“Interesting,” Murray drew out the word. “I see now why the hesitation to marry the Grant lass.”
Ceardac straightened and picked up a piece of bread. “What nonsense are you speaking, Murray?”
Murray leaned on his elbow, facing him so the women could not see his face. “You are lovestruck with the little miss.”
Instead of a reply, he gulped down his ale and motioned for a maid to refill his goblet. Murray did not know what he spoke of.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Steaphan was astounded when Valent entered the dining room and sat at the opposite end of the table. He didn’t acknowledge anyone, but he constantly scanned the faces around the table. Sorcha, being as she was, immediately stood and went to hug him, making a fuss of introducing him to her husband.
Although his mother, who sat on his right, looked to Valent, she did not greet him, but instead turned a harsh look to Steaphan. She’d definitely have something to say on the matter later.
“This is how it should have been all along. I am so happy right now,” Sorcha exclaimed and wiped at her tear-streaked face.
Her husband patted her shoulder. “Do not make such a fuss, Sorcha. Eat, go on.” Malcolm, her husband, was a quiet, gentle man, the perfect partner for his excitable sister.
Sorcha pushed his hand away and looked from Steaphan to Valent. “My two handsome brothers. Look at you. So much alike, yet I can readily see the differences.”
His mother looked to Steaphan and then Valent, her eyes narrowing. “Of course they are different. Steaphan has a leaner face. Always did.”
Valent joined the group by looking at Steaphan.. Valent’s gaze scanned his face, but he remained silent.
Sorcha shrugged. “Darach has a more angular jaw, more defined, probably from archery.” She mocked pulling back an arrow and made a stern face.
Steaphan smiled and shook his head, noticing Valent cocked a brow at his sister’s antics. “I prefer to be called Valent.”
“Oh?” Sorcha looked to everyone before meeting Valent’s direct gaze. “I suppose I can do that. Will you allow me to call you Darach in private? Yes?”
For a long while, Valent studied their sister and Steaphan wondered at his brother’s thoughts. To be thrust into a new family by force, to know that he could have lived there and how much his life was changed by the actions of a man on a night so long ago.
Finally, he nodded.
Sorcha beamed at him and began to eat.
“How long will he be here?” His mother had to sour the moment as usual.
“Until I tell him what he needs to know,” Steaphan replied. “Do you not have something to say to your son? We all missed him terribly. Surely, you did as well?”
Lorna McKenzie finally turned to Valent. “Darach, you were my first born son. I was proud to have given my husband two healthy sons. But after so many years, I find it hard to accept your presence. I do not feel you are the boy who was taken. You are not a McKenzie any longer in my opinion.”
“Mother!” Sorcha exclaimed, slamming her palm on the table. “Why must you always be so cruel?”
“I am direct. I say what I feel. The truth everyone else seems to skirt.” Their mother glared at Sorcha. “All of you know it’s true. Darach, Valent, or whoever this person is has no desire whatsoever to be here. This pretense of a family reunion is just that. A farce.” She stood and walked to the door.
Valent spoke up, stopping her in her steps. “Perhaps my trials away from you were not as bad as I thought. That you refuse to acknowledge me as your son is not as bothersome as knowing you didn’t grieve for the child who was taken from you.”
Lorna gasped and spun on her heel. She stalked to Valent leaning over him, her finger outstretched. “You know nothing of what I felt then. Nor do you know how much that day changed my life.” Both studied each other for a moment before their mother let out a sob and stormed from the room leaving everyone in stunned silence. It was the first time in years Steaphan had seen her show any emotion other than bitterness.
Sorcha broke the silence that followed. “I suppose I should to see about her.” By her hesitance, it was not her first choice.
“I think it’s best you don’t,” Steaphan told her and then addressed Valent. “We should talk.”
They rose and went to his study. Valent moved about the room, studying the items that once belonged to their father. He stopped when spotting a bow and arrow in the corner. “Who does this belong to?”
“It was our father’s. He was quite an accomplished archer, as I hear you are.”
“Who did you hear that from? I never competed against your clan.” Valent reached for the bow and lifted it to inspect it closer.
“Several of my archers were at the games earlier this year. They reported of an archer who looked like me and was a prize competitor.”
Valent didn’t acknowledge his statement. Instead, he continued to study the bow. “Do you use it?”
Steaphan poured two glasses of whiskey and placed one on the table next to where Valent stood. “No. I have my own. You may have that one.”
His brother held it without response, then placed it back in the corner. “Perhaps it is best if you gift it to someone more worthy in your clan.”
“In my opinion there is no one, but I will not argue about it. It is yours if you wish.”
Valent drank the whiskey and Steaphan refilled his glass before motioning to the chairs.
They settled and Steaphan looked to the flames in the hearth attempting to formulate how to begin. “The day you disappeared, we returned here. Sorcha and I were hustled to our rooms, but I could hear all the screaming and men being dispatched on horseback. Mother went to her chambers and did not emerge for many days.”
He didn’t bother looking at Valent, in his mind he was far away. Over twenty-five years away.
“The man who took you came upon us in the town center. He grabbed mother and took her behind the building. She screamed for us to stay put. But you did not listen. You ran after her. I followed and grabbed your hand. You can imagine what the man was doing. I was too terrified to look away. She stared blankly toward us while the man took her. When he turned to look at us, she slammed a rock to the side of his head.”
He took a breath and noticed Valent watched him closely, taking in every word. “At the same time, mother’s maid showed up. She began screaming. Trying to get someone to help. The man hit mother with his fist and when she fought back, he became enraged.”
Steaphan took a breath and let it out slowly. “Everything seemed to happen so fast after that. The man neared us and grabbed you. I tried so hard to hold on to your hand, but you slipped from my grasp. I screamed for you. Over the man’s shoulder, you had your arms outstretched to me, your mouth wide open as you called for me. I ran around tugging at everyone’s hands, trying to get help, but I didn’t speak clearly and they didn’t understand me. No one went after you and I could not understand why.”
Steaphan took another drink before continuing. “Mother’s maid explained to me they thought mother was dead as she lay motionless on the ground. By the time she realized you were not around, you were gone.
Valent finally looked away to the hearth.
“Do you remember any of this?” Steaphan asked.
Valent’s hand shook slightly when he lifted his whiskey. His flat gaze met Steaphan’s. “Lorna McKenzie is right. I am not the same lad who was snatched from this family. I cannot return and hope to be a McKenzie. There is no place for me here.”
“Why must you be so insistent on leaving? Why can you not accept that what happened was none of our faults and that this is your home? We are your family.”
Valent seemed to ponder his questions. Steaphan decided to give him one more thing to think on.
“I don’t ask that you step in to become laird. But I do ask that you give us some time to get to know each other. I can help you find a post elsewhere. You can join another guard or, if you wish, take one of the M
cKenzie smaller keeps. It is your birthright as eldest to have whichever you wish.”
Valent’s gaze met Steaphan’s. Valent seemed to soften. Steaphan’s words had shocked him. “You are a kind man, Steaphan McKenzie. I am glad to know my twin is an honorable person. I will consider your words.”
Steaphan stood. “My wife, Fiona, is here. Another situation at hand. She refused to eat the dinner meal with me because I brought her here and did not allow her to remain home at Mudduch for a fortnight. No one, it seems, wants to live with me at the moment.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the doorway. “I will dispense with the guardsmen. If you wish to leave, you are free to do so. A horse will be provided for you. All I ask is that you do not harm any of my people.”
* * *
By the heavy footsteps, Fiona McKenzie wondered if whoever approached was weary. When Steaphan stepped through the doorway, he met her gaze for a long moment. He sunk into a chair and rubbed his hands down his face. Her anger at him for bringing her here evaporated at seeing his fatigue.
“How are you faring, Fiona?”
“I am well. You, on the other hand, do not seem well at all.” She looked to the bed. “I will call for a bath and after, you should rest.”
His clear gray eyes met hers and she gritted her teeth at the thumping of her heart. “We should talk.”
“Whatever it is can wait.”
“You are cross with me.”
“Aye, I am. I do not like the ways of men who will not allow a woman to have a say.”
His lips curved. “I gave you plenty of say last night.”
Her cheeks flushed at the thought and, immediately, she pictured him bereft of clothes climbing over her. “That is not what I refer to and you know it.”
“Very well. Can we come to an agreement that in the future we discuss anything that affects us both?”
Fiona’s mouth fell open. She was quite enjoying being cross at him. It felt foreign for him to agree to her demands. To talk over things was unheard of. Why was the man being so agreeable? Could it be like Mairi had said? According to her maid, Mairi, a woman could get her way by distracting her husband through bed sport.
“I agree to it,” she replied quickly, lest he change his mind. “Let me call for your bath.”
Steaphan nodded and leaned back into the chair while Fiona sent the first lad she found to fetch the wooden tub and heated water. She overlooked the preparation of the bath and went to the adjoining chamber to find Steaphan asleep in front of the fire. She contemplated the handsome man for a few moments before clearing her throat to wake him. “Steaphan, your bath is ready.”
He stood and stretched, towering over her and she took a step back.
A thousand horses could not drag her away when he began to undress; first his tunic, then his boots and, finally, his britches. Bare as a babe, he went to the adjoining room while she trailed behind him in a trance, enjoying the view of his taut backside.
“Would you like to join me, Fiona?” He looked over his shoulder at her. “I could use company.”
She moved toward him and he pulled her against him, his mouth instantly taking hers. It seemed all the air was taken from the room, all sounds were gone and only they existed.
His skin was soft under her palms as she slid her hands up from his chest to his shoulders. Steaphan was already unfastening her dress, pushing it from her shoulders in order to free her breasts.
The only reaction was a loud gasp when he took one tip into his mouth and kneaded the other with his hand. Fiona clung to him, not sure if she could wait to be with him. Her body was alert to every touch, caress, and breath across her skin as well as the solidness of his body.
When he released her, she swayed. “I cannot join you in the water, it’s too small. I do not think you alone will fit.”
He pulled her hand and brought her closer to the tub. He lowered into the heated water. The steam rising form the heated water crated a surreal atmosphere. His lips curved with invitation. “Come, beauty.”
Fiona pushed her dress to the floor, then removed her shoes and stockings. The entire time his heated gaze was on her. She fumbled with her shift and finally approached the tub, feeling disconcerted by his constant regard. When his eyes roamed to her sex, she covered it with her hands. “Must you be so curious?”
He laughed. “I love that you speak what you think. Come, I will help you.”
Water splashed over the side of the tub to the stone floor, but she barely noticed as her husband settled her between his legs and pulled her back to lie against him.
His lips grazed her neck while his right hand slid under the water to between her legs.
“Oh!” Fiona gasped when his fingers delved to her center, sliding up and down until she could barely stand it. His left hand moved across her breasts, caressing one and then the other while he continued to trail his tongue on her neck.
She lost all sense and let out a cry when she splintered into pieces. Her hips moved up and down encouraging Steaphan to continue what he did.
“Let’s wash and I will finish this in our bed,” he told her, his voice husky with want. She could barely think, much less speak.
He, however, seemed to be in full control, reaching for the soap and cloth to wash with. She could only lie against him, too spent to move. Steaphan chuckled as he lifted her arm and washed her side. He continued until they were both well lathered, then helped her to stand.
The cool air of the space brought her out of her dreamlike state. “I’ll get the fresh water and pour it over you first.” She waited for him to lower and poured the water from a nearby bucket over him. Then did so again with a second one.
He did the same to her and both finally stepped from the tub. Fiona held back the urge to grab his hand and rush to the bed.
She waited while he dried himself and then her, wrapping a large cloth around her shoulders. “Brandy?”
“What?” Fiona wondered how he could drink at a time like this. She looked to between his legs, what had been hardened against her bottom was now semi-flaccid. “I thought we were going to bed.”
“We are.” Steaphan studied her. “But the lads will be here shortly to collect the tub.” As if beckoned, there was a fast rap at the door. The lads entered the room, one of them flushing at noting her state of undress.
Fiona yelped and rushed to the adjoining chamber, while Steaphan chuckled and drank his whiskey.
“I do not find it comical in the least,” Fiona admonished him after the lads finished emptying the bath water, bailing buckets out of the window and finally carrying the tub out. “You could have asked them to wait until I was out of the sight.”
Steaphan leaned over the bed and kissed her soundly. “I should have, yes. Forgive me.” He dropped his cloth and climbed into the bed. “How can I make it up to you, wife?”
Fiona immediately forgot she was cross when he settled between her legs and took her mouth while his sex nudged at her entrance. “Take all of me, Fiona. Let me sink into you and forget all but us.”
His words sent her body to burn in want and she softened, watching his beautiful lips part as he slid into her, filling her fully with his body.
* * *
Fiona rolled over and stretched. Upon feeling a body against hers, she was immediately awake. It would take some time to become used to sleeping with someone. At the same time, the warmth of his larger body was welcome in the cool chamber. She snuggled closer to her husband.
The unfamiliar soreness between her legs was not overly horrible. As a matter of fact, it brought a smile to her face at the images of the night before.
She stole a glance at the slumbering man. A handsome one he was. In slumber, his face relaxed, he looked less the warrior and more an angel in repose. His dark brown hair was just to his shoulders and upon his cheeks and chin, a light dusting of beard. Not that she could see them at the moment, but he had the lightest colored eyes she’d ever seen, more gray than blue. Although, the night befor
e when he’d plundered her body, taking from her all she could give, his eyes had darkened to a very dark hue.
He stirred and she closed her eyes, then slowly opened one to glimpse him. Good, he remained asleep. Fiona let out a breath and continued to study her new husband.
“I am afraid to ask what you are so deep in thought about,” Steaphan opened his eyes and she felt hers widen that she’d not noticed he’d awoken. “You’re pondering something.” His deep voice was gravelly with sleep and she bit back the urge to kiss his sensual lips. It would not do at all to become besotted so quickly. Not do at all.
“I would like to know more about what bothered you so last evening.”
He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “My brother, who was taken from our family over five and twenty years ago, is here…”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Valent walked the corridor away from his chamber. Still unaccustomed to the large home, when spying a sitting room and another chamber he’d never seen, it was obvious he’d taken a wrong turn.
“Darach?” He turned to find Lorna McKenzie standing in a doorway, her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing? Why are you not guarded?”
Instead of replying, he looked away hoping to spy a maid or servant who could help him get away from the woman.
She neared, her gaze scanning him from head to feet. “I asked you a question. I have a mind to scream for guards.”
“You would be dead before you could get out a sound.” He looked down on her. It wasn’t hatred he felt, that was too strong an emotion. It was more like apathy one feels for a pesky insect that insists on biting. “I am going to the courtyard to see my dog.”
“You should collect it and whatever belongings you have and leave. You are a constant reminder of things best left in the past.” Her hand shook when she reached for the wall in an attempt to remain steady.
Valent studied the woman. “I find it interesting to learn I was not the only one to lose their family that day.” He walked away, ignoring her calling after him to explain himself. She understood what he’d meant, but just like everything else, preferred to ignore reality.
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