Devil in a Kilt

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  The strapping youth, Thomas, hovered just inside the door, his long arms hanging loose at his sides while he repeatedly nudged the floor rushes with the toe of his well-worn boot.

  Stepping away from the opened door and into the deep shadows of a wall embrasure, Duncan finally set Linnet on her feet. He took a firm hold on her elbows and looked deep into her eyes. “So, my sweeting, what is this dire warning I must heed? What meaning do you see behind this two-headed man of flame?”

  “He was not of flame,” she said, uncomfortable even recollecting the frightening image. “The flames surrounded him. ’Twas as if he stood in the very mouth of hell itself.”

  Duncan folded his arms across his broad chest. “And what do you make of that? Do you foresee a fire? Shall I have wet hides and buckets of water made ready?”

  Linnet glanced downward at her tightly clasped hands. How could she tell him she didn’t know the vision’s meaning? Had he not listened when she’d told him she could but guess?

  “Well?” he asked, leaning back against the stone wall.

  “I know not, my husband,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, the words barely audible even to her own ears.

  He gave her a penetrating look, the kind that made his deep blue eyes appear black, as dark as the hair sweeping back from his proud forehead. “Then, pray what do you think the vision meant?”

  Linnet wet her lips. It was hard to concentrate, even difficult to breathe, when he stood so near and peered at her with such an intense look upon his handsome face.

  “I think—I think,” she began, fair stumbling over her own tongue, “it was a warning.”

  “So you’ve told me,” he said, capturing her face between his warm hands. “’Tis what you fear may happen I would know.”

  “I—I fear the flames meant the two-headed man is of the devil. A man filled with evil,” she told him, giving voice to her fears. “And I believe the two heads speak of one who would betray you. A friend you dare not trust.”

  “A friend?” Her husband looked doubtful, almost amused. He didn’t believe her.

  She could tell.

  “You doubt me,” she said the words as a statement, not a question.

  Duncan dropped his hands from her face, catching her own in his larger ones, lacing his fingers with hers. “I vow I wish to believe you, lady, but a friend?”

  She nodded. “So the message feels to me. I cannot say who would do you false, but of the two heads, one smiled whilst the other was vile. Evil.” She squeezed his hands, trying to make him understand. “Please, ’tis important. I know it. Someone you trust speaks with two tongues. You must beware.”

  To her great relief, a look of dawning comprehension stole across his face. “And so I shall. ’Tis no doubt Kenneth you saw. He is a master of deceit who would seek to charm you whilst hiding a well-honed blade behind his back,” Duncan reasoned.

  “He fooled my father thusly, ever playing on our sire’s largesse,” he went on. “When we were young, he had me deceived too. For a time.”

  Linnet shook her head, she had to convince him. “Nay, it was not Kenneth I saw. ’Tis certain I am, and whoe’er he was, he bodes ill and…” Her words trailed off when he slipped a hand beneath her hair and began caressing the back of her neck.

  “Linnet,” he said, his voice cajoling. “It can be no other. Kenneth is a haveless nithing who would defile any and all things what, in his twisted mind, keep him from attaining what he wants.”

  “Nay, ple—”

  Duncan silenced her by placing two fingers against her lips. “I’m thinking the warning came because of this most recent terror he’s wrought unto my people. Never has he dared go so far and he willna get away with it. ’Tis nary a soul amongst my men who’ll rest until he’s breathed his last.”

  “You mean to kill him?”

  “There can be no other way. I cannot turn my back on such carnage as he’s allowed himself this time,” her husband vowed, his voice cold. “His vicious acts cannot be undone, but we shall claim retribution, and it will be swift and without mercy.”

  Botheration welled inside Linnet’s chest. He still didn’t believe her. The saints knew her husband must exercise vengeance on his onerous half brother, but she knew the two-headed man in her vision hadn’t been Kenneth.

  Nay, the wretched creature foretold a danger yet to come.

  A danger her lord husband refused to see.

  Tears of frustration pricked the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away. From somewhere close behind her, footsteps approached, then a man cleared his throat as he neared the alcove where she and Duncan stood in the shadows.

  “Your lady’s maidservant and the boy are settled, the fire stoked,” the Sassunach told her husband. “By your leave, I shall see who Fergus has sent to the battlements.”

  “Aye, go. I’ll join you shortly,” Duncan said, stepping forward but keeping her in the shelter of the deep wall embrasure with a firm hand to her elbow.

  From outside the alcove, Sir Marmaduke peered at her as if he meant to say something, but he must’ve decided otherwise, for he gave Duncan a brisk nod, then left them alone.

  The moment he disappeared up the turret stairs, Duncan turned back to face her. He, too, peered at her strangely, but unlike the look Sir Marmaduke had given her, this look sent heat coursing through her and made her feel as if she’d soon melt into a puddle at her husband’s feet.

  Without a word, he drew her tight against him. Her hands splayed against the solid wall of his chest, the hard coils of his black mail shirt pressing into her palms. Crooking his fingers under her chin, he lifted her head, forcing her to look at him. The unbridled desire in his eyes ignited an equal fire deep in her own core.

  Still silent, the passion in his eyes all the words he needed, he brought his mouth dangerously close to hers. “I’d meant to spend these hours in your arms, loving you,” he said, his each word sending a whisper of warm breath over her lips, “but I canna pleasure you as I am wont to do when all and sundry occupy our bedchamber.”

  Linnet raised her hand, placing it gently upon his jaw. He drew in a sharp breath at her touch, as if she’d scorched him. Then he slowly turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss into her hand. She sighed, her knees almost going out on her when he began flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across the tender skin of her palm.

  “Aye, lass,” he vowed, his voice ragged, “I burn with need for you, but a kiss must suffice for I dare not tarry in joining Marmaduke on the battlements.”

  “Will you be long?” Linnet almost did not recognize her own voice, so breathless were her words. “Shall I await you here?”

  He seemed to consider, but then shook his head. “Nay, I will not return this way. ’Tis best I bed down in the hall with my men.”

  “Must you? Can you not sleep in our chamber? The others will surely be deep in slumber by the time you return, they will not disturb us,” she coaxed, emboldened by the insatiable hunger he stirred within her.

  Of a sudden, she was athirst for more than just his kisses, blissfully forgetful of the dangers lurking so near. And willing herself blind to the pained look she’d seen pass quickly o’er his face when she’d mentioned Elspeth and Robbie. “Please,” she tried again, melting against him, her skin tingling in anticipation of his touch. “Please reconsider.”

  “You tempt me beyond all bounds,” he breathed, lowering his lips to hers. He slanted his mouth over hers in a fierce kiss, claiming her lips, her passion, her very soul, in a way she could no longer deny.

  She opened her mouth beneath his, inviting the sensual sweep of his tongue against hers. Desire flared inside her, a raging, all-encompassing fire.

  An unquenchable need.

  An unbearably sweet ache.

  “Saints, but I burn for you,” he breathed, moving his lips over her face, neck, and shoulders. With the tip of his tongue, he licked at the sensitive skin beneath her ear, then gently nipped his way up and down the curve of her neck
.

  The place between Linnet’s thighs began to throb with a heavy, pulsing warmth she could scarce endure, so intensely pleasurable was the sensation.

  “Did I not know better, I’d swear you’ve cast an enchantment over me,” Duncan vowed, threading his fingers through the unbound mass of her hair. He lifted great handfuls to his face and breathed deep as if he meant to savor the essence of her tresses. Of her. Letting go of her hair, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders, easing down her still-unfastened cloak until it pooled at her waist.

  Chill air washed over the heated skin he’d bared, passing without resistance through the thin barrier of her linen kirtle to caress her as enticingly as if unseen hands would ply her nakedness, tease and taunt her with a deliciously cool and smooth length of finest silk.

  “Touch me,” she whispered, and he obliged, closing his hands over her breasts. He kneaded them, gently at first, then in a more bold manner, toying and plucking at her nipples through the linen of her gown until they hardened beneath his fingers and her entire body quivered with sheer pleasure.

  Lowering his hands to her hips, he pulled her close against him. Before Linnet could release a single sigh of contentment, he hoisted up her skirts and slipped one hand between her thighs.

  “’Tis soft as an angel’s sigh, you are, lass,” he breathed into her hair, while his fingers caressed the moist heat of her most private place.

  With a sharp intake of breath, he stilled the gentle probing of his fingers and simply cupped her, pressing his hand firmly against her woman’s flesh. Then he began moving his palm over her in a slow, circular motion. A floodtide of exquisite tingles washed over Linnet’s mound, whilst a spiral of pulsing excitement whirled inside her, threatening to spin out of control and shatter any moment.

  As if a score of the devil’s own mischief-makers spurred him on, Duncan used his fingers again, simply stroking her at first, then idly toying with her damp nether curls as if he had all night to pleasure her.

  But he didn’t, so when she gave a sweet sigh and arched herself against his hand, Duncan moved a single finger, his middle one, over the tight little bud of her sex—and rubbed.

  Her eyes widened and her musky, woman’s scent rose up to swirl around them. “This is passion,” he told her, his voice husky with his own raging ardor, his senses set afire by the intoxicating scent of her desire.

  With his free hand, he took one of hers and pressed it hard against his rigid shaft. “When this madness with Kenneth has found an end, I shall keep you abed for seven days and seven nights.

  “I shall love you until you beg me to cease.” He watched her carefully as he spoke, waiting for the instant her eyes would grow heavy-lidded with desire. When the moment came, he increased the pressure of his touch, moving his finger in an ever-faster circle over her need until she sagged against him, trembling, her breath leaving her in one long, shaky gasp.

  “Merciful saints,” she whispered, clinging to him.

  “Nay, my lady, I vow such pleasures are more of a devilish nature,” he said, withdrawing his hand and letting her gown drop back into place. “Keep yourself safe while I am gone. There is much more of passion I would teach you, but I cannot if you are not here to learn. Do not even think to attempt anything foolhardy in my absence, or I shall be greatly aggrieved upon my return.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her, and in that moment, a commotion could be heard on the ramparts above. He drew back from her, his handsome face gone pale.

  Unable to bear the way he stared at her, Linnet took hold of his arms and clung to him, refusing to let him brush her aside. His expression frightened her, for he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. ’Twas as if he’d just discovered he’d been dallying with the bride of Lucifer and not his own lady wife who deeply cared for him.

  “Please… please do not look at me that way,” she implored him, wishing she had the courage to voice her true feelings, beseech him to cease punishing her for another woman’s sins.

  If Cassandra was the reason for his stony-faced expression.

  She wanted to supplicate him, nay, urge him, to fight his inner demons as bravely as he would face his physical foes, beg him to seek not only the quenching of their bodily needs, but those deeper still as well.

  The most important needs, the needs of their hearts.

  But she remained silent, the closed look on his face turning any words of protest she might dare utter to dust afore she could even form them coherently in her mind, much less give voice to them.

  Shifting uncomfortably under his fierce perusal, she drew her mantle up over her exposed shoulders.

  “I must leave you now.” He reached out to adjust the woolen cloak for her. “Go to your chamber and heed my words. We’ve tarried here overlong. I’ve much on my mind and shouldn’t have given in to my baser desires.”

  His words doused whatever longing still lingered within her as surely as if he’d tossed her into the icy waters of Loch Duich.

  Baser desires?

  Linnet bristled. “Am I naught but a vessel to you, my husband? Do you see in me only a means to take your manly ease when the lust to do so overcomes you? Am I but a burden to be borne, a wife to feed and clothe, but not care about the rest of the time?”

  By the Rood! Duncan’s eyebrows rose in astonishment at her accusation. Did she not ken the sounds of his men manning the walls had smote him with sheer dread o’er the possibility of harm being done her? Did she not realize he’d pulled away from her because he was appalled at himself?

  Shocked to the core he could think of lust whilst a score of his people lay slain and maimed, awaiting his vengeance?

  Had she so quickly forgotten the tenderness he’d bestowed upon her whilst she’d recovered from the disturbing vision she’d had in his former solar?

  “Think you truly I care naught for you?” he asked, unable to keep the accusing tone from his voice. “That I almost lay with you here, upon the stone floor, without even the comfort of strewn rushes, because I need a ‘vessel’ to slake my manly needs with?”

  To his dismay, she nodded.

  “Christ’s bones!” he roared, too angry to care if all under his roof heard him. “I vow you have held your hands o’er your ears each time I’ve told you I am not good with words. I am a man of deeds, not pretty speeches. ’Tis up on the wall walk with Marmaduke I should be, not standing here feeling sick at the thought of harm coming to you.”

  He paused to catch his breath. “For one blessed with a gift such as yours, ’tis beyond belief how dense you can be. Do you not ken I kissed and touched you to banish the horrors of this day from my mind? So I could take sweet memories of you with me when I ride out of here?” He caught her chin, gently forcing her to look at him. “And do you know why?”

  The stubborn vixen shook her head again.

  He opened his mouth to tell her ’twas because he cared, but the words lodged firmly in his throat. She might construe caring with loving.

  And he did not love her.

  He loved no one.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over them, and to escape it, Duncan withdrew a two-edged dagger from a leather sheath attached to his belt. “Thomas will be standing guard outside your door,” he said, handing her the knife. “Give this to him and tell him not to give entry to any save myself, Marmaduke, or Fergus.”

  She stiffened visibly, but took the blade. “You think we are in danger of being attacked?”

  “Nay. None but a fool would attempt a siege against these walls. Kenneth is many things, but not a fool.”

  “Then why such precautions?”

  “Because,” he said, trailing his knuckles down her cheek, “naught but a fool would not ascertain his loved ones’ safety when peril, real or imagined, is near. And I am even less a fool than my bastard half brother.”

  Turning away from her, lest he be tempted to reveal further sentiments best kept to himself, he made to march up the turret stairs to join Marmaduke, but his lady wife
rushed after him.

  “Wait, please,” she called, sounding flustered.

  “Aye?” He stopped on the third step, but didn’t turn around.

  “Does Robbie count as one o’ your ‘loved ones’?” she asked, taking him completely by surprise.

  Once more, the gruesome image of the wee lad, pale and lifeless as he knew his poor crofters’ bairns to be, flashed before his mind’s eye. The very thought turned his blood cold, made his innards quake and his hands tremble.

  Sweet Jesus, he’d said his loved ones. Wasn’t it enough to have spoken the words? Was she so blind, so deaf, she couldn’t hear the truth when he’d fair bellowed it at her?

  He would not voice the sentiment again.

  Not when he himself wasn’t prepared to accept the words his lips had spewed forth almost of their own accord and afore he’d even realized he’d spoken them.

  He heard her come up behind him, felt her place a hand on the back of his arm. “Is he?” she breathed, her voice eager, expectant. “Are you telling me you do care about the boy?”

  “Is he my son?” Duncan asked, the turmoil inside him finding release in the coldly spat words.

  “Would it matter?”

  Kenneth’s face, so like his own but marred by a gloating sneer, chased the sickening image of Robbie, his small body bloodied and twisted, from Duncan’s mind.

  “Aye, it matters,” he said, hating the way his stomach turned inside out at the lie. And hating himself more because he was too cowardly to admit, even to his own self, he did indeed care about the lad.

  “Is he mine?” he demanded once more.

  “I canna say,” Linnet said in a small voice, disappointment weighing heavily on each word.

  Duncan stood, ramrod straight, holding his shoulders and neck so rigidly he might as well been carved of stone. He would not turn around, would not let her see the pain he knew had to be mirrored in his eyes.