by Reece Butler
“He barred it, ” said Alana. “They will have to break it down.”
At his nod the Keiss men filed into the door where Alana had emerged. Dougal nodded and strode toward the front gate. James swept Alana into his arms. The fog was lifting with the sun. He could just make out a group of horses, and Cormac holding Mary.
“Why didna you kill him?” he murmured.
“I wished to, and I would have. But Morag needed her vengeance far more than I. No matter what, she is to be buried in hallowed ground.”
“Aye.” He sighed. “None of us got our vengeance, save Morag.” He tenderly kissed her cheek. “All that matters is my lady is safe, as is our babe and the wee lassie.” He squeezed her, but gently. “And no more little girls and women will disappear into Braal Castle, never to return.”
They came up to Cormac. The horses and a few men waited a short distance away. James set her on her feet. The wee lassie, Mary, slept in Cormac’s arms. He watched her for a moment, thinking of Zander at that age, then turned his eyes on Alana.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to roar into the castle, beating your chests as you rescued us,” she said to Cormac. Her tone teased him. Only Alana could smile, even if just a bit, after what she'd gone through.
“Och, we’ll find sommat else manly to do to ye instead.” Cormac eyed her.
“Such as?”
“That arse of yours needs paddling.”
She pulled out of James's grasp, stepping forward to glare at Cormac. He looked smug, far from the shaking man who'd muttered prayers most of the way. Not that James hadn't said a few himself.
“What for? ” she demanded. “I was kidnapped and locked away, but the first chance I had, I escaped.”
Cormac looked to the side and up, blinking. He worried his bottom lip, something he’d never seen his brother do. When he turned back his eyes were wet.
“For scaring the life out of me, lass,” he whispered hoarsely. “I dinna ken what love is, but if it hurts this much to think I’ve lost ye forever…” He shook his head, unable to continue.
Seeing his powerful, confident brother shaking made James pull himself together. Someone had to take charge.
“Best get home,” he said crisply. “None of us have slept or eaten in days.”
“Aye,” she replied, sagging. “I wish to lie in our bed for days.”
“Are ye that tired?” asked Cormac with concern.
She shook her head. “I need your arms around me, and more.” She gave them the look that never failed to make him groan. “Much more.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alana woke to sunlight streaming in the south window. She loved this room, so bright and open. She stretched, reveling in the huge bed. Was she alone? She discovered James sitting on the sill of the east window, legs hanging outside. The window directly above the rocks that terrified him. He wore only his thigh-length shirt.
“James?”
“You’re awake!”
He pulled up his legs and swung, smiling broadly. She had things to take care of and went behind the screen to do so. She was so eager she didn’t care that nothing covered her body. It was different when returning to bed. James’s eager expression, and her body’s well-rested response, had her diving back into bed hoping he would follow.
“I will serve you,” he said. The tray held slices of bread, soft cheese, an apple, and even a few late grapes. James stabbed a grape and held it out to her.
“You found my wee dirk!” She took both the grape and the weapon.
“Nay, Polly and Cook found it in your braid when they bathed you.”
“I dinna remember.”
“You were awake, though barely.”
“What of wee Mary and Morag?”
“Mary was also bathed and given clean clothes. Morag is in the chapel at Girnigoe.”
“Charged with murder?”
James’s lip twitched. “Somehow William got loose. Finding himself bleeding badly, he slit his throat for a quick death. So quick he didn’t remove what was stuck in his mouth.”
“And the truth?”
“He was still tied down. Morag had collapsed. I dinna ken who gave the final blow, but I thank him, or her. Morag will be buried by the priest.”
She took the piece of bread and cheese James had prepared for her. “So it’s over.” She slumped, then rallied. “How did you sit on that ledge? You wouldn’t even go near the window the other day.”
“My fear of the rocks was nothing compared to that of losing you.” He looked a little embarrassed. “Cormac and I both made vows to God for you to live.”
“Vows?”
“Cormac promised he’d bring God to Keiss if you lived. He’s also insisting Braal Castle be turned over to the church to be cleansed and sanctified. He told the earl it was either that or he was going to rip it apart stone by stone.”
“I hope my father turns it over. I don’t wish my husband to be spending most of his time for the next few years far from my side.”
“You mean your bed,” he replied with a leer.
“Well, that too.” Her humor disappeared. “What about Uncle Henry?”
“When faced with the accusations of what his son had done for years the previous Laird Sinclair leaped from the battlements in shame.” James scratched his cheek. “The truth is he was so drunk he tripped over his feet before the guards could offer him the choice of jumping or being pushed.”
“That sounds more likely, though it will seem he chose an honorable death. That means David is now Laird Sinclair of Braal?”
“Nay, he is Laird Sinclair of Mey, where he was steward.”
She exhaled in relief. “Cousin David will be a good laird. William was always so cruel to him. What of Lady Jean? I ken talking to William’s broken men was treasonous, but I hope my father willna have her killed.”
“Nay. Her father is the Earl of Bothwell, so she will be sent back to the Borders. She has lands of her own so her father or brother will likely marry her off again. I heard talk of her going to one of the Douglases.”
“I’m trying to feel sorry for her, but I can’t. Lady Jean is a bitter, spiteful woman, and we are better off without her.” She sagged onto the bed. The sleep had restored her. She needed food, but more than that, she needed her men.
“Will Cormac be back soon?”
“If he doesn’t get himself tossed into the earl’s dungeon for insolence.”
“What? Why?” Alana struggled to sit up again.
“My brother, quite rightly, blames your father for what William did. As earl, he should know what his lairds are doing. Cormac has publicly requested the Earl of Caithness compensate the families who suffered because of William’s depredations. Many had daughters abused and murdered, others had their homes and crops burned. But that’s not all.”
James took her foot, the only part sticking out from the covers, in his hand. He massaged it, pushing his thumb up under the ball of her foot. He gave her a sensual look as he nipped her big toe. She squeaked and tried to pull her foot back, but he wouldn’t let go.
“As you saw at the harvest, an equal number of men and women are needed to start families.”
“Not always.” Since he wouldn’t let go of her foot, she put her hand on his knee.
“Don’t interrupt.”
She smirked at him and slid her hand higher. James jerked out of her grasp. He stood beside the bed, out of her reach. The sun came from the side, outlining the reason his linen shirt stuck out from his groin. Her handfasted husband had a handle, one she could almost taste. She squirmed on the bed.
“It was my humble suggestion,” James placed the flat of his hand over his heart and bowed, “that the earl could find young women on other Sinclair lands who would like a husband in Caithness. So before winter David Sinclair of Mey will be repairing crofts and bringing in eager potential wives. They’ll not have to marry but must be useful. Cormac’s asked David to find a good alewife for us. If he’s not in shackles our laird w
ill soon be on his way home.” He touched his shirtfront. A wet spot showed the tip of his cock. “Which means you and I have a few things to do before he interrupts us.”
“Oh, such as what?” She stretched, accenting her curves.
“Rewarding me for my suggestion. Lie on the bed, wife, and show me your lovely breasts.”
* * * *
James tongued Alana’s nipples, loving it when she gasped. The twin nubs had become increasingly tender as the weeks passed. He loved to trace her blue veins with his tongue as well. He’d bedded a few women at Caithness as a lad, spilling outside their bodies to keep from making bastards. The only body he’d explored belonged to Alana. She fascinated him with her constantly changing moods, her lively mind, and her lusty needs. The way her hips swayed as she walked. How she flipped her braid out of her way when she bent over.
And her arse! He could nuzzle and kiss those fleshy globes for hours!
“You fascinate me, Alana Sinclair,” he murmured.
“I’m just a woman, like any other.”
“You are a woman, but there is no ‘just’ to it, love. Nor are you like any other.” He moved up to kiss her cheek, then looked her in the eyes. “I love you, and always will.” He pressed his finger on her lips to stop her denial. “There is something in you that feeds me, that makes just the sight of you make me know I’m home, no matter where we are.”
Her eyes glistened. She cursed what she called her baby tears, but he cherished them. They showed him what touched her heart. He kissed her then, soft and gentle.
“And I’ve loved you, James MacDougal, since the day you told me a lass could be smart as well as beautiful, and taught me how to play chess.”
He toyed with her breast, making her gasp. “That must have been when you were,” he thought back. “Eight?”
“Aye. I’d been beaten again, this time for moving the pieces of a chess game in the old hall. You showed me what each piece was, and how it could move. And when you got your own set you taught me how to play. I’ve never forgotten that, James.”
“And since then you’ve learned so well you have come close to beating me.”
“Close?” Her eyes flashed at him. “What about last week?”
“Ah, but you cheated, my love.”
“I touched none of your pieces!”
“No, you touched your breasts, moaning in enjoyment while I tried to think.”
She chuckled. “Serves you right for being so easily distracted.”
“Oh?” He moved quickly, spreading her legs and holding them down with his forearms. He inhaled, her scent filling his very soul. “Much better. Now, someone needs to be punished for teasing her husband.”
He played around her clit, delving his tongue into her pussy until she arched under him.
“Please, James!”
He ignored her, bringing her close twice. By then she had an iron grip on his hair and was snarling at him. He loved to tease her this way as it made her come with an explosion that soaked his face and the bed. His cock was hard and needy. They’d been apart for days. He’d thought he might never have her shatter under her again. She whimpered, and he gave her what she needed. He sucked on her clit and she bucked under him, screaming as she came apart.
Her pussy was still quivering when he rolled her onto her knees and slid into her heat. He thrust deep, knowing their babe was safe, that he had a part in the creation of this miracle.
“Oh, God, Alana, I love you!”
His fingers found her clit and her breast. Three strokes more, and she came once more with a cry. He emptied himself into her, his body, his soul, and all that he was. When he could move he rolled her to her side, held her close, and let the tears seep into her hair.
Alana was his wife, his life, and his reason for being. But a part was missing before they were whole. Cormac had to admit his love, that he needed Alana just as much as did James, though in a different way. James tenderly washed her and then held her until she slept. And still he held her, needing to be there.
Chapter Fifteen
Cormac threw the fist-sized rock as hard and far as he could. A hundred feet below and more it landed with a splash. He had a burning energy that even a few miles of walking along the clifftop did not appease. He’d stomped past Ackergill Tower, digging his toes into the coarse beach sand and daring the Keiths to fight him.
The cowards had not, damn them!
He was now less than a few hundred yards from Keiss Castle. Home. But for how long?
“She’s mine, damn ye!”
He bent and grabbed an armful of rocks. One after the other he heaved them, roaring into the wind that blasted his face. The last rock crashed into the sea, leaving no sign it had ever been moved. Would he leave a sign when he died or disappear as easily as the rocks? He’d been married to Alana for six months, and Laird of Keiss for only one of that. Was it over?
He’d gotten what he wanted from the earl. Or, what he wanted for everyone else. He only wanted one thing, for Alana to be his forever. But did she want him? He was a laird only because she was Lady Sinclair of Keiss.
She’d married him, and James, to protect herself from William. That threat was gone. She had a dowry, a fine one. Her name had been cleared of William’s death. She had proven her worth to her people, to her father, and most of all, to herself. He and James had known her worth all along.
Divorce was easy. Her father’s petitions to the king had always been answered in his favor. While the earl had let it be known he was pleased to have strong warriors at Keiss they would not be difficult to replace. It was a smallholding, but one that could prove beneficial to a man with an eye to improve himself through political power.
That man was not him. James knew how to play chess, and the human equivalent. Cormac was a man of the land, for his people. But these people were Sinclairs, not MacDougals. He wanted to live in a comfortable home with his wife, his brother, and their family. Wanted to watch wee Mary grow and to see her make lace. Would the blacksmith’s son Davie marry the lovely Eva? What of the other couples who’d jumped the broom the night Alana was stolen? They were not names on a clan list; they were his people. His, and James’s and Alana’s.
Unless she wished to be free of them.
With a heavy heart, he turned toward home. As if summoned, his brother walked along the cliff toward him. His body was stiff, his eyes avoiding the edge, yet his feet kept going. James had conquered his fear of heights. Could Cormac conquer his fear of losing Alana?
“You’re scowling. The meeting didna go well?” asked James.
“Nay, it went well. ’Tis all done, or will be.”
He picked up more rocks, pebble size this time. He needed something to do with his hands other than pound his brother. One advantage of growing up with so many of them was that there was always someone eager to help you get rid of frustration through a good fight. He couldn’t take this out on James. He looked closer. His brother had the sleek, satisfied look of a man who’d just left his well-bedded wife sleeping.
Maybe James deserved a few punches. It would certainly make Cormac feel better.
“What has you in such a foul temper?” demanded James.
“We have to let Alana go.”
“Go where? Her father wishes her to visit someone?”
Cormac did not want to say the words out loud, as if it would give them power. He shook his head.
“I dinna care what her father says.” James’s easy manner was gone. “Alana is big with our child. She will not be going farther than the village until well after our babe is safe in her arms.”
Cormac couldn’t say the words to his brother’s face. He looked beyond Sinclair Bay to the North Sea. There was nothing but waves and dark clouds promising another storm. They matched the heaviness in his heart.
“’Tis not Alana who would be leaving Keiss,” he said. “She doesna need us now. We have to accept a divorce if that is what she wishes.”
“Divorce?” James grabbed his sh
irt, hauling him around. “Alana is our wife! Our lives mean nothing without her. Why would she wish us to leave her?”
“William is gone, his lies seen as false. Alana has proven she’s fertile, and has a well-padded dowry. She could make a far better marriage now.”
James released him with a shove. Luckily they’d moved far enough from the edge that he didn’t topple over.
“Alana is carrying our child,” said James. It was his turn to look out to sea. “I was with her this morning, and she asked for you. Is it you who wishes to leave?”
“Nay! I canna think of livin’ without her at my side!”
“Then why do you speak of divorce?”
Cormac hated to admit weakness, even to a brother. Especially to this brother. It was one thing to speak of it when they didn’t know if she would return alive. She was safe in their bed, wanting him there. He sagged.
“She was forced to marry us, James. What if she meets another and wishes her freedom?”
“What if she wants us all her days?” James eyed him critically, then nodded. “’Tis yer own worth ye doubt.”
Cormac exhaled, absently scratching his chest. His brother was smart. He saw much, thought over what he’d heard, and then decided what he thought was the truth. Luckily for Cormac James would always support him, as older brother and now as his laird.
“Aye,” he admitted. “She be a lady, James.”
“And you are Laird Cormac of Keiss, her laird husband and master. ’Tis time you acted like it!” James kicked at a pebble with his boot. It sailed far out before falling silently into the surf. “Who’s been whisperin’ in your ear at Girnigoe? Lady Jean?”
Cormac shifted his feet, hating to admit it. “She wasna whispering. I heard her talking.”
“I bet she kenned you were there. She’s a viper, brother. She’s jealous of what Alana has with us. Her marriages were for politics. She saw our laughter and loving and was jealous. She is like a dog in the manger who canna eat hay, yet will foul it for others in spite.”