your bloody hands off me! Brigettes outraged voice was heard.

  Marianne raced for the kitchen, but was met at the door by a red-faced Brigette. I kneed him in the pins, she said smugly. Marianne threw back her head and roared with appreciative laughter. Those men within hearing distance cringed in sympathetic pain and surreptitiously touched the jewels nestled at their groins.

  After delivering the stew, Brigette turned to the men at the next table. She rushed to the bar to get them ale and sidled next to Marianne.

  Bucko set the pitcher of ale on the tray, and Brigette, clutching it, swung away from the bar. It was then that Marianne strategically placed a foot in front of her. Brigette stumbled and the tray flew out of her hands, drenching Lil, who stood behind her.

  Pandemonium ensued. Screeching, Lil swung at Brigette, who ducked to avoid the blow. Lils fist connected with Mariannes cheek. Marianne retaliated instantly, and the two adversaries fell to the floor — biting, scratching, and clawing each other. Springing into action, Bucko leaped across the bar and tried to separate the furious women.

  Unnoticed at the rear of the tavern, Magnus wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. He stood and dropped a few coins on the table, then slipped out the door. When the queens business is finished, he decided, Ill return for Brie. Huntlys chit be damned!

  The moon was a sliver of silver, peeking down through swiftly drifting clouds at Londons deserted streets. A ragged gaberlunzie passed through the Bishopgate and wended his lonely way north.

  11

  Overcast and cool, the day was typical of April. With his memories of a copper-haired woman to keep him warm, a ragged gaberlunzie followed the road north out of York.

  After reporting to the queen, Magnus plotted, Ill return to London for Brie. Shell have had her fill of taverns by then, but if shes unwilling, Ill abduct her.

  Well return to Edinburgh and live at the Campbell Mansion. When I discover her husbands identity, Ill arrange a fatal accident for him. Then Brie will become my wife, the future Duchess of Argyll.

  Lost in pleasant reverie, Magnus failed to focus on the rapidly approaching danger. Riding hard in his direction was a group of men-at-arms.

  Damn, he cursed, suddenly aware that he must have been seen. Sweet Jesu! They wore the MacArthur plaid and were certain to identify his horse as their property.

  Seize him! Iain shouted.

  Kicking his heels into the horses flanks, Magnus attempted to flee. Dugie gave chase, easily tackling his quarry, and the two men landed in the road. Before Magnus could reach for his weapon, five gleaming swords touched his chest.

  For Christs sake, MacArthur! Magnus roared. Call yer men off.

  The MacArthur men remained motionless, their swords poised to skewer. Iain dismounted and stared hard at the gaberlunzie.

  Would ye slaughter yer own cousin? Magnus asked desperately.

  Iain motioned his men to sheath their swords. Who are ye?

  Yer cousin, Magnus spat. If ye murder me before I produce an heir, Argyll will have yer head on a platter.

  Chuckling, Iain extended his hand and helped Magnus stand. Why are ye dressed like that, cuz?

  Ive been travelin for the queen.

  Iain gestured to the horse. And how did ye come by my property?

  A besotted smile appeared on Magnuss face. It was a gift from the most magnificent, copper-haired wench.

  Without warning, Iains fist connected with his cousins jaw, sending him sprawling in the dirt. That was nae wench, he snarled. That was my wife.

  Yer wife!

  Iain grimaced, humiliated that his kinsman should learn of his marital troubles, then extended his hand once again. Ye may as well know, he admitted sourly, helping Magnus rise. The twit had the temerity to fly home to England.

  Magnus shouted with laughter, but then realized his cousin was not amused. Forcing himself to show a more somber expression was difficult.

  When I get my hands on her, Iain ranted, Ill give her the skelpin of her life. She willna be sittin down for a month.

  Unable to control himself, a chuckle bubbled up from Magnuss throat. Headstrong, is she now?

  Aye, Iain snapped, but Ill soon cure her of that. Where is she?

  Im verra sorry, cuz, but my benefactress has sworn me to secrecy. Iain growled and reached for Magnus, who threw up an arm to ward off the attack. However, he added quickly, I must tell ye that a verra fine quality of Brie is bein served in London at the Royal Rooster Tavern. On Friday Street, to be exact.

  A tavern? Iain was surprised.

  Yer countess is employed as a servin wench, Magnus embellished cheerfully.

  Ill kill her!

  One and all, the MacArthur men-at-arms turned away, biting back their laughter. The Sassenach chit was leading the future Earl of Dunridge on a merry chase, but all roads end somewhere. Lord have mercy on the lady when Iain finally caught her!

  Jamie, Iain ordered. Escort Lord Campbell to wherever hes goin, then go back to Dunridge and tell the earl weve located my wife.

  I amna in need of a bodyguard, Magnus protested.

  I insist, cuz. If I sent ye on yer way alone and somethin happened, Argyll wouldna forgive me. Remember, cuz, if ye dinna produce an heir, to me and mine reverts the clans chieftainship.

  Ye canna verra well produce yer own heir, Magnus returned, if yer wife habitually takes off for parts unknown.

  Dinna forget Percy, Iain countered. Bein a blockhead doesna affect his pecker.

  Magnus laughed. When yeve recovered yer wife, he said, shaking Iains hand, come to Edinburgh. The courts aboot to become a most interestin place.

  The MacArthurs mounted and rode south. Watching them, Magnus realized his plan to wed Brigette was finished. No honorable man would dispatch his kinsman and marry the widow. Shrugging his shoulders, Magnus shook off his dream. Perhaps while Im in Edinburgh, he decided, Ill take a quick peek at Huntlys chit.

  Dressed in the English mode, Iain and Dugie entered the bustling common room of the Royal Rooster Tavern. A cacophony of sounds and smells greeted their senses — myriad voices, rumbles of laughter, roasting meat, simmering stew, and heavy drink.

  Scanning the chamber, Iain noted two things. Brigette was nowhere in sight, and the tavern was mostly populated with men. He was not pleased. Wanting to observe without being observed, the two Scotsmen sat at a table against the wall, farthest away from the bar and kitchen.

  On their immediate left was a table crowded with young men, apparently sons of well-to-do merchants. A blowsy blonde serving wench was smiling at the men. Whatll it be? Lil was purring.

  We want the copper-haired wench to serve us, one of them replied.

  Shes busy, Lil snapped. Yall have ta settle for me.

  Iains ears prickled. His dark, intense gaze skewered the impudent rascal whod asked for Brigettes services. Obviously, the lad had more on his mind than supper. Damn her, Iain cursed inwardly. Hed probably end the evening by dueling with every randy scamp in attendance.

  Three foppishly dressed men entered the tavern and sat at the table on Iains immediate right. I dont see her anywhere, one announced, craning his neck to better view the taverns occupants.

  Her name is Brie, said another. One of the other wenches called her that.

  A unique name for — the third commented.

  For a uniquely prime piece of meat, finished the second. His companions laughed.

  Yes, the first one agreed. Id love to taste her tende
rloin.

  Intending to murder the oblivious three, Iain growled and started to rise, but Dugie placed a restraining hand on his forearm. It was then Iain saw his wife for the first time in nearly a month.

  Carrying a tray of food, Brigette walked into the common room from the kitchen. She stopped at a table near the bar and smiled brightly at its occupants. One man resembled a pig and the other had the beak of a hawk. Unmistakably smitten, the pig made a comment, and the three of them laughed in easy camaraderie.

  Iain would have confronted his wife then, but Lil was suddenly standing there, smiling coyly and displaying her cleavage. Whatll it be, gents? she asked.

  Iains eyes flicked disinterestedly over her charms, then rose to meet her gaze. Two ales and stew, he ordered, pressing a gold coin between her fleshy mounds. I want the copper-haired wench to serve us.

  Fuming, Lil nodded but decided shed had enough of placing second to the red-haired chit. She hastened to the bar.

  Brie? Lil sidled up to her beautiful rival and smiled. Could ya do me the favor of bringin stew and ale ta the two gents on the far side of the room?

  Yes. Brigette looked at Lil with some surprise. Usually, the blonde scowled, sneered, or ignored her. This was the first smile shed received. Brigette got the stew and ale, then hurried across the chamber.

  Brie, Lil called as she served the men next to Iain. Over here. So intent was Brigette on not spilling the trays contents, she failed to even glance at the tables occupants. Lil smiled slyly and placed her foot in her rivals path.

  Yeeooww! Brigette tripped, and the tray flew out of her hands.

  Ye clumsy chit! Iain, dripping stew and ale, leaped out of his chair.

  Startled by the familiar voice, Brigette looked from the soiled clothing to the mans angry countenance. Her eyes widened in horrified surprise, and her lips formed a silent, perfect O of dismay. She whirled away, her instinct for survival surfacing quickly.

  Iain caught her shoulder and spun her around so violently, she crashed into his unyielding body. Scooping up his wife like a sack of flour, he threw her over his shoulder and headed for the stairs.

  Put me down! Brigette shrieked, harmlessly pummeling his backside. You roving bastard! Her cursing became a cry of outraged pain when he whacked her rump.

  Iain stopped at the top of the stairs. Which is yer chamber?

  Go bugger yourself!

  Again Iain whacked her upended rear.

  The last door at the end of the corridor.

  Inside the dingy chamber, Iain bolted the door and then tossed her onto a cot. Brigette leaped off and backed away, one hand soothing her smarting derriere. Ignoring her, Iain discarded his soiled clothing, and then, magnificently naked, turned to Brigette, who was quaking in fear.

  Ye spoiled, willful brat, he spat, advancing on her.

  Keep your distance, you indiscriminating cock! she ordered, sounding braver than she actually felt. You adulterous fornicator!

  That halted Iain in his tracks. Why did ye leave me?

  Why? Brigette echoed incredulously. Her voice rose in righteous anger. Why? I know all about you. She sneered contemptuously. I saw you kissing Antonia.

  I wasna — Antonia was kissin me.

  What the bloody hell is the difference? Brigette hurled, stamping her foot for emphasis.

  Iain lunged forward and, grabbing Brigettes upper arm, shook her roughly. Whos been teachin ye such foul words? He sat on the edge of the cot and dragged her across his lap, then yanked her skirt up, revealing her bare bottom.

  Ill teach ye to respect yer husband, he growled. The flat of his powerful hand came down hard on her exposed buttocks. Shrieking, Brigette tried to escape, but was hopelessly ensnared by her husbands strong arms. Again and again, Iain spanked his wifes creamy, flawless rump until it reddened. Brigettes struggles ceased, and her shrieks became heart-wrenching sobs.

  What the bloody hell is going on in there? Marianne pounded frantically on the door. Open up, or Ill call the watch!

  Cursing every last member of the English race, Iain ungently dumped Brigette onto the cot. He crossed the chamber.

  When the door jerked open, Marianne was eye level with a hairy, muscular chest. A magnificently masculine chest. Afraid to look down, she gazed into dark, glowering eyes. Who are ya? she asked, forcing bravado into her voice.

  Iain MacArthur. He thrust his soiled clothing into her hands and threatened, See these are cleaned, or Ill take ye over my knee for teachin my wife obscenities. The door slammed shut on Mariannes stunned expression.

  Iain turned back to his weeping wife; his ire faded. Damn, but he loved the impertinent minx. A smile tugged at his lips. Brigette had accomplished an astounding feat by getting herself safely from Dunridge to London. On the other hand, Magnus had undoubtedly assured her success. Iains smile vanished. What had their accommodations been along the way?

  Banishing the troubling thought, Iain sat on the cot and drew an unresisting Brigette onto his lap. Gently, he wiped the tears from her face, then gazed into the misty depths of her green eyes. Ive been sick wi worry, he admitted.

  About me?

  Iain nodded. I almost slew Percy when I discovered yed gone.

  Oh, Im sorry for that.

  Percys the one who deserves yer apology, Iain said. Like a scolded child, Brigette lowered her eyes and studied her lap intently. If only yed eavesdropped a few seconds longer.

  I am not an eavesdropper, Brigette said hotly, her eyes flashing with anger.

  I amna accusin ye of anythin, but if yed lingered longer near the study, ye wouldve seen me push Antonia away.

  You pushed her away?

  I did.

  You dont love her?

  I love ye, hinny. Iains voice was a soft caress. Why else would I have so frantically followed ye?

  I suffered a month of unspeakable torment for nothing! Brigette exclaimed.

  Ye would have preferred I no come for ye? Iain countered.

  No. Brigette eyed him suspiciously, then asked, How can I be certain youre to be trusted?

  My words nae good? Iain snapped. When she remained silent, he added, Ill have Black Jack send Antonia back to the MacKinnons.

  No, Id miss Glenda. Have you been to Basildon? How did you find me?

  I met a mutual friend of ours along the road, he answered cryptically.

  Mutual friend? Brigette was puzzled.

  My cousin, the Duke of Argylls son.

  Ive never met —

  Magnus Campbell, Iain interrupted.

  Magnus is — ?

  Ye talk too much. Smothering her words, Iain lowered his head and captured her lips in a devouring kiss. His tongue invaded and plundered her mouth, stealing her breath away. She clung to him fiercely. Im hungry for ye, he whispered against her lips.

  Divesting a beautiful woman of her clothing is the momentary task of an eager man, and so it was with Iain. He pushed Brigette back on the cot and, pausing for the barest fraction of a moment, gazed with anticipation at the rare beauty that belonged only to him.

  Iain, too famished to fully admire the sight, craved to feel her. He lay on top of her silken body as if they might melt into one anothers being. They kissed endlessly, reveled in the glorious sensation of flesh touching flesh in the most tantalizing way.

  Brigette felt his erect manhood pressing against the softness of her stomach. She insinuated her hand between their bodies and touched his pleasure-giving staff. Iain groaned at the intimate contact, then spread her thighs and knelt between them.

  Its like an angry dragon poised to attack the unsuspecting, she whispered.

  No, sweetheart, the monsters but lonely for his home.

  The dragons lair is here. She guided his ruby knob to her moist entrance.

  Iain thrust home and Brigette cried out. Urgently and violently, they mated in the most abandoned, primitive sense of the word. Brigette arched her hips, meeting each of Iains deep, powerful thrusts. The dragons lair filled with life as they exploded together.
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  When their panting eased, Iain rolled to the side and almost fell off the cot. With a horrified giggle, Brigette caught his arm. How do ye sleep on this thin thats posin as a bed? he asked.

  Im not as large as you.

  He slid a paw down the length of her spine and cupped a sweetly rounded buttock. Yer delightful as ye are, lovey.

  I love you too, Brigette said pertly, then kissed the tip of his nose. To answer your question, Ive discovered that the truly weary can find blessed sleep wherever they perch.

  Is that so? I must say, ye make a terrible servin wench.

  Oh. Brigette feigned dismay, then moved to strike. Iain caught her hand and held her captive against the muscular planes of his warriors body, then kissed her lingeringly.

  Brie, he murmured, savoring her nearness, throb of my heart, swear yell never leave me again.

  I swear.

  Night was never-ending inside the windowless chamber where Iain and Brigette slept. Although the cot was much too small, the reconciled lovers were reluctant to separate. When she fell onto the floor a second time, Brigette cursed and started for the empty cot, but Iain drew her back and pulled her on top of him. Thusly, he satisfied her, then kept her prisoner in that position.

  Iain opened his eyes and wondered whether it was day or night. Brigette lay on top of him like a silken coverlet, her kittens breath tickling his neck. The dragon, harmlessly flaccid, was still inside the heated folds of his lair.

  Idly, Iain considered waking Brigette with an intimate jab. That arousing thought startled the dragon from his slumber and with his hands cupping his wifes buttocks, Iain swelled and moved inside her.

  Mmmmm. Brigette moaned in her sleep.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Someone pounded on the door. Muttering his displeasure, Iain slid from beneath his sleeping wife, then smiled at her exposed back and buttocks. Damn! But Brie had the most fetching backside!

  Disregarding his nudity, Iain crossed the chamber and yanked the door open. His man stood there, holding a pan of washing water and a package beneath his arm.

  Good mornin, Dugie greeted. Ive brought fresh clothes.

  Set the pan on that table, Iain instructed, taking the package.