by Lynn Tyler
Robbie had stretched out his tired, sore muscles and was contemplating asking his Jocelyn to rub them for him when he noticed the crowd by the hearth in the great hall. As he had just come in from patrolling the borders, he grabbed a hunk of meat sitting on the high board, slapped it between a few slices of cottage loaf, and wandered over to see what the fuss was about.
He found Will propped up in an armchair, Sarah by his side as always, and Jamie standing behind them, and made is way over to his brothers. Nodding to Sarah, he looked down at his younger brother. “Will, are you sure you should be up and about?” he asked with concern.
“Aye,” he said with a hint of mischief. “Jocelyn has allowed it for tonight. If I do well, she will let me come down for a short time every night. She says it is time that I begin rebuilding my strength.”
“Besides,” Jamie piped up, “he would not want to miss this.”
Robbie took a huge bite of the bread and meat and shook his head. “I have just returned from patrolling the borders,” he said. “I do not know that is going on.”
“’Tis the first part of our challenge, my lord,” Jocelyn said sweetly, drawing his attention to her. She was sitting at a table with a chess set. Her guards were behind her, though they were grinning like fools. It seemed as if she was ready to play. It also seemed as if his men were ready to see him get a good thrashing. “You may choose your pieces.” She swept her hand over the board with a flourish.
“I will take black,” he said, settling down in the chair opposite. He arranged his pieces and gazed at her expectantly. She simply grinned and arranged her own.
“Black to match your hair?” she asked, leaning forward so she could tug gently on a lock of his hair.
He swallowed hard when he realized she was not above using her feminine wiles to distract him. He had a perfect view of her cleavage, which was currently swelling softly from the neckline of her gown. He suppressed a shudder as she let the strands of his hair slip through her fingers. Her hands in his hair did funny things to him, and she knew it.
“More like his temper,” Will jested. “It is blacker than any storm cloud I have ever seen.”
Robbie shot his younger brother a scowl but was too shocked to continue. There, in full view of everyone assembled, was Will’s hand resting lightly on Sarah’s knee. She was playing with the ends of Will’s hair, and he was actually leaning toward her, nuzzling at her palm as if he was a giant cat intent on gaining some well-deserved attention. Perhaps his brother had finally come to his senses.
“Nay, William. Our Robert has been brought low by the sweet hand of his wife,” Colin hollered from the other side of the room. “Wee Jocelyn has done what we all failed. She has tamed his temper.”
Much to his dismay, Jocelyn shook her head at the observation. “Nay, Colin. ’Tis Robbie who has tamed my temper,” she said loudly, winking conspiratorially at Robbie.
Robbie smiled as he realized his wife’s attempt at saving his reputation. What Colin had said was true, though. He hadn’t broken anything in a fit of rage in the months since she had arrived. Surely, that was a record of some sort.
The crowed settled, and the game began. Jocelyn raised her eyebrows at his first move. “Interesting move, my lord,” she observed.
Robbie smirked and inclined his head. He had been raised on the game, their father believing it taught his sons valuable battle skills such as strategy and patience. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to let her think he only had an average grasp of the game. No one in the keep had ever won a game against him. But if being dishonest about his skill would keep his guards with his wife, thereby keeping her safe, he was not above mischief.
As they played, he realized he had, perhaps, misjudged his wife. She played with an expertise that shocked him. She countered his moves with skill, and she soon had amassed quite a little pile of his pieces on her side.
His groin tightened as she picked up one of those pieces and stroked it lovingly. He could almost feel her fingers running over him in the exact manner. She ran the tip of the pawn across her lower lip, before rubbing her thumb across the top of the piece as she contemplated her next move.
He shifted uncomfortably and glanced down at his lap to make sure his erection was suitably hidden. It was going to be a long night.
* * * *
Jocelyn almost laughed out loud as she watched Robbie’s mouth fall open when she slowly trailed the pawn she was holding across the very tops of her breasts. It was an effort to affect the innocent expression she wore, but she was not above using everything at her disposal to win this part of their challenge, even Robbie’s desire. She was glad she had listened to her sisters prattle on about how to use their feminine ways to charm a man. She hadn’t had much practice with it, but it seemed to be working.
She watched him fidget and fuss with his kilt, tugging the hem down around his knees. The poor man. She would have to make sure she relieved him of his discomfort later. She thought about dipping the pawn into her cleavage but figured that particular move would surely inform everyone of her intentions. Better to be subtle than to let their people in on the secret.
She tapped the pawn against her slightly open lips as she contemplated her next move. Allowing it to slip partially into her mouth, she watched Robbie’s eyes as they grew dark. “Jocelyn, what are you doing?” he said in a strangled voice.
“Hmm?” she answered, making sure her voice sounded distracted. “Oh, I have always been very…orally inclined,” she said in her best breathy voice. She could swear she heard Robbie give a little whimper as he closed his eyes and tugged at his kilt again. She felt bad about her manipulations but figured she would make it up to him later. After she had won.
Even with her distractions, Robbie played the game skillfully. It took all her concentration to win the game, but win she did. “I believe that is checkmate, my lord,” she purred as she finally took his king.
He sighed and nodded, clearly disappointed he had lost this part of the challenge. “Jocelyn, I want a word with you,” he said, pulling her to her feet and urging her down the hall. She went with him easily, going so far as to tuck her hand in his arm.
Once they were out of sight, she pulled at his shoulders until he hunched down. “What is the matter?” she breathed against his ear, stroking her palms down his arms in what she hoped was a soothing fashion.
“Witch,” he accused, jerking her close so she could feel him against the entire length of her body. “You knew exactly what you were doing to me.”
“Aye,” she confirmed, smiling when he closed his mouth over hers. He kissed her senseless, moving his hands restlessly over her back. “I will make it up to you.”
“See that you do,” he replied, pulling her firmly into their chamber.
* * * *
Morning dawned quickly, waking Jocelyn with a golden slash of light splattered across the bed and her eyes. Squinting, she rolled over and found herself facing an empty bed. A small bit of parchment was waiting on Robbie’s pillow.
Jocelyn,
You have seemed so tired these past few days that I let you sleep in. Please break your fast and meet me in the lists.
Yours,
Robbie
She stretched leisurely and sat up, not surprised to find a tray sitting on the end of their bed. Robbie had proven himself to be considerate and thoughtful in the three months since they had married. She pulled off the cloth and found slices of soft white bread buttered generously, fresh fruit, a small pot of honey, and a mug of goat’s milk.
She sighed and choked down some bread and milk, ignoring the fruit. It was all she could do to keep the little bit she had consumed down as she chose her outfit for the day. Pressing her hand to her belly in a vain attempt to settle her stomach, she rose and opened her trunk.
Her father had sent her belongings a few weeks before, and she had been thrilled to find her old trousers and tunics among the collection. Unfortunately, when she had tried them on, she found they no longer f
it around her waist. That, coupled with the morning sickness and her lack of monthlies twice in a row, could only mean one thing. She was carrying Robbie’s child.
She chose her dress carefully, hiding the small swell of her lower belly as best she could. Robbie had not yet noticed the change in her body, but the women would certainly be able to. As it was, she had to forego her corset, no big disappointment there, and was hardly able to lace up her bodice around her chest. Strapping her dagger to her thigh, she opened the door and made her way down the hall.
She popped her head into Will’s room along the way and grinned to herself at the sight that met her. Will, naked from the waist up, was fast asleep. In his arms, with the sheet drawn under her arms just above her breasts, slept an equally naked Sarah. Even in their sleep, they looked satisfied and sated. Finally, her brother-in-law had come to his senses. She made a mental note to speak to Robbie about fetching a priest and closed the door softly.
Her steps echoed on the stone as she marched toward the lists. There was only one reason Robbie would want to meet her there. He wanted to finish their challenge.
She found him, in full battle gear, waiting in the middle of the arena. His kilt, normally draped over one shoulder, hung at his waist, his chest bare despite the chill in the air. War braids were plaited at his temples and paint adorned his face. It seemed as he was pulling out all the stops on this one. The lists were surrounded by the occupants of the keep and the villagers.
“Where is your dagger?” he asked, his teeth flashing white against the paint.
She lifted her chin and stared at him defiantly. “Strapped to my leg, as it always is,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.
“Ready yourself,” he demanded, taking up his position, grinning at her arrogantly.
She stood there, seething. Of course he would be arrogant. He was larger and stronger. He didn’t understand that brute strength did not necessarily win a throwing contest. Skill and cunning were just as important. She briefly considered showing him just how skilled with her dagger she was but knew she just couldn’t risk the tiny new life growing inside her. While she was confident in her own throw, and Robbie’s for that matter, standing around in an arena with sharp objects flying around didn’t seem like a good idea. She would never forgive herself if something were to happen to her child. “I would ask for a delay,” she said quietly.
“A delay,” he boomed. “How long?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “About seven months,” she replied, her hand coming to rest on her belly.
The women in the crowd began to twitter excitedly. It was obvious they had caught on to her situation right away. Her husband, however, was a little more dense. “For what purpose?”
Jocelyn rolled her eyes and urged him closer, standing on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I carry your child,” she breathed.
She couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. His face slackened, his jaw dropping open. He stared at her eyes for the space of one second then dropped his gaze to where her hand rested on her belly. He touched her there gently and brought his eyes back up to hers. Suddenly, his face split into a grin, and he hollered wordlessly, scooping her up, and swinging her around. “A father!” he shouted gleefully. “I am to be a father.”
Cheers rose from the assembled group, and they gathered around their laird to congratulate him. The men slapped him on the back and complimented his virility. “I do have something to do with it,” Jocelyn complained grumpily. After all, she would be the one to push the child out.
“Of course you do, loving,” he soothed, gathering her in his arms again. He lifted her high against his chest and started toward the keep, hollering for a celebration feast to be prepared. The crowd wisely stayed out of his way, still chattering among themselves.
* * * *
Jamie looked after his brother, shaking his head. He felt a little sorry for Jocelyn. She didn’t know it yet, but she would now be hard pressed to get Robbie to even allow her to walk on her own, let alone go without her guards. He felt a presence behind him and turned to find Colin grinning at him. “She has a fight on her hands,” Colin said.
“Aye,” Jamie agreed, “but if anyone can fight him on this, it is Jocelyn.”
Colin’s grin widened. “She suits him. Much better than Eileen ever did.”
Jamie nodded and glanced up at Will’s window. Perhaps he should go up and inform Will of the happy news. They were going to be uncles!
Chapter 16
Robbie watched Jocelyn covertly from across the room. He was supposed to be discussing clan matters and new battle tactics with Jamie and Will, who had finally been given free rein to do as he pleased, but found he couldn’t tear his gaze from his wee wife. Just that morning he had found the tiny hardened swell, barely noticeable, that announced the upcoming birth of their child. It had been a few weeks since Jocelyn had made her announcement, and he still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact he was going to be a father.
“Robbie, are you listening to me, lad?” Will demanded, waving a hand in front of face.
Robbie swatted it away irritably, annoyed they had caught his attention wandering. Again. “Who are you calling lad, baby brother?” he growled. “Jocelyn says you are ready to begin training again so do not think that the excuse of a few burns will stop me from pummeling you.”
Will smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes and rubbed his chest. “It takes more than mere strength to win a battle, brother,” he replied.
Robbie smirked. “You have been talking to my wife I see,” he growled.
Jamie cleared his throat and drew their attention back to him. “Do the two of you think we can get back to the business at hand?”
Robbie’s heart ached as he remembered the tragedy they had been discussing. Their uncle Joseph and his wife had been murdered the day before. The loss was particularly hard for the clan as Joseph had been one of their best warriors.
The only good thing that had happened was that their younger children had been in the keep receiving lessons from Jocelyn while their oldest had been practicing in the lists with the men. Robbie looked over to the huddle of children clustered around Jocelyn. “Young Garret has been training with us since he was twelve,” Jamie said. “He is bent on revenge.”
At seventeen, Garret had the size of a full-grown man and now the responsibility of a man full grown. The oldest of the four children, Garret should be expected to care for his siblings. Their cousin was just a lad, however, and a rowdy one at that. His blond hair and blue eyes had the lasses chasing him everywhere when they weren’t occupied with Jamie. Robbie had asked Garret to sit with the men but he had asked that he be allowed to comfort his siblings. He currently sat next to Jocelyn, cradling a sobbing eleven-year-old Adele to his chest, smoothing her hair and rocking her gently.
Adele’s twin brother, Darroch, sat stoically, his eyes on the three men at the high table. He would make a fearsome warrior one day, Robbie thought as he studied the expression on Darroch’s face.
Fourteen-year-old Adam, Joseph’s middle son, paced in circles and caressed his quiver of arrows. The lad had already shown so much promise with a bow that Robbie had used him once before in a siege against the keep. He had been impressed with the boy’s skill and had set him up to be trained with the best archer he could find.
Robbie sighed and looked away from his young cousins. Garret could not be expected to watch out for this brood alone, and MacGillivrays always took care of their own. “Garret will take his father’s place with our warriors. I would have preferred him to be a little older, but we need all the strength we can get. Allow him to sleep in the great hall with the other warriors at night.
“Adam, Darroch, and Adele will become my wards. Jocelyn and I will see to their care until they are grown enough to be independent. They will sleep in the nursery.”
Jamie nodded but pursed his lips. “Adam will not take kindly to being forced to sleep with children,” he warned, di
recting a meaningful glance at the pacing fourteen-year-old.
Robbie rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and watched his cousin’s progress. He felt as if he was witnessing the lad’s forced tumble from boyhood, a lad staggering along the fine line toward manhood. No longer a boy but not yet a man.
He searched his memory for a recollection of what the time was like for him. He remembered learning to fight with the men but being kept out of real battles. He remembered the frustrating pains in his legs from growth spurts and the humiliation of his voice cracking. He remembered the first real desire to have a woman and that woman laughing at him.
Nodding his agreement, Robbie looked back at Jamie. “Aye, you are right. Let him sleep and train with the warriors. If a siege is made upon the keep, let him shoot from one of the more protected areas of the keep but keep him out of any real danger. We will protect him from any real battle as long as we can.”
Jamie nodded again and left to tell their cousins what had been decided. Robbie watched them for a few moments longer before he turned to Will. “Jocelyn tells me we should be fetching a priest for you and Sarah soon,” he ventured.
Will whipped his head around, grinning at his older brother. “Aye. Sarah has agreed to be my bride just this morn,” he said.
Robbie made a grab for his brother’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “It is about time you saw what was staring you right in the face, brother. Congratulations. The priest is over at the Dunbar’s keep for the moment. It will take him at least a week to get here. Can you hold out that long?”
Will gave a long-suffering sigh but smiled again. “I suppose I will have to. Tell me,” Will said, changing the subject. “I have noticed that Jocelyn no longer has her two shadows. What happened to the guards?”
Robbie sighed and eyed Will as Jamie rejoined them. “She convinced me that, since she won the chess game and forfeited the dagger fight, we had tied. In the keep and inner bailey, she is free to move about without the guards. If she leaves the walls, she needs to take the guards.”