by Paula Quinn
“I accept yer offer of friendship, then.”
“Good.”
They reached the loch and Keely went to her favorite boulder. She kicked her shoes off and raised her gown just enough so she could dip her toes in the water.
“Another thing I like about Scotland.”
“Oh?”
“Your desire to experience the world around you. In Italy, a noble woman would not be caught in the water.”
“There are people nearby that would frown on my actions, sir.”
“Perhaps a Sutherland?”
“Always a Sutherland.”
“The same with the sheet in the great hall?”
Were all of his conversations so circular, so connected? The man had a talent for disarming her, getting her to say things she’d usually keep to herself—as smooth talking as a poet, and as entertaining as an actor. “A barbaric practice.”
“Highlanders are barbarians.”
That surprised Keely. “How so, sir?”
“What do you think gave Alex the ability to thrive in Constantinople? Sure, his pale skin and hair already set him apart from most—but he adapted quickly—understood the ancient ways of the people. That’s a rare talent. And the nobles of that great place recognized his value, as did I the moment we met.”
“I canna deny the lack of refinement here. We are far away from the king’s court and the elegant cities of Europe. But what we lack in manners, we make up for in morals. The Scots are a noble people, ruled by God and honor.”
“You are a fine match for Alexander,” he said. “A worthy lady.”
“Now, if only my husband agreed with ye.”
“Do not let him forget it. Be everything he thinks you are not.”
She frowned and gazed at Petro. “That willna take much.”
Petro chuckled. “Only the good things.”
“Do ye have a wife?”
The expression on Petro’s face changed as he stared across the water into some distant time and place. “A long time ago. I was married at fifteen.”
“So young.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Plague.” He visibly shivered. “My wife and son were taken from me too soon.” He looked back at her, forcing another smile. “Even Alex does not know that part of my history.”
“I am sorry for yer great loss.” Words couldna express how sad Keely felt for her new friend. And though Petro seemed to manage his suffering, the pain in his eyes showed, whether he knew it or not. “How is it that Alex doesna know?”
“Alexander carried his own grief, Lady Keely. I refused to add to that burden.”
“B-but Alex would want to know.”
“Maybe someday—when he finally decides what kind of man he wants to be.”
“Tell me of yer wife and son…”
“Anuria and Giuseppe were everything to me. What does a boy of that age know, really? I went from my father’s house to the cottage gifted to us on our wedding day. It was a quiet life, spent together. As the younger children of nobles, we were not expected to toil in the fields, only to produce grandchildren that would keep our family names alive for another generation. But that unholy sickness claimed thousands in Rome that year—no house, no family was left untouched.”
Keely reached for his hand. Petro squeezed her fingers in appreciation.
“We are blessed in the north here,” she said. “The plague has never ripped our children from our arms. But war has many times.”
Petro nodded in acknowledgement. “At least you have a chance to see and fight your adversaries. Sickness is an invisible evil that no man can defeat. Only luck and the grace of God can save you from its clutches.”
She let go of his hand. “Have ye ever swam in a Scottish loch?”
“Never,” he said.
“Let us change that.” She unpinned her cloak and gestured for Leah to join them. “For I have never known the waters to fail to put a smile on my face.”
Petro watched her strip down to her shift, then waited for Leah to do the same. “Is it cold?” he asked.
“Aye,’ Keely said, braving the water first. She waded out to where it reached her hips. “Leah. Petro. Come!”
The scholar waved at her, then slowly unlaced his boots, removed his tunic, and took Leah’s hand, both of them laughing as they splashed out into the loch.
Aye, Keely thought, this was her favorite place on MacKay lands. And if she concentrated hard enough, the echo of her and Alex’s laughter from long ago rang in her ears. That was the magic of the Highlands, a place that never let her forget who and what she was, the same place that Petro had decided to give up his own beloved home for—a place she’d never trade for anything, even freedom.
Chapter Sixteen
After spending a long day inspecting the west villages, Alex and his men returned to the keep, hungry and in need of sleep. Expecting his wife to greet him in the hall, he was displeased to find Mathe instead.
Alex dinna want to hear the old captain’s complaints. But the faster he walked, the louder the captain pressed him for immediate attention.
“Laird Alex, if I may have a moment of yer time.”
“I am not in the mood to discuss anything.”
“It is urgent.”
Alex spun about. “The only matter of importance is guaranteeing my people the Sutherlands willna be able to destroy their homes again.”
“Aye,” Mathe said respectfully. “But ye asked me to stay behind to protect this household.”
Alex gazed around the hall. “The walls are still standing. Ye have my gratitude.”
“Tis yer wife.”
Three words Alex had hoped not to hear. “Did she try to run away?”
“Nay.”
Inside, Alex felt relieved. “What is it, then?”
“She doesna want the bridal bed sheet to be left hanging.”
Alex eyed the linen. “Do ye blame the lass?”
Mathe sputtered a bit, but collected himself enough to continue. “It is a matter of tradition. And under the circumstances, it is more important than ever that no one is given a chance to question the legitimacy of yer union.”
Alex pursed his lips. He’d be the judge of his wife’s chastity, not the council and surely not his tenants. “As I’ve explained to ye before, Captain Mathe, I am capable of vouching for my wife’s purity.”
“Please,” Mathe pleaded. “Doona take it down.”
Alex rubbed his dry, burning eyes. The wind had kicked up enough dust to blind a man. “Are ye the one who needs convincing, Mathe?”
“Are ye questioning my support, Laird Alex? Am I not the one who demanded ye stay? Marry? Accept responsibility for the clan?”
Aye—the man was right. “Where is Lady Keely?”
“Abovestairs.”
“I will speak with her. The linen stays. Now, can I eat and drink, perhaps spend another night with my bride without worrying about domestic issues?”
“I will have a maid bring yer supper up.”
Alex chuckled. “Perhaps my brother chose the wrong head of household.”
Mathe dinna take his observation as a compliment. “I believe one of the younger retainers would be better suited for the duty.”
“Aye. Select the man and return to training in the morn. There is much to be done, Mathe.”
The captain bowed and departed for the kitchens.
Alex dragged himself abovestairs, immediately dismissing the guards standing at his bedchamber door. “I doona need ye tonight.”
He stepped inside, finding his wife curled up on one of the chairs in front of the hearth. She dinna acknowledge his presence, but Alex knew she wasna asleep. “Did ye enjoy yer first day as mistress of this keep?”
Her agitated sigh gave him the answer he sought.
“It will take time.”
“It will take a miracle,” she shot back, sitting up. “Why did ye provide that bloody linen for Mathe?”
“
To keep peace.”
“Yer efforts are wasted on that man.”
Alex swallowed his temper as he sat on the end of the bed and started to unlace his boots. Patience was in short supply today. “Captain Mathe is a loyal servant and skilled warrior. My grandfather appointed him as his own squire and my sire made him a captain. And he dinna like what happened between ye and John. Ye must give everyone time to adjust to the idea of ye being here, Keely.” He dropped his second boot on the floor.
“I dinna want to stay.”
Alex growled. “Choose yer words more wisely.”
“Perhaps ye should follow yer own advice, Husband.”
“And what do ye mean by that?”
He stood.
“Ye should have used better judgment in choosing a wife.”
Alex rubbed his chin. The she-devil had a sharp tongue that he might never be able to change. “I chose well.”
“Did ye?” She hugged her center, not looking like she believed him. “I like Petro.”
The change in subject eased the tension between his shoulder blades. “Aye?”
“Aye,” she confirmed. “He has a talent for showing up when trouble is building.”
Alex smiled. “That he does.”
“Mathe and I were having words and he immediately offered his assistance.”
“And what kind of solution did he propose?”
“A walk.”
“And where did ye take him?”
“To the loch for a swim.”
“What?”
“Aye. With Leah and our guard.”
The picture in his mind made him feel uneasy—the idea of his wife stripping down in front of another man. Even on the hottest of days, the water was cold, and Alex knew her nipples would poke right through the thin material of her shift. The most honorable of men would have a difficult time not sneaking a peek at her lush breasts. But he kept his jealousy to himself. “I dinna know Petro could swim.”
“If ye consider sinking like a stone swimming.”
“But he dinna drown?”
“Nay. I am sure he is sleeping like a babe.”
Alex chuckled. “He dinna give up easily?”
“I doona believe the man knows the meaning. I spent hours teaching him how to float, kick his feet, and move his arms.”
“Did ye succeed?”
“Aye.”
“Then I am happy for ye, Keely. Yer day was more productive than my own.”
Concern etched her face as she came to him. “What is it, Alex?”
“The west villages are very vulnerable to Sutherland attacks.”
“Isna everyone vulnerable?”
“Aye. The earl grows more powerful by the year. His alliances in England are strong.”
“What will ye do?”
Alex sat back down and closed his eyes, too weary to hide his emotions. “I would kill John de Moravia and put an end to this conflict forever.”
Keely knelt in front of him, resting her hand on his knee. “With three sons…”
“Aye. The torch of war would simply be passed to the next earl.”
“Have ye considered an alliance through marriage?”
“It would be hard to accept for yer father, the Gunns, Sinclairs, and MacLeods. And I have no heir.” He gazed at his wife. “If we are blessed with a son, would Helen Sutherland be willing to wait so many years to take a husband, one young enough to be her own son?”
“There is Jamie, and the earl has six nieces, three without husbands.”
“Nay.” Alex couldna do it. “I willna condemn my cousin to such a marriage.”
“But the earl’s nieces are lovely.”
“They are Sutherlands.” He caressed her cheek. “Yer council is valuable, Keely.”
“Thank ye,” she said sweetly.
The time for discussing clan affairs with his wife was over. Alex wanted to focus on other things. “How are ye feeling?” He’d been less than gentle with her last eve—years of desire slowly sated by every deep thrust into her body. As he stared into her eyes, that desire began to brim over again. It would take three lifetimes to satisfy his hunger where Keely MacKay was concerned. Damn his soul for it. Damn her for being so irresistible.
“I am well, milord.”
“Nay soreness?”
“Only a little.”
“Tis expected.”
“Leah had me soak in a hot bath with soothing herbs.”
“If ye need to rest…”
“I doona,” she cut him off.
“Then ye enjoyed our lovemaking?”
“Aye.”
“Ye are magnificent, Keely.” He pulled her to her feet.
More than willing to be touched, Alex cupped her breasts through her gown. They were bountiful enough to spill over the sides of his hands, but not overly large. He couldna rest without tasting her again. Working the laces on her bodice quickly, he released her tender flesh and suckled a nipple while he slipped his hand beneath her skirts, finding her wetness. The faster he stroked, the louder she moaned. The little noises pleased him, made his cock ache for relief.
His arms and legs wrapped around her, bringing her down on top of him on the mattress. Their foreheads touched and he kissed her, exploring the depths of her sweet mouth. Keely managed to hike her skirts above her waist, exposing herself completely. Alex reached for her arse, guiding her upward, her mound mere inches from his mouth. Christ, he wished he could control himself better, but a man shouldna deprive himself of what he needed. And for Alex, his young wife was as necessary as the air he breathed.
“What are ye doing, Alex?” She eyed him warily.
“Doona be nervous.”
“There is nowhere left for me to comfortably sit. So why are ye pulling me up to your…”
His tongue provided the answer. Her luscious backside filled his palms as he silently instructed her on how to move across his face. Finding her center, he sucked mercilessly as she lost control—throwing her head back and riding him wildly.
“Aye, Keely,” he breathed. “This is what I’ve longed for, to make ye mine over and over again.”
Moments later… “A-Alex.” Her body trembled from the intensity of the release.
Proud of what little effort it took to satisfy her, Alex rearranged his wife in the middle of the bed. She spread her legs and held onto his biceps. “More,” she said.
“More of what, ye wanton?”
“Ye.”
He sheathed himself deep inside her, and they moved together, their union more familiar, more relaxed. Alex flicked his tongue over her nipples, then claimed her mouth until the need to fill her with his seed overwhelmed him. He arched his back, and Keely locked her hands behind his neck, writhing underneath him.
No words could describe how she made him feel or what she stole from him every time he came. It wasna as easy as he thought to safeguard his heart from her. Nay. Keely had a wicked way about her, intentional or not. And if he dinna be careful, she’d own more than his body.
Exhausted, he rolled onto his back, playing with a strand of her dark hair. “Do ye wish to finish our conversation from earlier?”
“Which part?”
“The sheet.”
“Ye’re determined to placate Mathe. My feelings are secondary, Alex. I may not agree with it, but I understand.”
“Do ye, or are ye just saying that to keep the peace between us?” He looked at her.
“Peace is in short supply here. Anything I can do to help, I will.”
Once again, her words pleased him. His original plan had been to give her a taste of the pain she’d caused him. He raised his right arm, resting the back of his hand against his forehead. Whatever was happening to him, the need to hurt her was fading. She was right, peace was in short supply. The less strife at home the better. It would allow him to focus on the improvements needed to defend his people and lands.
Someone knocked on the door, and Alex growled. He’d forgotten about the tray Mathe had promi
sed to send up. Not ashamed of his nakedness, he crawled out of bed and strutted to the door. He opened it and took the tray from the maid.
“Are ye hungry?” he asked, walking to the table, his stomach rumbling from the smell of fresh meat and bread.
Keely sat up. “Is there enough for both of us?”
Alex lifted the linen covering the food. “Aye.”
She joined him at the table, fidgeting with her bodice.
“Nay.” He reached for her hand. “Nothing would please me more than filling my belly and having the pleasure of gazing upon your breasts at the same time.”
She smiled and sat on the chair across from him. “As ye wish, milord.”
He served her some meat and bread, then poured them each a cup of wine. As he ate his fill, Alex wondered if in time he could learn to trust, maybe even love Keely again.
Chapter Seventeen
A week later, Mathe and several other guards rushed inside the great hall where Alex and Keely had just sat down at the high table. “What is all the commotion about?” Alex asked.
“Milord,” Mathe bowed. “Laird Oliphant is here.”
“My father?” Keely shot up from her chair.
“Nay.” Alex prevented her escape. “Sit down, Keely. Please.”
“But. Alex… I havena seen my sire for years. Do ye not approve of a reunion?”
“Alexander MacKay!”
Alex couldna ever forget that booming voice. Obviously, the laird had forced his way through the bailey, for Alex hadn’t invited anyone inside.
“What will ye have me do?” Mathe asked.
“Who is with Laird Oliphant?”
“Thirty soldiers and four of his sons.”
“God’s bones,” Alex cursed.
He dinna have a chance to say anything else, for Laird Oliphant stormed the great hall with his progeny in tow.
Though Keely obeyed him and stayed on the dais, she stood immediately. “Father?”
“Keely?” Laird Oliphant strode across the room. “Alexander, what is this I hear? Ye wed my only daughter without my blessing?”
“I welcome ye, Laird Oliphant, or should I call ye Father now?” Alex walked around the table, his fingers resting loosely on the hilt of his sword.