Medieval Ever After

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I look forward to our real wedding night, lass,” he said huskily in her ear.

  She couldn’t muster a response. Instead, she stood with whatever dignity she could scrape together and practically stumbled toward the stairs on the other side of the hall. She kept her eyes down, but she was sure the burning in her cheeks gave her away to everyone in the hall, including Daniel.

  The cool darkness of her chamber did little to alleviate her heated skin and racing heart. Damn her body! It had a mind of its own when it came to Daniel Sinclair.

  Her husband.

  How much could she truly keep from him? He didn’t seem like the type of man to let things go unnoticed. He hadn’t pressed her further about where she’d been on the day he arrived, but how many more times could she disappear for several hours at a time before he demanded an explanation?

  Her father had either never noticed or didn’t care enough about her whereabouts to raise a fuss about it. And anyone else who observed her leaving the castle and crossing the loch must have assumed that she enjoyed going to the village or walking alone in the woods. They had all accepted that she was an unusual sort of girl.

  She had never been good at sewing or weaving or overseeing the household. But Agnes and the other servants had the castle well under control. And though she was barb-tongued and hot-tempered, people mostly either admired her for her forthrightness or chuckled at her father’s inability to control her.

  But having a husband with piercing, observant eyes and a stubborn, commanding temperament was going to ruin her carefully balanced life—or worse.

  There was simply too much at stake. She had to keep finding ways to hold Daniel at arm’s length. For now it was the lie about her monthly curse, but she would have to come up with something better, and fast. The way he kissed her said that he wouldn’t be kept at bay for long.

  HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Shut the door behind you,” Daniel said to Kennedy and his man Malcolm. He was seated behind what had been Kennedy’s desk in the private study near the top of the tower keep.

  He gestured for the two men to take a seat before him. Kennedy acquiesced smoothly, but Malcolm eyed Daniel before sitting.

  Without preamble, Daniel launched into his speech, addressing Kennedy.

  “I’d like you to return to Dunure, Laird. I’m sure your people would be most grateful to have you among them again, and I have things under control here.”

  In the week since his marriage, Daniel had indeed made strides in winning the trust and respect of the people of Loch Doon, as well as tightening the operations of the castle. He’d gathered that Gilbert Kennedy wasn’t the most observant or fastidious of men. Daniel had spent much of his time increasing the training of the men of the castle as well as going over the ledgers for errors in calculations. Even if Kennedy was completely loyal to Robert the Bruce, the man was ill-suited to keep the King’s castle in order.

  Thankfully, Daniel saw little evidence that Kennedy was openly colluding with the English against the Bruce. The fact remained, however, that he had paid Raef Warren, one of Scotland’s greatest enemies, an exorbitant sum to avoid having the castle razed. Kennedy had also continued to pay taxes to England’s Edward II.

  Dunbraes, Warren’s stronghold, wasn’t far from here, and the bastard often had his army run drills near the village just to frighten and terrorize the people of Loch Doon. So far, it had worked. But if the Bruce’s plan to secure Loch Doon and eventually lay siege to Dunbraes went right, Raef Warren would finally be stopped. And the bastard would finally pay for all the harm and strife he had caused Scotland.

  Daniel refocused his thoughts on the two men in front of him. Malcolm looked shocked, but Kennedy seemed unfazed.

  “I suspected you might send me away shortly after the wedding,” Kennedy said evenly. “It never does well to have too many cooks in the kitchen, or too many lords in the castle, as the case may be.”

  Daniel inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you for understanding. And know that I will tell King Robert of your cooperation.”

  “But Laird,” Malcolm sputtered, “what about all the Kennedys who have come to call Loch Doon home? Are we to be sent away too?”

  Daniel regarded Kennedy’s man for a moment. He was thin and narrow-shouldered, with a nondescript mop of brown hair on his head. Though he looked befuddled at the moment, Malcolm normally had the air of a keen observer.

  “Just to be clear, I am not sending your Laird away, Malcolm,” Daniel said levelly. “I’m asking him to return to his keep, where he may better serve his people. Any Kennedys who moved to Loch Doon with you are more than welcome to stay, or if they prefer, they can return to Dunure or Turnberry with you.”

  Daniel shifted his attention from Malcolm to Kennedy as he spoke, watching the man’s face closely.

  Thankfully, he saw no resentment or cunning there. Kennedy nodded and sighed. Though it was an honor to be asked to run the Bruce’s ancestral home in his stead and would be a prick to the pride to have that honor taken away and bestowed upon another, Kennedy looked more relieved than anything.

  Malcolm, on the other hand, frowned. “I’ll not be leaving, Laird. I’d like to stay and make sure everything continues on as you would wish it in your absence.”

  Daniel suppressed a curse. Despite swearing fealty to him, Malcolm was clearly still more loyal to Kennedy. He couldn’t simply order the man to give up that loyalty, though. He would have to cajole it out of him with some choice words.

  “I’m grateful you wish to stay, Malcolm,” Daniel said smoothly. “I have much need for a man like you. I still have a great deal to learn about Loch Doon, and you must be very knowledgeable and observant to have earned a position as your Laird’s right-hand man.”

  That seemed to affect Malcolm somewhat. He sat a little straighter in his chair, though his mouth was still slightly turned down. Daniel would have to keep working on him.

  “When do you wish me to depart?” Kennedy said.

  “As soon as possible,” Daniel replied with a rueful quirk of his mouth to soften his words. “This morning, perhaps, if you can be ready.”

  “Very well, my lord,” Kennedy said wearily. Though Daniel had initially worried that Kennedy would be more of an obstacle, he was proving to be quite acquiescent.

  Unlike his daughter, he thought sourly.

  Rona was as flighty as ever. He’d barely caught a handful of glimpses of the lass since they spoke their wedding vows a week ago. Whenever he tried to confront her about her evasive behavior or remind her that they still needed to consummate their marriage, she would throw him into yet more confusion with her responses.

  Sometimes she was dismissive, though he often thought he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. Other times, like when he had cornered her in the stairwell after she’d vanished from the castle for several hours, she’d crossed her arms and hardened her face, refusing to answer his direct questions. Who was this strange lass to whom he was married? And what was she hiding?

  Daniel stood as a way to dismiss Kennedy and Malcolm. They followed suit, and he walked them out of the study. Kennedy excused himself from Daniel’s presence to set about preparing to depart in the next few hours.

  Malcolm moved to follow his Laird, but Daniel motioned for him to stay. He wanted to keep Malcolm by his side, ask the thin young man questions, and let him explain some of the nuances of the castle’s community. Though he hoped to learn a bit more about the castle’s inhabitants and their habits, he mostly intended to put Malcolm at ease and bring him into his trust—if he could. Changing leadership at such a large stronghold wasn’t easy. Daniel only hoped Malcolm would be as malleable as Kennedy.

  Just before noon, Daniel joined Kennedy and a small crowd of servants at Loch Doon’s docks.

  “Thank you all for seeing me off,” Kennedy said in a loud voice to those gathered. Daniel scanned the crowd, but he didn’t see Rona yet.

  “I am grateful
to the new keeper of Loch Doon for graciously allowing me to rejoin my wife and clan at Dunure. I give him and my daughter blessings as the new lord and lady of the castle.”

  As Kennedy spoke, Daniel caught a flash of red hair moving through the crowd. Rona pushed her way to where Daniel and Kennedy stood. Her face was strained with distress, and she hugged her father fiercely.

  “I’ll miss you, Father,” she said quietly, though Daniel was close enough to overhear.

  “Hmph. You’ll miss getting your way with me, more likely,” Kennedy said gruffly, though he hugged his daughter back.

  After a long moment, Rona stepped back to her father’s other side. With one last wave and a cheer from the crowd in response, Kennedy stepped onto the boat that waited to take him to the loch’s shoreline. Daniel reached across the gap between the boat and the dock for a firm arm clasp with the departing Laird.

  But just as Daniel was about to release the man’s arm, Kennedy pulled him in for a private word.

  “I’ve never had a handle on the girl, my lord. She always seemed to outsmart me, or at least outlast me with that iron will of hers. She’s far too wild for a lady. I just hope you can rein her in.”

  With that, the boat pushed off and Kennedy gave a final wave. As the residents of the castle started filtering back to their tasks, he turned toward the yard, chewing on what his wife’s father had said.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he realized that Rona still stood on the docks, looking out at the diminishing outline of the boat carrying her father away. He decided that it was best to give her a moment of privacy. Though he hadn’t seen a great deal of affection between Kennedy and his daughter, the lass seemed distraught at his sudden departure.

  Daniel made his way back to the study, but when he arrived in the small but well-appointed room, he couldn’t resist the urge to look down at the docks again. He pulled the furs back from the window and instantly made out Rona’s slim form and red hair. She still stood on the docks, looking off toward the west where the village lay.

  But then, instead of turning back to the castle, she spoke to a boatman and boarded one of the small rowboats moored at the docks. The boat disembarked from the castle, headed for the village.

  Just then, Malcolm poked his head through the study door.

  “You asked for a report on the crumbling stone along the northeast wall, my lord?” Malcolm said.

  “Aye,” Daniel replied, still watching Rona out the window. “Does Lady Rona go to the village often, Malcolm?” he said as lightly as possible.

  “Aye, my lord. The boatmen hardly pay her any mind, so frequently is she among them.”

  “She probably just enjoys gazing at the fine cloth sold at the weaver’s, I’m sure.”

  Malcolm’s brow furrowed. “Nay, my lord, I doubt that. Lady Rona is well known to prefer simple clothes of stout wool for the most part.”

  “Then she goes to the village to ride a favorite horse of hers? Or perhaps to visit a friend?”

  “Not that I know of, my lord.”

  Daniel did his best to smooth his features before turning away from the window. “How strange,” he said casually. “Now, about that crumbling section of the curtain wall.”

  Malcolm began explaining the location of the rock that needed repair, but Daniel barely heard him over the sound of his blood pounding in his veins.

  Could the lass be cuckolding him?

  Was that why she was so hesitant about consummating their marriage? If she wasn’t a virgin, he would surely realize it, and she would be found out. It also explained why she was always sneaking off to the village for hours at a time.

  Gilbert Kennedy’s words came back to him. The man had been too permissive with the lass, letting her gallivant freely around the castle and the village. Now he had offloaded his overindulged daughter onto Daniel. Had Daniel been too lenient as well? Had he allowed her to continue some illicit affair right under his nose, all the while letting her evade his questions and avoid their wedding consummation?

  If it were all true, then Daniel had been lulled by her pretty face and figure, by the heat he felt between them. But if the lass was experienced, could her reaction to him, which made it clear she was attracted to him, be an act too? That thought sent Daniel’s blood boiling.

  No more. He would have the truth from her, one way or another. And he would not be like her father, unable to control her. Daniel was not the kind of man to forgive a trespass on his authority. Nor would he be made to look the fool by his own wife.

  He set his teeth, preparing for battle.

  HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

  CHAPTER NINE

  Raef Warren eyed the white chess pieces arrayed on the board in front of him. Slowly, he reached out and placed a finger atop one of his pawns, which was carved to look like a man-at-arms. His eyes darted between the white squares checkering the board and the red ones, rapidly considering his opponent’s next several moves. Then he withdrew his finger from the pawn and instead moved his knight.

  Raef didn’t bother walking around to the other side of the board. Instead, he simply rotated the entire thing so that the red pieces now sat before him, waiting on his command. Just as he was about to move the red-painted rook, a soft knock came on his study door.

  “Enter,” he said with annoyance.

  Gordon, his captain of the guard, poked his head inside. “We have had some news, my lord.”

  Raef waved him in and reluctantly turned away from the chess game. “From King Edward, I hope,” he said, unconcerned to show his impatience in front of Gordon. The man was loyal—and about as witless as they came. He kept the men in line, though, and was good for running simple errands like delivering news to his lord.

  “Nay, my lord, there is still no word from the King.”

  Raef frowned. “Out with it then, man.”

  Gordon, the big, hulking idiot, stood uncertainly only about a foot inside the study door. He shifted his sizable weight from one foot to the other under Raef’s sharp gaze.

  “Our scouts to the northwest have noticed some unusual activity around Loch Doon.”

  Raef immediately straightened, forgetting his annoyance at being pulled away from his game and at Edward II’s lack of communication.

  “They report that the castle and village have been in a kerfuffle, first with preparations for the arrival of someone important, and then with changes inside the castle.”

  Raef’s stomach twisted in a combination of excitement and panic. “The Bruce has returned?”

  Strategically, this could be the perfect time for Raef to make a definitive strike against the Scottish rebel scum. Their leader’s ancestral home was only a half-day’s ride from where Raef currently sat inside the walls of Dunbraes Castle. If he were able to lay siege to Loch Doon, that gem of a stronghold, and either destroy it or capture it for the English, he might finally earn the Barony that had been denied him for so long.

  But of course, such a command to strike at Loch Doon and Robert the Bruce, the slippery son of a bitch who had dragged this rebellion on, would have to come from Edward II himself. And the whelp King was proving to be more fop than Hammer of the Scots, the title his father had earned for relentlessly crushing those barbarian people into dust.

  If only Edward I still lived to carry on his task of eradicating those savages to the north. Instead, the old codger had died just as Raef was making a name and reputation for himself as a scourge to Scotland. Now he and all of England were saddled with an ineffectual, art-loving King who cared more about clothes than finishing the task of bringing Scotland and its barbarian inhabitants to heel.

  And besides, even if he did get the order to attack Loch Doon, he was now in greater danger here in an English-held Lowland castle if the Bruce were near. The Bruce could be gearing up to attack Dunbraes. Raef had to think defensively as well as offensively, just as he did when he played himself in chess.

  Raef’s ability to hold the Scottish-built castle was a constant poke in the e
ye to the Scottish rebels. The Bruce had made his intentions to retake the Lowlands and Borderlands clear—over the last year, the rebels had attacked English-held garrisons, keeps, and castles all along the Borderlands. And the Bruce meant business. Instead of simply holding those structures for the Scottish cause, he was having them razed to the ground so that they could never be recaptured by the English.

  Dunbraes had already withstood several attempted sieges in the five years since Raef had been charged with holding the castle. Was the Bruce himself preparing to attempt one final siege?

  All this flitted through Raef’s mind in a heartbeat, as if he were merely assessing his options on the chessboard.

  Gordon cleared his throat nervously, clearly reluctant to answer Raef’s question.

  “Speak, man! Has the Bruce returned to Loch Doon?”

  “Nay, our scouts don’t believe so, my lord. Despite all the excitement, no army, or even a small band of men, has shown up. And no procession has arrived either. But…”

  “What?” Raef said, trying to keep from unleashing his temper on Gordon, though the man deserved it.

  “One scout heard a rumor that there is a new lord at Loch Doon, a…a Highlander by his dress. He wears a red kilt with thin lines of green and blue in it.”

  A Highlander. In a red kilt.

  No, it couldn’t be.

  In a flash, Raef spun back to his chessboard and slammed both fists into it, sending the red and white pieces flying. As the pieces landed on the floor and rolled at his feet, he smoothed his sandy blond hair back from his forehead, though one of his hands remained clenched.

  After a few deep breaths, Raef turned back to Gordon. The hulking coward had taken a step back from Raef’s rage so that he stood against the closed study door.

  “What of Kennedy?” Raef said calmly.

  “He is to be sent away, if he hasn’t been already.”

  Raef could feel the knuckles on his left hand going white, even as he smoothed his hair again with his right hand. Like Gordon, Gilbert Kennedy was a fool. But also like Gordon, the ineffectual Laird and keeper of Loch Doon had been under Raef’s control. Not only had Kennedy paid a small fortune—of the Bruce’s money—as a settlement to prevent Raef’s men from laying siege to Loch Doon, but he also paid taxes to ensure the castle’s safety, as Raef had explained to him.