by Jackie Ivie
“Then take his weapons,” she said.
“Jesu’, My Lady! He can kill with his bare fists. I’ve seen it!” That was Alan. Somebody hushed him, but too late. And foolish. Dallis knew what terms he’d fought for and what he wanted. They all did.
“Take his weapons…anyway,” she replied.
They didn’t have to take them. Payton didn’t move his regard as he reached behind him and handed over a battle ax tucked into the back of his belt, then he skimmed along the belt, back to front along both sides, pulling a plethora of knives from it. Then he flipped the fastening clasp of his scabbard to get it released from his belt as well, before handing his sword over. And then he lifted one leg at a time, to pull the skean dhu from each sock.
“My Lady, I truly protest. ’Tis foolish in the extreme!”
“You say the champion is allowed words with me. I have words. For his ears only. The rest of you leave. Now.”
“I want his word that he will na’ harm you.”
“Redmond MacCloud.”
Dallis said his name in exactly the same non-emotional way he always used. She probably would’ve appreciated looking at his reaction, but she didn’t move her eyes from Payton.
“Aye?” he asked, finally.
“Leave us.”
They were still dissenting. They didn’t have to put it in words. Not one of them was leaving. Dallis pulled in a huge breath and sighed.
“I doona’ need his word. I already ken he will na’ harm me.”
One of Payton’s brows lifted, in that annoying, endearing, heart-skipping way of his. Dallis’s heart pulsed in reaction, sending whooshing noise throughout the side she’d tilted down. She had to move her head back upright or go crazed with listening to it.
“How do you ken that?” Martin was the one asking. Redmond appeared to have stepped back, and the others were following.
“He dinna’ kill his challengers…did he?” she replied.
“The next room. With the door ajar. ’Tis all.” Redmond again.
Dallis hadn’t moved her gaze from Payton, but she saw the satisfaction overtaking his entire frame. It was in the way he’d straightened, puffing out his chest to an even more impressive size, put his hands on hips and lifted his chin from the challenger look.
“My Laird?” she asked him.
A slow smile split his face, the teeth white against the swarthiness of his skin. And then he nodded.
“Jesu! Mary…and Joseph!”
If Dallis wasn’t mistaken, that was her prim Aunt Evelyn cursing and muttering and gesturing, but she was leaving. They all were, filing one, sometimes two abreast out into the antechamber the ladies used for their sewing and chatting and dining, and living.
The room went so quiet, it was near deathly in quality. If it wasn’t for the continued sound in her ears, she’d have heard nothing. Payton didn’t move, either. He just stood there, eyeing her.
“Join…me.”
Dallis put out a hand toward him, controlled the shaking with an act of will she didn’t know she possessed, and watched as he walked toward her. He stopped just shy of the window opening. Within reach of her hand, but not deigning to touch it.
Dallis lowered her eyes for a moment, to hide whatever might be reflecting in them, and then she lowered her hand, too. It was just as well. That digit felt ice cold. He’d know the fear she hid if he’d touched it.
“What…do you think of my…view, Payton?” she asked, turning sideways to him so he would look.
He grunted.
“Tis na’ much. I ken.”
Body heat from his nearness radiated toward her, intoxicating her, and Dallis took several breaths of it before she continued. So beloved! She trembled, hoped he wouldn’t notice, opened her mouth, and started speaking.
“I…always wanted…to be a widow,” she said. “Until you showed me different, that is.”
He’d taken a step closer to her. She heard it with ears primed for such a thing, even over the blasted sound of her own heart breaking. She had to admit what the whooshing noise was then, and then she had to hold the knowledge as close to her as possible, and never let it out.
“I…thought that way I’d have power…over my life. My…keep. My people. It was na’ until our stay at Ballilol Castle that I knew the falsehood of that. Being a widow is nothing. Nothing.”
Dallis frowned out at the view, as her voice cracked a bit. She bit at her lip, ducked her head and spoke again.
“I…I dinna’ wish to be wed. To anyone. And so I spent all the funds you sent me. All of it I gave to my cousin, Giles. To buy challengers. To kill you.”
There was absolutely no reaction from the body standing right beside her. She couldn’t even sense his breathing, and he was right beside her! Within touching distance. Able to reach out and take her neck in his hands, and squeeze the life right out of her.
“I know. ’Twas stupid. I dinna’ ken then that there is nae challenger capable of killing the King’s Champion, but you’ll have to forgive that. I dinna’ ken what that meant. From my castle…in that section of the Highlands…how was I to know what being champion was? And…how famous you are?”
Nothing. He probably wasn’t even listening. Nobody ever heard her anymore. She should be used to it.
Dallis sucked in another breath.
“But then you came. And gave me…Davey. ’Tis only what we call him. I left the christening of him to you. When this…is over.”
Dallis dared a glance over and up at him. And wished she hadn’t. His features looked gray and the hate in his eyes was so visceral, she could reach out and touch it. If she wanted. Her lower limbs wobbled, threatening to drop her. If she hadn’t a grip on the stone beside her, she wouldn’t have been able to prevent it. As it was, her body swayed toward the wall, connected, and then clung. That put her back to him, and she didn’t dare stay in that position.
Then, to her absolute dismay, her legs wobbled worse, betraying her completely. Dallis was forced to a slide, keeping her face turned toward the window opening so she wouldn’t see Payton.
The oriel had a ledge at the bottom of the cupola that comprised her window, constructed mostly of glazed glass. Dallis ended on the ledge, using it for a seat. She had one leg bent beneath her, while the other trailed to the floor.
“Stand up,” Payton said.
“You’ll need to pardon me,” Dallis replied. “But I doona’ believe I can. Davey’s birth…was hard. Over two days. I was a banshee, too. I screamed mightily. I—I lost a lot of blood. And damn me for admitting it. To you.”
Her voice ended with a whisper, and then she got treated to more silence. She had her hands clasped before her on the white satin of her skirts, looking so pale, her skin was only a shade off-set from the material. Dallis frowned at that. Her hands better not betray her! She was going to need them. She pulled in another extremely shaky breath and started spouting words again.
“When Giles threatened to tell you…I could na’ think! I should have done the accounting to you months a-fore! I ken that now…but I—I—I couldna’ let him destroy what we had! So, I broke my vow! It was wrong…but you said—you said sometimes a vow couldn’t be kept. Sometimes things are too vast. I would have done anything to prevent Giles from killing what you felt for me. So…I gave him the ring. And I…destroyed it myself.”
She’d failed. Dallis realized it as the emotion she’d hidden filled the last of her words, making them almost insensible. There was no place to hide. No place to run. Nothing.
She moved her hands to the back of her waist, fumbling for the knife, her eyes so awash with tears, vision was useless anyway. She watched the teardrops fall, over and over, staining the material with each one.
She sensed him moving, going to a squat beside her, and if he had pity in his eyes, she was going to scream at the vexation of it!
His hand came into her vision, reaching for her chin. Dallis jerked to one side, felt strength flooding her frame as her right hand locked on the h
andle of the skean, and then she was bringing it forward, slicing the material of her skirt a bit before she had it in her lap. He went ram-rod stiff beside her.
“Oh, Payton, Payton. I love you. Only you. Ever. I dinna’ ken the scope of it. Nobody ever told me. But I know it now! I do! And there is nothing worse…than living this life without you! Nothing. It is already death.”
She shoved the skean into his hand.
“Do it quickly, Payton,” she whispered. “Quick and clean. And when ’tis done…I beg of you, doona’ mount my head on a spike like Kilchurning did with Leroy…and the others! I ken…a betraying wife has such happen, but please, Payton. Please? Doona’ let anyone see me…like that. Please?”
She raised her eyes to him then, knowing only then that she didn’t want a sunlit day to be her last view on this earth. She wanted it to be him.
“Dallis.”
Dallis slammed her hands to her ears and looked away. She was wrong. Looking at him was worse.
“Payton, please! Please! I beg of you! Doona’ make me suffer one more moment! Please?” Her whisper was wild with intensity and emotion, and filled with anguish as she failed every single bit of Caruth Clan creed.
She heard a clank sound of metal striking something in the room behind them, and then she was in his arms, he was transferring from a crouch to a seat on the floor, and everything about him was trembling.
“Dallis. Dallis.”
He was crooning her name against her throat, stroking her hair with one hand while the other arm was still locked about her, cradling her. As if she was something precious.
Treasured.
The word slid through her head easily and Dallis blinked moisture from her eyes that was just replenished. Over and over and damn! Why did fate have to curse her with so much weepy emotion it disgusted even her?
“Dallis…I dinna’ ken. Forgive me, love. Forgive me.” Payton was murmuring words along her throat and into her ear, speaking love words, and that’s when it hit her that the whooshing noise was gone.
Completely.
“Pay…ton?” The name was split in two and barely made sound.
He lifted his head and moved his love-filled gaze to hers. Dallis felt everything on her reverberate with the hammering of her heart as it rammed at her throat, making it difficult to swallow.
“I love you, Dallis. Ever.”
“Even…with my betrayal?” she asked.
“You make a verra good argument, Wife.”
His voice was deep, gruff with the tone he was putting on it. And full of feeling. And real. Totally real.
“Aye, love. A grand argument. I only have one answer.”
“Oh, Payton. Anything. I swear.”
He was splitting his legs, settling her onto the hard surface of the floor. She didn’t know it was so he could wrap both legs about her and tighten them, too, until he did it. Then, he leaned backward, holding his back from touching the floor while conjoined with her, confining her and holding her until the tremble of them was moving both of them with it. Such strength was awesome. Jaw-dropping. He was leaner, too. More delineated. Everywhere she was touching had the consistency of iron. Dallis shifted, and fidgeted, and finally got a hand free enough to reach his chin and turn his face downward.
“What?” Payton asked.
“You need to release me. A bit. I canna’ move.” And she wriggled for effect.
“You think this bad,” he replied. “You should wait until you see the ring I next design!”
He put back his head then, and gave his huge battle yell, making Dallis jump, and bringing the door crashing open.
Redmond was at the front, sword drawn. Behind him were other clansmen, all armed and poised. Dallis looked at the shock on their faces, and then the grins as weapons lowered and eyebrows lifted. She ducked her head beneath Payton’s chin.
“You continually come to my rescue, MacCloud.” Payton stated, moving to a sit with her still locked in his arms. That released the tension from the ropelike texture of his muscles, throbbing everywhere along her side, since she was still pressed to them. “And at the oddest times.”
She heard Redmond clear his throat, but he didn’t sound like the only one.
“Fair enough,” he finally said, and she heard the sound of his sword getting sheathed.
Chapter 28
“’Tis a lovely song. And to think…’twas penned just for you.”
Payton slid his gaze to the side to meet his wife’s upturned smile, perfectly shaped nose, and mischief-filled eyes. He smiled back.
“Too filled with blood lust, I feel. Na’ much for gaining a wench’s eye and attention with gore such as he describes.”
His remark had her dipping her head. “But you said the last minstrel’s song was full of courtly love and foolish banter,” she complained.
Payton lifted the hand he held, that he hadn’t relinquished throughout the banquet, and placed a kiss atop first the ruby ring that was on her ring-finger, and then the overly large Dunn-Fadden clan crested ring that she had on her middle digit. He took his time, stroking his lips over the hard surfaces of gem and metals before moving on to the delicate skin.
Beside him, he felt Dallis tremble. It would have been impossible not to, since he had his entire right side, from waist to ankle, right against hers. She flit a glance to his, and stayed, and then the rose shade of her lips parted slightly.
He’d finished his caress of her hand and moved it back to his lap, unwilling to let her have it back. It was a good thing she was right-handed, he decided, as she reached for another morsel of lamb from their shared platter. She had an immense sense of grace and direction. He watched as she unerringly picked up the bite-sized portion of meat, without losing one moment away from his enthralled gaze.
And then she brought the lamb to his mouth, waited until he opened, and slid it in. Payton chewed subconsciously, and then stopped as her hand fidgeted within his, before he loosened his fingers. She didn’t take it away. Instead, she was sliding it up, brushing the fine wool of his champion kilt, raising the hair on his upper thigh, and then hovering, poised atop where lasses shouldn’t be. He had a moment to realize she wasn’t finished, before she pressed down, stroking with a gesture that had him choking.
And her giggling.
“I truly…adore…kilts,” she leaned toward him to say, rubbing her hand along flesh that went instantly aware, alert and desirous, and too large for one hand.
Then they banged one of their large drums, King James stood onto a box placed in front of his chair for the move, and started what was probably going to be one of his long-winded, boring speeches. Payton closed his eyes, twitched himself solidly back into her palm, and was watching for the gasp of surprise she gave. And the slanted, upward-cast glance, meeting his again. Payton was caught, held, enchanted. He couldn’t move his gaze, even if he’d wanted to.
The king was yelling something, the announcers were sending it out about the room, and then Redmond nudged him.
“What did you do that for?” Payton swiveled to ask, and then turned back the other way as it appeared the king had been addressing him.
“Stand, My Laird Dunn-Fadden! King’s Champion! My Champion!”
He went to a full flush, realizing he had to do it. Dallis wasn’t helping at all. She’d moved her hand away, to a ladylike posture in her lap, and was giggling, making everything worse.
Payton groaned, shoved their double-seated bench backward the same time he was pulling his sporran forward, and stood, at a half-bow, somehow making it look deferential to the king, and not what it really was.
Then he sat back down, rocking the seat slightly as his buttocks met the small raised back to the bench, and listening to the swell of approval the courtiers were making.
“’Tis true! We must bid farewell to Laird Dunn-Fadden! He’s served me well, and true, but alas! The man canna’ stay forever from his lands!”
Payton ceased listening. He’d already heard it anyway. He had much be
tter plans in mind. Real plans, with real emotion. With his wife.
Then Redmond slanted a shoulder against his other side again.
“What?” Payton looked over again at him.
“You need to pay attention to the king’s words.”
“Why?”
“Both of you.”
Redmond was looking down and to the right. Payton flicked a glance down that direction and collided with her glance, looking just a little guilty.
“At least…until we can get you to your chamber.”
Dallis put a hand to her mouth to hide the giggle, but he loved the sound, and the way it trembled along where he’d plastered himself to her side again. That had him putting an arm about her back and around her waist, lifting her into an embrace against his chest. Where she belonged.
“Payton Dunn-Fadden.”
Payton sighed, lowered Dallis back to the bench, and turned again toward his man. “What is it now, Redmond?”
“Behave!”
Payton turned back, sighed again, and reached for her hand. The one closest to him. The one wearing his rings. And the one that wouldn’t behave.
The king was still droning on over at his own table, set farther along the raised dais. There were two long tables on the royal stage, one holding the king and his guests. The other for Payton’s retinue. It was the highest honor he could be accorded without being royalty. But it hadn’t been the first he’d received from The Stewart.
It had begun directly following a bath, that she’d ordered him to undertake, but stayed to supervise. Payton’s eyebrow lifted in reverie, and he caught at her hand as it inched up his knee. From the moment he’d been dressed in this, his newest feile-breacan, complete with the championship belt and more silver wrist bands, Payton had been on the move, marching to the king’s tune.
They’d been shuffled off to Saint Margaret’s Church, the king’s own chapel, containing a reverence drawn down through centuries of worship. Payton knew then that Dallis had spoken the truth about her weakness. It wasn’t an act put on for his pity. He wasn’t allowing a litter for her, either. He was carrying her. Swathed in white satin, and covered over in his clan plaid, and held as close to his heart as possible.