Tempted by a Warrior

by Amanda Scott

  The guardsman who greeted them blurted, “So ye found her, laird!”

  “I did, aye,” Kirkhill said. “I should tell you, too, that I have married her.”

  “Have ye now, sir?” the guardsman said with a delighted grin that banished Kirkhill’s assumption that the people of Spedlins might demand reasons. “Pray, m’lady, will ye let me say straightaway that we’ll all wish ye gey happy?”

  “Thank you,” Fiona said. “Tomorrow we must think about how we’ll want to celebrate. We are all gey tired, though, and must get some sleep.”

  “Aye, sure, m’lady. Most o’ our folks be still at the Hall, o’ course, but I can stir up someone to aid ye wi’ your—”

  “That will not be necessary,” Kirkhill said. “Joshua can see to my needs, and I will see to Lady Kirkhill’s. You may return to your duties.”

  Glancing at Fiona, he saw her staring at him and realized that, as the priest had had no need to present them formally to their small audience, it was the first time she had heard her new title. He smiled and saw her relax as she smiled back.

  Dismounting, they woke a gillie to see to their horses with Davy’s help and went inside, where they skirted sleepers in the hall and went to the inner chamber.

  “Good sakes,” Fiona exclaimed as they entered, “what a mess!”

  The lower section at the head of the exquisitely carved bed frame was broken, leaving a gaping hole that revealed a deep hollow inside.

  Wood fragments littered the floor.

  “It looks as if someone took a maul to it,” Kirkhill said, sure now that he had been right, and kneeling to peer inside. “The space is empty, but it does look as if something had been in there. The dust inside is all streaked.”

  He straightened and said to Joshua, “I’ll sleep in my lady’s bed tonight. Tomorrow we’ll decide what to do about this.”

  “Aye, sir,” Joshua said, staring at the hole in the bed frame. “There be hinges there at the left side, for a wee door, like. That Old Jardine were a one, aye?”

  “Go to bed, Joshua. Come along, lass,” Kirkhill added, touching her shoulder. “We’ll use the service stairs.”

  Weariness had caught up to Fiona miles before they’d reached Spedlins, but anxiety replaced it as she entered the bedchamber that she had shared with Will.

  Moonlight spilled through the open window, illuminating the large bed.

  When she hesitated at the sight, Dickon put his arm around her and said, “Look at me, lass.” When she did, he said, “What’s amiss?”

  “I… I did not expect this,” she said. “I thought we’d sleep in your bed. Will it not seem… ? That is, will you not feel as if… ?” She stopped, not knowing how to put her muddled feelings into words.

  He moved to face her, touching her shoulders as he often did when he wanted to speak seriously with her. “Sweetheart, I know that Will must have shared that bed with you, but I have known it only as your bed and the bed where your bairn came into this world. It holds no ghosts for me, only two people I love and care for. If it makes you uncomfortable to sleep with me in a bed that you shared with him—”

  “Do not say that you will leave! I don’t want that. I only feared that you—”

  “I don’t care a whit about Will Jardine. You are mine, Fiona-love, and you were never truly his.”

  “Then take me to bed, Dickon.”

  By moonlight, he helped her remove all but her shift and took off his clothes while she brushed and plaited her hair, and watched him. Then, he returned to her, untied the ribbons of her shift for the second time that night, pulled it off over her head, and dropped it to the floor. Gathering her into his arms, he carried her to bed.

  Their lovemaking was more tempestuous than before, and Fiona, reveling in the feelings he stirred, tried to imitate the things he did, to excite similar sensations in him. She wished she knew what else he’d like her to do but was reluctant to try some of the things that Will had demanded of her, lest Dickon disapprove of them.

  As they lay back, sated, she drew a deep breath and felt more content than she could recall ever feeling before.

  “That felt wonderful,” she murmured.

  “It did, aye,” he agreed. Silence fell for a time before he said sleepily, “Still awake, sweetheart?”

  “Aye.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Her tongue seemed suddenly stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “Fiona?”

  “I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking.”

  “Just tell me what is in your head.”

  He said no more than that, although the silence lengthened until she began to fear that he had fallen asleep. Then she recalled that he had said she could tell him anything, and the one sure thing that she had learned about Dickon was that he meant the things he said. He would not be angry, and he would be honest.

  Not knowing how else to begin, she said, “You are different from Will.”

  “Sakes, I hope I am!”

  “You are, aye, in every way. So I don’t know what you might like or… or dislike when you and I couple.”

  His low chuckle sent tremors through her body, stirring it to life again although she had thought she was exhausted.

  “Sweetheart,” he said, “you can do anything you like to me. Anything that you feel comfortable enough to try will delight me. Do you remember when I said that you had more power in one finger than most men have in their whole bodies?”

  “Aye, but you do say odd things from time to time.”

  “I referred to the power that you have to ignite a man’s passion. Sakes, if you only knew how often I have dreamed of lying with you, and feeling your hands, fingers, lips, and tongue on my body, even your wee white teeth.”

  “My teeth!”

  “Fingernails and teeth are more than defensive weapons, Fiona-love. They can be effective in bed, too. I’d show you how effective, but if we don’t sleep soon, we’ll likely sleep right through the rest of today and Wednesday as well.”

  He leaned up on his elbow then and bent over her, claiming her lips, before he added provocatively, “But tomorrow, my love, we’ll see just what they can do.”

  As he lay back, she smiled and snuggled against him, more delighted than he could imagine to hear that he had dreamed of her.

  Sunlight had replaced the moonlight in the room when Kirkhill opened his eyes, telling him that the hour was much later than his usual rising time. He had not slept as deeply as usual those first couple of hours, though. The desire to savor all he felt, having Fiona beside him, had been stronger than his need for good sleep.

  He realized that she, too, was awake, but as much as he wanted to take her again, he knew they should get up. They had things to do. Hugh had told him the night before that Rob, Tony, Sir James, and the rest of their men would likely remain with Archie through the day and perhaps through the week, until Archie was sure that the English threat had truly diminished, at least for the time being.

  But Spedlins was clearly undermanned if raiders had invaded it so easily, and he would have to ensure the safety of its people before he could leave again.

  “Art awake, sir?”

  “Aye, sweetheart,” he said, moving to kiss her. She tasted good, even in the morning. “We should get up,” he said, suiting action to the words.

  They dressed quickly, and as he finished fastening the flap of his breeks, someone rapped on the door.

  Glancing at Fiona to see that she was fully covered, he did not bother to ask who it was but said loudly, “Enter.”

  Flory came in, smiling. “I thought ye might want me, m’lady.”

  “Where is my wee David?” Fiona demanded.

  “Wi’ Eliza, downstairs, asleep,” Flory said. “Joshua said to leave the wee laddie wi’ her till ye’d broken your fast. He said ye’d be gey hungry.”

  “He was right,” Kirkhill agreed.

  “Aye,” Fiona said. “But do not let Eliza nurse him if he wakens, Flory. I’m
overfull of milk as it is, and I’ve missed my laddie.”

  “Faith, but I should think ye’d be fair aching by now,” Flory said.

  Meeting Kirkhill’s dancing gaze, Fiona knew she was blushing, but she said only, “I am going downstairs to get food, sir. You may come along if you are ready.”

  Chuckling, he put an arm around her but said to Flory, “I expect you’ve heard that I married your mistress, lass. Do you wish us happy?”

  “Aye, m’lord, we all do,” she replied with a grin.

  “But when did you come back here?” Fiona asked her.

  “This morning, early,” Flory said. “It be nearly midday now, sithee, but when Sir Hugh said ye were back here at Spedlins, we thought we’d best come back, too. I’ll just tidy up here whilst ye’re downstairs.”

  Taking the main stairway, Kirkhill and Fiona entered the great hall to find that much of the remaining population of Spedlins had gathered there.

  Cheers erupted as they appeared in the archway, and when they moved toward the small crowd, it parted and silence fell.

  Sitting in the center of the chamber floor was a stout woven kist of the sort in which Kirkhill and most other people who could make or afford such things stored their clothing and linens. This one had rounded, stitched leather handles at each end, and leather loops and thongs to secure its lid.

  Kirkhill looked from one grinning, expectant face to another. “What is this?”

  Evart, the steward, stepped forward. His expression revealed little, but Kirkhill felt nonetheless that the old man was as pleased as anyone else there. Evart said, “Yon kist be a token o’ our trust in ye, m’lord, and our esteem for our lady on the happy occasion o’ which some o’ us learned last night and others wi’ the dawn.”

  Turning to Fiona, Kirkhill said, “Such a gift is most unexpected and likely intended more for you than for me, my lady. Mayhap you should open it.”

  She nodded, looking as puzzled as he felt.

  As she moved to kneel by the kist, Evart said, “By my troth, sir, it be for ye both, equally, and for our young master, David Jardine, as well.”

  Frowning in his puzzlement now, Kirkhill moved nearer as Fiona unlooped the two thongs and opened the kist.

  Inside were a dozen to a score of string-tied fustian sacks.

  Fiona untied one of them, opened it, and gasped audibly as a sunbeam from one of the high, narrow windows glinted on silver.

  Fiona stared at the coins, all silver groats and silver pence as far as she could tell at first glance. She counted the bags, fifteen of them, a small fortune.

  “But how?” she asked. “I thought Hod must have taken whatever was here.”

  “And so he would have, aye, did he get the chance,” Evart said. “But Hod were no the only one to ha’ ken o’ Old Master’s gelt, nor he didna ken the hidey-hole for all that he did find the key. Old Master kept it till he died, m’lord,” he added, looking at Kirkhill.

  “But I found that key on the table in Jardine’s bedchamber,” Kirkhill said.

  “Aye, sure, ’cause that Hod didna ha’ ken o’ what it fit. Not then.” Evart frowned, then added, “I’d say that ’twere only when he’d had leisure to think on the matter that it came to him that Old Jardine might ha’ hid summat in yon great bed o’ his. Afore then, though, we’d got the old master’s fortune safe again.”

  “Do you have a key, too, then?” Fiona asked him.

  For the first time, Evart’s expression revealed discomfort. “Nay, m’lady, not one o’ my own. Sithee, Old Jardine had only the one key.”

  “Then how… ?” She remembered the confusion she had felt when the key had seemed to be on the wrong ring of her chatelaine. “You took it from me!”

  “Nay, not exactly,” Evart said, looking beyond her.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Flory, her cheeks fiery red.

  “He just asked to borrow it for a time and no to tell ye,” Flory said. “He said it might be dangerous for ye to ken aught o’ the matter.”

  Fiona saw Kirkhill frown and look from Flory to Evart, whose cheeks had also reddened. Hastily, Fiona said, “And you trusted Evart not to harm me.”

  “I did, aye,” Flory said. But she was looking warily at Kirkhill.

  “Easy enough, I expect, for you to slip into my chamber from the service stair and remove the bags from their hiding place,” Kirkhill said. “But it might have been awkward had someone like Joshua caught you at it.”

  “Aye, sir, and I expect ye think it were me duty to tell ye all about it—”

  “If you give me your word that Old Jardine’s fortune remains intact for his grandson, that is all the assurance I need,” Kirkhill said. “I begin to think that all of you have kept an eye on her ladyship, and on me, have you not?”

  Fiona saw Evart’s relief as he said, “This be the young master’s inheritance, sir. We’d none o’ us ha’ touched it, save to keep it safe for him.”

  Kirkhill nodded. “Fair enough,” he said.

  “Tippy said Jeb told her that she and Davy should watch over each other and those they love, that good people do that,” Fiona said. “Is that how it was, Evart?”

  “Aye, m’lady. Wi’ respect, laird, we didna trust ye yet then to look after our bairn, his lands, and his mam as ye should. Until we could…” He spread his hands.

  “I do understand, Evart,” Kirkhill said. “After Old Jardine suggested that I might have killed his son, I could scarcely expect you to trust me straightaway.”

  Evart grimaced but did not debate the point.

  “Laird, laird, the lady Mairi has come and she’s brought a few o’ them minstrels wi’ her!” Davy was fairly dancing as he shouted the news.

  Evart and one of the other men whisked the kist into the inner chamber, while Dickon and Fiona hurried to greet their unexpected guests.

  “We came to help you celebrate,” Nan cried as she flung herself from her horse. “What’s more, Sir Hugh sent word to Rob and Tony and Uncle James that you’d married, so he thinks they may return as soon as this evening!”

  Kirkhill turned to Hugh. “You sent a messenger to them from Annan?”

  “Aye, sure, I knew they’d want to know about this turn of events, and Mairi would be disappointed if they don’t get back by Saturday for her festivities.”

  “Mayhap so, but Archie—”

  “Don’t fret about Archie. I’ll wager he has it all under control, and if he doesn’t, he’ll let us know soon enough. So, just welcome your nuptial celebration and cease your nattering.”

  Kirkhill looked at Fiona. “I begin to understand why arbitrary orders irk you, lass. I’m acquiring distaste for them myself.”

  Nan exclaimed, “But you cannot turn us away!”

  “Everyone is gey welcome,” Fiona said firmly. “But if I had my way, the minstrels would entertain us this afternoon, after we dine. Then, if the other men arrive in time, we might take our supper this evening in the nearest orchard with just the family and mayhap a gillie or two to see to the serving.”

  “But if the other men don’t come, that would just be dull,” Nan complained.

  Kirkhill’s gaze caught Fiona’s. He smiled at her, wishing he could send everyone else away but understanding, too, that she wanted to share their day. As it was, though, the afternoon passed quickly and the men returned before suppertime.

  “Now see what you’ve made me do!” Fiona cried, laughing and wriggling to free herself from her husband. Aside from shaking her head at him, she spared no thought for the apronful of apples that he had startled her into dropping.

  Slipping an arm around her waist, Dickon grinned at her and with his free hand pulled her around to face him. “Let Nan pick them up,” he said, holding her strongly. “It will amuse her, and I want you. I’ve not had you to myself all day.”

  His face was close to hers, and his breath smelled of spices from the apple tart they’d shared after their meal under the apple trees. He held her so close that she felt him stirring again
st her. His expression was full of laughter and a loving hunger so fierce that it stirred her own and made her dizzy.

  She wished fervently that they could be together like this forever. But she knew that duty would call him again, for such was the nature of things in the Borders. He would have to leave her then, but he would return, and meantime, he would remain faithful to her and would miss her as much as she would miss him.

  Since the day they had met, grass and the leaves on the trees seemed greener, the sky bluer, and the colors of the flowers brighter. The world had become a warmer, more welcoming, and much more beautiful place.

  “Happy, love?” he murmured close to her ear.

  “Aye,” she said softly. “Happier than I thought anyone could be.” To her good-sister she said, “One apple rolled under that tree behind you, Nan.” Then, smiling up at Dickon again, she said, “They will all be bruised now, you know.”

  “Aye, sure, and gey fine for more tarts,” he said. “Take those to the cook when you’ve collected them all, Nan, or give some to the others first if you like.”

  “You’d get fat, eating so many tarts,” Nan told him, laughing. She had her skirt full of apples and turned cheerfully away toward the others to share them.

  “She seems happier now, too,” Fiona said, watching her go.

  “Aye, the naughty tease. Do you know whom she tells me she has decided she wants to marry, after having made such a great song about it?”

  Fiona gave him a saucy look. “Tony, of course. I knew she would.”

  “But she said she would not have him no matter what anyone said.”

  “She did tell me, though, when I caught up with her after she rode off from the Hall, that she had decided Tony might care for her after all.”

  “Sakes, that was after he put her across his knee and skelped her good.”

  “Aye,” she said. “There is no understanding it.”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “I may begin to understand. Sithee, I have told her that the reason I get so wroth with her is that I care so deeply about her.”

  “You said much the same thing to me,” Fiona said. “But I don’t advise you to skelp me to prove it, or to issue arbitrary orders to me, come to that.”