Duty of the Chieftain - a Highland 'Lord's Right of the First Night' novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #3)

by Jonnet Carmichael

  The only dilemma was keeping up the courteous pretence of a bride never having been ridden when it became apparent that she was already well broken in.

  He'd pleasure her well... why wait?

  His long fingers moved downwards, readying her, melting her into submission inch by subtle inch with his touch alone until she lay open to him.

  He wriggled down the bed and cupped her nether cheeks, bringing her to him... aahh, she was sweet, whimpering so beguilingly at the tentative flicks of his tongue that after a time he brought his hands round to spread over her loins, and his thumbs to aid him in her pleasuring.

  Her squirming was about to peak when he pulled away. Hardly giving her a moment's recovery, he twisted onto his back. Duty bade him tutor her in the marital arts. She'd just been shown a way to achieve blissing with her own husband. If she would only return the favour, that would cover his tutoring in husband-pleasing also.

  "Yer mouth on me now...?"

  Her hair trailed over his chest and arm as she bent to her task, licking the crest of him in mimic of what he'd done to her, and his jaw clenched in wanting for every bit of her.

  Patience be damned. Not a minute longer could he hold on without spilling seed.

  He pulled her head away. "Would ye have me breach ye now?"

  She lay back on the bed beside him, and delicately parted her legs, as fine an invitation as a man could wish for.

  "Are ye sure of it, Meredith?"

  All doubt left him as she reached a hand to his neck and tugged him towards her. She was wee for him, as most lassies were, and he did no' want to waste her for the Swordmaker. Best it be a fast breach, just enough to let her have the charade that a maidenhead had existed lately, and then they could each get their ease in other ways.

  Too dizzy with weariness to be on top of her, he fell onto his back.

  "Come astride me..."

  Clamping his hands around her waist, he lifted her up effortlessly onto his belly and locked his gaze into hers, marvelling that the ocean had followed him home in the color of her eyes. He turned his mouth to kiss the fingers that were now so delicately touching his face, tasting the saltwater from his own body.

  "Ye're some lass..."

  Ranald changed his mind. She could ride him to his spill and he'd notify the Bard it had been done.

  Oh aye, she knows well the way of it... and a twinkle in those bonnie green eyes that says she'll no' be fit for the walk home when I've finished with her...

  His senses reeled with the intoxicating scent of her hair. Ginny had prepared her well, for this one was as sweet as grapes needing picked, smelling of chamomile and clover that took him to summerdays pasture.

  Her breathing came in gasps at the busy work of his fingers on her teats, and their kissing became desperate again.

  There was no need for him to hold back at all if she wanted it this much... he might even take a bit of time to bliss her twice before he slept, just for the pleasure of watching her come apart.

  He grasped her tight and brought her down on his throbbing length.

  VIRGIN! Hell's sodding PIT...

  Her screwed-up eyes and bitten lip were sign enough, but her body's reaction to the shock told him even more. He was now trapped in her tightness and powerless to get out.

  Baring his teeth in grimace, he willed himself to limpen for the sake of decency and tried as gently as he could to separate them... and his hand slipped, and she slid further down to the limit, her shuddering born of pain instead of passion.

  "Be still!" he growled, and felt hellish for his snapping. This was no' her fault. Yet even in his frozen state the seed left him, seeping out in defenceless reaction like a mother’s milk to a babe’s cry, and no gratification to feel along with it.

  I've hurt her bad… The second he was able to lift her carefully off him she slid from the bed and stumbled to find her chemise.

  He sat on the bed's edge, ears ringing and heart still thumping. "Ye should have said! Ach, lassie, why did ye no' say to me?"

  She snatched her robe up and did not turn.

  "Meredith! Come back! It will no' hurt again, and I will bliss ye!"

  The room was suddenly empty of her, save the blood on his groin and an ache that should have been confined to the same place, yet was not. Her tears would be tripping her all the way back to the Swordmaker's Cottage.

  The ability to sleep was wrested from him. He washed and shaved and dressed with the slowness of shame, and then sat awhile at the fireside in the very chair she'd warmed with her pert wee arse.

  He could not settle. Rising to pace the room, he looked with remorse at the incriminating bedsheet with her blood and his seed smeared on the side nearest the fire.

  If she'd been some other bride but the Swordmaker Archie's… if she'd but said she was virgin... if he'd been clear-minded instead of dropping weary… if his temper had not been so riled afore beginning the job...

  Guilt brewed his regret into resentment. Why should he feel the discredit of it? The daft lass could have told him. And he'd twice asked her if she was ready!

  He crashed the door open and trudged down the corridor, grumping at his mother's ladymaid Ginny in the passing. Those chirpy grins for him would be ended when she heard her cousin Meredith's tale, and there was little doubt that she would.

  The highboard in the Great Hall was already full but for one chair. Through the permeating reek from the venison and wild boar roasting on the spits, Ranald could dimly make out his parents presiding over the packed gathering.

  A great cheer erupted from the clansfolk present as they all stood up to welcome his official return, the noise ricocheting round the limewashed stones of the Great Hall in his beloved MacKrannan Castle, lifting his spirits and theirs.

  It was good to be home.

  He made his way through the trestles, ruffling the heads of the young cadets he trained for soldiering and thumping men's backs until he came to the highboard.

  "Welcome, son! Sit there next yer mother for now," said Sir Thommas, standing back in formal greeting. "Ye'll be wanting to meet the Lady Elinor."

  No' really… but he'd better put a face on it for the widow who would marry the Earl of Maxton. He'd all but forgotten Elinor Keirston in the stramash of bedding Meredith the bride, and he was far from being in the mood for social conversation. Let this be only his clansmen's victory dinner, and thanks be that none were lost in the battle with the Cambels.

  A couple of strides brought him behind his mother and their guest, and he made ready to bow upon introduction.

  "Good eve, Ranald," said his mother Agatha, in the reserved manner she kept for Hall and visitors. "Lady Elinor, this is my son Ranald, chieftain of MacKrannan, of whom our dear king spoke."

  With a bland smile, Elinor Keirston turned to receive his low bow.

  The anger in Ranald was his coldest, plain for all to see, and the Hall became oddly quietened. Agatha knew her son too well to voice comment on his rudeness. Instead, she covered up for him with chatter.

  "...did I tell ye that Ranald is also well acquaint with the Earl of Maxton? Ye'll surely have much to discuss throughout this fine dinner."

  "And beyond, mother, I thank ye," said Ranald, looking at the guest. "By your leave, on the morn I will take the Lady Elinor on the boat with me to continue our talk, for I was also well acquaint with her first husband."

  "Ah, but yer stables are of better interest to Elinor," said Agatha. "Perhaps a dawn gallop across the moors on yer fine new gelding she has been admiring? She is much accomplished at racing. She even outsped yer father, and her sidesaddled."

  "The air of the open sea will do her more good," said Ranald firmly.

  Lady Agatha made to speak, but hushed upon seeing the almost imperceptible movement of his eyebrow. "As ye wish, Ranald. A sea excursion, then," she said, and looked thoughtfully to the Chief.

  Sir Thommas was intrigued, but trusted their son to know what he was about.

  Ranald extricated himself fr
om among the fancy tall hats and long hanging veils of the ladies' attire, and sat with an audible thud in the vacant chair next the guest.

  The face that now swivelled again to his was one he knew. And from many angles, having held it under, over and upon several parts of his own body but an hour ago.

  He leaned nearer, baiting Elinor with narrowed eyes.

  "Ye are spared a long hard ride to the finish, madam!" he growled.

  Elinor beckoned him even closer to whisper, "Indeed I am, chieftain. I intend travelling home by horse."

  And at that she turned decisively away, swiping him on the nose with the pointed end of her bonnet.

  The absence of movement was reminder enough to Ranald of his whereabouts upon awakening, for it seemed long since he'd slept in the stillness of his castle bedchamber and not on a seaborne galley.

  Intense dreams had left him fatigued and bewildered at the deceit of Elinor Keirston, her that sat through supper in all her boldness. The implications of her virgin state had maelstromed in his mind throughout the night. The Lady Elinor had plenty to tell – did he but get her alone, which was simple, and in his trust, which would be difficult.

  What had she hoped to gain by coming to his bed? Had she thought to blackmail him in some way?

  None of it made sense. This lass had been wife to Sir Alain Douglas yet remained untouched from wedding to widowhood, clandestinely surrendering her purity to a man she'd never met while guest of his family.

  At his bidding, two of his guards went to give orders to their counterparts watching the houseguest. All now had instructions to shadow her personal guards as well as herself, for a woman capable of such trickery would employ her men well.

  His mother's ladymaid scuttled in with a basket of wood. Ranald stared, arms folded, as Ginny kindled the fire and hung the kettle to heat water for his shaving and ablutions. Her dip of a curtsy was her usual, but her manner with him was not. And tending fires was far beneath her status. Ginny had something to tell, and he made it easy for her to get on with it.

  "Ginny, come here to me."

  His mother’s ladymaid slunk across the chamber like a dog expecting a thrashing.

  "What news of your cousin Meredith?"

  Ginny appeared to find her reply somewhere on the floor, "She is well, milord. Gone to Archie's cottage."

  "When did she take leave of the castle yestreen?"

  The tremor in her was visible now. Ranald was the worst of the MacKrannans to be crossed, and both knew so. "Before supper, milord."

  Ginny's sleekit streak came of use whiles, but she knew better than to couch the whole truth in such vagueness to him of all people. He waited to hear what she'd next come out with. Always he had been decent and fair to her. She was flustered by his tetchy manner and her resultant prattling might tell more than she intended.

  "Milord, the Lady Elinor passed on to Meredith the marriage gift of silver from yer own good hand. My cousin thanks ye most kindly, for in other parts it is the bride-price must be paid to the Chief… if the bride's family chooses that way, as ye know… instead of the Lord's Right, if they get the choice, that is... and Meredith thanks ye most kindly, as I said…"

  It was simply done, then. The woman had even paid for his services in bed, which should have amused him but did not.

  He watched Ginny's face carefully as he barraged her with questions, one following fast on the other so that he’d espy any hesitant move from the truth.

  "Where did the Lady Elinor go then?"

  "To her own chamber, milord. She dismissed her guard to Hall, for the castle was barred and safe with your own men. I did not see milady after that."

  "What of the maid she brought with her?"

  "She kept to milady's room."

  "Who changed my bedsheets while I was at Hall?"

  "Milord, I did it myself, for one of yer wounds must be seeping blood and the like, and ye know how the chambermaids can be squeamish that way."

  Ginny's diplomatic skills were fair amazing, but Ranald espied her hands twisting this way and that as if doing unseen knitting, and her eyes struggling to meet his.

  She knew.

  "...And Archie the Swordmaker did wonder if the Lord's Right is now changed, milord, or if... if ye had some other reason that ye did not breach Meredith. He seeks audience with ye, and awaits in the Estate Room." Ginny's face turned puce as she added, "And I am to tell ye he did not lie with his bride last eve, in case ye have want of her yet."

  The meddlesome Lady Elinor had no idea of the consequences of her deed. Ranald had some covering up to do here. It would involve telling a fat lie to a man he had the utmost respect for. The other way was a truth that could never be told.

  Cornered. He did no' like that.

  "Go now to Archie. Be not overheard! Tell him that Meredith's virgin's blood is to honor all of Clan MacKrannan in battle. Tell him I have decided it fitting that the Swordmaker himself must mingle his seed with her blood to keep power in our forge."

  Ginny gasped at the privilege. "Archie will be..."

  "Hush ye and listen! I have immediate need of a ladymaid, by way of a chaperone. Ye'll be away from the castle till luncheon at the least."

  "Oh thank ye, milord! Thank ye!" she cried, all excited.

  "See Archie at once, then take a warm set of clothing from my sister's old trunks, something fit for a sea trip. Go then to my boat and await me, with yer ears open and yer mouth firm shut, mind."

  "Archie, clothes, boat, listen, dinna tell… I understand, milord, and if ye please, will Dougall be coming with us?"

  The brightness of Ginny's hope was enough to soften Ranald's temper. "He will, lass. Ye'll be looking forward to yer wedding, aye?"

  "Oh aye! Dougall says he is the luckiest man in all of Scotland," she said with some pride.

  "He has told me that himself more than once. Ye'll have a good life together, I am sure."

  The change in tone of their exchange led her to a bigger question. "Am I to come to ye for the Lord's Right, milord?"

  The sodding Lord's Right had Ranald in enough sodding trouble this minute, and he felt disinclined to do duty again for it anytime soon. But Dougall was his steward, and had been courting Ginny for some time. He'd known the wedding was coming. Crying off this duty was impossible without giving great insult.

  "I would think so, lass. Away now and find the Swordmaker and tell him what I have said. I'll see ye on the boat."

  A swift scrape of his face with a blade, a long talk with his astonished parents, and he was ready. Dougall pointed him to a flat rock at the sea's edge where Elinor sat like a mermaid, hair flying loose in the morning breeze and her eyes closed.

  He was about to destroy whatever inner peace she'd gotten from the ocean, and it would be upon the ocean he did it.

  Ranald sent his guards and her own few to a distance with their backs turned, and appeared at her side. Elinor near jumped out her skin. She scrambled off the rock and tried to sidestep him, yet still found her way barred.

  "Forgive me, chieftain, but my journey is long today, and your company unsought."

  The fight for control of the situation had begun, and Ranald intended to win. "We go by boat."

  "I go by horse, and must take leave of Sir Thommas and Lady Agatha. Let me pass."

  "My parents already know ye're coming with me – by yer own will or by mine."

  Elinor's head came back high and haughty. "Do not dare to lay one finger upon me!"

  "A finger, is it?" he leaned down to hiss in her face. "Ye had my cock up yer crack no’ half a day ago and I'll be hearing yer purpose to while away the sail."

  "Hush!" she squeaked, looking to the guards on the hillock above them. "Keep your foul mouth for your wenches and let me pass!"

  "Ye found my mouth syrup enough atween yer legs yestreen," he quipped. "And I would no' insult any wench with such vulgarity."

  Lady Elinor was demeaned into speechlessness.

  Turning to the hillock, Ranald whistled one
long and three short bursts. Four guards ran down to him, including his steward.

  "Dougall, man, have ye coin ready?"

  The brief nod was all the reply expected.

  Ranald snatched Elinor's hand and tucked it firmly under his left forearm, while giving instruction under his breath. "Dougall, see to the compensation of the Lady Elinor's men and maid, then join us all again."

  Elinor tried to pull away, only to find her fingers clamped all the tighter by the chieftain's immense paw.

  "You cannot expect me to leave without my guard!"

  "I will be guarding ye, madam," said Ranald, grimly. "Take comfort in the sureness of that."

  "My maid... I need my maid!"

  "Share mine. Ye are acquaint with Ginny already, I believe." A smirk split his face as he walked her towards the village. "Come. I would show ye the MacKrannan village and some of our trades."

  Woodsmoke drifted in a lazy fug above the heather-thatched cottages, all newly built in whinstone from the same quarry as the castle.

  All through the village, people toiled in open-doored workshops and outside their homes. Women sang waulking songs while they cleaned briars and burrs off wool fleeces. Ranald introduced Elinor to the carpenters and masons, the fletchers, the sailmaker and the saddler, according her the basic civility of saying her name first. Some of the faces were familiar to her from her brief times at Hall with Thommas and Agatha.

  Ranald watched how they greeted her – and how they greeted him, and how they then looked from one to the other.

  A blast of heat came from a workshop, and an apprentice in a thick leather apron pointed past Ranald to a man running towards them from the castle.

  "Archie, guid man!" Ranald called, "Ginny would give you my message?"

  "She did indeed, milord. How can we ever thank ye for an honor such as this! Meredith? Meredith!" he yelled at the cottage window, "The chieftain is here – come out, for I have such news!"

  Ranald put his hand on the man’s shoulder, staying him. "We’ll keep the detail between us, Archie, lest the potency be lost. Only this once it shall be done the way I have said."