Lord of Legend

by Charlene Cross

  Remembering the enjoyment of their union, Chandra felt a hot blush flow over her. How could anything possibly exceed the ecstasy that had already been theirs?

  Aleck thought she seemed not to believe him. “We’ve only touched the edge of rapture, sweet. Tomorrow, at Montbourne, we’ll seek its core.”

  Chandra stood by the doors leading into the great hall at Montbourne. The glow of love shone in her eyes as she watched her husband traverse the expanse between the stables and herself. They had just returned from their daily outing, and he’d handed over the stallion to the boy who awaited them. The one horse was all they ever used, for they preferred to ride together. What a ride it had been, Chandra thought, recalling their amazing interlude. One wouldn’t think such a thing possible. Not on a stallion’s back. But considering the man and his insatiable lust, she’d learned to expect the unexpected with Aleck. Admiring his handsome features, which were bathed in warm sunlight, she knew she’d never tire of this man. Her contentment lay in him. The past month seemed like a dream—a dream from which she never wanted to awaken.

  “Well, milady,” Aleck said, “did you enjoy this day’s ride?”

  “Aye, I did,” she said, a smile teasing her lips. “Milord is a fine horseman. I am impressed by your skill.”

  A knowing look danced in his blue eyes. “My choice of a mount has a lot to do with my dexterity. Bestride the best, I tend to give it my all. I’ve not fallen short yet—have I, love.” His last three words were a statement, not a question. Chandra’s profuse blush made him chuckle. “Come, my little filly. Let us see if my prowess is greater indoors than it is out.”

  “Don’t you ever tire of … of—you know,” she whispered, for they were now inside the hall, and she feared her voice would echo through the vast room.

  “Making love?” he asked boldly, his words bouncing off the walls. The servants’ heads turned their way, and Chandra nearly melted through a crack. “Not to you, I don’t,” he said with a wink. “Not when you give me such excruciatingly sweet pleasure.”

  They reached the stairs just as Winnie came from the back hall, her arms laden with mended clothing. “Since you’re headed upstairs, you can take these with you.” She eyed both Aleck and Chandra sternly. “Tear another stitch while in the throes of passion, and you’ll be repairing your own clothing from now on. I have too much else to do.”

  The large bundle was heaped into Aleck’s arms. “We’ll be most careful while disrobing, Mistress Marlowe. In fact, to save you any more work, we’ll remain undressed the day through.”

  “’Tis your home. You can run naked through it, if you like. Just don’t tear another thread.”

  Her mouth agape, Chandra had listened to the exchange. After Winnie waddled off, she blinked and stared at her husband.

  “Do not let her candidness startle you, sweet. She practically raised me. Unpolished she might be, but she’s one of the finest women I know.” He shifted the bundle in his arms. “Come. Let’s find our chamber. We have other clothes to see to, and they must be handled with great care.”

  Chandra wanted to speak to Winnie, but she had to do so alone. Today was the one-month anniversary of their wedding, and she hoped to spend the evening alone with her husband, their meal served in their room. “I’ll be up in a moment,” she said, waving him on. “I need to talk to the servants. I won’t be long.”

  His lazy gaze fixed itself on her. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Chandra proceeded toward the back hall, and Aleck ascended the stairs. Halfway up, he met the descending Felix Marlowe. “Two letters arrived while you were out, sir,” his steward announced. “I placed them on the table in your chamber.”

  “Thank you, Marlowe.” Aleck shifted the bundle again. “As soon as you are able, search out the finest wine I own. I shall need it for tonight.”

  The man bobbed his head. “Right away, sir.”

  His steward rushed on down the stairs while Aleck climbed them. Inside his room, he laid the clothing aside, then sought out the letters. The first, he discovered, was from Felicia. Giving it a cursory read, he tossed it aside. The second was from Sir John. Unlike Felicia’s, the contents of Sir John’s held his attention. One paragraph particularly caught his eye.

  …’Tis more than rumor, I fear. James is livid over the clan Morgan’s unprovoked attacks on its neighbors. Those who are loyal to the Crown suffer greatly, while others who still question such authority are incited to join the cause. Our king amasses an army of nearly five hundred to ride north. The casualties promise to be heavy—for those at Lochlaigh, at least. For your wife’s sake, I thought you should be made aware of this.

  Damn the luck! If Chandra learned what was happening at Lochlaigh, she’d strike out for the Highlands. Somehow he had to keep her ignorant of these events—past, present, and future. Or else his and Chandra’s tranquillity would be destroyed. Yet, for her sake, he felt he should try to intervene. Cedric was the instigator of this insurrection. The others, no doubt, followed the man blindly. To slaughter the whole would be a travesty of justice. He must persuade James to temper his anger at the clan Morgan. Tomorrow he intended to ride to London.

  Soft footsteps fell in the hallway, edging ever closer to his room. Slamming Sir John’s letter inside the pages of a book that lay atop the table, Aleck wiped the harsh look from his face. The sound of his wife’s steps hinted she was mere feet away from the door. Pretending boredom, he gazed at the fingernails on one hand—and caught sight of Felicia’s letter, which somehow had fallen to the floor. Snatching it up, he searched about for a place to hide it. A low chest stood open only a yard away. Tossing the letter inside, he slammed the lid with his foot. A second later, Chandra entered the room. “What took you so long?” he questioned, his voice a near squeak.

  Her brow furrowing, she stared at her husband. He strode toward her, an odd sort of smile claiming his face. “It’s been no more than five minutes since I left you,” she defended, keeping near the door.

  “More like ten,” he countered. “Even a second is too long to be away from you.” The door slammed, and Aleck swept Chandra up into his arms. He carried her toward their bed. “I missed you, sweet. Your absence has left me feeling empty. Renew the joy in me. ’Tis the only way I’ll be whole again.”

  Chandra lay sideways on the bed and watched her husband strip from his shirt. In his haste, the linen ripped. She’d mend it willingly, a hundred times over, for as long as he came to her, and then some. The leather breeches slid down his sinewy legs. Save for the medallion, he stood naked. The emeralds winked at her, and her hand itched to touch the spot where the heavy gold circle rested against his chest. Her gaze tripped lower, and she marveled at his stamina. For the fourth time today, he was fully aroused, hard and ready. Pulling her own clothes free, tossing them on the floor, she lay back and opened her arms, then her legs. “Come to me,” she whispered, beckoning him.

  Aleck’s knee indented the feather mattress as his weight settled on the bed. “You’re a bonny lass, Chandra. A woman who knows my own heart.” His knuckles grazed the tuft of red curls, then two long fingers slipped inside her, creating a rhythmic play. His thumb teased the bud, rotating it gently. She arched against his hand, moaning softly; Aleck chuckled. “You want me, don’t you?”

  “Aye,” she breathed.

  “Show me where.”

  Her hand captured his engorged member; she urged him toward her. “Here,” she said, its moist crown meeting her secret place, the place only he had known.

  She was hot and wet; Aleck eased into her until he lost himself completely. “Make me whole, Chandra. Renew my joy.”

  To Aleck’s delight, he found rejuvenation again, and again, and again, Chandra being his sole pleasure. As dawn broke, he kissed her forehead, then slipped quietly from their room, Sir John’s letter tucked in his belt. When Chandra awakened several hours later, she discovered he had gone.

  Chapter

  12

  Late in the
afternoon, Chandra entered the empty bedchamber, Aleck’s repaired shirt in her hand. She glanced at their bed, and loneliness filled her. He’d been gone since dawn, and already she missed him terribly. Why hadn’t he awakened her so they might have said a proper farewell? Slipping his note from her pocket, she read it again.

  The sun’s rays streak across the horizon as I write this, love. A messenger arrived from London. A matter of great importance commands my immediate attention, so I must ride south and see to it. As I gaze at your beautiful face, I hesitate to leave. But knowing that you will be awaiting me makes the thought of my homecoming so much sweeter. I hope to return by week’s end.

  Forever, Aleck.

  On a sigh, Chandra tucked his note into her pocket and moved to the chest where Aleck stored his shirts. She opened it and found it full. Searching about the room for another place to stow the article, she caught sight of the chest nearest the table. As she crossed toward it, Chandra’s head suddenly swam. Too much wine, she decided—she remembered how during their celebration of their one-month anniversary Aleck had poured the sweet liquid in a thin line down her nude torso. A rush of excitement quivered through her, settling in the pit of her stomach, for she still felt the magic of his tongue as he’d licked the wine from her skin. Week’s end, she thought. That was far too long for him to be gone.

  Kneeling by the chest, she folded Aleck’s shirt, then lifted the lid. A piece of parchment caught her eye. She spread open the letter and noted the date; then, as she read the entreating phrases, her gaze hardened. A matter of great importance, he’d said. Well, Felicia Emory held minuscule importance to Chandra. If he’d ridden all the way to London to see his former mistress—if, indeed, the word former applied!—simply because she’d begged him to do so, upon his return there would be war.

  Angrily Chandra crammed Aleck’s clean shirt into the chest. Tossing the letter atop it, she rose and slammed the lid. “Darling,” she mimicked the Lady Emory’s endearment, then kicked the chest. Limping off toward a chair, she fell into it, slipped off her deerskin boot, and massaged her toe.

  The blackguard! Wasn’t one woman enough? Given his sexual prowess, she doubted he could remain faithful to any of her gender. She envisioned it now: a deep rut extending from Montbourne to London, as he continually traveled between wife and mistress. He’d spend more time on the road than off. Soon the incessant journeying would wear him thin, not to mention what it would do to his horse. If those were his plans, Chandra thought to put a quick stop to them. She’d not stand for such antics. Either he stayed loyal to her or their marriage was finished. Orders or not, she’d return to Lochlaigh, her king and her husband be damned!

  A little more than two days after leaving Montbourne, Aleck strode along the corridor at the king’s royal residence. On his arrival two hours before, he’d requested an immediate audience with James. He’d bathed, shaved, then donned clean clothes; now he made his way to the king’s privy chamber, where the two were to meet. Tired from his long journey, stopping only to feed, water, and rest his stallion—himself also—he prayed his wits were sharp enough to convince James to withdraw from the stand he’d taken on the clan Morgan. For Chandra’s sake, he had to succeed.

  Rounding a corner, Aleck nearly collided with the Lady Emory. His hands fell from her arms where they had spontaneously gripped her in order to steady her. “My apologies, Felicia,” he said, frowning down at her.

  “Aleck, you are here. I hadn’t expected you to arrive so quickly after receiving my letter.” She noticed his inexpressive look. “You did receive it, didn’t you?”

  “I did, Felicia, but your request that I return to court is not why I am here.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “Why, then, are you here?”

  “’Tis a matter of urgency. Right now, I am on my way to see the king. I have no time to discuss it—nor do I intend to. Excuse me, but I must depart. James awaits me.”

  Staring after her former lover, Felicia studied his retreating form for several moments. Her mind set, she took herself off to her apartment to make preparations.

  At nearly the same time several hundred miles north at Montbourne, Chandra sat in the huge bedchamber that she and Aleck shared. His note rested in her hand, for she’d just read it again. Her initial anger had soon turned to melancholy. Surely he hadn’t left their bed to find his way to Felicia Emory’s. Or so Chandra prayed, for her heart was breaking. Indecisiveness claimed her; then her anger flared again. “Damn him!” she snarled, bounding to her feet. Swinging toward the open door, she saw Winnie standing under its arch.

  “You seem vexed,” the woman stated. “Has something upset you?”

  “No,” Chandra snapped. “I’m bored. ’Tis all.”

  “As you say,” Winnie responded, examining Chandra’s face a bit longer. “A visitor has arrived at Montbourne. Since Master Aleck is gone, my Felix hesitates to allow him in. But he refuses to leave and says he’ll scale the wall if need be. Perhaps, as the lady of the manor, you should inform Felix what you think he should do.”

  Confusion marked Chandra’s brow. “Who is this visitor?”

  “Master Jason. He has not been here since he was little more than a boy. That he has come now worries me. Maybe something has happened to Master Aleck. If so—”

  Chandra brushed past Winnie and ran along the corridor, then down the steps. Once outside she rushed through the yard on toward the outer gates. “Raise the portcullis,” she shouted to the guards. They hesitated. “Raise it, I say!”

  The heavy wooden grille groaned as its spiked ends lifted from the earth to expose the deep holes created by centuries of constant battering. The outer gate swung open, and Jason urged his horse into the yard. “Well, fair lady, I take it your husband is not at home,” he said, leaning an arm on the saddle’s pommel. “Else I’d probably still be sitting outside.”

  “Then nothing’s happened to him?” she asked, staring up at Aleck’s cousin.

  “Not to my knowledge. But if it has, let me be the first to offer my condolences and to ask for the young widow’s hand,” he said with a smile and a wink.

  Chandra sent him a censuring look. “Jason, you truly are a devil.”

  “Aye, as well as a blackguard, a rogue, and a knave. I’ve been called all of the above—plus a few other, uh, endearments, which shall remain unspoken by me.” He glanced around the yard. “Where is your husband, anyway?”

  “He’s gone to London on a matter of importance. A messenger arrived. Aleck left two days ago at dawn.”

  Jason marked the dubious tone of her voice. “Have no fear. He’ll soon return.”

  “Why have you come?” she asked, not wanting to think of the Lady Emory, nor of the possibility that her husband might soon be with the woman, if he wasn’t already. “Winnie said you’ve not been here since you’d left years ago.”

  “For a visit, of course.” It was a lie, for he’d heard rumors about the clan Morgan and the army that James had amassed. Straightaway, after stopping briefly at his estate near Nottingham, he’d headed here to inform Aleck of the king’s plan. Apparently, Aleck had already gotten word of it, but he doubted that Chandra had any knowledge of the goings-on in London. Or in Scotland, for that matter. But she seemed most annoyed, and Jason believed it had something to do with her husband’s departure. He couldn’t help wondering if the two had quarreled. “Must I sit atop this horse the rest of the day, or are you going to invite me inside? I could do with a bit of food and a cup of wine—if milady so offers.”

  Chandra apologized for her bad manners. After Jason’s horse had been stabled, the two entered the hall. Ordering some food and wine for her guest, she joined him at the table while he ate.

  “The place seems smaller than I remembered,” he said, examining the old hall. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Montbourne. When I’m through, you can take me on a tour.”

  “I’d enjoy that,” she said. “Since I’ve not seen all of it myself, we could explore it togethe
r.”

  “Allow me to guess which room it is that you have the most knowledge of.” He chuckled at Chandra’s sudden blush. “When I finally marry, my own bride will be kept as ignorant as you, Chandra. Years and years will pass before she’s familiar with her home. ’Tis a family trait, I suppose.”

  “’Tis something you shouldn’t discuss so freely,” she said, still embarrassed. “But since you have, when I meet the young woman, I shall warn her what she faces.”

  Jason laughed. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  “Aye, readily.”

  “Aleck was wise to bring you here—although you are both missed at court.”

  By whom? she wondered. Certainly not by anyone she knew. “I did not like it there. Everyone’s manners were lacking.”

  “Including mine,” he said. “I’m sorry about the bundling party. James always thinks it a lark to burst in on a young couple, hoping to catch them nude, wanting to jostle and annoy them. As an Englishman, I’d normally blame such bad practices on his Scottish upbringing, but you are of the same heritage, but not of the same ilk. Our king, I fear, simply has a bawdy sense of humor.”

  “Why did you join them, Jason?”

  “To annoy Aleck, of course.”

  “And the Lady Emory?”

  Jason surveyed Chandra. “She’s unhappy that Aleck has withdrawn his affections. She’ll get over it soon enough.” His new cousin seemed not to believe him. “Were I you, I’d not worry myself over the Lady Emory. She is part of his past. You are his present and future. Believe it, Chandra, for it is true.”

  Her gaze fell to her hands. “Had I not found her letter—the one his note said commanded his immediate attention; the one that he’d claimed was a matter of great importance—I might agree with you. As it is, I cannot.”

  “You think she is the reason he’s gone to London?” He saw her nod. “You are wrong—so very wrong.”

  “How can you say I’m wrong, especially when I saw her letter myself?”