“Oh Duncan. I’ve missed you dearly. Now, all shall be as it ought to be. You’ll see.”
Duncan was home and confused by her enigmatic comments but he grasped the importance of her vow. Oddly enough, a sense of home not felt since his mother’s passing filled him. That simple notion warmed him so he accepted it and left it at that.
“I’m home and we can adhere to the Lord’s command and be fruitful.” Silence greeted his words.
Duncan reached behind him and unwrapped her hands from his neck. Her gaze glossed over, not seeing a sight before her as she struggled to straighten out her thoughts. Her delicate winged brows knitted while she gnawed her pillowy lower lip. Since she was distracted, Duncan unfastened her brooch without her even noticing it.
“Duncan, do you think I’m a danger?”
“Sometimes.” The next article to come undone was her belt. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Duncan was right. Sometimes, she was a danger. However, she must tell the awful truth before the clan ran to him with horrid embellishments like the talk of her plot to kill them. She drew in a fortifying breath. “It all started because I visited Joy.”
The brief time with Joy was the only moment when she banished her loneliness. Joy always welcomed her and it helped that she brought treats for the spoiled mare. Ailsa never considered the treats bribes…nay, they were rewards for true friendship.
Like always, Ailsa rushed around the corner to Joy’s stall but during this visit, she knocked over a pitchfork. Since Duncan’s departure, her every action had been wrong or clumsy. Bad enough, she partook too much ale at Màiri’s then fell asleep. If not for Lachlan carrying her back to her chamber, she might have slept the day away in that chair.
Bright the next morning, Ailsa was too shamed to visit the kitchens and discuss the menu so she allowed whatever decision to be made. She had hidden and even more shame piled upon her. Ailsa knew she was pitiful and needed Joy’s acceptance more than ever.
Picking up the pitchfork, she leaned it against the wall but it fell to the ground. She picked it up again, rested it against the wall only for it to fall again. Sure that fate was acting against her, she never doubted when she was exiting the stable the tool would trip her. Not wanting to be sprawled face first on the earthy floor, she stabbed it into a pile of hay. A loud yelp and a rain of hay filled the air. Phelan jumped up, screaming vile curses and clutching the left side of his head.
“Are you harmed?” She rushed to him to help but he jumped away. “Please forgive me. I meant no harm.” His white shaggy brows cocked, the ends fluttering. “I really didn’t. Are you bleeding?”
He drew his hand away and with a puff of white hair between his fingers. Phelan goggled at the strands. “You could have killed me, my lady.”
She cringed, straining her neck muscles. “That was not my intention. I wish no one any harm. Please let me check your head.” She stepped toward him but he stepped back.
“I’m fine, my lady. There is no need to bother yourself.”
“Nonsense, I insist that I check your head,” Ailsa ordered in a tone she borrowed from Duncan.
Phelan was reluctant but hunched down for Ailsa to inspect his head. He really hoped he wasn’t bleeding. Not that he doubted his mistress would care with her whole heart but she wasn’t the most graceful and he had no wish to be harmed by her good intentions.
“You are well, a little scraped and a bit angry but nothing more.”
“My wife always tells me I have a hard head,” he said, rubbing his head. “I’ll let you get back to visiting Joy.”
Phelan almost ran from her sight as though he worried she might inflict more harm.
Ailsa inhaled a fortifying breath and gauged Duncan’s reaction.
“That’s what’s different about him. I knew he looked odd.” Duncan saw Ailsa’s stricken face and tried to ease her feelings. “Phelan is fine, maybe a little bald but fine nonetheless.”
“That’s not all.”
Before her courage deserted her, Ailsa began sharing the rest of the events.
After Joy’s soothing attention, she strolled in no particular direction. Ailsa wished to rethink her plans and solitude was the best for such a duty. Passing the well, she called out a greeting to the clanswomen gathering water. She did the same when she passed the alehouse and smithy.
When she took in her surroundings, she saw the half-finished wall rising upward and the wood scaffolding against the stonewall. Tiny snaps of metal striking stone clang. A line of men moved stones along to fill the interior of the soon to be impregnable wall.
She tried to stay out of the laborers’ way but was always sidestepping a worker. Never seeing a newly constructed wall, Ailsa stepped under the scaffolding and ran her hands across the cool, smooth stones.
A knotted rope swayed, smacking the side of her face. She swatted it away like a pesky fly and it twisted around a wooden peg. She cringed and peeked around, making sure no one saw her. No doubt, it couldn’t stay like that. But no matter how she tried, the rope remained stubbornly twisted. The large knot snagged on the raw bark was to blame.
Ailsa tried to loosen the tight knot but couldn’t. With her tongue between her teeth, it finally slackened. Suddenly, the rope zipped from her hand, punctuated by a scream and a loud thump. Overhead, she heard a creak and a rumbling groan so she ran for her dear life. The rumble of stone cascading sounded behind her but she never turned to look. Ailsa just knew it. She broke the wall.
Lachlan’s roar rent through the air, dispersing the stone dust clouding her view and drowning out the sound of stones settling.
Ailsa shielded her ears and tried to blend in among the crowd surveying the wall. She understood her error. She should have faced in the same direction as the onlookers and pretended she just arrived on the scene. Truthfully, fleeing sounded saner and safer.
She might have gotten away if Lachlan weren’t behind her.
Black Duncan, the man who could fell a towering pine with a glare, was expressionless.
“I didn’t break it, Duncan.”
He blinked. “The wall is standing. I saw it with my own eyes,” Duncan muttered, finally finding his voice. “Men were working on it.” His wife nodded. “Ailsa, what did you”—he swallowed—“break?”
She gave a sham of a titter. “It seems that knot was holding up the scaffolding and about half of it fell but it was rebuilt very quickly. No one was harmed…came close but…” Ailsa shut her mouth.
“But,” Duncan bit out through clenched teeth.
“It seems one of the stonemasons fell off the scaffolding and stones almost fell on some workmen but all were fine, not even a scratch. Well, some scratches but no cuts requiring a needle.”
Duncan cast his gaze in the direction of the castle even though he saw nothing but lofty treetops. He had more problems to deal with than when he left. “That is all?”
His wife gnawed on her bottom lip and he was frightened, aye he was, to hear the rest. She twisted her hands together until her fingers intertwined with each other and resembled the knot she untied.
“Ailsa, tell me. I promise not to be angry.” The throbbing vein in his forehead and his straining neck muscles proved differently. Ailsa knew she had to tell him everything before the clan spilled the horrible stories they repeated around the fire.
“I ran away,” she blurted out and buried her face in her hands. “Sad but true. I didn’t get far when I saw Niall and his friends shooting arrows into the woods.”
Ailsa had never shot an arrow and yearned to learn. Always keeping it a secret since her father would have berated her for having such unladylike thoughts, she watched the laddies practicing, betting who shot the farthest and laughing at each attempt.
“Why are you watching us?” Niall demanded, his hands behind his back like a miniature Duncan.
“You are very skilled,” Ailsa complimented as she gazed at the arrow quivering in the tree trunk.
“Wanna shoo
t one?” He held out the bow.
“I might hit someone.”
He chuckled and waved her over. “No one comes this way so it’s the perfect place to shoot. And if you’re really horrible, I won’t tell a soul.”
Ailsa looked longingly at the outstretched bow. Take it and shoot once. Harm would come to no one and maybe she could convince Duncan to teach her. “Aye.” She snatched the bow from Niall.
He pointed her to a line drawn in the dirt. “Stand there. Not like that. You have to line your body up with the target. Sheez! Like this.” He pushed her hips, shoving her into place. “There.”
“Try to hit the tree. Hold it like this.” With a friend’s bow, he showed her how to cock the weapon. The wood creaked when she pulled the string taut. Ailsa placed the arrow exactly as instructed. Every muscle in her arm quivered and the string dug into her palm. “Now release.”
She did. The arrow flew into the air then buried itself in the dirt before her feet. Now seemed the perfect opportunity to put a halt to this before she shot herself in the foot.
“Och! You’re horrible at this. Try again.”
“It’s cause she’s a lass,” Niall’s best friend, Galvin added.
“Probably.” Niall shrugged. “Try again.”
As she went through the motions, Niall’s childish voice full of authority repeated every step. “Let it fly.”
And it did. The arrow landed behind her. The lads’ guffaws cracked. Some held their guts as tears rolled down their grimy faces and Niall rolled around on the ground, getting more dirt on his filthy body.
Ailsa never felt so doltish in her life. Niall jumped up and wiped his hands on his tunic. “Don’t worry. Just keep on practicing. You’ll get it,” Niall said, once his laughter stopped. “This time don’t close your eyes before you shoot. Do it again.”
This time, the bow didn’t pain her so much. She looked at the tree trunk and knew the arrow would pierce its rough bark.
She let go and saw the arrow fly. It landed in the dirt but closer to the trees thick roots. “Did you see that? I did it.” She jumped up and down then stilled when the lads gawked at her.
“Not bad.”
“Let me do it again.” Ailsa pulled back the string, cocked the arrow, and released it. The zing of the string shot sung in the air in a whistling high note. Then a scream of agony sounded.
“You shot someone,” Niall yelled, running to the right of the woods. His little legs hauled him away from the calamity toward the cottars until he stopped at someone lying in the underbrush. Tossing aside the bow, she ran toward them.
When she got there, she saw Màiri sprawled on her stomach and her arrow quivering in her buttocks.
“You shot Màiri,” Duncan roared.
“Niall told me no one goes there.”
“Normally no one does. Where the hell was she?”
“By Fergus’s cottage, he went to his great reward.”
“How the hell did your arrow get by Fergus’s cottage?” Fergus’s cottage was down in a shallow valley and obscured by hanging heath and trees jutting from the woods. If not acquainted with Fergus there was no chance of finding it. But Ailsa’s arrow did the impossible.
“I don’t know.”
“Woman, you are to stay away from anything pointy and sharp that could afflict harm.” He rubbed his hand down his face. “No wonder the clan thinks you’re trying to kill them.”
* * * *
Ailsa fell to the ground and wailed, a miserable hiccup screech that pained his ears. Duncan stood behind her, naked but for his boots.
“That’s why you’re cooking?”
“Aye, I caused her injury and so I must fulfill her duties. It isn’t right for another to be burdened with the duty.” She scraped her hands across her wet cheeks. “I’ve checked on Màiri and she’s well but still grumbles every time she sees my face. And Duncan that woman curses better than any man.”
Duncan tugged off his boots and dropped them next to his plaid and tunic. He picked Ailsa up and finished disrobing her, not caring where her clothing landed.
Carrying her into the water, she tightened her arms around his neck, almost choking him. “I cannot swim.” She tried to climb up him. His face was smashed against her bosom, blocking any air as she tried to hook her leg over his shoulder.
“I can. I will not allow you to drown even though my kinsmen may wish me to. Hold your breath.” He ducked under and came up with Ailsa sputtering. To Duncan’s pleasure, she wrapped her legs tight around his waist. “Now wife, you must cease whatever you are doing. If you keep this up, I will not have a clan.”
“I’m not doing anything with a false heart, in fact I’m working to gain the clan’s acceptance.”
“You’re getting my followers to fear you.”
“They do run when they see me,” she confessed in a small anguished voice.
Duncan didn’t hold fault with that. “Ailsa—” A shout came from the trees. “Come no further, Niall.”
Ailsa tightened her legs, squeezing his waist with sweet pain and wrenched herself firm to his chest, pressing her breast against him. Duncan promised himself never to teach his wife to swim.
“Fine but I want you to know that your woman tried to drown me,” Niall yelled. “She threw me into the stream.”
Duncan looked questioningly at Ailsa. “I had Lachlan bathe him. He was rank. You were rank,” she yelled at Niall.
“I was training.”
“Girls don’t like smelly men.”
“I don’t like girls. They make you bathe.”
“Enough. Niall from now on you will wash every day. You are a MacLean, not a filthy outcast.”
“Fine.”
“What did you say?” Duncan snapped.
“Aye, my laird.” Niall’s stomping feet sounded to them, breaking twigs and smashing underbrush.
Duncan’s chuckle shook her body. He hadn’t even stopped laughing when he pressed his lips against her soft curving lips, a gentle yet firm touch. A slight parting of her mouth and his tongue swept in, remembering her taste that blended with his own. Her tongue flicked against his. This was a kiss of a man longing for his woman.
Wading deeper into the lochan, Ailsa’s legs tightened around him, rubbing the junction of her thighs against his stirring shaft. She was weightless in his strong arms. Her soft curves molded to the hard contours of his body. Calm water lapped at her breast.
He sucked lightly on her plump lower lip then trailed wet kisses along the column of her neck. Her head dipped back and a moan escaped her. Duncan spun, sending the water whirling around them. With every nerve ending alive, the cool water stroked like silk caressing the flesh with elusive, teasing touch.
“I never wish to learn how to swim.”
Shafts of sunlight shined upon her, warming her creamy skin and tinting its petal softness a pale gold. “Never,” he murmured against her. Her flesh heated from both the blazing sun and Duncan’s touch.
His hungry kiss feasted on her rosy lips but his body had different wants. The tip of his rod prodded against her center. She wiggled her bottom. Duncan cupped her firm buttocks. Not wanting to wait, Duncan thrust into her tight sheathe. His blood quickened from his fervid need for Ailsa.
White foamy ripples eddied around their entwined bodies. Duncan took hold of her hips and drove into her core. His urgency impelled him. He needed to be in her depths. His fierce need grew, engulfing him so his every stroke was longer and deeper. Their bodies molded together as both reached for their ecstasy.
She held on tight to him. Her cry of release echoed through the air, sending the birds into flight. Duncan poured his seed into her with a roar of pleasure that mixed with hers.
Her head dropped to his shoulder. Her ragged pants pounded in his ear. Cool breeze waft against her heated skin while Duncan swore the water boiled from their heat.
His ability to think returned. He might not be able to translate Greek but he could speak.
“I might have to b
athe with you every night,” she murmured as she ran her hands over his strong back.
“We can come back tonight then I can really have my way with you.” Her eyes held the promise of pleasures awaiting them tonight. “Come, woman, let’s dress before someone searches for us.”
Duncan carried her from the water. Setting her on her feet, she bent down and snatched up her shift. Ailsa rubbed the bunched up fabric against his chest.
“Cease Ailsa or we’ll never leave here,” he reprimanded in a teasing tone. “And dress before I grab hold of you again.”
With a laugh, she slipped on her damp shift. Her wet hair soaked the thin garment and plastered it against her skin. He dressed, not sparing a glimpse of his bewitching wife, otherwise he would snatch her in his arms. Duncan tugged on his boots and slipped the dirk into his left boot. When he reached his feet, her clothing was in place.
He clasped her hand and led her down the tract through the woodlands. She hummed and bounced in rhythm with the tune.
Sauntering back to the castle, Duncan worried for his wife. He took in her beaming face. Her cheeks flushed with color. Her still swollen lips lifted upward in a smile and her verdant eyes glowed warm with a fire. He supposed she was pleased to have him home and she seemed to have forgotten her misadventures during his absence. His acceptance was of the utmost importance to her and he wished for the same but Ailsa wanted it now. His wife possessed an impatient nature.
“Why are you smiling?” Ailsa squeezed his arm.
“I thought of something funny.”
She giggled. “Share.”
Duncan knew if he shared that thought, a frown would replace her grin so he did what any smart husband would, he changed the topic. “I was thinking about your problem.”
“I have no problems, Duncan.”
He drew up short. “You truly think you have no problems.”
“None at all. I have some hurdles but certainly no problems.”
“To my way of thinking, they are the same thing.”
She waggled her finger at him. “To your way of thinking which is the wrong thinking. What’s wrong?” She demanded when Duncan groaned.
The Marriage Alliance Page 10