Netta could not hold back a disbelieving huff at the word “civilized.” Saints. If Lady Phillipa had softened him, he would be a fiend without it. She politely curtsied, and when she rose, found herself clasped in another embrace.
“Welcome, Netta. I am so very pleased Mereck has chosen you.” Phillipa patted the brooch on Netta’s shoulder and gave her another quick squeeze before releasing her.
“Connor, leave off tormenting Elise,” Laird Damron demanded. “Mother and I wish to greet her properly.”
Connor grasped Elise’s arm and led her to where Damron and Lady Phillipa smiled and waited. The laird studied her pretty face and spoke gently to her. They had met at Ridley where Elise had followed Brianna like a timid shadow.
“Welcome, Elise.” Damron frowned when her frightened eyes met his. His frown made him look ferocious; she looked even more timid. He patted her shoulder to reassure her. She fell back against Connor, who righted her. Damron looked puzzled, obviously unaware of the forbidding sight he presented.
“You have no cause for alarm, Elise. As my ward, you are entitled to my protection.” Damron introduced her to Lady Phillipa, who greeted her warmly, saying she was delighted to have the young women added to her household.
“Come, we must not tarry. You are not accustomed to the brisk wind that comes off the bay.” Damron motioned them forward. “My Brianna will be eager to see you both, once you have refreshed yourselves.” A proud sound of possession rang from his voice.
Lady Phillipa led them up the wooden stairs to the keep’s entrance above the ground floor. Netta studied the building as she climbed the creaky stairs. Unlike Wycliffe, the ground floor had no window openings. She realized it was for protection. The keep’s defenders could burn the stairway, should an enemy breach the inner bailey.
Entering massive doors, they turned left into a great hall twice as large as her father’s. The display of weapons and armor that adorned the walls was impressive. Colorful banners hung from the ceiling, and trestle tables stood about the room. At the far end, the stately laird’s table was on a dais. The room smelled fresh and clean.
The men seated Lady Phillipa and the women in chairs grouped in front of the fireplace. Servants brought wine, ale and cheeses. After Laird Damron downed a cup of ale and nibbled a piece of cheese, he left to check on his beloved wife.
Netta had planned to throw herself at Bleddyn’s feet and plead her case. That was afore she met the Morgans of Blackthorn. Now, finding so much dignity in the room, she discarded the thought.
Conversation flowed easily. But why did everyone stare at her brooch, then smile? They even grinned at Mereck and raised their brows. He shook his head at them. She frowned. He kept close to her, as though branding her as his possession.
A warm breeze drifted over her, and she looked up, surprised. Lord Bleddyn, wearing a cloak of brilliantly colored feathers, stood in the doorway. He bore the eagle on his shoulder. Shaggy hair framed Bleddyn’s face, and the left side of that face held the same blue paint as Mereck’s.
“He honors you by painting his face in the old ways, Netta.”
Mereck’s whisper rustled the hair at her ear. She shivered.
As Bleddyn approached, he spoke to Cloud Dancer, and the eagle flew over to perch on a window opening. Bleddyn’s dark eyes studying Netta’s face felt like a comforting caress. Relief flowed through her, for she knew she could trust this man with her life.
“Little Lynette, your mother is most happy you have come to us.” A strange smile lit his face.
Her eyes widened. Her mother? Why had he spoken as if he knew what her mother would have felt? Before she could ask, he stilled her with a fingertip to her lips.
“Tomorrow we will meet. Mereck and Damron will join us. For now, relax and enjoy learning about your new home.”
He placed a kiss on her forehead, spreading peace through her. Savoring it, she closed her eyes. How had he known she wanted to meet with him? When she opened her eyes, he was nowhere to be seen.
Everyone kept the travelers busy answering questions about their journey. Mereck surprised Netta when he allowed her to talk without interfering, something her father had never permitted. Elise soon had them laughing, telling about her fright over meeting a “Heeland coo.”
“The Heeland coos are great shaggy beasts, with hair swaying in the breeze as they walk. Their tongues seemed as long as my arm, when they licked out and over their faces. No one would tell me what manner of beasts they are. They laughed each time I ran from them. Are Heeland coos not ferocious beasts?”
“Elise, love, your ‘ferocious beast’ is a cow. A Highland cow.” Connor grinned at her. “When you had milk with your porridge, did you not wonder where they got it?”
“Well, blessed saints. Why did they not tell me it was a cow?” She scowled at him as if the fault was his.
“Could it be because watching you leap and dart away from the gentle creatures was amusing, Mousie?” He stood beside her chair, his hand resting possessively on its back.
Meghan’s feet shifted beside Lady Phillipa’s chair.
“Aye, Meghan, you may leave and take the ladies to Brianna. I know she is waiting impatiently.” Lady Phillipa turned to Mereck and shook her head. He released his hold on Netta’s shoulder.
Meghan sprang forward with all the energy of a pup. “Come, Brianna awaits ye. The bairn didna sleep well last night, and she is cuddlin’ the wee one.”
When they entered the solar, the beauty of the scene struck Netta. A petite woman sat in front of a window opening. The golden sunlight flowing over her added to her fragile beauty.
Laird Damron knelt at her side. Anyone seeing them knew the lady’s husband would defy the world and even heaven for her. His tender expression was near painful to see. He stroked his wife’s chestnut curls and watched as she nursed the bairn. So much love flowed between them that Netta caught her breath. Would any man ever look at her with such gentleness? Brianna glanced up, a sweet smile lifting her full lips at the corners.
“Elise, love. It seems forever since I’ve seen you. Come. Give me a big hug, and meet our little Serena.” Her chin went up with this last, the gesture defensive.
Her husband rose to his feet. He smiled down at Brianna, and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He turned toward them. Sadness lurked in his eyes, afore he masked his expression and left the room.
Elise flew across the room, near tripping in her eagerness to reach her cousin. Netta felt drawn to follow. Brianna lifted the sleeping child to her shoulder, and she hugged and kissed Elise. When Brianna’s brown gaze met Netta’s, mystery and barely suppressed sorrow lingered there.
“This must be Mereck’s Lynette my Nathaniel spoke about.”
Her musical voice had an accent Netta could not place. Not French, Saxon or Scottish. Its inflection was unfamiliar to her. She listened closely and soon became used to the soft, drawn-out sound of the words.
“I hope you do not mind another woman on your hands, Lady Brianna. I left Wycliffe to be with Elise. We had not time to seek your permission.”
“We are very happy you are here. We did expect you, you know. My Nathaniel told us of your plight.”
“Nathaniel? How could this Nathaniel have known?”
“She speaks of Bleddyn, Netta,” Meghan said. “’Tis her special name for him. He knows happenin’s ahead of time. E’en that Damron would wed Brianna and bring her here. Damron was leagues away in England, but Bleddyn knew of the king’s message. He journeyed from Wales to go with Brianna and Damron. To watch o’er her.”
Elise spoke up. “He has always been close to her sister Alana. He was at Sinclair Castle when Brianna was born. He looks after them, and keeps them from harm.”
Netta watched Brianna place the sleeping babe in the nearby cradle. The nursemaid sat close-by, fierce protectiveness on her face.
Netta listened and watched the unusual Brianna, and she hoped someday to hear her story. She laughed, watching Elise flit fr
om Serena’s cradle to Brianna, and back again.
“Mousie, you will wear a path in the floor running betwixt them,” Connor’s deep voice said from the doorway. “If ’tis a bairn you wish, Damron will gladly hasten the quest for a man to husband you.”
Elise stopped in her tracks and plunked down on the floor between Netta and Brianna’s chairs. She kept her head lowered and refused to look at Connor’s grinning face.
At the mention of finding a husband, Netta wondered how to thwart Mereck and her father. Well, rats and fleas. Thinking of the man had drawn him to the room. He had discarded the wolf skins for a shirt and breeches.
Mereck bent and kissed Brianna’s forehead, then went to stand over Serena. His beautiful hand gently stroked over the babe’s head. Netta’s heart skipped a beat. He then lightly drew the backs of his fingers across the soft baby cheek.
“The wean is thrivin’, Brianna. She has grown much in my absence. Does she still greet if ye are from her sight?”
Netta looked at him, surprised at the brogue in his speech. His voice was husky, and she could not believe the change in his face. All the harsh angles disappeared, softened by tenderness and love. Yearning shone from his eyes when he looked at the child and Brianna. Would he love his own wife as deeply?
“Serena’s always hungry. Fortunately, I’ve more than enough milk for her. If she cannot see me, her cries are not as frantic as they were when you left. She’s feeling safer every day. I can now leave her for longer periods.”
A sad expression lurked on her face. She must have seen Netta’s questioning look, for she spoke to her.
“Soon after I lost my own bairn, our little Serena came into the world. When her witch of a mother found she had birthed a girl, she abandoned her. The little darling would not accept any wet nurse, until dear Johanna brought her to us.” She flashed a wide smile at the woman guarding the cradle.
“And me braw brither?” Mereck asked. “Is he still hidin’ his love for ye? Or has his heart taken over his head?”
“You should be proud of my Lord Demon, Mereck. He is either trying to stuff food in my mouth, or packing me between blankets and insisting I sleep. I begin to fear my skin will grow to the sheets. Every time I open my eyes, I spy him. He lurks over the bed, worrying whether I’m breathing too slowly or too rapidly.” She flushed and laughed, a shy expression on her face. “He has finally relented and allowed me out of bed this week.”
“Speakin’ of restin’, love, if ye would dine with us, ye must have yer nap,” Damron ordered as he strolled into the room. “Meghan and the girls will visit Father, whilst ye get yer rest.” He looked pointedly at Meghan as he bent over his little wife.
Lifting Brianna into his arms as easily as if he picked up a child, he hugged her tight to his heart and kissed the top of her head. “Mereck, will ye take o’er the men while I see our wee Brianna does not stint her nap?” He did not wait for Mereck’s nod afore he left the room. The nursemaid followed, with a servant who carried the cradle.
“Come, ye must be meetin’ Granda, fer he felt a mite poor in the stomach this morn and couldna greet ye properly.” Meghan jumped up and waved her arms for them to follow her. She fairly ran to the end of the hallway, and up the winding stone steps there. Laird Douglas’ room stood next to the stairwell on the third floor.
“Ye will be sharin’ a room with me three doors down. Connor and Mereck’s room is close-by,” she added.
She threw open the door. “Granda, I bring two lovely lassies to brighten yer day.” Her long legs swiftly carried her over to the great bed against the wall. Her grandfather, the old laird of Clan Morgan, rested against a mound of pillows.
His was the kindest face Netta had ever seen. Streaks of white flashed in his long, shaggy brown hair and short beard. Keen golden brown eyes studied both young women. He smiled and beckoned for them to sit on the bed beside him. He tugged Elise’s tunic, urging her closer.
“Come, lass. I would see our new ward.” Old Laird Douglas’ gaze studied her. “Think ye, Meghan, the wolf must needs guard her from her suitors?”
Elise blanched white as a full moon on a clear night.
“Oh, blessed saints, sir. Do not say such.” Netta patted Elise’s shoulder. “She fears Scotland’s wolves plan to have her for their next meal.”
“Ah. Ye must be Mereck’s Lynette. Bleddyn said yer beautiful eyes would turn a man’s heart to puddin’.” He smiled at her.
“My lord, I am not Mereck’s Lynette, but simply Lynette of Wycliffe.” Well, rats. Had Mereck already branded her with his possessive attitude? “I came to Scotland to keep Elise company.”
“Ock, Meghan.” Laird Douglas chuckled. “I ken Bleddyn has summoned another lovely Sassenach who fights her destiny.”
Chapter 10
Netta started to question Laird Douglas’ words, but the clicking sound of an animal’s nails on the floor distracted her. The beast padded around the foot of the bed and came to a halt beside them. A large, furry head jostled Elise’s legs. She jumped and jerked them away. Scrambling onto her hands and knees, she peered over the side of the bed.
“Blessed Saint Eustace,” she yelled. “Mereck failed to kill the beast. The wolf has tracked us to Blackthorn.” Searching for balance, she thrashed her arms about. It didn’t help. The pallet heaved and jiggled on its rope supports. She tilted over and bumped Netta, tumbling her off the edge of the bed.
Netta landed atop the biggest, hairiest creature she had ever seen within castle walls. Sliding off its broad back, she hit the floor with a thud. Before she could protect her face, a very wet tongue licked her cheek. A huge friendly wolf appeared to grin on seeing her startled expression. She burst into laughter at the idea.
“Ah. I see you and Guardian have met, lady.” Mereck lounged against the doorframe watching her.
The sight of his laughing bride sprawled on the floor, skirts baring her legs near up to her thighs, prodded his shaft to beg for attention. Although his gaze focused on her intriguing eyes, he noted every enticing inch of visible flesh.
She was not mindful of her disarrayed clothing.
He was not about to tell her.
“Do you often play with beasties? You have a way with him.”
“Nay, sir. Never have I had a pet. Father said to feed an animal which did not perform a service was a foolish expense. He had his hunting dogs, his horses and his falcons.” Her voice became strained. “I befriended the barn cat, but he would not allow me to feed her. He said starving cats made better mousers.”
Mereck studied the stricken look in her lovely eyes. Having seen for himself Baron Wycliffe’s harsh behavior, he had no need to hear her thoughts. No doubt, the cruel man destroyed any animal she befriended.
Netta thumped the great wolf on his sides. The beast licked her knee, bringing her bare legs to her attention. She blushed and scrambled to her feet. Guardian was not helpful. He demanded attention and near nudged her to the floor again.
Connor joined Mereck, and when he spied the rumpled bed, he padded over to tower above Elise. His brown eyes crinkled in amusement.
Laird Douglas put a protective arm around her.
“Are you the cause of this mayhem, Elise?” Connor’s slow, appraising glance caused Elise to blush and stare down at her hands. “Mereck told me of the mischief you both caused on your journey. I see I must needs keep watch o’er you.”
“Mischief, sir? We did not engage in mischief.” Her timid gaze lifted, and her forehead wrinkled with worry. “Did we Netta?”
Connor’s brows waggled upward. “What? You dinna believe aiding Netta to deceive Mereck, helping her put worms in his stew, and enticing a wounded wolf to stalk you wasna mischief?”
“Did you tell one and all every mishap, sir?” Netta, her hands on her hips, glared violet fire at Mereck.
“Uh, come to think on it”—Mereck rubbed vigorously at his jaw—“I failed to mention Elise suggested you bribe your guard to shirk his duty. If Damron learns of it, he will
likely lecture you both. And, aye, I didna tell anyone how you spied on the men hoping to see something you should not. Hmm…” His brows wriggled. He whispered loud enough for all to hear. “Or how you tried to seduce me as I slept.”
Netta’s mouth dropped open. She turned pleading eyes to Meghan and Laird Douglas and blurted her denials. “I never tried to seduce him. I became cold in the night and slept too close. And I did not spy on the men. I could not help it if they were careless. They should wear nappies and not expose themselves at every opportunity.”
Meghan’s throaty laughter filled the room. Her eyes sparkled with humor. “Aye, ye have the right of it Netta. But then they could not display their wares fer all to see. It be how a woman selects her partner fer the night. He with the longest prick dips his wick the sooner.”
“Haud yer wheesht, Meg,” Connor bellowed and put his hands over Elise’s ears—too late.
Her curious “What is a pr…” burst out before Connor’s hand flew from her ears to cover her mouth.
“I think Damron should find a stern husband for Meghan afore he looks to Elise.” Mereck’s tone was harsh but belied it when he winked at his grandfather.
“One who will thrash her regularly whene’er she spouts such things.” With a clamp-your-mouth-shut look, Connor glared at his sister. “I’ll search for an older man. One who will think nothing of taking a switch to her at eventide, in case he missed chastising a fault that day.”
“Hmpf.” Netta gave Connor a scorching scowl and moved to stand between him and her new friend. “That is a vile notion, sir. Why can men say any horrid thing they please, but when a woman dares open her mouth, you stifle her?”
“Because we are your masters, and you are but foolish women, of course.” Mereck’s voice was so close behind her, it stirred the hair behind her ear. “Women will speak in the way we instruct them, and act how we decree.”
Netta whirled about, her eyes spitting fire. That she was angry and would stand up for herself and her friends pleased Mereck. He spoke again, before she could.
Midnight's Bride Page 12