A Knight To Call My Own

by Sherry Ewing

  Lynet paced the width of the chamber, feeling as though the walls were closing in around her. “How dare he treat me as if I were a misbehaving child? Who does he think he is?”

  She made her way to the window seat and sat to enjoy the view of the loch. Taking several deep breaths to calm her nerves, she began to feel better. A giggle escaped her after she realized her plan may just work, after all. Ian had been furious. She supposed he had every right to be, given the circumstances. He also was not immune to the connection between them. She could hardly miss the look of desire that flashed momentarily in his eyes when he held her close. It had taken everything within her power not to lean in to rest her hands upon his muscled chest. She had been so very tempted, but that would have been giving up the game too quickly.

  Aye, Ian needed to see for himself she was a worthy companion as his wife, and ’twas past time for her to assume her role as chatelaine of the castle. Only when the keys to the keep were on a chain around her waist would she begin to feel like a wife. Perchance then, he would at last take her to his bed. Her face flushed with heat at the thought of them trysting beneath the covers.

  A discrete knock sounded upon the door, and Lynet called the servant to enter. A devilish idea came into her mind when the woman pulled out a dress of pale blue linen. Lynet had marveled at the garment afore, since ’twas indeed perfect and would bring out the color in her eyes. Someone had taken great care in constructing the cloth with stitchery that would rival her own. She would save it for a special occasion and not wear it this eve.

  “I believe something a little less formal is in order this night, Lorna,” she said going to the trunk and digging down to the bottom. Her fingers came in contact with material of soft wool, so she carefully pulled, trying her best not to disrupt her remaining dresses. She gave the garment a shake and a pair of leggings fell into her awaiting hand. A gasp escaped the maid.

  “’Tis unseemly, milady,” Lorna replied, covering her mouth. She began to turn red in the face from shock.

  “This is precisely why I will dare to dress accordingly.”

  “You do not wish to incur the wrath of Lady Fiona and Sir Edric. Surely, if you plan to wear such attire, they will be displeased.” Her pleading tone more than begged Lynet to rethink her choice in attending the evening meal dressed as a boy.

  “I thank you for your warning, but am I not the laird’s wife?” Lynet stared at the woman, who wisely snapped her lips shut. “I shall do and dress as I please. If you would help me get this dress off, I think I can manage the rest.”

  Lorna did as she was bid, grumbling beneath her breath. She may only be a maid, but she certainly was an opinionated one. Lynet could hardly berate the woman for the good intentions on her behalf. Still, Lynet ignored the serf’s urging to change her mind, for she was determined to push Ian to the brink of whatever held him back from making her his wife in every way. If this did not do the trick, she would need to think of something else.

  Not sure what could be more daring than attending the evening meal dressed in men’s attire, Lynet dismissed Lorna, thanking her for her help. The door shut. Left alone with only her thoughts to occupy her, Lynet pulled at her hair and began braiding its length. ’Twas a tedious task, and perhaps she had been too hasty in dismissing Lorna. Finally reaching the end, she tied a leather strap to hold it together and stood. Moving about the chamber caused the long braid to swish back and forth, much like a horse’s tail. She gazed down upon the dark green tunic that reached just below her hips. Mayhap, she should have found one longer, but ’twas too late now to find another, for she heard the bell ringing to call those in the keep to sup.

  She took another look over her shoulder and down the length of her body. The leggings hugged her bottom far tighter than she thought they would, showing off every curve God had graced her with. When she had found the clothing in the trunk that had been brought to her chamber for her use, she had never dreamed she would be wearing them for anything other than tending to those who may have need of her healing touch.

  She waited several more minutes to ensure the hall would be filled with hungry clansmen afore she left her room. Practically skipping down the passageway, a cheeky laugh escaped her. Lynet’s only thought was of Ian dragging her back to their chamber posthaste to make love to her, lest of course, he clobbered her first.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  His ever vigilant eyes scanned the Great Hall to view the mayhem afore him. Boisterous voices grew in volume as the chamber began to fill. Scowling, Ian remembered this room from his youth. The large chamber had always been meticulously clean, at least as much as was humanly possible, given the number of clansmen who came to sup here. He was not sure how his mother had let the place become what he now beheld.

  Barking dogs ran between the tables and the legs of the clansmen who came to fill their hungry stomachs and partake of whatever bounty could still yet be found at Urquhart’s table. One beast even dared to lift his leg upon an unwitting recipient afore receiving a swift kick from a serf, sending the hound scurrying for cover. The rushes were a mess, and Ian would not dare to wonder when the last time they had been changed. Even the dust and grime marred, tattered tapestries hanging upon the walls were a disgrace to his ancestors. Things needed to change, and quickly.

  Ian had taken what coin he had when he left Berwyck so abruptly, but he would need far more than what he currently held. Not only would restoring the castle to its formal glory require what he had in Edinburgh, but the dowry Lynet would bring must be secured, as well. He would not rest ’til he saw his home brought back from the mess his brother had left behind. Such an undertaking may just cost him every shilling he owned.

  A platter of meat was placed in front of him. Ian took one look at it, and his stomach churned in protest. He knew he should be thankful there was at least food for his table, but there was nothing appetizing about this meat swimming in a sea of grease he was supposed to sup upon. He grimaced. Even the smell that reached his nostrils held little appeal. Another servant came bearing bread then left quickly after a short curtsey. Ian tore off a chunk, hoping against hope that, mayhap, something could be salvaged of the meal.

  Taking a bite, he almost choked on the coarse bread as he spat out a stone that had escaped the process of being sifted properly from the flour. He rubbed at his jaw, thankful he had not lost a tooth. Gazing around his hall, it appeared he was the only one having an issue with the meal that was supposed to curb his hunger. Even his mother and uncle appeared eager to fill their trenchers. He must needs speak to his cook, or else replace him. Starving might be preferable than having to endure another meal such as this.

  He stabbed at the meat and watched the fat drip from what he could now smell was boar. Taking a bite did not improve his thoughts on what would make it edible. The food barely held any flavor. He began to chew the tough pork and wondered how long ’twould take afore he would be able to swallow what was in his mouth. Taking his cup in hand, he drained the wine and held out the chalice for it to be refilled. At least there was something to be said about the flavor of his drink.

  Mayhap, if he ate his fill fast enough, he could enjoy what was left of the eve. As he began to devour his meal, he caught the sound of several gasps afore conversations in the room faded to a deafening silence. Ian wiped his mouth upon his sleeve and looked up, wondering what was going on in his hall that drew everyone’s attention.

  To say that she captured every member of the clan’s interest was a complete understatement. Sauntering across the room, Lynet portrayed enough confidence of an entire invading army. Her tunic barely covered her very fetching arse, causing parts of Ian to stir. Her blonde braid swung behind her just begging for him to reach out and take hold of it. She was so reminiscent of her sister Amiria, that for an instant, Ian was lost in the memories of what he had lost years afore. He was brought back to the present when his mother snarled in anger.

  “How dare she come to my hall dressed in such masculine costume
,” Fiona hissed furiously whilst she began to rise to apparently further voice her displeasure.

  “Sit down, mother,” Ian insisted. “’Tis her hall now, and she may dress as she damn well pleases.”

  Edric leaned forward on the table, nearly putting his sleeve in the trencher he shared with his sister. “Do you presume to usurp your mother’s authority, after all she has done for Urquhart?”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed, taking in the pair. Considering all their ranting with the need of coin for the place, ’twas evident from their garments such was not the case when it came to donning their finest, each day. “And you will not tell me how to run my estate, including how I deal with my mother. If you do not like my hall, I am sure you can find suitable lodging elsewhere. Mayhap, such a dwelling will be more compatible with your discriminating penchant for having the finest of life’s offerings.”

  Fiona’s face began to turn red with rage. “You forget yourself, Ian,” she fumed.

  “As do you, mother. The both of you should refrain from irritating me so I may enjoy my meal, if that is even humanly possible.”

  “How dare you speak to me thusly?” Fiona stood, looking down at Ian as though he was still but a lad. But he was a boy no more, and ’twas time his mother learned she could not control him any longer.

  “If you do not care for my company, than by all means, you may take your leave of the hall and eat elsewhere, along with your brother.”

  Conversations resumed at a booming level, as everyone in the room had an opinion of what was transpiring in the Great Hall. Yet, Ian continued to wait, as if he had nothing better to do than for the pair to come to some decision. ’Twas a near silent exchange between mother and son afore Fiona’s words sputtered to a bare murmur. She once again took her seat.

  Satisfied that he would not have to listen to his dame besmirch his wife’s name, he leaned back in his seat and called for Lynet’s chalice to be filled. Returning his attention to his meal, he gave no further thought that Lynet would not make haste to join him at the table.

  He waited, refusing to consider the unthinkable alternative that she would dare to eat elsewhere. That was his first mistake, among many, where the lass was concerned. He swallowed hard, feeling the gristly piece of meat make its way down his throat, inch by inch. It seemed as though even the food was to disagree with him as he attempted not to belch. He grabbed at his goblet to help hasten the grub’s journey to his protesting stomach.

  Where was she? His eyes flicked through the crowd of men ’til his gaze fell irritably upon his wife. She stood next to Angus, who pushed the man next to him with his elbow to make room for her. How she could appear so demure and angelic dressed in those tight fitting hose was beyond his ken. Surely, there was a bit of the devil in her that she would actually attire herself in the garments of a man. Yet, there she was, sitting at a table full of clansmen as if she had done it a hundred times afore, listening intently to Connor’s ramblings.

  Ian’s eyes narrowed as he viewed the display afore him. Was it done on purpose? Even she would not dare to be so blatantly ignorant that she would knowingly snub her laird afore the entire clan by sitting at one of the lower tables. She was his wife. Her place was by his side.

  His hands clenched the arm of his chair whilst a hundred pair of eyes watched his every move. He tried to calm down, and yet, she made it hard when he heard her laughter from across the chamber. She had made a statement by ignoring the vacant seat at the high table. Ian would not let himself lose face with his people with a disobedient wife.

  She raised her head slightly to look at him from beneath her lowered lashes. The slightest smirk began at the corner of that luscious mouth of hers afore she took up a linen and pretended to wipe her lips. But Ian knew without a doubt what her scheme was about. He stood. With a determined stride, he made his way towards his mischievous bride. He would prove to her, once and for all, who was the master of the game in her little contest of wills. He would not be the loser.

  ~***~

  Lynet swore beneath her breath for her mistake. She should not have set her gaze upon her husband, but she could not resist the small smile of satisfaction from seeing Ian’s attempt to remain calm when she decided to sit elsewhere. The situation became worse as she heard the chuckle of the man next to her.

  “A job well done, lassie,” Angus whispered to her, “but dinnae lose yer courage. Ye will need it now, more than ever.”

  She took a bite of the ghastly meat that had been set afore her knowing her time for nourishment was quickly going to end. She was surprised Ian’s chair remained upright, given the amount of force of his rising from the table. His stride was furious, and she could see for herself that his temper flared as he quickened his pace across the hall. How could it not, with all the ribbing he was receiving from his clansmen as he strode ever closer. Their message was clear. If Ian could not control his wife, he was certainly not capable of leading the clan.

  She knew the instant he stood behind her waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. His uneven breathing practically called for her to calm his simmering temper. She waited. He did nothing, and yet, she experienced the sensation of his every move. She knew she must finish what she started and would not give him the gratification of reacting to his impending furious outburst that was sure to come. Was there truly a need to do so? From the amount of heat radiating from his body, Lynet made every attempt not to throw herself into his arms. She never wanted the man more than she did at this very instant. Again, she hid her smile. She would not be won over so easily, nor would she yield the game.

  “Get up,” Ian insisted with more control in his voice than she thought possible. Yet, the tone of his speech practically scorched her where she sat with the angry undertone those two little words implied. He must have made some motion to signal his men she could not see, for those seated next to her quickly scrambled from their seats to leave her alone to her own fate.

  He made to pull out her off the bench, but she just as firmly took hold of the edges to slide it forward. He tugged. She pulled. Let the battle begin! “I have not as yet finished my meal.” She kept the pitch of her own voice flat, as though she barely had the inclination to recognize his order. Since she could not see his face, she could only assume her answer did not please him.

  “Aye, you have.”

  “Nay, I have not. As you can plainly see, if you but look at my trencher.” She moved her body so he could view her meal that had barely been touched. She pointed to the food as though she were speaking to a child. “See you here? Barely a morsel has passed my lips and I am most famished.”

  Lynet made to ignore him and took another bite of the tasteless meat. It stuck in her throat, but she was determined to show her husband he would not deter her from her meal. A growl of outrage erupted from him, as if the beast within him had at last been unleashed. She had not expected such a backlash, and yet, she should have known ’twas a possibility. She had been pushing him to the very edge of the civility left between them all this day.

  Not only was she pulled from her bench that fell to the floor with a loud clatter, but she was lifted clear off her feet and turned towards him in one swift motion. Crushed against the solid wall of his chest whilst Ian held her with a steely grip, Lynet became level with those mesmerizing hazel eyes that had always been her downfall. She gulped and prayed he did not hear the noise that was as loud as bagpipes inside her own head. He grinned, quite handsomely, the damn rogue. His eyes began to sparkle mischievously, and Lynet knew he thought he had won the battle between them. He should have known better, she mused, for she was not done with him, as yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  She was so slight against his chest, he had no problem holding her with only one arm. Her pupils dilated, and the blue of her eyes were more vivid than he had ever seen them afore. He watched in fascination as the pulse at her neck ticked in a rapid staccato, and he knew he had affected her with his touch. She swallowed hard. He smiled, knowing her th
oughts. By God, he had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Lynet, despite the fact she had done all in her power to irritate him.

  “Yield,” he murmured huskily. Her tongue peeked out of that delectable mouth of hers to moisten her lips.

  “Never,” she declared, just as firmly.

  “You are my wife.”

  She leaned closer and her flowery fragrance sent Ian’s own pulse to beat madly within his chest. “Not completely,” she said faintly in his ear.

  “Is that what you want?” Hope rang in his whispered words that she would at last ask him to share her bed. She wound her arms tightly around his neck continuing the torture she was unknowingly putting him through.

  “Aye, that, and more.”

  “More?”

  “Aye.”

  “What more could you possibly want?” Ian set Lynet down upon her feet. His ill-behaved little imp had the audacity to take the time to adjust her tunic and continue down her legs to smooth the fabric of her hose. It took every bit of strength not to run his own hands along her bottom, since her short tunic brought her very fetching backside to his attention.

  She folded her arms across her chest, causing the tops of her bosom to show a fair amount of cleavage in the neck of her tunic. Ian’s hungry gaze all but devoured the sight whilst his mouth began to water in anticipation of what she unintentionally offered. She made no further effort to answer him, but stood, tapping her fingers on her arm and waiting for him to figure out for himself what she wanted of him.

  He became impatient the longer she held her silence. “Do you plan on letting me know your desires, or am I to guess?”

  She took a step back. Glancing at Angus, the man gave the briefest of nods afore Lynet put her hands on her hips. “Am I, or am I not, your wife and the lady of this keep, Ian MacGillivray?” she declared so loud that silence again fell as those in the keep endeavored to listen in on what had, but an instant afore, been a private conversation between just the two of them.