The Maiden Switch

by Allie Borne

  Merianne held her legs together tightly, unsure of what it was that he was trying to do. Undaunted, Bryan returned to kissing her cheeks and brow, coaxing her to open her mouth for him. Merianne relaxed, lips and thighs parting on a sigh. As Bryan plundered her mouth, moving his tongue in and out again and again, he slid his fingers inside of her, readying her for the mating act.

  Meri grew moist and compliant. He knew that she would be sore from the morning’s activities, however, so he wanted her to be ready for climax just before he entered her. Bryan gently spread her legs and moved his head between them. Gently, he ran his tongue along her most sensitive spots, bringing her to a panting, pleading need.

  Bryan entered her with his tongue, coaxing her nearer and nearer to a peak of sensation. When Merianne sobbed out his name, begging him to come to her, he lifted her up and onto the bed.

  Bryan drove into her, the bed ropes creaking and Merianne gasping with pleasure and pain. “Ooh,” she called out as she climaxed, spasming around him and bringing him with her to the heights of passion. Moments later, they lay exhausted, Bryan cradling her in his arms.

  Meri became aware of the dull laughter and conversation going on on the other side of their chamber door. She gasped and sat up, looking down at Bryan, breasts swinging. “They heard everything we just did, didn’t they?”

  “I suppose so,” Bryan answered, noncommittally. “Why did we move to the bed, then? Why not stay on the floor?”

  “Because it is more comfortable on the bed.”

  “But they heard us!”

  “All the better. The object was to verify the consummation of our marriage. We have done so.”

  “How mortifying!”

  “Ye are the lady of the keep, now. Verra little of yer life will be private. Ye must have known that, been used to it.”

  “I suppose so. I do not know these people, though. I was used to my servants at home. Besides, I had quickly grown accustomed to my lack of observers, upon taking on Mary’s identity.”

  “Ye will adjust. Everyone here is used to verra little privacy. Intimacy is a part of life. Ye will see and hear them having relations as well, no doubt. This is their opportunity to turn the tables a bit.”

  “Oh, well. I suppose it is done and over with now,” Merianne conceded, rolling onto her side, away from Bryan.

  “Ceisd mo Chridhe...Darling, you can expect some teasing from the men tomorrow. Don’t mind it. They’ll soon tire of it and move on to the next couple. If anyone touches ye or makes unwanted advances, ye let me know, do ye understand?”

  “Why ever would they dare to do such a thing?”

  “Some men do no’ ken where the line is. Tis best if ye handle it right away and establish yerself as the lady of the house. I want to hear about it, regardless.”

  “Do you really think that will happen?”

  “No’ with my own men, but tis bound to happen eventually. We will have guests and some men like to test out the waters, to see if their advances are welcome. Tis important to me that we be tairis, that is, faithful to one another. I expect ye to honor our marriage vows.”

  “Why on earth would I ever want to be with another man who is not my husband? It seems to me that it will be enough work keeping you satisfied, My Lord, why would I wish to try to please another?”

  Bryan laughed aloud again, causing the men on the other side of the door to snicker in unison.

  “Ye are right, Mo Creidh, busy enough. But if I were to be gone for some time?”

  “Then I will go with you, of course.”

  “Nay, I am sorry. No. If one of us goes, the other is to stay, to tend to the needs of the keep and the clan. Someone must stay behind to make decisions.”

  “And that will be me?”

  “Of course. Tis always the lady of the keep. I will, of course, leave either Arthur, Andrew, or Robert here to help, ye.

  “Let it be Sir Andrew or Arthur, Bryan, not Sir Robert.”

  “Why would it matter?”

  “Robert will not respect my person. I have been able to change the subject, but he has made it clear he has an interest in me.”

  “He would ken better-”

  “Just the same...I would prefer it be Arthur or Sir Andrew.”

  “Thank ye for confiding in me. I will keep that in mind.

  “You also must realize that you can no longer go about alone with another man. Loyal though the clan might be, that does not mean that they do not gossip. Rumors spread quickly.”

  “Even Arthur?”

  “I will allow Arthur. No one will really believe him capable of it. No young men, however, understood?”

  “Yes, understood. I will miss Aiden’s company, however. He had promised to take me fox hunting.”

  “I can take ye.”

  “You are going to be busy.”

  “So shall ye be. We will have to make time.”

  “That is well and good but I still wish to go fox hunting with Aiden.”

  “I wish that ye would no’. Ye need not be friends with so many men, Merianne.”

  “Perhaps, if I was friends with you, then I wouldn’t feel the need,” Merianne sniffed, hurt by the one-sided expectations.

  “I am your husband, Lady Redland, what need have we to be friends?”

  “Can you see why I might need another to talk to? You are unbearable!”

  “Verra well, I shall attempt to speak with ye and do the things ye enjoy. Tomorrow we will go fox hunting. We will keep the party small. I want no one riding through farm fields or trampling gardens.”

  “But tis not the season! Fox hunting is for the autumn.”

  “Right. Then we will go swimming.”

  “I have a better idea. Let us plan for Mary’s return. We know not what condition she will be in. I would like to have a back up plan, in case you do no’ win.”

  “Have ye no faith in me?”

  “I have every faith in you. If it were not for your scars, I would think you immortal, by the looks of you. It is that nasty Thane Cumyn I mistrust. He might try some dirty trick to lay you low. Can we have Sir Robert or Sir Andrew waiting in the wings to abscond with Mary? I do suppose you made it part of the bargain that he should show her and allow us to ascertain her health before the competition?”

  “Actually, I had no’ thought to add that to the conditions. I will ask Andrew to send a rider over in the morn to reiterate our expectation. Now, can we please no' speak of it until the morrow. I would like to spend my wedding night thinking only of my bride.”

  “Agreed. How many times do married couples lie together in one day, my lord? I am afraid that I have grown rather sore.”

  Bryan laughed and tumbled her atop of him. “I know many ways to work around that problem, Wife. But do not be concerned. Married couples have many other things to occupy their time, other than bed play. I will expect it often, however. I am a man of lusty appetites.”

  “I find I enjoy love making, Husband. If you can share with me the secrets of not getting sore, I believe that I will lie with you as often as you wish it.”

  “Then a good wife ye be, Wench. Come, sit atop me and tell me that again!”

  Chapter 5-Complications

  Mary was cold. After three days of waiting in this unholy dungeon, one might think that the chill would have seeped so far into her bones as to leave her feeling numb. Not so for Mary. She had the devil’s own luck. The touch of every frosty stone and icy draft sent shivers through Mary’s exhausted frame. With only her next visit from some apathetic to look forward to, Mary was beginning to wish she could take leave of her wits, if only to get some relief.

  Thus far, she had been thrust into this small space, denied wash water, a change of clothing, or so much as a visit with the Laird. Therefore, when the burly man who came to bring her meals opened the door to her cell, Mary didn’t even bother to look up. She kept her head down, within the crevice of the wool blanket wrapped around her, in a vain attempt to preserve some warmth.

 
; “Eat up,” he ordered.

  Mary’s unease grew from the Scot’s willingness to converse with her. Thus far, she had been left alone. She much preferred indifference to male interest, that was certain. Mary leaned towards her plate and ate, without pleasure, the gruel she had been provided.

  The man still hovered. As she finished, Mary dared a quick glance at the man. He was the fiercesome looking man that had chased after Meri and killed her, according to what he had told his laird. She hated him. His bruises and scratches had faded, she noted. No scar would be left to mark him the murderer he was. If he tried to touch her, she would die trying to inflict as much injury as possible onto his person.

  “Come with me,” he said, leading the way from the cell. Mary stood on wobbly legs and slowly straightened out their stiffness enough to walk. The man said nothing. He did not so much as touch her as he led the way from the drafty chamber. Mary was ashamed at the fact that she clung to the grimy, thin blanket, but it was her one source of warmth, of comfort, since coming to this wretched place.

  “Ye will have to hurry,” the ruffian ground out gruffly. Mary complied, to the best of her ability. She was weak and stiff from the cold and from thirst. She had not been given more than a cup of water since she arrived. She longed to dip her head in the creek and drink for days.

  Instead, she kept her head bowed and followed the man up two flights of stairs, to another small chamber. “Ye will find water and yer trunk inside. Bathe and dress yourself quickly. Ye have a visitor.”

  Mary was astounded. She was being allowed creature comforts, and a visitor? Oh, how she hoped it was Merianne, accompanied by an army to rescue her, of course. Mary knelt by the hip bath the moment the door was barred and shamed herself by drinking handfuls of water. She was so thirsty! It had been a full day since she had had a small, tepid tin of water.

  Having filled her shrunken stomach as full of the liquid as it could handle, Mary removed her soiled clothing and slid into the frigid water. Shaking uncontrollably from fear and starvation, Mary washed herself with the soap provided. Once her body was clean of filth, she rose from the tub and wrapped herself in the towel laid out for her.

  Sighing at the amount of time she was wasting, Mary began unwinding the jeweled headdress from her matted hair. She then grabbed the course brush from the bed’s side table and commenced brushing her hair, section by section, as it fell from the pins she released. Methodically, pushing past the exhaustion, Mary finished brushing out the tangles and knelt before the tub to dip her hair in the water.

  Scrubbing the sopping locks with the foul smelling soap, Mary quickly rinsed and rebrushed the yellow mane. Had she scissors or a knife, she would have simply cut it off. The amount of energy her useless coiffure was expending seemed pointless to her at present.

  Removing the towel from her now lithe form, Mary wrapped the sodden waves tightly and turned to the bed. Blessedly, Merianne’s clean shift, tights, garters, and gown lay spread out. Even a decent silk bonnet was provided to cover the mess she would certainly make of her hair.

  Sitting on the bed, Mary pulled on the tights and garters. The clean bloomers and shift felt heavenly against her dry, cracked skin. What she wouldn’t give for some salve! Carefully, she lowered the tunic over herself and looked over her shoulder hopelessly at the ties. Never mind, she thought as she unwound her hair and reached again for the brush. Pulling her damp hair into a simple bun, she secured it with the remaining pins and replaced the jeweled hair cover. Over this, she placed the pert little hat with a couple of pins.

  A knock sounded on the door, “Art thou ready?”

  “I am having trouble with fastening my gown,” she offered back, cringing at the possibility of this demon’s hands upon her flesh.

  “I will fetch a maid,” he responded and stomped off.

  A wavy looking glass sat on the small table. Mary lifted it to look at her reflection. The gown came two inches too short. Her eyes were sallow, with deep purple marks beneath them. Yet, she supposed she could pass as a lady, if that was what she was expected to do.

  A soft rap at the door warned of the maid. Mary lifted the latch and allowed her to slide in. Without a word on her stern face, the woman swiftly tightened the ribbon on the back of the yellow gown and left the room, leaving the door open. Mary exited the chamber on the heels of the cretin.

  Together they walked down a long hallway and Mary concentrated on remaining upright as the man rapped on another door. “Enter!” came the all too familiar gravely voice of the laird.

  The lecher opened the door and waved her in. Mary took deliberate, careful steps into what seemed a sort of study. Seated behind a very marked and scuffed, but solid looking desk, sat Thane Cumyn.

  Against the wall, a tall, golden-haired man stood. He tried to catch her eye and despite her fear, she looked at him. He nodded briefly, as if to say he was on her side and she hoped desperately that that was the case.

  “It seems, My Dear,” rumbled Thane Cumyn, “that this man believes ye to belong to his sister-in-law, Merianne Murray. “Is this true?”

  Again, Mary looked to the golden man and he nodded. Mary found her voice. “If he speaks of Merianne Warren, betrothed to Lord Redland, tis true.”

  “He wishes to take ye home with him. I feel that I cannot allow this. Have I not been hospitable, Miss Luke?”

  Her heart raced as he realized the Laird knew her name. She did not respond, as they both knew the reality of her accommodations. Instead she looked again to the only possible avenue of escape.

  “Mr. Murray?” Mary asked.

  “Aye?”

  “Have you come to bring me to, to Merianne?”

  “I had hoped to resolve our differences and see to yer return. It seems that Sir Phillip and I are at an impasse.”

  “And so, I will not be leaving here, today?” her voice cracked despite her best resolve to maintain control.

  “No’ yet. I feel quite parched, Miss Luke, would you like a sip of my flask? I would hate to have a drink and not offer any to thee. I pride myself on being a gentleman.”

  Mary licked her dry lips in anticipation. He had noted her state of dehydration and she blessed him ten fold for his efforts to alleviate her discomfort.

  “I am much obliged, Mr. Murray. I would love a drink.”

  The laird glowered at the exchange and rushed to continue as Mary took several grateful swigs of what tasted like whisky. “I have told ye I will produce her. All is now agreed upon. We will meet tomorrow. Let Miss Luke stand with the stud. I would hate for her to feel less than her worth. They can reside together, awaiting the outcome of the competition.”

  Again, Mary’s eyes turned to the golden messenger, to clarify Thane Cumyn’s words. As she returned his flask she slowly began to process the conversation going on about her. Merianne’s brother-in-law? Could it be true? Could Merianne have survived or was this all some clever hoax to extract her from this demented laird’s keep?

  “Of course, Lord Redland and his lady will wish to look her over, as ye look over the stud, to make certain that the stakes are fair. My Lady said for me to pass on that she has no interest in receiving a damaged companion. She would rather resort to fox hunting to pass the time, if that were to be the case.”

  The golden man looked directly at Meri’s attacker when he said this, making it clear that not only was Merianne alive to send a threat, she was well enough to do so. Mary was delighted. It mattered little to her now what was happening. The fact was that all of this uncertainty would end in two day’s time and her mistress was safe.

  All had not been for naught. Hope bloomed in Mary’s chest and she beamed at the golden messenger. “I am deeply indebted to you, Mister Murray. I thank you, for your visit.”

  “Speak nothing of it, Miss Luke. I am happy to be of assistance. Now, I know that I can no’ expect any time alone with my Lord’s dependent, but I would like some assurance that she will return to acceptable accommodations. Her concern over her mistress has, n
ay doubt, kept her from sleeping and drinking properly. I would assume that she will be ready to sleep in a proper bed and partake of ample food and drink, now that she is assured that her mistress fairs well.”

  “Of course. She will arrive in two day’s time looking as fit as the stud horse. I have decided, Sir Andrew, that when I win this competition, she is to be my mistress. Ye see, I therefore have no reason to mistreat her, yet.”

  The cretin’s face visibly paled. Sir Andrew’s face hardened and locked with that of the cretin’s, despite the fact that he addressed the Laird. “That would be an unfortunate chain of events, Thane Cumyn. I believe my Lady can be a most dedicated and uncompromising huntress.”

  “Are you threatening me, Sir Andrew?” the Laird rumbled, pulling a long dagger from his hip and stabbing it into his desk, menacingly.

  Mary couldn’t help but jump. Sir Andrew did not move a muscle. “No’ at all, Sir Phillip. I was simply thinking aloud of My Lady’s habits. The English, well, ye ken how they are about property. She sees Miss Luke as hers for ever and always. Her husband has explained that a bet is a bet, and she agrees. She says she has made agreements of her own and she will hold to them, as well.”

  “Is she a witch, then?” Sir Phillip offered eagerly.

  “No’ in the least. She is an English-trained lady. Their sense of right and wrong requires them to avenge themselves, I am afraid, in much less obvious ways than we Scots might consider.”

  “Ye will tell yer brother to control his wife,” Thane Cumyn responded, unsettled.

  “Yes,” Mary broke in, inspired by a thought, “tell her that she need not deliver dead bodies to avenge my honor. I do not wish to cause trouble among your clan, Sir Andrew.”

  “Oh, nay trouble, Miss Luke. Fret not. The clan adores their mistress. She is loyal to her own and they honor that. They are proud that she demands vengeance. She is no’ the politician that her husband is,” Sir Andrew shook his head in reproof. “Yet, she has promised that no one will be able to tie any deaths to our door step. She said to tell you it will be as the fish in the stream.”