by Mary Wine
If she was willing to trust. Which she wasn’t.
“Goodbye, Chief Gunn.” Brenda raised her voice enough so the Grant retainers trailing her heard. They stiffened, stepping toward her.
Bothan’s eyes narrowed. “An interesting response, lass.”
She didn’t care for the fact that he’d called it a response. However true, it needled her, making her bite back the retort that sprang to her lips.
Rising to his bait would only confirm his words. So she moved past him, but not before she caught the look he sent her way. There was a promise there, one that sent a shiver down her back.
“Until next we meet.”
* * *
Someone laughed.
Jane woke with a start, blinking in confusion as she tried to remember where she was. Her memory came back with a brilliant flash of precise recollection of just how she came to be lying on top of Diocail with her bodice open in the afternoon sunlight.
He grunted and sat up as she did. His gaze lowered to her unbound breasts, and his expression became one of male enjoyment before she hastily grabbed the edge of her chemise and tugged it up, fighting to find the ends of the string that would pull the neckline tight.
“What on earth…” She was fumbling to make sense of her thoughts and, it would seem, her balance as well.
“I should have Muir’s balls,” Diocail mumbled as he rolled over and pulled at the length of wool that made up his kilt. He began to pleat it but looked up at her with an arrogant grin. “Except I’m too honest no’ to admit I benefited from his actions.”
“What actions?” She was threading the lace through the eyelets to close her bodice. The lace was long, making the process slow.
Diocail was making good progress at forming all of the wool into what would become his kilt. He reached over and retrieved his belt from where it lay discarded in the grass and threaded it beneath the pleats before he lay down and buckled it. He was turning over and standing, working to tuck in the front flaps of the kilt, before he answered her.
Of course he was. Diocail Gordon wasn’t a man to be caught unawares.
He buckled a second belt over his waist to finish the process. “The cider was spiced with a very generous amount of whisky.”
Jane tugged the lace hard, and the front of her bodice closed tightly as his words sunk in. She tied a firm knot before adjusting her cleavage and standing.
“Do nae look at me like that, Jane.”
“Am I expected to be pleased to know my trust was taken advantage of?” she demanded before looking around for Muir. The urge to take him to task was strong. Diocail reached out and caught her arm, pulling her back to face him.
“It was nae enough to intoxicate ye.”
“And yet,” she sputtered. “I am…here…”
“With yer husband,” he answered firmly. “Naught is amiss, madam. Muir would never have allowed ye to be at risk. No one faults ye for being distrustful of our union. Ye’ve cause enough for it, but Muir knows I will nae treat ye poorly. He meant to put ye at ease so we might get past what is distressing ye.”
His meaning was as clear as a church bell ringing in the morning.
“I do not want this marriage,” she exclaimed as she pulled free. One look at his face made it clear he didn’t care for the insult. “And neither did you. So, you have no right to be angry that I am trying not to trap you into keeping me. Many a man would thank me for not making him keep an unwanted bride, especially one who came with no dowry and who is not pure.”
His expression had become hard, his body tense, but she didn’t back away. Jane stared straight at him.
“I did nae want it at the time.” He held up a finger to quiet her so she might let him finish his thought. “For ye are no’ the only one who understands kindness.”
It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. “I don’t understand.”
“Yer reasons are valid. For all that ye are English and I am Scottish, we were both raised to see wedding as a way to gain wealth. Kindness was only an afterthought.”
She nodded, longing for the world to be something it would never be.
“I would have something different between us. Everything else in me life is a duty. What I crave from ye is a wife who chooses me.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “If that were not so, I’d have claimed ye just now and made very sure there was a witness or two to the consummation, for ye are a prize worth keeping.”
It would not have been hard.
The horror of it nearly made her retch. But Diocail grabbed her upper arms and held her in place as she started to recoil, proving without a doubt just how strong he truly was. Her weight was nothing to him.
“I didn’t do that, Jane.”
She’d looked away, but the tone of his voice pulled her attention back. She locked gazes with him, witnessing the determination blazing there.
“Instead, I proved me worth to ye.”
Her cheeks burned with the memory, and his lips twitched. “Did yer last husband ever please ye?”
She gasped at the bluntness of the question. “You shouldn’t ask such a thing.”
Diocail pulled her closer so she was against his body. His scent teased her senses once more, awakening the yearnings she’d thought well satisfied.
“Answer the question, lass,” Diocail’s tone was a husky whisper. For certain, it must have been the same raspy tone Lucifer used to lure Eve into sinfulness.
“Did he ever move ye to ecstasy?”
“No.” The admission crossed her lips like the darkest confession. “I don’t know why it happened.”
He grunted. “It happened because I am no’ a selfish swine who uses a woman for his own pleasure and hides behind the scriptures that tell him a wife is his property, which makes it permissible to ignore her pleasure.” He slid one arm around her waist, boldly cupping one side of her bottom and bringing her into contact with his lower body. The hard presence of his cock was impossible to miss.
“I wanted to claim ye.” In his eyes was the bright glitter of unsatisfied need. “And if ye expect me to understand why ye ended up on a gallows about to be hung, well then, I’ll have ye hearing what I am telling ye now.”
He released her, and she stumbled back.
“I will have a wife who wants me, Jane.” His tone was edged with determination. “Me life has ever been one filled with responsibilities and expectations, but in this matter, I will have something that is me own.”
“And I have offered to give you your freedom,” she replied.
“In turn, I give ye a choice in whom ye are wed to,” he countered.
His offer was tempting.
She felt as though everything she knew were being shredded to reveal things she had never known were lurking deep down inside her. It was a revelation to be sure, one that made her feel as if the entire world were shifting beneath her feet.
“Aye, ye think on that.”
“How did ye know—”
He offered her a nod. “Because I am drawn to ye. I notice things about ye that I have nae done before in a woman.”
“You want this marriage?” she boldly asked. “I come with naught.”
He grunted. “There is a reason me men are so eager to take ye home. Me house is in a state of disorder. They see ye as a solution to it and a way to escape a long winter of poor fare on the tables. Ye come with the ability to right the situation. No’ a single one of them can do so. A comfortable home, that is something me men value.”
“As if your people will be willing to follow the direction of an Englishwoman.”
He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I would no’ have thought ye so timid as to be crying quarter before ye even set eyes on them or tried yer hand at directing them.”
She rolled her eyes. “That is an underhanded method of gaining my compliance.�
�
He grinned, unrepentant. “I’m Scottish. It’s me duty to dupe ye.”
She scoffed at him. It earned her a grin that might have been cheeky if he wasn’t so imposing, and yet the tension seemed to ease between them.
He opened one of his hands. “What have ye to return to? Truthfully. Ye mentioned a stepmother who seems no’ to want ye under her roof.”
“That is true.” Jane worried her lower lip. “Yet I am not sure I wish ever to be a wife again.”
His eyes glittered with understanding. “Ye enjoyed me touch.”
And he wasn’t going to let her shy away from that fact.
“Yes,” she admitted softly, recalling the moment of pleasure and feeling her cheeks heat with the memory. “But…marriage…binds me so very completely to your will…”
“And ye do nae trust me,” he finished for her.
“I do not mean it…unkindly. The truth is I knew Henry more than I know you, and he was quite the disappointment.”
There would be no escaping a tower in the Highlands while winter raged around them. That was a fact she’d best get a firm grip on before she landed in dire circumstances. Alicia might not want her, but there would be a place for her in her father’s home if she returned.
He grunted but nodded. “Yer husband sold ye.”
Diocail’s tone was hard as he spoke, and she felt something rising from inside her. A wound still raw and demanding justice. “It is not you.”
“Nay, lass, it was no’ me.” He moved closer, reaching out to brush the side of her face with his hand. She shifted, unwilling to release her uncertainty. But he slipped his hand around her face to cup her nape and hold her in place as he closed the gap completely between them.
“But it will be me pleasure to crush his memory so completely ye will never think of him again.”
Oh, so very tempting…
Just like the kiss he pressed onto her lips. Resisting was impossible. She rose on her toes to meet him, slipping so very easily into the moment and letting it clear all her thoughts away while sweet pleasure flowed through her.
Diocail lifted his head, and she caught the shimmer of victory in his eyes. “So I am taking ye home with me.”
And that was his final word. She felt her temper rise but also a stirring of anticipation.
“Better hope you don’t live to regret it.”
He chuckled at her brazen retort before he released her nape and captured her wrist. The light had died while they spoke. Diocail led her back toward his men and the safety they represented. No matter her reservations, she was still warmed by the smiles aimed her way. His men looked toward her for a better life.
Damned if it didn’t feel good to be something useful. But they wouldn’t be the ones becoming chattel. No, that was the lot of a wife. She climbed into the wagon, settling into the bed as her thoughts churned. Diocail wanted a wife that he’d chosen, and he had been bent into submission to take her.
The answer was really very simple. If she took his house in hand, she’d have a place as his Head of House. By the end of winter, his craving for her would be over. Men changed their minds when it came to bed sport, which was something she knew very well. How many of her friends had been courted so sweetly only to suffer their husbands taking mistresses once their bellies began to swell and the season passed into memory?
It was the nature of love though.
Flights of fancy. Tunes of whimsy. Both solid reasons why marriage was best conducted like a business. Yet that had yielded such an unsatisfying union. At least on her end.
Jane opened her eyes and found Diocail in the dark.
He hadn’t taken her.
Looking at him, she noted all the details of his rugged life that made her own kin label him a savage, and yet he’d shown more mercy and honor than the groom her father had willingly wed her to.
Her thoughts were a jumble as he turned to look at her. The darkness seemed to bring out her cravings, making her lament the distance between them.
Well, you are married to him…
True. She closed her eyes as she contemplated the fact that she had a choice. Did she follow Brenda’s lead and cast her fortune on the feelings churning inside her or follow the teachings of her childhood?
She fell asleep before she decided, the warm bed and knowledge that the Gordon retainers would protect her lulling her into slumber.
Five
The Gordon stronghold was dark.
Jane had seen other castles with stone the same color, but there was something ominous about the twin towers Diocail took her toward. The feeling might have been partly caused by the dark clouds swirling around behind the castle too; she simply didn’t know. The combination hit her like a blow to the midsection.
At last someone started to ring a bell. It was a lone sound in the afternoon and brought swift attention to the arriving party. People began to come out of the buildings, climbing onto the steps that led into the larger keep to get a better view as they rode closer.
What sent a shiver down her back was the way only some of them smiled in welcome.
Diocail’s words from the day of their wedding rose from her memory.
“The clan will split, and there will be fighting over who is to take the lairdship. After me, there are at least five men with claims equal to one another. Blood will flow in the spring until one faction takes enough lives to silence the others.”
His position was not secure. It was evident in the way many of his people watched them arrive. The dark, brooding stares sent a shiver down her spine. The wagon came to a stop, and she couldn’t help but be relieved to know she was going to climb out of it for the last time.
Niven was quick to make sure he offered her his hand. Curious looks were cast her way as she alighted.
“Mistress,” Niven spoke clearly.
A man arrived wearing a bonnet with one feather sticking straight up. Another captain then. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet before Diocail offered him a hand. They clasped each other’s forearms.
“We’ve been busy whilst ye were away,” the man began. “Have the kitchen weathertight now, and the hearth’s in good order.”
He might have been talking to Diocail, but the man was looking past his laird at Jane.
Diocail turned and held out his hand to her. “May I present me wife.”
The announcement drew gasps and more than one narrow look. All eyes were on them. Jane placed her hand into Diocail’s and held her chin steady. She’d not shame him.
“Me captain, Sorley.”
Jane nodded to the man before Diocail took her up the stairs into the larger keep. She was only two steps inside before she caught the stench. It was the scent of urine, no mistake, making her narrow her own eyes as she looked around at the men who were clearly too lazy to make their way to the jakes.
But what made her pause was the accumulation of animal skins on the walls. There didn’t appear to be an inch to spare. The entire great hall was draped in hides, most of them covered in thick layers of dust. It was a barbaric display of hunting skills and a wasteful one because those hides could have been put to much better use. Now time had rendered them dry and wasted.
“As ye see, Jane,” Diocail said, tugging her gently forward because she’d stopped. “The lads do have a fair amount of reason to act the way they do about keeping ye.”
“Indeed,” she managed to say as they moved down the aisle toward where the high ground was at the end of the hall. The laird’s table was sitting on a raised platform.
It was late enough in the day that supper was being served. Two maids were hurrying to lay out plates for the laird. Niven pulled out a huge chair for her before pushing it back in with a soft grunt because of how heavy it was. She was rather certain the design dated to the Middle Ages at least. The thick coating of dust and grime
suggested it was indeed that old.
Everything in the hall was just as ancient and dripping with filth. The candleholders had huge puddles of wax beneath them and more hanging from the holders like icicles. Most of it had been there so long it was dark with grime. Jane shuddered as she contemplated what the shadows hid.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day indeed, if the stench was anything to judge by.
Supper service resumed. The Gordon retainers hurried to fill the long benches as maids brought food in from the kitchen. Fighting broke out among the men. Several of them pulled the trays from the maids, claiming them before they might be served. Instead they placed the dishes on the table and clustered over the food with a few close friends, gorging on the fare as though they were facing starvation, and it was the end of winter instead of harvest time.
“Have the crops been lean?” she asked.
Diocail shook his head. “The last laird was a miser. I ordered the amount of food increased, but it would appear needs are still no’ being met.”
The lack of plenty was not going to be present on their table though. A huge platter arrived and was set down with two others to feed Diocail and herself. It was a gross amount of food. Whole chickens with other game meats as well. Three giant rounds of bread and butter surrounded by cheese and fruits. There were two more platters for just the five captains sitting at the high table.
“Holy mother of Christ,” she mumbled under her breath as men at the tables looked at the generous fare with loathing in their eyes. “Are we expected to feast while others go hungry?”
Diocail looked as disgusted as she felt. In an odd way, it settled her. She felt that sense of companionship with him once more.
“Colum, may his soul roast in hell, thought it a fine way of enforcing his position as laird,” Diocail explained dryly. “Making sure his men knew he ruled them however he saw fit and the fact that those men had pledged themselves to him meant they were bound to him.”
Jane shared a horrified glance with Diocail before she realized the men they had ridden with were only just making their way into the hall. Young Bari wore a bright smile of anticipation; however, the rest of the men didn’t. They came in with low expectations and settled down at an empty section of the table. Jane glanced toward the passageway where the maids had entered, but no one was there. By the look of the men in the hall, she’d have fled too.