by Reece Butler
Fiona dropped her head, face flaming. Gillis put his hand on her knee, squeezing reassuringly.
“‘Twas not meant as an accusation, lass,” said Cameron kindly. “These lads dinna wish a quiet wife. Did they tell you how many brothers they have, including bastards?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “At last count there were, what was it? Twenty?”
“Father had sixteen sons, three set of them twins,” said Angus. He took her hand in his. “I’ll nay seek another’s bed if ye are in mine. ‘Tis my vow to ye.”
“And mine,” added Gillis.
“Thank ye. And I’ll do the same.”
Cameron burst into laughter. “Ah, lass, you are so like my wife.” He shook his head. “As you can see the MacDougal clan is full of big, loud, hairy, warriors. There is no place for a silent, fearful wife. What others will call wrong about you, is what will make you a strong wife and mother.” He leaned forward. “Your marriage may have been forced on you by circumstance, lass, but if the three of you work on it together, ‘twill last.”
She nodded, biting her lip but sitting straight.
“As for my stallion, Dubhmor,” he continued, “he’s past his prime but sturdy, just like me.” He gave Fiona a wink. “He could use a good run. That will give you four horses. Since your wee wife weighs little, she can ride with the extra packs.”
“We only have one pack,” said Fiona.
Cameron leaned back, exhaling heavily as if she had failed at her lessons.
“Lass,” he said, shaking his head, “ye married my foster sons without any of your kin, or theirs, at your side. You’ll be leaving with a fair number of filled packs.”
Gillis shared an anxious look with Angus. What was the old man up to?
Fiona straightened up. “Laird, I thank ye, but there’s nay need for ye to give—”
“Clan Cameron will not send you off with naught but the clothes on your back.”
The words sliced Gillis like a knife. He and Angus may not have much compared to the Camerons and Frasers, but Fiona was their wife, and they would care for her. He’d come to terms with his foster father insisting Fiona marry Angus, removing his claim to her. He would not see her sigh about goods they could not provide.
“Clan MacDougal does not accept charity!”
Chapter Three
Fiona mentally rolled her eyes as Gillis glared at Cameron, who did the same back. It was the leader of the pack daring the younger to take him on. Fiona understood the tension, having grown up surrounded by male arrogance and pride. Men took their pissing contests seriously. Cameron wished to give gifts to show that Clan Cameron provided Highland hospitality. Her husbands wished to provide for their wife though they had little. Her receiving lavish gifts from the laird would be an insult to them. She waited to see if either husband was as devious as the man who had trained them.
“‘Tis no matter if yer lady wife gifts mine with a few trinkets, Laird Cameron,” said Angus into the hard silence. “We will help ye by taking yer horses from Grant’s view.”
Fiona was impressed by her new husband’s solution. Cameron could prove his hospitality while thumbing his nose at Clan Menzies for their treatment of her. The MacDougals would accept no gifts as the affairs of women were beneath notice. The men would use the horses as a favor to Laird Cameron. She smiled to herself. If her husbands didn’t yet play chess she would have to teach them.
“Thank ye, husband,” said Fiona meekly, her head down. She heard an amused snort from across the desk.
“You’ll have an escort, but you are married now so they should not stop you from enjoying yourselves at night,” said Cameron.
Fiona jerked her head up. “I could nay do that—”
“Aye, wife, ye could,” said Angus in a deep growl. He put a finger under her chin and turned her face to his. His eyebrows were low, his eyes intense. “And ye will.”
“But—”
“Do ye need a reminder of yer husband’s right to yer body?” he demanded. “I would put ye across my lap, right here, right now, if ye wish me to prove it.”
An instant heat lit her pussy and swelled her breasts. She knew why he had to assert himself over her. Angus and Gillis had been put in their place by the wealthy, powerful laird. They now wished to put their wife in what they considered her place. While the thought of his touch aroused her she would not put up with strict control. She would be their wife, but she would do it her way. She narrowed her eyes and stared at Angus as an equal.
“Aye, ye have a right to my body,” she conceded, her voice not far from a growl. “As I do yer body, and that of Gillis. I expect ye both to give me pleasure, nay just take yer own. Can ye do that with men listening in?”
Cameron’s chuckle broke their staring contest. “Ah, lads, you have chosen the right woman.”
“I was given little choice,” said Fiona, grumbling more for effect than complaint.
“Ye have choices now,” said Angus. “Ye are our wife, nay a child. Show us what ye can be.”
Fiona hadn’t heard that cold tone from him before. She straightened her spine, bringing her height to just over five feet. As her husbands were both well over six feet she still was at a disadvantage. She imitated Lady Cameron’s calm expression, the one that said she expected her quiet request to be taken as an order.
“I will give ye the respect a husband deserves and will obey yer reasonable orders,” she said to Angus. “In return I wish ye to talk with me. Aye, and listen.”
Angus scowled at her. “‘Tis not how a wife behaves.”
Fiona narrowed her eyes at him. She had to tilt her head to do so but it didn’t change her determination. His face was hard and cold, his body tense. This was not the man who’d given her a wondrous wedding night. Something had happened. For all of Cameron’s talk neither he nor her husbands had seen fit to inform her of it. It didn’t matter. She would not back down. These few moments would determine how she was treated by her husbands for the rest of her life.
“‘Tis how this one does.”
She tensed, instinctively expecting pain. He was furious, his muscles tense. She caught a flash of what could be longing. It was fleeting, replaced by a cold, direct stare. Yet he didn’t lift as much as a finger to strike her. Was his anger directed at her? Or was he furious because of something Cameron had told them while she dressed?
He looked away, transferring his impotent fury to the laird. A wave of relief swept through her. She’d seen the same anger far too often. Never had she seen someone hold it back. She really was safe with him. More tears prickled. She blinked them away. What was the matter with her? Did having someone hold her, showing they cared, do this to her? She refused to be weak. Nor would she hide her knowledge and learning. She was not going to be merely their sexual convenience, housekeeper, and mother of their children.
Gillis turned to his brother. “Ye are the one what said priestly vows with the woman, and told her to show us what she can be. Aye, Fiona is stubborn and—”
“And you are not?” demanded Cameron. “Why should your wife be any different from the two of you? As you said, she is no child, so dinna treat her as one.”
Gillis opened his mouth to reply. Cameron held up a finger in warning. Gillis clamped his jaw to hold back his outburst. Outside of this chamber Gillis and Angus had been quiet and courteous to the laird who had fostered them. Only in private did they speak out. She could do the same, biting her tongue and acting the proper wife if she knew she’d be able to speak her mind in private and be listened to.
“Fiona was trained as a lad, learning how to be a warrior,” continued Cameron. “You heard how much she observed while being hauled into the Campbell pit. She can see what is there, what is missing, and make a judgment. She kenned what she was doing when she bolted her horse, pulling her enemies away from the heir. You canna take a lass who is brave enough to face torture and death for her clan and expect her to gaze up at you with cow eyes.” He leaned forward. “The lass has a brain. She has been tr
ained and schooled. You would be fools to waste that just because she can also warm your bed and give you bairns.”
Now tears gathered, ready to spill. No one had ever said such things about her. She’d not even thought of them herself. That would change, right now. She had nothing to lose by standing up for herself and everything to gain. She did not believe Angus and Gillis would beat her or lock her away until she bowed in silent, meek obedience.
“Thank ye, Laird Cameron.”
She nodded regally, imitating his lady wife. Cameron winked, his head turned so her husbands could not see. She pressed her lips together to hold back a smile. That such a powerful man not only believed in her, but enjoyed her presence, had been unthinkable mere days before.
“Ye will obey my brother Somerled, Laird MacDougal, instantly,” said Angus abruptly.
He did not look at her, speaking instead to the wall over Cameron’s head. She would have to make him understand the difference between what she considered a reasonable order and how he though a woman should behave.
“Of course,” she replied. “He is the laird. Ye obey him as well, aye?”
Fiona did not expect an answer. If a man went against his laird’s orders he got a beating, flogging, banishment, or death. An unmarried woman, unless she did something extreme, would instead be given the dirtiest, most physically demanding tasks possible. She thought a flogging, quickly done and over, would be easier than a life of shame.
Angus heaved a great sigh. He took her hand, squeezing gently. He then raised it to his mouth and kissed her fingers. Confused, she turned to him. The anger was gone, replaced with a calm acceptance. It must not have been she who caused his fury.
“We met ye mere days ago, a wild lass out of her head with fever,” he said. “We cared for yer wee body as ye cried out things that made us want to horsewhip yer father.”
She blanched. “What did I say?”
“It matters not, other than ye were not well treated.”
Embarrassed at what she might have told him she tried to pull her hand away. His grip tightened.
“Nay, dinna pull away. We three are joined in marriage. We will work together for our laird, his allies, and our own family. To do so we must speak the truth, to ourselves and to each other. That means trust and respect between us all.”
She managed to meet his eyes. They seemed to sink into her, warming her heart. He meant everything he said.
“I dinna ken how to be a good wife,” she replied.
“And we dinna ken how to be good husbands,” he replied. “None of us was raised with a father and mother. Given time we shall learn from one another.” He shared a concerned look with Gillis, one she did not understand. “We shall talk, and listen. When we are alone.” He raised his eyebrows to drive the point home.
She nodded. “Ye mean, as ye do here. Ye will say behind a closed door to Laird Cameron things ye’d not speak of elsewhere, so not to shame the laird with yer disrespect, aye?”
He nodded. “A man who canna control his wife loses all respect. ‘Tis in yer best interests to behave as a wife should, especially with strangers. Yet ye have knowledge we do not. Ignoring that part of ye would be foolish.”
“And Angus MacDougal is never foolish.” She spoke in partial jest, with humor.
“Aye, and dinna forget that.” There was a touch of a smile. Fine lines crinkled at the corner of his eyes. The last of her worry faded away. They had an understanding, one she could live with, at least for now.
“You’ll have time to talk while you ride.”
She’d forgotten they weren’t alone. “Pardon, Laird Cameron, for wasting yer time with our squabbles.”
“I would have stopped you if I wished.”
He gave her a quick smile and then stood, bringing the meeting to an end. He came around the table, the perfect picture of what she’d dreamed and wished her father to be. He rested his palm on her shoulder. Eyes that she expected could flay as deeply as his words, were kind and warm.
“Fiona MacDougal, I give you my blessing as foster father to these lads. And since you married them, I am yours as well. If you wish it.”
This time her tears did fall. The laird tsked and drew her into his embrace. She rested her forehead on his chest. His hug was different from her husbands. He was an old yet still-powerful man with years of war and wisdom, and he cared about her far more than those of her blood. She inhaled his strength.
“I wish it,” she managed to croak.
Chapter Four
A tap at the door had Fiona stepping away. Angus wrapped his arms around her, with Gillis doing the same at her back. She felt safe, and cared for. She craved this feeling. She’d gone without it for so long and never wished to be alone again.
“Take my new daughter to Lady Eloise’s solar to break her fast,” said Cameron to Big Mary. Fiona backed away from Angus and Gillis. She wiped her eyes, embarrassed to be found weeping. She managed a quick bob of a curtsey without tripping, and followed Big Mary. She sniffed, wiping her eyes once more.
“Are ye sad to be leaving, my lady?” asked the girl softly.
“Aye,” she replied. “Ye are lucky to have such a kind laird.”
“Aye, we ken it well.”
She followed Big Mary, who was smaller than herself, into a room that faced southeast. An oriel window let in the morning sun. It cheered her as they’d have to ride no matter the weather. Lady Eloise Cameron looked up, gesturing for Fiona to sit. Her smile seemed forced. Fiona immediately tensed. A laird’s power was visible as he strode around giving orders. His wife may never speak in the laird's hall, but she often ruled the castle.
“I’m pleased that gown fits you so well. I hope you get as much joy from wearing it as I did. The deep green suits your eyes as well as your hair.”
“Thank ye, my lady.” She bobbed in respect and then sat. “Ye are too kind. Yer laird husband said ye had more gifts. ‘Tis too much.”
“Ah. Did Gillis and Angus try to refuse them?”
Fiona nodded. “They said they’d only accept them as a gift between wives, as if it had naught to do with them.”
“Men!” She rolled her eyes.
Fiona couldn’t help a laugh bursting out. Lady Eloise gasped, her eyes wide. She turned white, swaying in her seat. Fiona went to her knees in front of the older woman and took her cold hands in her own.
“Are ye all right, my lady?”
Lady Eloise pulled a shaking hand away. She rested it on Fiona’s head.
“You have your mother’s hair, and her laugh.” She smiled ruefully. “And her spirit.”
Fiona couldn’t move. “My mother?” she whispered. No one ever spoke to her about her mother. She was sure Cook, who had been there the longest, remembered her but would not speak of it for fear of her father’s wrath.
“Lass, I was a friend of Laird Menzies’s first wife.”
“Ye knew her serving women?” asked Fiona eagerly. “My mother was one.”
Lady Eloise clasped both of Fiona’s hands in hers. “Your mother was not a serving woman, child. She was my good friend Lady Morag Fraser.”
A sudden roaring in Fiona’s ears sounded like the noise after a cannon burst.
“What?” she croaked.
“You are the fifth living daughter of Laird Menzies. He was furious at your birth, having demanded your mother produce a son. You were small, I think because your mother was terrified of giving birth to another girl. Your father ordered you out of his sight forever. He told all that you and your mother died.”
“I’m no bastard?” she whispered, still taking it in.
The older woman shook her head, eyes closed as if it was too much to bear otherwise. “I always wondered if he had your mother killed. Alive, she may give him more daughters.” She pressed her lips together. “Women die all the time of childbed fevers. Cameron discovered your mother lived for weeks after your birth. She was well, then suddenly was gone. Of a fever, they said, and the babe as well. It took him some time,
but your father found another wife. She died birthing Patrick.”
“How do ye ken all this?”
“Morag and I fostered together and were closer than sisters. My husband found things out for me.” She looked at Fiona. “He kenned your mother as well. When you rode in he thought you looked familiar but was not sure why.”
“That’s why ye welcomed me in my bath, to see if I was her daughter?”
Eloise nodded. Her eyelashes sparkled with tears. “If I had known you lived I would have had you stolen from Menzies. I would have had you brought here and raised as my daughter.” Her voice was tight, and high.
Fiona dropped her forehead on Lady Eloise’s knees. It was too much to take in. How different her life would have been if she’d been raised by foster parents who cared. She fought to inhale. It felt as if the silk band was still tied around her chest, binding her breasts so she’d resemble a lad. Lady Isobel gently caressed her hair until Fiona could sit up. She wiped the tears from her eyes. She was not sorry for herself, but for her mother.
“My husband isn’t sure how your uncle will take this news.”
Head spinning with too many thoughts, Fiona heard only one word.
“Uncle?” Her brain was too fogged to think who he might be.
“Your mother had family, child.” Lady Eloise hesitated. “Her brother, your uncle, is Alexander Fraser, Lord Lovat.”
Fiona gulped. She knew the name, and the man’s power. Things finally fell into place.
“That’s why yer laird husband is sending us away.” Another piece clicked. “‘Tis not just a message he sends, but me.” She looked up. “Angus was angry. I thought ‘twas at me. Why did he not tell me?”
“Please, do not blame them. Both Angus and Gillis were not pleased, but I wished to be the one to tell you about your mother, my good friend. Your uncle is a very powerful man. You are a highborn lady yet did not get permission from your father to marry.”
“Permission to marry?” Fiona grimaced. “All believed I was his bastard, and to strangers I was a lad. Menzies has no right to demand aught from me.”