by Lynsay Sands
"Aye, I'll take away mine too," he assured her, and she glanced down to see that he had his free hand wrapped around his erection. "Lift yer skirt, Edith. I want to see while I pleasure ye."
Edith reached down shakily to pull her skirt up hand over hand until she had it gathered at her waist.
"Beautiful," Niels muttered, sliding a finger inside her. "Come closer, love. I want to taste ye." He urged her closer with the finger inside her, and Edith staggered forward.
"Spread yer legs more," he instructed and she widened her stance, although she wasn't at all sure her legs would hold her much longer as his fingers slid in and out and he tilted his head up and leaned in to lap at her. Bracing herself with both hands, Edith closed her eyes briefly and then opened them and peered down at what he was doing to himself, noting the way he was holding himself and the rhythmic motion he used. She wanted to touch him too and be more involved, but didn't have much choice in the matter until her legs began to shake.
Apparently noticing, Niels straightened and growled, "Kneel."
Edith sank to her knees beside him and he kissed her, his thumb now caressing the sensitive nub that was the center of her excitement as he slid his finger in and out of her in the same rhythmic motion as he was using on himself. She kissed him back at first, but soon didn't seem to have the presence of mind to even manage that and simply kept her open mouth pressed to his as her body began to quake.
When she cried out and bore down on him, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she found her pleasure, Niels responded by thrusting into her one last time and then shouting into her mouth as he found his own release. When it ended, they were both panting and sagging against each other. Niels retrieved his hand and held her close as they regained themselves.
After several moments, he kissed her forehead and murmured, "We need to dress and head back."
Edith sighed and nodded with regret. She didn't really want to dress and return to the troubles at Drummond. She wanted to run away with Niels, find a big, soft bed somewhere and have him teach her all there was to know about the bedding. Unfortunately that wasn't an option, she acknowledged, and began to move.
Chapter 8
Edith was leading the way as they rode back into the bailey. Going faster than she probably should have, she nearly ran over Laddie when he appeared suddenly before her. Only fast reactions and instincts born of years of riding saved the huge beast as Edith caught the right rein higher up and pulled. The horse immediately turned, just avoiding trampling her poor dog. The mare then stopped and Edith turned to scowl at Ronson as he came running up.
"I'm sorry, m'lady! He got away from me! I'm sorry!" the boy cried, slipping a hand under Laddie's collar as if to hold him back when the beast was now sitting happily in the path, apparently completely oblivious to how close he'd come to death. "I really am, m'lady. 'Twill ne'er happen again. I swear. Please do no' throw me and me gran out. I'll do better."
All of Edith's anger, born mostly of the scare she'd had, slid out of her at those words and she sighed and shook her head. "Come here, Ronson."
He hesitated briefly, but then moved forward, dragging Laddie with him, fear plain on his face. The moment he stopped beside her mare, Edith bent to put her face closer to his. She thought she heard a hiss above or behind her as she did, but ignored it to say solemnly, "Ronson, I will never--"
The rest of the reassurance died in Edith's throat as she was suddenly tackled and dragged off her mount by two hundred pounds of male muscle.
"Niels?" Edith said with bewilderment as she found herself lying on her back on top of his chest on the ground. She started to turn her head to look at him, but paused in surprise as her gaze slid over the front of the castle and she thought she spotted someone standing in her bedchamber window. Before she could get more than an impression of the person, however, she was suddenly rolling and Edith found herself facedown in the mud with a heavy weight on her back. She didn't have to think hard to guess who it was on top of her, and squawked, "Niels!"
"Stay down," he barked, pushing her head into the dirt with his hand. "Ronson. Get over here, lad."
Edith lifted her face out of the mud and glanced around to see that Ronson was already almost to them, dragged by Laddie who thought this was a fine game and began to lick her face and head the moment he could reach her.
"Laddie, no," she ordered, or tried to. The moment she opened her mouth to say the words, Laddie decided to check and see if she had any treats in there for him, and it was difficult to speak with two tongues in her mouth. Turning her head away, Edith pressed her lips closed and then dropped her head back into the dirt and tried to hear what Ronson was saying.
"'Twas an arrow, m'lord! I saw it fly past her when she bent to speak to me! Someone tried to shoot Lady Edith!"
"What?" Edith squawked, and jerked her head up to look around, only to have Niels push it back to the ground.
"Stay down, lass. I'm no' losing ye now," he growled and then added, "Ronson, get over here, lad, else ye might get hit by accident do they shoot again."
In the next moment, Edith found Ronson squeezed up beside her under the shelter of Niels's body.
"Are ye all right, m'lady?" the boy asked earnestly as Niels began to bark orders at the people now shouting and running about the bailey. "That was sure close. Someone nearly shot ye!"
"Did they?" she asked weakly, her head bobbing as Laddie licked the hair on the back of her head. She had no idea why the dog was doing that, but managed to get one hand out from under her and cover the spot in hopes he'd stop. Instead, he turned excitedly to licking both her hand and her hair, dragging the now wet strands over the back of her hand, and she suspected, pulling some out. It certainly felt like some of her hair was being ripped out by the roots.
"Aye," Ronson told her. "If ye had no' bent to talk to me right when ye did, I wager the arrow would ha'e hit ye in the chest and killed ye deader than a spent whore."
"Deader than a what?" she asked with disbelief.
"Than a spent--" Ronson began, but his words ended on a startled gasp when Niels suddenly rose, taking them both with him.
"Keep the shields over them," Niels barked. "The arrow came from above! Did ye send someone to check the upper chambers?"
Edith blinked up at the six shields six soldiers were holding over them like a roof, and then down at the arm that was like a steel band around her waist. Niels was holding both her and Ronson up off the ground and tight to his chest as he jogged toward the keep with the men surrounding them to protect them from arrows.
"Aye. I sent four men. They should be up there now. If there is anyone there, they'll find them," the man beside her said, and Edith turned to see that it was Tormod holding the shield on that side. Catching her looking at him, he nodded as he jogged and murmured, "M'lady."
Smiling weakly, Edith turned to peer at the other men now, noting that Alick was beside Tormod, grinning at her as if this was a walk in the park. He jogged sideways toward the keep, holding a shield high over their heads just as Tormod and the others were doing. Geordie, she noted, was on Niels's other side with yet another shield. He too smiled at her reassuringly when he saw her looking. And Cameron, one of the Drummond soldiers, was next to him, trying to give her what she thought was supposed to be a reassuring smile as well. She couldn't see the two men behind them, but knew they were there.
Edith looked over the men she could see again and thought it was like some kind of bizarre dream she'd fallen into. Perhaps they were still at the stone in the meadow and she'd dozed off.
When they reached the steps, Niels didn't slow but jogged quickly up them, the men managing to keep pace despite mounting the stairs sideways. Edith expected the first two men would have to lower their shields to open the doors, but someone must have been watching for them, because the moment they neared, the doors swung open. Their party jogged right on in, shields not lowering until they were well inside the great hall.
Niels set down both Ronson and Edith
, but then turned to survey her, his hands traveling over her body as if searching for a hidden sgian-dubh as he asked, "Are ye all right? Were ye hurt at all? Is anything broken or--"
"I'm fine," Edith said with embarrassment, catching his hands as he began to pat her behind and upper legs. "Truly. I was no' hurt. I'm a little thirsty, and even hungry, but completely unharmed," she assured him.
Releasing a pent-up breath, Niels nodded and then took her arm to usher her to the table.
"I'll go tell Cook to fetch out the nooning meal fer ye, m'lady," Tormod said, nodding at Rory as the man came from the kitchens and the two men passed each other.
"I'll fetch down a pitcher o' mead," Geordie said, heading for the stairs.
"Here, sit, lass," Niels murmured, urging her to the high table. "Ye've had a scare."
"What happened?" Rory asked, reaching them then. "Some servants came rushing into the kitchen saying there were screams and people running in the bailey. What--"
"Someone shot an arrow at Edith, and I'm marrying her, dammit!" Niels snapped.
Everyone went completely silent at that. Edith suspected it was probably because they were trying to sort out the information that he'd just blurted in one furious burst and decide if he was angry only about the arrow, or about the marrying part too. No doubt they were stumped as to whether they should be offering congratulations or condolences, she thought wryly.
"M'lady?" Moibeal appeared at her side, and suggested tentatively, "Mayhap we should go above stairs and clean ye up."
"Nay. I'm fine. I'll change after I eat," Edith murmured, frowning at Laddie and pushing the dog away when he began to nose around her lap.
"Did ye find anyone up there?" Tormod's voice drew Edith's gaze as he reappeared from the kitchens and headed to meet four grim-faced men who were now descending the stairs.
"Nay. We searched every room. Other than old Effie, the rooms were all empty," the first man said.
"But we think they shot the arrow from Lady Edith's room," the second man added. "Her shutters are the only ones open."
"They were closed when I left me room this morning," Edith said when Niels glanced to her. Turning to Moibeal, she asked, "Did ye open them to air the room?"
"Aye, while I cleaned up," she admitted, and then added, "But I closed 'em when I was done. They should no' be open now."
"The bastard shot at ye from yer own room," Niels growled, dropping to sit on the bench next to her, his fist thumping the table in frustration.
"Bastard," Ronson echoed, thumping the table and dropping onto the bench as well.
Eyes widening, Edith looked swiftly toward the chairs by the fire, relieved to see that old Bessie appeared to be asleep and had not witnessed her grandson's use of foul language.
"We shall have to post men at the windows during the day to prevent something like this happening in the future and--Leave off, Laddie!" Niels interrupted himself to snap at the dog trying desperately to lick his hand. When he pushed the dog away again, Laddie gave up and moved back to Edith.
"M'lady, I really think ye'll want to clean up before ye eat," Moibeal suggested in slightly pained tones.
Edith shushed her, and again pushed Laddie away from her lap as Tormod frowned and turned to Rory to ask, "Ye're sure Effie's no' conscious?"
"Aye," Rory assured him. "I test her morning and night to be sure."
Tormod nodded as if he understood what Rory meant by testing the old woman, but Edith didn't understand herself. Before she could ask what kind of test it was, Niels cursed, drawing her attention again as he cupped Laddie's face in one hand and told the dog firmly, "Enough. No more licking."
The dog stared at him wide-eyed and then let his tongue loll out, trying to lick the hand that was holding him.
A small laugh slipped from Edith before she could stop it. Shaking her head, she said, "I do no' ken what's the matter with him. First he's licking me head, then yer hand and he keeps poking around me skirts as if he thinks I ha'e a treat hidden in me pocket fer him."
"He probably smells ye on me," Niels said with a sigh as Geordie returned with a pitcher of mead in hand.
Eyeing it with interest, Edith shrugged and said distractedly, "Aye, well ye were laying on both Ronson and me out there, but he's no' licking--" Her words died abruptly and her gaze and full attention slid to Niels's hand as she recalled exactly where it had been. Her gaze dropped to her own lap as Laddie returned to nose around curiously, and then she recalled Niels pushing her head down with his hand, and she stood abruptly. "I'd best go clean up before we eat."
"Thank the good Lord fer that," Moibeal muttered, but Edith hardly heard the maid, her attention was on the slow, sexy smile that was now claiming Niels's lips and chasing away his anger. He did have such a lovely smile, but Edith wasn't thinking about that so much as the things he'd done to her in the meadow. Just the memory of his hands and mouth on her body made her nipples harden and wet heat pool between her legs. Edith wanted nothing more than to drag the man above stairs with her, strip off her clothes and--
"Are ye coming, m'lady?" Moibeal asked when Edith just stood there staring at Niels. "Ye really need to--"
Edith sighed as the imaginings in her mind bumped up against reality. She couldn't drag Niels anywhere, and she certainly couldn't try to seduce him into giving her pleasure again with Moibeal there, nagging at them. Turning on her heel, she headed for the stairs, muttering, "I am coming, Moibeal. I do no' ken what ye're all upset about though. 'Tis just a bit o' mud on me skirt."
"And all over yer face, and in yer hair," Moibeal said with some exasperation of her own as she fell into step beside her. "And yer hair's sticking up every which way too. I do no' ken how ye managed that. It looks like ye're standing in the middle o' a confused storm."
"Laddie was licking me head when we were on the ground in the bailey," Edith explained, reaching up to her hair to feel around, and then sighing as she felt that Moibeal was right. Dear God, her hair was wet and almost stiff from Laddie's licking. It was also standing up every which way. How could Niels look at her with those hungry eyes when she must look like an utter idiot?
"So."
Niels tore his gaze from Edith's retreating behind and turned warily to his brother. "What?"
"Ye asked and she said aye?" Rory asked with a grin.
Niels smiled and relaxed for the first time since the arrow was loosed. Turning to face the table, he nodded. "Aye."
"Aye to what?" Geordie asked with confusion.
"I'll second that," Tormod said, settling on the other side of Ronson. "What did we miss?"
"Me brother's marrying yer Lady Edith," Alick told the older man with a grin.
"Oh." Tormod's eyes widened and then he smiled and reached past Ronson to thump Niels on the back. "Well, say, that's fine, that is."
"Aye, congratulations," Geordie said smiling widely. "This calls fer a celebration. Does anyone want a drink?" he asked, holding up the pitcher of mead he'd just fetched.
Niels nodded, but paused when Tormod stood up with a grimace.
"Aye, I'll have a drink. But no' of mead," the man said heavily. "I'll have one o' the maids fetch us some ale."
"Even better," Niels decided.
Geordie set the mead aside with a shrug. "We'll save the mead fer Edith then."
Niels nodded absently, his thoughts turning to the problem of keeping Edith safe. Men at the windows during the day, guards on her at all times . . . Keeping her inside would not hurt either, he thought.
"The ale'll be out shortly," Tormod announced as he claimed his seat again a moment later. He then turned to eye Niels with approval. "Well-done," he said. "She's a good woman. Ye're a lucky man. When do ye plan to wed her?"
"Where's yer priest?" Niels asked for answer.
Tormod grinned. "That soon, eh?"
"Sooner," Niels said firmly.
Tormod nodded and stood up. "I'll go have a little chat with our Father Tavish, then. If he's in a good mood ye may be married by the sup
."
"Should we no' discuss what to do about this latest attempt on Edith's life?" Rory asked with a frown.
Tormod paused and turned back with interest. "Have ye any ideas about who may ha'e shot the arrow at our lady, or how to catch them?"
"Well . . ." Rory frowned, but finally admitted, "Nay."
Tormod nodded slowly, but his expression was pensive and he didn't move away at once.
"Do you have any ideas, Tormod?" Niels asked, eyeing him curiously.
"I may," he said slowly, and then grimaced and added, "Of a sort."
"And what would that be?" Geordie asked at once and then patted the bench seat he'd just stood up from. "Sit down and tell us. I think I can safely speak fer everyone when I say we'd be happy fer any ideas at all."
"Aye," the others murmured together.
Tormod hesitated, but then sat down at the table and cleared his throat before saying, "Well, I ken the three o' ye planned to guard her in shifts, but it occurs to me that if we get ye and the lass married, Niels, she'll be that bit safer with ye snug in her bed."
"Aye," he agreed with a nod.
"And then I could send men out to find Brodie," he added. "I can send a couple to court and others to each keep belonging to one o' his friends until we find him and can pass along the news that there is no fear o' illness anymore."
Rory shook his head. "Brodie can no' be behind the poisonings and attacks, Tormod. They are no' here."
"Nay, I ken, but if he comes back, we can pretend we're no' concerned about him and only guarding Edith. But we watch him anyway, real sly like, and when the killer tries to kill him, we can hopefully catch them in the act," he pointed out.
"Ye want to use yer laird as bait?" Rory asked with disbelief.
"Well, better him than Edith," Tormod said gruffly. "She was at death's door fer three weeks, and then was nearly killed today. He can take a turn and help solve this, the cowardly bastard. 'Tis his place as laird anyway."
"Aye, 'tis," Niels agreed solemnly. He wasn't too worried about Brodie. He didn't like the man on principle alone, but liked him even less for leaving Edith here alone and ailing. He also didn't like that the man would have apparently tried to ship her off to the Abbey did he not plan to marry her first. Besides, in his experience, cowards were usually the last ones to be injured in any endeavor. The man would no doubt survive if they went through with their plan. What had his interest was that Tormod was willing to risk him that way. What's more, he suspected the man would no' be torn up if Brodie died as they caught the killer "in the act."