by Reece Butler
But could she trust her father to allow him near?
Since returning she’d seen no one but servants. They said her father was out hunting and would see her that evening. She wished to get it over with. At the same time she wished to stay in her room and hide away, holding her secret of Duff and their babe to herself. But she’d bathed and, with resignation, put on the layers of clothing required by the daughter of the laird. Life had been so much simpler up in the hills with just the two of them. Or three, if you counted Chester. The wee beastie had abandoned her for the joy of investigating the castle, particularly the kitchen. She, however, couldn’t think of food without nausea.
She looked around her bedchamber. She had changed, yet everything else was the same. Her loom waited in the sunny corner. She’d been taken by surprise when her father ordered her out for the summer so had left in mid-treadle. No one had touched the cloth she was making to sew a new shirt for Colin.
Now she would make it for Duff, as a wedding gift for her husband. He would smile in pleasure as he removed his threadbare, oft-mended shirt. He would cover his immense chest and thighs, sliding the crisp new cloth against his skin. He would look down, admiring the work she had done to spin, weave, and sew her gift. While others took her work for granted Duff would cherish it, not only as it was new but because it had come from her hands.
If he returned, and if her father allowed her to see him again.
Too restless to sit, Kiera paced, looking at her life with new eyes. She had quite a few apologies to make. To her father and Silean, to start with. She’d been rude, jealous that the little contact she had with her father, games of chess, had come to an abrupt halt with his wedding. Silean, as the new Lady MacKenzie, had every right to make changes to things Kiera considered sacrosanct. Her mother was dead many years now; her father remarried. Life went on. Changes happened.
Her hand rested on her belly. Life did go on, and not all change was bad.
She had to face her father before anything else. He must learn she’d handfasted with Duff before he discovered she carried a babe. Otherwise he would think she’d done something shameful. She’d certainly shamed him enough over the years with her behavior, though she’d kept her acid comments to her kin rather than inflicting them on visitors.
She dropped her face in her hands. She’d been so bitter for so many years, ever since she’d been put in a cage by her sex. Bertie’s refusal to leave his mother and move to Kinrowan had hurt. His death had numbed her until his mother viciously attacked her, calling her a whore and screaming she would kill Kiera for taking Bertie from her. None of her kin knew about that, or the vile things his mother had said whenever Bertie wasn’t near.
She’d thrown herself into her spinning and weaving. Then her mother died, and she was needed. She’d emerged from her chamber and taken over. She’d been satisfied, making everything work perfectly.
And then her father found a new wife.
Perhaps if he’d married a widow for companionship she might have accepted a stepmother. But he’d chosen Silean, a lovely, young, spirited lass who immediately took over. Once more Kiera was pushed aside as not good enough.
Silean had everything Kiera wanted for herself and thought she could never have, including the most important man in her life, her father. That was when her tongue began to flay. She was not proud of her actions. Now that she had a husband of her own she could leave Castle Leod to Silean and take up her rightful place as the Lady of Kinrowan.
If, that is, her father accepted Duff as her husband. Even if he refused to make Duff laird, he was still her husband and had the right to live at Kinrowan with her.
She rested her hand on her still-flat belly. Her father would be beyond furious when he discovered her secret. She would let him rant, knowing he could do little about it. She had a babe growing, one she was desperate to keep. It would love her just the way she was, uncaring that she was too big, and too loud, and just…too much for any man. Any man but Duff. He’d said, with words and with his body, that he liked her as she was. One look and she was smoldering. One touch and she ignited. He listened to her as if she had something worthwhile to say, and his comments proved he’d actually listened.
Tears prickled her eyelashes. Her nursemaid would call them baby tears. Tears caused by carrying a babe. Along with her morning sickness it would be another sign that she had changed. No, she would not be able to hide her babe until Duff returned. Her father was far too observant, and the maids would tell him everything.
For a few short weeks she’d been happy. It had been so easy to forget who she was, to think she and Duff were alone in the world. How long did she have before her father insisted she face the priest? He’d wish to cover up the shame of his widowed daughter’s belly swelling.
“Oh, Duff, I wish your arms were around me now!”
She was suddenly exhausted. After the hard pallet she and Duff had eagerly shared her bed looked so inviting. Inviting, and empty. She needed sleep before she could face her father. She curled up in her bed and let the world fade away.
That evening Kiera barely heard Mary’s chatter as she dressed for dinner. Things that would have made her grit her teeth didn’t matter anymore. She was no longer jealous of the time Silean spent with her father. Let her stepmother have him. She’d rather be with Duff. The sleep had helped her feel calm and more able to face supper in the hall. Her stomach still churned with worry about facing her father and laird. If he acted as her laird he would be as kind and considerate as possible, doing what was best for his clan. If he appeared as her father he would rage that a stranger had touched his daughter without his permission.
“…and she married both brothers.”
“Who married a pair of brothers? I’m sorry, Mary. I must be still half-asleep.”
“Lady Alana Sinclair handfasted with James, and then the priest married her to his older brother, Cormac. They stayed here until Lady Alana was with…oh, but I shouldna speak about that.” Mary, face red, bent to straighten folds of Kiera’s gown that were perfectly fine.
Had Alana, having handfasted with one brother, replaced him with the other? Or had they both joined her in bed? Was she touched with four hands, two mouths, and…
It was Kiera’s turn to look away, her face hot. She patted her hair to ensure it was in place. She’d put it in a snood, making Mary frown. Kiera always kept her hair in one braid, refusing to cover it. She’d said she was neither maid nor matron, and cared little what men thought of her. It was different now. She was married, yet none knew of it. If her father found her more feminine and biddable now that she was a married woman, he might be more amenable to waiting for Duff.
“Oh, my lady, ye are glowing! Himself will be that pleased!”
“Thank you, Mary,” she replied.
The green gown was one of her favorites. It brought out the color of her eyes, making them less muddy. She wished Duff could see her dressed like this. He’d only seen her in the sturdy work clothes she’d had with her at the croft. And without them, she added, her body heating in memory. If all went well she would marry him in this dress.
She headed for the hall determined to be seen in a positive light. She needed to banish her reputation as a bitter shrew. It was no longer true. She now had a man who cared for her, believed in and respected her, and that changed everything. She would go with Duff to Kinrowan Tower and claim her inheritance!
Colin met her in the hall as the servants set up the tables. Many milled around the edges, hungry and eager for the meal. As always, Colin kept his blind left eye to the wall. He looked her up and down with his good one. She waited for his usual critical comment. This time she would ignore it.
“Time alone was good for you, sister.” He kissed her cheek. “You look like you enjoyed yourself.”
“Aye, ‘twas quite pleasant.” This was Colin, the only one who understood her, so she didn’t hesitate. “Mary spoke of a pair of brothers who married Lady Alana Sinclair of Caithness. Why would they
both marry her, and how would that work?”
She expected teasing, then an explanation. But Colin’s entire body tensed.
“Ah, yes. I fostered with James and Cormac, where we all met Alana. Her father, the Earl of Caithness, had banished her years ago. He called her back, demanding she marry that whoreson William of Braal. With her being a spinster with no dowry, the brothers’ lower rank no longer mattered, so they married her to save her from William.”
This was her opportunity to hint of her own situation to Colin. She smiled widely at him. “Lucky woman, to find a husband when she needed one.”
Surprise flickered over Colin’s face, then his tension eased, his one green eye sparkling.
“As you are a widow I can tell ye this.” He leaned closer. “Alana shared her bedchamber, and her bed, with both brothers. They had to get her with child to prove she was fertile. She enjoyed it, as their chamber oft echoed with bellows and screams.” He waggled his eyebrows knowingly.
She had not experienced anything like that with Bertie, but Duff had opened her eyes, and more.
Colin leered at her. “Would you take two men to your bed?”
It was a ridiculous question. Before she’d met Duff she would’ve given her brother a scathing reply. She now knew what a caring man could do to make her scream. Oh, Duff, please hurry back!
“If I cared for the men, aye. ‘Twould be far better to care for two good men, than to be forced to marry one like Braal. Or be alone.”
Her reply caught Colin drinking his ale. He choked, coughing. She used the opportunity to pound his back. Hard.
“What are you thinking of to make you choke, brother dear?”
He pushed her unhelpful fist away. “‘Twas a fly in the ale what got caught in my throat.”
He looked far too amused for her liking. He got that look whenever he was planning something. One day he would be the eleventh Lord of Kintail so their father told him things he otherwise kept close to his chest. Unfortunately, Colin was as good as their father at keeping secrets. She changed the subject, focusing on him.
“Tell me of Barbara. What is she like?”
Kiera listened with half an ear as Colin told her of his fiancée. It was arranged by their parents but they’d met, and gotten along well. He continued talking as he guided her to the head table, seating her at her father’s left. She was uneasy at being placed in Silean’s chair. Perhaps Lady MacKenzie was ill, and her father wished to honor his daughter at her first meal back.
“Father caught a boar, today, so it’s roast pork tonight!” boasted Colin.
Her stomach lurched at his eagerness. She wasn’t fond of strong-flavored meat at the best of times. Her queasy stomach and nerves over her father’s possible reaction to her news had her gut churning. She took small breaths, fighting to keep her gorge down. She looked around. Her father had not yet entered the hall. Perhaps she could sneak away unnoticed…
She pushed back her stool and stood, eager to escape. Then she saw him striding toward her. Her stomach sank, except for the acidic part that rose to her throat.
“Kiera!” he bellowed eagerly.
She curtsied low as he approached.
“How are ye, daughter?”
She looked up. “I seem to have eaten something bad, Father. May I be excused?”
“Ye don’t get sick.” He leaned over, his face near hers and lifted an eyebrow. “Did ye find yerself a lover while ye were at the sheiling and now ye are carryin’ his babe?”
How did he know? Had she been watched?
Something roared in her ears. Her heart pounded. Her gown’s bodice was so much tighter than she was used to. She couldn’t breathe, bent as she was. She rose quickly from her curtsy. Too late she realized she’d moved too fast. Her head spun. His glare turned into concern. Her eyes rolled back and the room went dark.
Chapter Twelve
Malcolm stood at the back of the hall where his future wife wouldn’t see him when she entered. Six weeks he’d been at Castle Leod, learning all he could. He’d learned plenty about his intended wife, little of it good. No one but the laird and Colin knew he was contracted to marry her, or that Duff had already seduced her. The laird had called her back from her sheiling that morning. Would he get an example of the vicious tongue they said she didn’t hesitate to use?
Colin said she’d often stated, loudly, that she had no desire for another husband, nor any intention of ever having one. All knew her greatest dream was to live at her tower, and that Laird MacKenzie would not allow it unless she was married to a man of his choice.
The men at arms he trained with said Kiera was a beauty when silent. They said her body was lush and full, though she did nothing to show it off, as if uncaring what men thought of her. Her hair was black, though red would have suited her temper better. They said her eyes were a muddy color though none had wished to get close enough to look.
So he waited, eyes on the stairs, for a tall, loud, demanding woman with a dark braid, pursed lips and perpetual frown, wearing a loose, ugly gown. He’d waited for a while and would continue to do so until his bride arrived.
An absolutely beautiful woman in a green velvet gown floated down the stairs. A smile lit her face when she saw Colin. Was this Barbara Grant, his fiancée? The woman wore her hair in one of those net things rather than tightly braided around her head and covered, so was not married. Her gown suited her well. It fit snugly, showing her proud breasts, narrow waist, and wide hips. Those hips swayed enticingly as she walked. His cock rose at the sight, making him curse. She would never be his. That was proven when she greeted Colin with a wide smile and a hug. A smile that sparkled her eyes and lit up the room.
He forced his eyes away from her and back to the stairs.
Colin was a lucky man. Malcolm had seen Fiona smile at his brothers like that. He’d also heard her scream followed by their bellows as she reached her joy. That had been tough to take when none of the rest of them had any hope of a wife.
And now he had a wife, one he’d not yet met. One who was as opposite as possible to the breathtaking woman Colin would marry. He bit back curses. She couldn't be that bad if Duff had had no problem bedding her. Often, and with great enjoyment!
As his arranged marriage came from deception he could not expect wide smiles. He would have to be content with mutual respect. He would give her kindness in return.
His eyes strayed back to the happy couple. Colin put his arm around her to escort her to the high table. He caught Malcolm’s eye, grinning, and shaped a silent name. The word did not start with a B for Barbara. Maybe Colin was just poking to irritate him.
Malcolm checked the stair. Still empty. Colin had brought the enticing woman to the chair at the laird’s left. Silean’s chair. Colin helped her sit and then, catching Malcolm’s eye, pointed at her head, then at him. He repeated the name, first showing his teeth and then finishing with his mouth open.
Kiera? Malcolm mouthed the name back. Colin grinned, nodding.
The beauty in the green gown was his wife, not Colin’s fiancée? Malcolm’s jaw dropped. His cock rose. He snapped his mouth shut to swallow. Colin gave a thumbs-up. Malcolm almost staggered. Lady Kiera MacKenzie, the woman he and Duff would marry, was an absolutely beautiful, perfectly formed, smiling woman!
He scrubbed his face with both hands, then shook his head to clear it. Their older brother Ewan could touch a person and know things about their future. Before they left Duncladach he and Duff had asked Ewan if he could tell them anything. He’d gotten a faraway look then said their lives would change forever. They would gain far more than they’d dreamed if they listened to what was inside them. He’d reminded them they were MacDougals, proud descendents of a once-powerful clan. They were not to let themselves think they were less than any other.
He and Duff had laughed about it on the way to Castle Leod. Like all oracles, Ewan’s words could be taken in so many ways. Of course their lives would change forever as they were leaving Duncladach to learn from a
great laird. Their dreams had not been much. Just traveling and eating at a fine table had been more than they’d thought to expect.
Malcolm now understood what the next part meant. He’d listened to what others said about Kiera. They’d described a bitter woman full of discontent. It had colored his view of her, and of their future. The men hadn’t been wrong about the Kiera they knew. She’d changed during her six weeks with Duff.
Malcolm would also change with this marriage. He’d held back, watching and learning with the respect of a stranger. He couldn’t let Kiera’s rank or knowledge intimidate him. He would be her husband and laird, therefore her master. She would respect him as her husband and he would respect her as his wife in return. He would listen to her, in private, and she would obey.
He would make sure she knew that from the moment they met.
Decision made, he shifted position to keep her in sight. As he was tall and the high table was on a dais he could see every expression flit over her face. Colin said something, rubbing his hands as if eager. Kiera’s smile disappeared. She looked down, swallowing hard. Her hand dropped below the table to her belly. Her face took on a greenish tinge. It was not a reflection off her gown. Her plump lips opened, her breasts rising and falling in the tight gown. She wavered, then set her palms on the table.
Kiera was obviously sick, yet Colin, looking eagerly toward the kitchen, didn’t notice.
She pushed back her stool. Her wide eyes went toward the stairs as if gauging whether she could make it that far. Malcolm found himself bracing to go to her. Then Laird MacKenzie strode in and the hall went silent. He bellowed her name. A look of misery crossed her face before she smiled in return. Not the wide, happy one she’d given Colin, but one of duty and resignation.
Laird MacKenzie bore down on her, stopping close but not touching her. She curtsied, far more gracefully than Malcolm had thought possible, sick as she seemed to be. The laird said something, then bent with his face close to hers. Face white, she rose from her curtsy, no longer graceful. She opened her mouth to speak, then wavered.