“Perhaps, when we get home,” Patrick responded, “I will try and wheedle her wi’ my admission. For now my problem is where I will sleep this night. Flanna hae barred the bedroom door on me, and I will nae beg admittance in a public place.”
“There is a small chamber off the dayroom with a pallet in it. ’Tis where I have been sleeping. I’ll beg a place at the king’s residence. My Stuart charm has stood me in good stead with the kirk.”
“Was the penance hard?” the Duke of Glenkirk asked.
“ ’Twas nae so difficult as long as I remembered that my goal was to be able to remain near my cousin to be of comfort to him. The kirk was most impressed with my sincerity,” he finished, grinning.
“Will I see ye on the morrow?” Patrick said.
“I’ll come before you depart,” the Duke of Lundy promised, rising and stretching his long limbs. “Good night, Patrick,” he said, and then he left the taproom.
The Duke of Glenkirk took himself down the narrow hallway to the apartment where his wife slept. Entering it, he walked across the room and tried the door hopefully. It was still barred to him. Oh, she had a fine temper, his disobedient Flanna, he considered, almost laughing now. What a wench she was. Had her brother not come to Glenkirk, she very well might have gotten away with her little adventure, and he none the wiser. But there could not be any secrets between them from now on, he decided. Picking up his cloak, he went into the tiny chamber and, taking the pallet, brought it out to place in front of the fireplace. The fire still burned, and he added more fuel to it. Then, lying down, he pulled his fur-lined cloak over himself and slept.
The sound of the bedchamber door opening awakened him. Flanna stepped out of the room and was surprised to find her husband there.
“Good morrow, wife,” Patrick said, arising from the pallet.
“When are we leaving?” she asked him, eyeing him a trifle nervously.
“After a good breakfast, and when we hae bid our farewells to Charlie,” he replied. “Will that suit ye?”
“Aye,” she said. “Do the men know ye’re here?”
“They do, and they’ll be ready, including yer two dupes.” He chuckled. He had decided to treat the entire matter lightly to win back her favor. “Once we’ve returned to Glenkirk that nephew of yers will take his lessons wi’ Freddie and Sabrina. As for young Ian More, he is verra chastened and will no more be cajoled by his naughty duchess.”
“I’ll nae hae him punished for obeying my orders,” she said. “What else was he to do, Patrick? I am his mistress, and he is loyal to Glenkirk. He dinna realize what I was about.”
“I know,” the duke replied quietly. “That is why, now that I hae spoken wi’ him, he will nae obey any but me or his superior officer ever again, Flanna. I am pleased, however, to see ye accept blame for this misadventure. I doubt yer father will be pleased.”
“Aye, Aulay would hae hurried back to tell him,” Flanna said. “The old man would beat me for it if he could.”
“I should beat ye for it,” Patrick said softly.
She looked startled. “Ye wouldna!” she cried.
“Nae this time, lassie, though I should,” he responded. “But I find I am developing a tenderness toward ye.”
Again she looked startled, and she actually blushed. “Oh!” was all she said. Then, “I had best get dressed.” She disappeared back into the bedchamber, closing the door behind her. She did not lock the door this time.
God’s boots, he swore silently to himself. Was Charlie correct? Was it possible that she was as in love with him as he was with her? If he admitted to it, would she? Patrick Leslie was suddenly forced to face the fact that while he knew how to make love to a woman, he knew absolutely nothing about being in love with a woman. It was obviously not a learned skill. He smiled to himself. They would learn it together, he decided. He went to the bedchamber door and knocked before opening it.
“Hae ye water I can wash myself wi’?” he asked her.
“Come in,” she said. “I hae already used it, but I was nae really dirty.” She pointed to the basin on the nearby table. Then she continued dressing herself.
He had several days’ growth of beard on him, but until they returned to Glenkirk, he would be unable to shave. He washed his face and his hands thoroughly. “I must look rough,” he said.
“Aye,” she agreed. “I dinna like it.”
“Nor I,” he agreed.
“Good morning, my lady,” they heard Annie call. “I’ve brought ye yer breakfast. Oh!” Her eyes widened at the sight of the duke.
“This is my husband, the Duke of Glenkirk, Annie,” Flanna said. “He has come to escort me home. Ye had best go back to the kitchens and bring us more food. The duke likes a good breakfast, lass.”
Annie set her tray down upon the table and curtsied. “I’ll go at once, m’lady,” she said, and ran from the room.
Patrick Leslie chuckled. “She’ll probably tell the cook that there is a wild Highlander hungry for his food wi’ her ladyship,” he said.
“Ye look like a wild Highlander,” Flanna observed. “Ye look like my brothers, and as I told ye, I dinna like it. I prefer ye smooth-faced. Ye’re a handsome man, but nae one could tell it this morning.”
“So ye think I’m handsome, wife?” His green-gold eyes scanned her face for some sign of softening, and to his amazement he saw it.
“Aye, ye’re handsome, and dinna tell me ye hae never been told it before,” Flanna said sharply.
Patrick Leslie reached out to pull his wife close. “Aye, I hae been told it, but I hae never been told it by my beautiful wife.” His lips brushed her forehead.
“Well, now ye hae,” she said softly. “Are ye still vexed wi’ me, Patrick?” she asked him.
“Aye, I am,” he told her, but his look was not that of an angry man. “Ye’re a bad lass, Flanna Leslie, but I am of a mind to forgie ye if ye promise to never keep secrets from me again.”
Her heart was suddenly beating very quickly. He had never before looked at her in quite that way. Was it possible that he cared for her? Could he love her for more than Brae? “I will try to be good, my lord,” she said softly.
“Charlie told me how ye felt when ye looked on the portraits of the other Leslie women,” Patrick told her. “I will call a painter from Aberdeen to come and paint yer portrait, and do ye know what our descendants will say about ye? They will say, ‘And this is Flanna Leslie, the second duchess. She was the most beautiful of all the Leslie women, and her husband loved her and prized her above all others.’ That is what they will say, Flanna.”
“They will say her husband loved her?” Flanna’s eyes were wide with her surprise at his words.
“Aye,” he said, wondering how big a fool he had made of himself.
“Oh, Patrick!” she sighed, melting into his embrace, a look upon her face such as he had never seen. She absolutely glowed. “And is it true?”
“Aye,” he said, seeing her sudden happiness, realizing that his brother had been correct. “I love ye, lass.”
“And I love ye!” she cried, putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “Oh, how I love ye!”
He grinned, overwhelmed with his own burgeoning happiness. “Ye’re the damnest woman, Flanna Leslie!” he told her.
“Aye,” she agreed, nodding, “I am,” and they laughed together.
Part Three
Flaming Flanna
Chapter 11
The flat surface of his tongue blazed a hot trail down her creamy torso. Outside of Glenkirk Castle, the wind howled mournfully as a mixture of rain, icy pellets, and even some snow beat against the windows; but the fire in the bedchamber hearth burned high, warming the room and illuminating the couple entwined upon the large bed.
The Duchess of Glenkirk sighed with contentment as her husband tasted each and every inch of her skin. He licked across the sole of her foot, pushing suggestively between each toe. He drew his tongue over the curve of her calf. Then he kissed her kneecap. Her br
easts were tingling with his earlier attentions, the nipples puckered and hard. He mouthed the soft flesh of her belly, nuzzling, savoring the silkiness of her. Flanna drew a sharp breath when he began to burrow his face against her furred mons.
“Do it!” she husked at him, even though she knew that she couldn’t stop him. Did not want to stop him.
He lifted his dark head up, and his green-gold eyes were glittering dangerously. “We will do it together,” he told her.
“Together?” She was confused.
His big hand cupped her mons, and squeezed hard, causing her to shudder. “Ye like it when I touch ye there wi’ my mouth. Ye like it when my tongue teases ye. Ye like it when I suck upon yer naughty little love bud, Flanna. But I need to be teased and played wi’ too.” He suddenly shifted his body around in such a manner that his head lay between her thighs, but his manhood pressed against her mouth.
As startled as she was, Flanna was no coward when it came to passion. “What do ye want me to do?” she asked him.
“Use yer tongue, but nae yer teeth, lass. Take as much of me between yer sweet lips as ye can and suckle. We’ll see how ye get on, and afterward, if ye like, we’ll add a few more refinements.” He opened her nether lips to his view and began to lick at her.
Shivering with her own instant pleasure, Flanna hesitantly parted her lips, her tongue slipping out to lick at his manhood, timidly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm. Boldly now she took him into her mouth and drew hard upon the rod of flesh that began to swell and to grow even harder, caught in her sensual embrace. She reached out to hold him, her hand cupping his twin jewels as she worked her lips over and her tongue about his length. Her excitement was burgeoning with the knowledge that she had a power over him, even as he had power over her. There was something so deliciously wicked about his mouth upon her most secret parts while she suckled upon his. His tongue probed her intimately, sending shudders of enjoyment throughout her entire body. She sucked him harder and harder until he cried out to her to cease her torture. She released her hold on him, but not before licking a small pearl of liquid seeping from his manhood’s Cyclops eye. It was salty.
He turned himself quickly about, and pinioning her beneath him, he thrust hard and deep into her, groaning with his delight as he did so. She was warm and wet, enclosing him tightly in her hot sheath. Her silvery eyes were closed as she slid into the endless ocean of her pleasure. He filled her full with his throbbing length. His rhythm sent her tumbling into an abyss of delight. She dug her fingers into his muscled shoulders, then raked them fiercely down his long back.
“Bitch!” he growled, his mouth taking hers in a fierce kiss.
Flanna soared. She was nothing now. Nothing but sensation. She screamed with her pleasure, but the noise was all in her head. The only sounds in the bedchamber were her fevered moaning and his howl of utter satisfaction as together they reached nirvana. Then all was pillowy darkness and deep silence. When she finally came to herself, she was cradled in his arms, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “Wonderful,” was all she could say.
He chuckled. “Aye, lass, wonderful it was,” he agreed.
“Patrick, we hae to get some rest,” she said, smiling at him. “It has been like this every night since we came home from Perth. I can hardly rise to oversee my duties in the morning or direct the bairns’ day,” Flanna told him. “We hae responsibilities, my darling.”
“The first of which is to get an heir or two,” he chuckled.
“The bairns will come in time,” she assured him. And the truth was that she was very possibly with child now, but until she could be absolutely certain, Flanna reasoned to herself, she would say naught. She certainly knew enough about the subject from growing up in her father’s house. One or another of her sisters-in-law was always with child. There was yet time, for she had not yet begun to show. Besides, despite the weather outside of Glenkirk this night, spring was coming. It was already March. Soon the days would be fair enough for her to begin her travels to recruit men for King Charles.
She intended to go to her own family first, for as she had told both Charlie and Patrick, there were more than enough Brodies to spare. And then she would visit the Gordons. They had once been allied through marriage with the Leslies of Glenkirk and were her own distant kinsmen. But if she told Patrick she was with child, it would spoil all her plans. He would do everything in his power to keep her at Glenkirk. Flanna knew she couldn’t allow him to do that. She had given the king her word. She knew her husband had still not come to terms with his wife’s open support of King Charles. He did not have to as long as he did not hinder her, she decided.
She was happier, however, than she had ever been in all her life. To love this man—to know that he loved her—had opened a world to Flanna that she had never imagined existed. Now, at last, she finally understood her mother’s relationship to her father. A love match, people had described the marriage of the beautiful Meg Gordon and the much older Lachlann Brodie. It had been said scornfully by some and wonderingly by others who never saw what her mother saw in the laird of Killiecairn. But Flanna now knew exactly what it meant. She would make certain her children understood so that one day they would marry for love alone.
It was a matter of honor for her to keep her word to the king, but she knew now what mattered the most to her was having a family of her very own. The more she learned of Glenkirk’s history, and of the Leslies themselves, the more she understood that hers was a great responsibility. To be the mother of the next duke, and of other sons and daughters, was her destiny. Why else had Patrick Leslie appeared so unexpectedly at Brae that autumn afternoon when they met? It had been fate, indeed. And, she would make certain that her second son was given the title that had belonged to her mother’s family. He would be the Earl of Brae.
When the king was restored to his throne, that would be the reward she would ask of him for her service to the crown. She would name the boy Angus Gordon Leslie. The first earl had been Angus, as was her uncle, Brae’s last direct male descendant. She would not be known as the do-naught duchess after all. She would be Flanna, second Duchess of Glenkirk, who had helped to return a rightful king to his throne; and, who had brought a third earldom to the descendants of the first Earl of Glenkirk. As that earl’s daughter, the fabled Janet, had won the earldom of Sithean for her direct family, so Flanna Leslie would win Brae for hers.
The goal clear in her head now, Flanna began to plan her escape from Glenkirk once the weather turned from cold and wet, so she might ride out without catching an ague. And again fate seemed to be lending her a hand. Her eldest brother, Aulay, appeared at Glenkirk one late March morning. Brought into the hall where the family was assembled, he hurried to his brother-in-law, bowing low.
“My sire is dying,” he announced.
Flanna gave a small cry, her hand flying to her mouth to still the noise of it.
“He wants to see his lass. I’ll take Fingal, too,” Aulay said.
“Of course,” Patrick Leslie immediately answered him. “Send to me when she is to return, and I’ll come to escort her back home. Yer lad is welcome back, too. He and my nephew hae become great friends. He’s an intelligent laddie, and we already hae plans for him.”
“My wife will be pleased to know that, my lord,” Aulay said, a small smile touching his stern features. “He’s our youngest, and she has always doted on him.”
“Ye’ll gie her my felicitations, Aulay Brodie.”
“I thank yer lordship,” was the respectful answer.
“Come, and eat wi’ me while my wife goes to fetch what she will need for her journey,” the duke invited his brother-in-law.
Flanna stood up and ran from the hall. Her da was dying! She had thought the old man would live forever. He would be buried between his two wives, she knew, for it had been decided upon long ago. Aggie was already packing when she reached her apartment.
“Fingal,” she said in answer to her mistress’s unspoken query.
/> “Ye’re to remain here wi’ the bairns,” Flanna told her. “Biddy will need yer help.”
Aggie nodded. “Suits me. If I never see Killiecairn again, ’twill be too soon. I hae no love for the place, or for the Brodies.”
“Ye’re a Brodie,” Flanna said softly. “And Lachlann is yer grandsire, too, Aggie.”
“Nay, the old man never even looked at me. I was but one of his lad’s get upon a servant lass who died birthing me. If it werena for yer mam, of blessed memory, I would nae be alive today to serve ye, my lady. It was she who found a wet nurse to feed me, and until she died, I was almost safe from my sire’s wife, who was always beating me, and for nae reason but that I was her man’s wood’s colt. The wicked bitch! Nay, I hae nae love for the Brodies, or for Killiecairn. I hae found more kindness here at Glenkirk in yer service. I’m glad to remain behind. Now, I’ll tell ye a secret. Aulay Brodie is his da’s heir, but the old man has a small velvet bag that was yer mam’s. ’Tis hidden in the bedchamber he shared wi’ her. There is a loose stone in the floor of the hearth there. I thought he would gie it to ye when ye were wed, but he dinna. There’s jewels in that bag, and they were yer mam’s that she brought wi’ her from Brae. I dinna know if the old devil forgot or means for it to remain wi’ the Brodies, but ’tis nae their property. Yer mam always meant for ye to hae it. ’Twas she who told me about it as she lay dying. She would nae tell Una for fear she would covet that bag. Say naught to any, but when he is dead, take yer mam’s property back. Angus can tell ye I speak the truth.”
“I dinna hae to ask him,” Flanna said. “When did ye nae speak the truth to me, Aggie?” She picked up her hairbrush and handed it to her maidservant. “So the old man kept me mam’s jewelry,” she mused. “Wicked devil! He damned well remembered he had it. When did Lachlann Brodie ever misplace a groat?” She laughed almost bitterly. “But I’ll wait to see if on his deathbed he remembers.”
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