“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice hoarse and raspy.
“Oh yes,” she sighed, bringing his mouth back to hers. Malcolm moved slowly at first, as if he feared causing her discomfort. She met his thrusts with her own, and she knew the second his control snapped. A rumbling growl came from deep in his chest. His thrusts came faster and deeper, the pressure building within her once more, bringing her to a pinnacle of sensation. She came with a rush, just as she felt the hot flood of his climax erupting inside her. Words spilled out of his mouth in rapid Gaelic as he continued to move against her until completely spent.
Caressing her face from forehead to chin, finally taking her mouth in a sweet, lingering kiss that melted her heart, Malcolm whispered in her ear, “You are mine. Now and forever. I will no’ let anyone take you from me. Dinna ever doubt it.” He smoothed the hair from her face, traced her eyebrows with a fingertip and gazed deep into her eyes. “Have faith in me.”
“I do.”
Malcolm remained wide awake long after his wife had fallen asleep in his arms. Certain she would not wake, he rose to fetch a candle. Lighting it from the embers in the hearth, he returned to place it in the stand by their bed. She’d been on her side tucked next to him a moment ago, but now she lay sprawled on her back. Her glorious hair spread out over the bed linens, the covers down about her waist. Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep.
His heart swelled. For certes he must be the luckiest man in Scotia, for the loveliest woman he’d ever beheld belonged to him. And so sweet a lover he could not have hoped for in his wildest dreams. Her passion matched his in every way. Generous and uninhibited, she’d thrilled him to the marrow.
Lifting a strand of her hair, Malcolm let it slide through his fingers. The sight of her perfect breasts, gilded by candlelight, caused his groin to tighten once again. Loving Alethia gave him a profound feeling of satisfaction and peace. Smiling, he remembered every detail of their wedding night and committed it to memory as she had their vows. The way she looked as she entered their room, like something out of a faerie tale, a vision in a cloud of soft silk, her glorious hair falling free down her back and over her delicate shoulders. Alethia was everything he’d hoped for—and more. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens.
He’d wanted the memory of this night to be something they could savor as they grew old together—and it had been. They’d made love until she could no longer keep her eyes open. The reality had far surpassed his fantasies.
He wished for a long, happy life, filled with the laughter of their bairns and grandchildren. But these were perilous times, and ’twas unlikely their enemies would comply. And what of Giselle?
He’d vowed not to let anyone take Alethia from him. What chance did he have against magic? Wracking his brain for some kind of plan, Malcolm took heart from the words the old crone had said to him so long ago. Giselle had bade him keep truth close to him all the days of his life if he would know contentment. Surely the old woman would not have said the words if she meant to take Alethia from him.
For the moment, his want had been satisfied—the worry, however, remained.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Malcolm stomped the mud from his boots outside the doors to the great hall. March brought the promise of spring to their clan, and along with spring came the mud. He’d returned from the lists flanked by his two shadows, Tieren and Hunter. He’d made the decision to train them in the ways of knighthood himself. Hunter was his foster son, after all, and he couldn’t teach one without the other, for the boys were inseparable. Nor could he send Hunter to be fostered by another noble as was the custom. True wouldn’t hear of it.
He smiled to himself at the thought of his wife. They’d been wed since the end of November, and still he could scarce believe his good fortune. Once inside, he removed the outer garment True had made him for Christmas. A parka, she called it—soft deer hide lined with thick wool and trimmed with rabbit fur. He found it exceedingly comfortable and warm. Hunter wore a smaller version identical to his. Malcolm’s gift to her had been a ring made of gold set with sapphires, a wedding ring.
The boys, now deemed pages under his tutelage, rushed to prepare him a plate to break his fast as he took a seat at the table. The sound of feminine laughter floated down the stairs. True’s laughter never ceased to cause his heart to flip. He reached to tousle Hunter’s hair, and pointed toward the stairs just as True and Elaine made their entrance.
“I’m famished.” True took a seat next to him as Hunter and Tieren tripped over themselves to serve the two women.
“’Tis a fair day. Would you and Elaine like to join me for a ride this afternoon?” The days grew longer with each passing week. Winter had always been Malcolm’s favorite season. Fewer battles were fought, more leisure time to spend with friends and family, and this winter in particular, he’d spent a good deal more time in bed with his warm and willing wife.
“Oh yes.” True smiled. “And while we’re at it, you can show me places where maple trees grow. It’s about time to gather the sap for syrup. Thomas has prepared the shunts and pails as I asked.”
“Aye, I can.”
“Good. Molly has a group of folks ready to help with the harvest. Just wait till you taste it, Malcolm.” She gave his hand a squeeze and turned to Elaine. “Will you come with us for a ride?”
“Och, aye. I’ve seen enough of these gray walls.” Elaine sipped the tea Hunter had placed before her. “’Twill be good to get some fresh air.”
A single blast from the village horn interrupted their conversation. True looked at him with her brows raised in question. “Word from my father, most likely.” He grabbed the remainder of the bread and cheese before him and rose from his place. “The ice is no’ completely out yet. ’Twill take some time before our guest arrives.” Bending down, he gave True a brief kiss before taking his leave with the boys on his heels. “We’ll ride another day, lass.”
Liam joined him on his way to the ferry landing. “Word from your father, no doubt.”
“Aye. ’Tis time we heard something. I’m anxious to hear his response regarding Meikle Geddes, and he’ll likely be sending word of his return.” He put his hand on Liam’s shoulder for an instant. “And news of our king.”
“Think you the ferry will attempt the crossing?”
“Nay. ’Tis certain they’ll send one of the skiffs.” A crowd had gathered near the landing to watch the small boat make its way through the ice floes in a crooked path toward shore. One man sat in the prow, and the ferry master manned the oars. Malcolm moved closer to shore to pull the skiff up on the sand as it landed.
“Welcome,” Malcolm said, offering his hand to the young man wearing the garb of a messenger. “I am Malcolm, son of William, the earl of Fife.”
Muddy and travel worn, the messenger took the offered hand and climbed out of the boat. “My thanks, my lord. Edward of York be my name. I am the king’s messenger and bring word from London.”
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, and his heart raced. They’d heard naught since his father’s departure, and he knew not what to expect. “King James or King Henry?” he asked mildly.
“Henry, though ’tis from James and your father that I bring tidings.”
Satisfied, he gestured toward the portcullis. “Come to the keep. Refresh yourself and have something to eat before you tell us the news. It has been a long winter without word from my father. Is he well?”
“He is. Or at least he was when last I saw him. Your keep is only one of many I’ve visited these past three months. I bring an edict from your King James to all the clans.”
“Aye? He gives us commands.” Liam rubbed his hands together. “So he must be returning home this spring,” he said, walking alongside the messenger.
“Liam,” Malcolm said as he took his place on the other side of their guest. “Let us wait until Edward has caught his breath. Everyone will want to hear the news. Spread the word, and we’ll gather in the great hal
l this eve. I will have Molly prepare food enough for all. Mayhap I can convince my wife to play her music for us.”
“Thou art wed, my lord?” Edward’s brow rose.
“I am. Why?”
“Ah…your father speaks of you often. ’Twas my understanding you were as yet…undeclared.”
Liam laughed. “Aye, well, he was before his father left for London. Malcolm had planned to wait until William’s return to take his vows with our Lady True, but the clan made other plans for her that did not include him. He had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. You’ll understand once you’ve met the lady.”
Liam took his leave as Malcolm and his guest entered the keep. He bid a servant to make ready a room and a bath for Edward, and led him to the table where his two pages prepared a plate for their visitor.
True rose from her place and came to his side, followed by his sister. “Edward, this is my wife, Lady Alethia. We call her True. And this is my sister, Lady Elaine. This is King Henry’s messenger, Edward of York. He has brought us news from London.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed to the ladies and turned to Malcolm. “My lord, I was charged to see these missives safely into your hands, and I would do so before taking my ease.” He reached into his leather satchel embossed with the king’s seal and pulled out several vellum packets tied together in a neat bundle.
Malcolm took the letters, sorting through them as he sat. Two were for his mother, one in his father’s hand, one in his aunt’s. Two were addressed to him, one from his father, and one from his uncle. He broke the wax seal on the one from his father and began reading. “Mmph.”
“What does he say, Malcolm?” Elaine asked.
“He returns home by the end of next month.” He frowned over the letter.
“Something troubles you?” True rested her hand on his arm.
“’Tis nothing. Why don’t you and Elaine take Mother’s letters to her. Inform Molly we feed the clan this eve.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “I’ve told our guest you would play for us after we sup, if it would please you.”
“I’d be happy to play tonight.”
“Come, True.” Elaine tugged at her sleeve. “Let us take these letters to my mother.”
True looked from him to his sister and rose from the table. Malcolm watched them walk toward the kitchen, their heads bent close together in whispered conversation. He knew Elaine was telling his wife they would get the news from his mother much more easily. He grunted and read his father’s letter again.
“Your wife is very lovely, my lord.” Edward nodded in the direction the two women had gone. “Her accent is foreign. From whence does she come?”
“She is the daughter of a king. Her land lies across the ocean and is not well known to us.”
“How does she come to be here in the Scottish Highlands?”
“Och, well, that is a long story and best saved for another time. I’ve much to see to before nightfall.” He gestured to Tieren. “Lad, you will look after our guest and act as his page for the remainder of the day.”
Malcolm glanced at the messenger’s dirt-encrusted leather boots and mud-spattered leather jerkin. He wore an over-tunic proclaiming him to be a messenger so none would harm him in the execution of his duty. He’d see to it his garments were cleaned while here as well.
“Tieren,” Malcolm continued his instructions. “Show him where the bathing room is once he’s done eating, and then take him to his chamber.” He spoke in Gaelic, and thought once again ’twas time to teach Tieren English and mayhap French. He would be Hunter’s voice in this world, and he needed to learn to communicate with others not of their clan. “The lad will show you where you can bathe, and to the room prepared for you. Until this eve, make yourself at home.”
Elaine took Alethia’s arm as they walked to the kitchen to speak with Molly. “Whatever my father wrote to my brother he’s also written to my mother. She’s much more likely to share the news with us. Let us speak with Molly and then take the letters to Mother.”
“You’re right. Your father will be home in less than two months.” How had his father reacted when he’d learned of his son’s handfasting? Had William written something about it that caused Malcolm’s tension?
“You’re at it again, True.” Elaine grinned at her as they entered the kitchen.
“At what again?”
“Worrying.
“I wasn’t worrying.” She frowned. “I was thinking.”
“Aye. ’Tis the same thing where you’re concerned.”
After arranging things with Molly, they took the back stairs up to Lydia’s solar, where they found her before the hearth with her embroidery.
“Mother, I’ve a letter for you from Father and one from Aunt Rosemary.”
Lydia raised her head from her work with a welcoming smile. “Aye? I thought as much when I heard the signal from the village.” She set her handiwork aside and took the vellum from Elaine, holding it to her heart for a moment. “Your father will be home soon.”
Elaine sat on the edge of her chair. “Aye, and True is vexing about it.”
“William will come to see things Malcolm’s way, my dear. And the both of you have my support.” She smiled and opened the letter from her husband as if she could hardly wait. “Och, they’ll have words, to be sure. The two are a great deal alike, and both are as stubborn as oxen.”
Lydia’s attention shifted to her husband’s letter, and Alethia sat next to Elaine to wait for her to finish. Lydia made small exclamations and murmurs as she read, bringing an answering smile to her own face. What must it be like to be separated from one’s spouse for an entire winter? She hoped never to find out.
“Well, what does Father say?” Elaine asked, once her mother put the vellum in her lap.
“He’ll be home at the end of next month.” Lydia leveled a stare at her impatient daughter. “Our king and his new wife return at the same time. James has issued an edict to all the clans to cease fighting amongst ourselves. He says Scotland must become a united kingdom if we are to grow strong and prosper.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Alethia asked. Lydia gave off the same disquiet Malcolm had after he’d read his father’s letter.
“If all the clans will agree to it, aye, ’tis a very good thing, but also unlikely, especially here in the Highlands. Some of the clans have been feuding for centuries,” Lydia said.
“Like with the Comyns and the MacKintosh?” she asked.
“Aye, exactly like that.” Elaine nodded. “We will honor our king’s command. That doesna mean the Comyns will. They’ve always been a treacherous lot. What else does he say, Mother?”
“Some of it is no’ for your ears, daughter.” Lydia grinned, her cheeks tinged with a blush.
Alethia could clearly see the clan’s interest lay elsewhere as she played her third piece. All were anxious to hear the messenger speak, and their curious glances drifted to him again and again. She smiled, curtsied and quit. “It’s happened,” she remarked, settling into her place beside Malcolm with an exaggerated sigh.
“What has, True?” Malcolm covered her hand where it lay on the table.
“Our clan has tired of my music.”
He chuckled and drew her closer to his side with his arm around her waist. Content, she settled against him.
“Nay, our people will never tire of your music, mo cridhe. They canna wait any longer to hear what Edward has to tell us.”
“I vow, my lady, ’tis true,” Edward said from his place next to her. “I found your music truly captivating. I’ve never heard the like before.”
Alethia felt Elaine’s look and turned to find her friend raising a single eyebrow at her. She grinned and decided she’d been adequately compensated for the clan’s lack of interest. “Thank you, Edward.”
“We should probably get on with it,” Malcolm said. “’Tis time to introduce our guest.” He moved his chair back and stood facing his people. Taking his dagger from his belt, Malcolm po
unded the hilt on the table three times to get everyone’s attention. The hall went quiet, and all eyes turned expectantly toward the dais. “Word has reached us from my father. He will be home at the end of April.” His voice carried to the far corners of the hall. “This is Edward, King Henry’s messenger. He brings tidings from our King James, and I bid you all to give him your attention.” Malcolm waited until Edward stood before taking his seat.
“I am sent here by your liege,” Edward began. “Your king sends his greetings and wants all of his subjects to know he is on his way home to take his place on the throne of Scotland.”
A raucous cheer and the stomping of feet interrupted his speech. “Long live King James!” someone from the rear of the hall shouted, and the echoed sentiment went on and on in a roar of sound. Edward appealed to Malcolm for his aid, and again her husband stood and pounded on the table until the noise ceased.
“That is no’ all,” he shouted. “Let him continue.”
Once again the hall quieted, with the exception of a startled toddler whose cries echoed off the walls as his mother shushed him.
Edward continued. “James travels to Scone Abbey in Perthshire, where his coronation will take place during the month of May, in the year of our Lord 1424. He will then continue on to Castle Hill in Stirling. I bring with me your king’s first command as your liege.” He held up a sheet of parchment with the crest of the house of Stuart affixed at the bottom for all to see. “He has issued an edict, which I pass along to his subjects as is his wish. Word has reached your king that his country is in chaos with clan fighting against clan. He is distressed by the news and seeks to remedy the situation. From this day forward let it be known: by order of your rightful king, James I, son of Robert III, all fighting amongst the clans of Scotia is forbidden. Furthermore, any insurrection will be punishable to the full extent of the law.”
Stunned silence met his words, followed by exclamations of disbelief and skeptical grumbling. Edward took his seat as Malcolm rose again.
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 21