King's Knight [Highland Menage 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “Ye were a surprise.” He released her to continue combing. Maybe it would relax her, like a cat.

  “I was also a surprise at Duchray Castle,” she muttered, pouting. She exhaled, hard. “I suppose I should be grateful yer laird didna scream at me as did Roderick’s mother.”

  He used his fingers as a comb, needing to touch her. He’d listened when Laird Fraser spoke of managing a wife. A man’s pride was important, but it could be put aside for future benefits.

  “I admit ye are right, Isabel. Somerled was rude to ye.”

  He rarely admitted he was wrong, yet saying such to Isabel did not make him feel less manly. When his wife turned around and smiled up at him he set his shoulders back, standing tall and smiling back. She kissed his chest, through his shirt. It gave him a jolt.

  He wanted her approval, and when she gave it, he felt good. He thought on that while he combed some more. All his life he’d ordered his younger brothers to do things. They would do it as they had no choice, and knew no different. They were his brothers no matter what, and what they thought about him didn’t matter when there was a job to be done.

  While Isabel had vowed to obey him, as the law and the Church said she must, he didn’t want her to be angry or, worse, disappointed in him. He wanted to protect her, not just from other men or physical dangers, but also her heart. He didn’t want her to cry, whether in pain, frustration, or defeat. How to protect her without smothering her was another thing he’d have to think on.

  “There’s another reason to take me out,” she murmured.

  His heart beat faster. He knew that tone. “Aye?” he asked, drawing out the word.

  “Is there a meadow on the way?”

  He had to grip the comb so the tines pressed into his palm to stop himself from reaching for her. If his brothers were not watching he would have lifted her skirts and his plaid and plowed her right there and then. His wife was a passionate woman, flashing with anger one moment , which turned into lust.

  “Aye, I think we could find one.” He brought her head down for a kiss. Whoops of laughter reminded him they were not alone. He ignored them, taking his time tasting her.

  “Who was that?” she asked once she could breathe. She was intrigued more than upset.

  “That would be Dougal and Finn,” he replied. “They like to stand out, even if ’tis in a bad way.”

  She touched her palm to his cheek. Her eyes glowed, her plump lips glistening. His need for her was greater than anything he could ever have anticipated.

  “I ken ye said they had as many years as me,” she said. “But I’ve been on my own with no laird to guide me. I dinna wish lads like that.” She rubbed herself against him like a cat. “I want men.”

  Her words more than her body made him flame. “Keep that up, and ye’ll have one in ye.” Her eyes flashed, daring him. He groaned. “Dinna push me, wife, or I’ll lift yer skirts and take ye. Right here.”

  She peered around him. “If ye bend me over the edge looking out and stand behind me, none will see past the back of yer plaid.”

  He was tempted. Sorely tempted. He groaned while shaking his head. “Somerled would have my balls. None of them have a woman and just seein’ ye makes them wild. If they kenned what we did—”

  “We are sharing a chamber. They ken what we do.”

  “Aye, but ’tis one thing to think on maybe, another to see it with yer own eyes.” He hesitated to speak of it, but her pout had grown larger. “Isabel, few women came here. Old ones, and Mary, who was our father’s leman, but none showed Somerled their body.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “He hasna been with a woman?”

  “No, nor seen one naked. He willna touch a clanswoman or tavern whore.” Now her eyebrows fell, scrunching to nearly touch. “What ails ye?”

  “I heard Laird and Lady Fraser talk. King James wishes Somerled to marry.”

  “Aye, ’tis why he was told to come to Stirling.” He couldn’t keep his hands off her anymore. Her waist was warm. Comfortable. He drew her close. “’Twas a stroke of fate that Herald Murray said we were to go instead. I ken it now, as ye were at Calltuin and not wishin’ to leave.”

  She tried to pull away. He held tight.

  “There’s a chance Rory and I will go to Calltuin, or somewhere else, Isabel. There’s absolutely no chance of Somerled and Niall leaving Duncladach. The laird is here and willna leave, even to find a wife.”

  “Lady Janet thinks the king will marry Somerled to a woman by proxy without telling him. Yer laird will see a troop of the king’s men nearing and willna ken they are bringing his wife. ’Twill be too late for him to do aught about it.”

  Tearlach softly cursed. King James had a claim to the English throne, a strong one. Toward that end he wanted to stop the feuds between the Highland clans. Lowlanders tended to attack those across the border in England, though powerful clans took what they could, when they could, from whoever they could.

  Clan MacDougal’s main foe was the Campbells. There were a lot of them, mostly controlled by the Earl of Argyll. He was the man from whom the king had accepted horses that the earl had not offered. Argyll would not be wishing to give anything to the MacDougals as a dowry. Neither the earl, nor Somerled, would have a choice in the matter.

  He tried to think what Campbell woman might be available to wed Somerled but he didn’t know them well. Somerled was a laird, even if impoverished. King James wouldn’t toss him a wee lass with nothing.

  “Methinks Somerled might end up with a Campbell wife,” he murmured.

  Instead of being shocked, Isabel nodded knowingly. “Aye, ’twas what Laird Fraser said as well. Yer laird willna be pleased.”

  “Our laird will rage if such happens.” He narrowed his eyes at her expression. “Ye needn’t look so pleased with Somerled being forced to marry a lass not of his choosing.”

  She blinked up at him with wide-eyed innocence as false as the cockatrice served in the king’s Great Hall. “’Twould be best if the Campbell wife was as strong-minded as Laird Somerled MacDougal, so she’d not faint when he bellowed at her, aye?”

  He squeezed her, but the warning didn’t remove her pleasure at the thought.

  “Dinna speak to any but Rory about Somerled. We can do naught to change the king’s plans for our laird, or for ourselves. I pray we are not here when the lass comes riding up.” He waited for her nod of agreement. “Do ye ken who it might be?”

  “Names were mentioned, but I ken none of them. The Frasers said ’twould nay be right to send a wee virgin with no backbone. He’ll likely get a childless widow who will poke him in the belly with her finger to gain his attention.”

  “Ye are an impertinent wench.”

  “Aye, and ye like me that way.” She shifted her shoulders to rub her breasts against his chest.

  “Keep that up and ’twill be myself doing the poking.” He leaned close. “And I’ll not be using a finger, nor will it be in yer belly.” Her blush rose, and her nipples. That brought up his cock. “Nay, I be wrong. I will be pokin’ yer belly, but from the inside.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Tearlach MacDougal, ’tis time we went for a ride.”

  “Lass, with my cock this hard I canna ride!”

  “Then we’d best walk because I want yer cock inside me and since the sun’s up yer brothers will be shocked if we spend an hour in our chamber.”

  She was right. They’d be curious and would linger outside their chamber, listening. At least, the four youngest would be. No, Dougal and Finn would do it, then make up stories to tell the others about what they thought they’d heard, and what it could be.

  “I wish to give ye a babe while we’re here on MacDougal land,” he said.

  “Is that so?” she replied coquettishly. “Ye’d best get moving on that. May I have a wee kiss afore we take our walk?”

  “Aye,” he replied, pulling her close. His lips had barely touched hers when a voice bellowed his name. He pulled back with an automatic jerk. She dropped her head on
his chest.

  “That be Somerled?”

  He answered with a wry chuckle. “Nay doubt he wishes to ken what ye’ll be making for our supper.”

  “Tell him gruel.”

  “He’s had gruel for days and will be wanting sommat else.”

  “So, ’tis what I will give yer laird for his lack of hospitality.” She winked. “If we go out for a wee walk and tussle, and bring home some rabbits I shall make a stew of them. If he refuses to sup with us he willna ken that his brothers eat better.”

  “Wife, ye are asking for a spanking for that.”

  She tilted her head, lips pursed to hold back a smile. “Is that a promise, husband?”

  Chapter 11

  “I dinna wish to live here. With or without Isabel,” said Rory.

  Tearlach had known this was coming. The last couple of weeks he’d seen Duncladach in a different light. He found himself clenching his teeth when one of his brothers told him what Somerled had said to Isabel. The first few times he’d tried to intervene, but she’d told him she would find her own way and didn’t want their assistance. Actually, she’d called it interference. Until she complained he was to close his eyes and ears.

  As she hadn’t complained he was stuck grinding his teeth. He’d thought Somerled was stubborn and that ladies were delicate creatures who needed to be coddled. Well, she was doing her best to out-stubborn his laird. He needed to coddle her and she wouldn’t allow it!

  Not that they had much time with her. Somerled kept them busy with chores. Usually it was the worst ones. He and Rory couldn’t complain about having to clean out the cesspit for the first time in a hundred years. It was Isabel’s complaints to Somerled about the stench that had led to the order.

  Calltuin had no garderobes. They had closets with wooden seats under which a chamber pot was placed. They were then emptied far from the house. So when Isabel complained to Somerled about the stench their smirking laird demanded they find a solution. Though they' scrubbed themselves raw in the sea Isabel wouldn’t let them sleep near her for two nights.

  The third night did make up for it. His cock struggled to rise. They’d had a play that morning when Rory got up to make the breakfast porridge, insisting she rest. She hadn’t got much sleep, but he’d kept her on her back rather than her feet or knees, sore from scrubbing.

  It was Rory’s turn with the spyglass. Instead of looking for enemies approaching, he had it aimed toward the MacLean’s Duart Castle on the Isle of Mull. A storm was approaching from the west, one that would make it extremely miserable to be assigned to watch for approaching enemies and strangers. Since Ewan didn’t tell Somerled about Isabel’s arrival the laird didn’t trust them and insisted Tearlach and Rory stand guard. They wouldn’t be much use once the rain hit. It would be impossible to see beyond the end of the spyglass. Nevertheless, they must still stay out until ordered in.

  Neither of them felt much like complying with their laird’s orders. They knew Somerled was doing all he could to keep them from Isabel. Tearlach didn’t know if it was jealousy or something else.

  The MacDougal brothers had made new arrangements while he and Rory were gone. They didn’t need or want another pair of older brothers between them and their laird. He felt like a visiting cousin who had to be accepted but nobody wanted. It burned his gut that he wasn’t needed. How could he have value to the clan if he was so easily replaced?

  “Did ye hear what I said?” demanded Rory. “I dinna wish to be here.”

  “Aye,” agreed Tearlach. “And I dinna wish to hear of Somerled ordering our wife around as if she was his servant.”

  “At least she has help now.”

  Their trip for scented soap had brought a benefit. Not only had Tearlach purchased a pair of good rush mattresses that they put together to use, word had spread about a MacDougal wife living at Duncladach. That made it acceptable for women, even single ones, to work there during the day. Enough women showed up to clean the castle in a fortnight. Isabel had welcomed the first few, promising they’d be paid. That brought more, of course.

  Somerled didn’t like all the noise and distraction. He complained but was ruled over by his brothers who said some of the money from Fiona, Alana, and Kiera’s dowries should be used to clean the place while Isabel was there. Dougal and Finn, on the other hand, thought it was the best thing ever to have women flirting and getting splashed in the warm weather.

  Of course Somerled was furious that Isabel promised they’d be paid. She informed him that while she was a wife who lived there, the other women were not. Why should they give up their time and effort, which could be put into their own homes, into cleaning up someone else’s messes? She implied it was laziness on Somerled’s part that led to the mess, of course.

  Tearlach had been very happy to stay out of that argument, though he hovered near in case Isabel needed help. That was when he realized his laird had a fair bit of bluster to him. As they’d all obeyed his orders Somerled never had to learn strategies to convince them. Isabel, having no power and needing things done, had learned how to convince men to complete jobs she wanted done.

  “Isabel should be yelling and poking Somerled in the belly with her finger, or kicking him in his arse,” said Rory. “Methinks he is keeping us apart on purpose, jealous that we have a warm, willing wife and he has naught.”

  Tearlach needed no reminder. Somerled had them all working hard, using every moment of light during these warm, sunny days. That was his right as laird, and there was much work to be done. Yet instead of the younger ones doing the worst jobs, it was he and Rory. Such as now.

  “Duncladach has changed,” he admitted. “I dinna wish to live here like this.”

  Rory, nodded, obviously relieved. “Nay, ’tis we who have changed. We’ve seen sommat we want, and ’tis not here.”

  Though his twin had known how things would be, he’d gone with them to Duncladach. Tearlach hadn’t realized the depth of loyalty his brother held for him. He’d known Rory’s support all his life and had accepted it without thinking. He now realized what Rory would choose to do without, to support him.

  “If the king gives us a choice I will ask for Calltuin,” said Tearlach. Rory didn’t reply. Tearlach was surprised to see his twin’s eyes glisten.

  “I will follow my laird, and my brother,” said Rory. “But Isabel is fading away. She shouldna be Somerled’s drudge. I didna ken how bad it was until wee Artair told me all she’s been doing. She’s said naught other than she’s tired.”

  “I dinna ken why she doesna refuse him.”

  “Artair said Isabel doesna wish to shame us afore our laird.” Rory scratched at his chin. They’d had no time to shave before being ordered to watch. No time to eat, either. “’Tis one thing for Dougal to complain, as he’ll mouth words for any reason. But I heard Ewan and Torquil muttering words against Somerled for how he is treating her. I’ve not heard that, ever.”

  Neither Ewan nor Torquil could live away from Duncladach. Both had been born the same night to sisters under a Beltane full moon. Ewan was tied to the land by a link none of them understood. Torquil was linked to his brother, the only one able to be near without making Ewan flinch. His whip scars made him wary of strangers.

  “Ewan and Torquil went to Isabel that first day.” Tearlach shook his head, still amazed. “Isabel looked Torquil right in the eye and asked to kiss him. And then Ewan kissed her! And we thought him putting one finger on Herald Murray’s hand was unthinkable.”

  “They talk at dinner now, though quietly,” added Rory. “Zander said they laugh a time or two when ’tis just the three of them.” He lifted a hand. “Nay, nothing more than a pair of brothers and a sister. They’d not touch another’s wife. Having Isabel as a friend means far more to them. She likes them the way they are.”

  Tearlach looked at the storm clouds gathering over the sea. It matched the storm inside him. He may not be comfortable at Calltuin with little to do but farm work, but his two partners would be happy. And having t
hem content would be worth it. He’d find something to do that would use up his restlessness.

  “We will leave once this storm passes,” he said.

  Rory’s head jerked back. “The herald said to wait for word.”

  “We can wait at Calltuin. Our wife is fading before our eyes. I’ll not allow it.”

  Rory pounded his fist on the stone wall. “’Tis no coincidence we are sent up here when the weather is bad and when meals are ready. Somerled is keeping us from Isabel.”

  “No more. Once this storm clears, we will be gone.”

  Chapter 12

  Isabel slumped at the end of the table as far from Somerled as she could. She’d served his bowl separately, making a meek servant’s bob as she did so. He’d barely condescended to notice her though Niall had given her a smile of thanks. The other brothers had been helpful, continuing to do as they always had until ordered to leave her alone. Since they now had a woman in the castle Somerled wished his brothers to do more manly work, leaving it all to her.

  She’d told her husbands to let her handle it. She’d hired women who’d done wonders, yet it wasn’t enough. Without seats, beds, or the like, Duncladach would always be cold and forbidding. Somerled’s scowl only added to it. He’d said something earlier that was the last straw. It hadn’t been much but she vowed she would get revenge.

  She’d gone out to collect herbs, wild garlic and the like, to make the food taste better. She’d come across a small patch of something that had made her grin in glee. She’d made the laird’s bowl separate, just for him. The effect of the herbs she’d added would encourage Somerled to spend the rest of the day, and perhaps half the night, in the garderobe he’d ordered her husbands to clean. She looked forward to hearing his groans.

  She ducked her head, once more pretending to be meek to hide her smile of triumph. Vengeance would be quite satisfactory as long as she stayed upwind.