by Tia Isabella
Meg licked her lips coyly, smiling up to the MacGregor.
Maya stared daggers at her husband, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he had better not pretend to be happy about this visit to any greater degree than he was already feigning. At least, he had better be feigning, she thought morosely.
“So,” Maya asked as she threw her venomous gaze upward into the face of the tall stranger, “who the hell are you?”
“Maya!” Thomas chastised.
The Hamilton flinched, but managed to bow gracefully, grinning down at Maya as he spoke. “I am Patrick, laird tae the Hamilton clan.”
“Patrick!” Maya beamed as she clutched his hand and laughed, forgetting her anger for the moment. “It is wonderful to finally meet you! My husband talks about you all the time. He said you’d be coming today!”
Thomas strolled over to his wife’s side and forcibly removed her hand from Patrick’s. “I dinna talk of him that much. I’m thinkin’ I no longer care o’er much fer the mon.”
Maya scowled at her husband, embarrassed by his rudeness and remembering that she was still angry to high heaven that his ex-mistress was in her home.
Patrick, undaunted by the MacGregor’s possessiveness toward his wife, threw his head back and laughed.
“Excuse my husband,” Maya muttered, “he has the manners of a wild pig.”
Patrick laughed harder, chucking Thomas on the arm. “Ye are as saucy as my friend Thomas claimed, milady.”
Meg glowered at her opponent, not caring to be overshadowed by any woman, lady or otherwise. She placed her hands invitingly on her hips and winked at Thomas. “I never thought he had bad manners. His manners were always commendable…in certain situations.”
That did it.
Maya took a threatening step towards Meg as Sara and Thomas quickly placed restraining hands on either of her shoulders. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear here, Meg.”
Thomas winced, afraid beyond reason that his wife was about to insult the visiting laird’s mistress. Who was he kidding? He knew she was about to insult the Hamilton’s paramour.
At Meg’s haughty look of defiant challenge, Maya pressed onward. “I am very glad to at last make Patrick’s acquaintance, as he is welcome here at any time. But make no mistake—the Hamilton’s presence will not deter me from throwing you out of my home if you keep sending those unsubtle hints my husband’s way. He’s mine,” she bit out under her breath, much to the delight of the MacGregor soldiers who had gathered around to view the spectacle. “All mine!”
Thomas’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He couldn’t stop the elation that swelled in his heart at his wife’s fiercely jealous and possessive words. He glanced quickly over to Patrick to gage his reaction, noting at once that the laird was grinning at Maya. Apparently Meg meant no more to the Hamilton than she had to his self. She was fun when Thomas had needed fun, but the other woman couldn’t hope to hold a candle to his hellion of a wife.
“And furthermore,” Maya continued as she glowered at the now fuming Meg, “if you wish to remain a guest in my home, you will show the proper amount of respect due to me as lady of this keep and wife to the MacGregor!” Maya had never cared that much about her title until this very moment, feeling comforted that it gave her added leverage in the situation. “Do I make myself perfectly, totally, and unequivocally clear, Meg?”
Meg raised her chin defiantly, glaring down at Maya as she spoke. “I think ‘twas ye who ha’ the manners of a wild pig.”
“You got that right, sister! And I’m as deadly as one too—never forget that!”
Thomas could no longer suppress his grin. He picked his wee wife up off of the ground and laughed, planting her at his side until she sheathed her claws. “I think Meg knows when tae back down, do ye no’ Meg?”
“I dinna believe I wish tae stay here any longer!” Meg announced with a huff. “Patrick, I demand that ye take me back tae the keep the soonest!”
Patrick shook his head, trying his damnedest to stave off the amusing image of Maya threatening a woman so tall and large as Meg. “Meg, I willna leave here until after hogmany. I will remain here with my oldest friend, Thomas.”
“Then I demand an escort home!”
Patrick shrugged, wanting to be rid of the nuisance called Meg after the trouble she’d caused the wife of not only a close friend of his, but a vastly important ally as well. He motioned to one of his men, indicating to do as she had instructed. He would deal with her later, when he returned home.
Meg cast a fulminating glare the Hamilton’s way. “Well I never!” she sputtered, too incensed to think let alone speak. She placed her hands defiantly on her hips and marched away, a soldier in tow.
Maya beamed triumphantly at the departing backside of Meg. She smiled wickedly at Sara, inducing her best friend to giggle.
“Is it safe tae put ye down now, ye little harridan?” Thomas asked in amusement.
Maya frowned up at her husband, but relented. “If she’s gone then yes! And don’t laugh at me!”
Patrick guffawed as he watched Thomas place his wife gently on her feet. ‘Twas obvious he loved his woman dearly.
Maya regained her composure, then attempted to placate Patrick with a genuine smile. Suddenly, she felt a tad guilty. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean for you to spend the holidays away from the woman you love.”
Patrick laughed louder, winking down to Maya after he did. “She was a friend, no more. I dinna love her. Dinna fash yerself o’er it, milady. Truly am I sorry that she insulted ye so mightily, ye ken that dinna ye lass?”
She smiled warmly at the handsome laird, thankful for his unexpected understanding. “Yes.”
Maya laced her fingers through her husband’s and smiled up at him. Thomas grinned, shaking his head to clear it of what could only be called bewilderment. She had said he was hers. “All mine!” had been her exact term. The knowledge that she cared so passionately delighted him to no end.
Determined to bring an end to the ugly scene and regain what she hoped looked like regal composure, Maya returned her attention to Patrick. “It’s my understanding that you will be spending the holidays with us, clear through to the new year. Am I correct?”
“Aye, milady,” he smiled, letting her bow out of the fiasco gracefully. “I thank ye fer inviting me and my men. And I hope ye and yer lord’s bairns like the gifts I ha’ brought fer ye.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“’Twas an honor, Lady Maya.”
“Well,” Maya laughed, “I’m glad you think so because we have a gift or two for you as well.”
Patrick flushed. “Ye are tae kind.”
Thomas rolled his eyes, unable to endure any more of the sickeningly sweet sentiments being exchanged between his wife and good friend. “If the tae of ye are done kissing each other’s arses, let us retire to my table and eat.”
Patrick laughed, thinking he hadn’t had a better time of it in ages.
Maya snorted. “Manners of a wild pig,” she muttered under her breath as she let her husband lead her to their table.
Chapter 38
“Love, ‘tis time tae open the presents. Will ye let it go and join in on the fun?”
Maya continued to pace the floor of their bedchamber as she glared at no one and nothing in particular. She halted before her husband, threw out her bosom, and mimicked Meg in a falsetto tone. “Are ye no goin’ tae welcome me, Thomas? It has been far tae long since we ha’,”—she paused just as Meg had done—“made each other’s acquaintance.”
Thomas chuckled, bemused by his wife’s imitation of the now departed Meg. “Ye are jealous, milady.”
“Damn right I am!” Maya countered, her nostrils flaring.
Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his wife. “It just occurred tae me that mayhap this encounter with Meg was a good thing.”
Maya whirled around to face her husband. “How can you say that?” she asked, genuinely bewildered.
“Becaus
e now ye ken how I felt when I saw that photograph of ye and Nick the Arse.”
“That’s different.”
Thomas arched a black brow. “Oh? How so?”
“Nick wasn’t here in the flesh, making a bunch of perverse insinuations.”
“And lucky ye are that he was no’, else I would ha’ killed the mon.”
Maya narrowed her eyes at her husband, then slowly smiled. She shook her head, finally seeing the irony and humor of the situation. “I acted like a true shrew, didn’t I?”
Thomas grinned. “Aye. But I’m no’ complaining aboot it.”
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Maya conceded with a sigh. “I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I love you is all. The thought of you between her legs just…kills me,” she admitted forlornly.
Thomas grabbed her by the chin and gently forced her gaze up to meet his own. “As Patrick said, dinna fash yerself o’er it, my love. I am glad it happened, fer now I realize how much ye truly do love me.”
“I couldn’t live without you,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Nor I ye, milady.” Thomas rubbed her back as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “Our children and friends await us in the great hall. Let us make merry this Christmas, hm?”
Maya nodded. “I love you, Thomas.”
“And I love ye, Maya mine.”
* * * * *
“It’s wine from my homeland,” Maya beamed. “I hope you like it.”
Patrick studied the exquisitely crafted glass bottle that sported the blood red brew and smiled. “I vow, milady, the bottle itself is a worthy gift. I ha’ no doubt but that I will enjoy this verra much.”
Maya bit her lip and looked at Sara. She gave her best friend a silent thank-you for doing such a good job of peeling the California Merlot label off the wine bottle and replacing it with a parchment written of her own hand. After all, the original label contained the true date of its bottling. This one sported a faux date.
Maya looked around the great hall and smiled. Everyone that meant something to her was here, enjoying their presents immensely. Angus and Elizabeth were scooting around on the floor, playing with the hand-made toys their father and Patrick had carved for them. Argyle and Lena were sitting in the corner hugging and kissing while Lena fawned over a jeweled bracelet Argyle had gotten for her in the future.
Harold was intently studying the book of ballads Reginald had gifted him with, while Reginald was beaming over the new broadsword Harold had the smithy craft for him. Maris was sitting with Harold’s ladylove Helen, both of them eyeing their new necklaces with appreciation.
John the Elder sat with Hamish the Craftsman, both men inordinately pleased with the tunic and dagger his lord and lady had gifted them with. Sara and Dugald were laughing, both of them overwhelmed by the gifts they’d bestowed upon the other.
And then there was Thomas. Thomas sat pensively in his chair next to his good friend Patrick, looking over the silks, spices, and finely woven tunics his lady had given him with a greedy and happy eye. Maya smiled. She’d never seen a more eager, blissful look on her husband’s face. Well, except for in bed, but she decided that didn’t count.
“I’ve two more gifts to give my husband,” Maya announced as she rose to her feet and meandered over to her husband’s chair.
The room stilled, all curious eyes fixed on the laird and his wife.
Thomas arched a giddy brow. “Tae more? Ye ha’ given me much already, love.”
Maya shrugged her shoulders as she placed a small wrapped gift on her husband’s knee.
Thomas looked to the present and then to his wife.
“Open it,” she prompted.
He nodded and complied.
Thomas unwrapped his wife’s gift, withdrawing a huge ruby necklace from the parchment in the process. It was a stone that had belonged to her mother’s father and to his father before him. She had bade Argyle to find its whereabouts from Dr. Chance before he and Harold left for the future.
Thomas held the stone up, excited oohs and awes engulfing the great hall as he did. “I vow,” Dugald announced, “’tis a large stone.”
“A king’s ransom,” Patrick agreed breathlessly.
Maya grinned at her wide-eyed husband and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. She plucked the heavy chain and its amulet from his hands and placed it around his neck. “This stone has been passed down in my family for generations. When we were courting, Thomas, you gave me a necklace similar to this one. You told me to think of you every time I looked at it, so I never took it off.” She smiled. “Now I ask the same of you. You are my life, my heart, and I want you to wear this always so you’ll never forget it.”
A chorus of ahhhs sounded throughout the hall. Thomas pulled his wife onto his lap and kissed her roughly and thoroughly on the lips. He touched the ruby dangling from his neck, silently worrying that he might shame himself in front of his kinsmen by crying. “I shall never remove it, Maya mine. Never.”
She kissed her husband back for a long, earth-shattering moment. She even slipped him a little tongue, much to the laughing delight of the great hall’s occupants.
Maya bounced off of her husband’s lap a while later. She kneeled down onto the floor, scooped up Angus and Elizabeth, and lovingly placed them on their papa’s lap. “And now for my last present,” she announced with a wicked grin.
“Aye?” all asked in unison, wondering what could possibly outdo the last gift.
Maya gazed at her husband, beaming a radiant smile down to him. “You’re a good father, Thomas. You love our children to distraction.”
“Aye love, that I do.”
“Do you think you have room in your heart to love another one just as much?”
“Of course I do. I—” Thomas paused mid-sentence, scratching his head as his wife’s words penetrated. “Maya,” he whispered, “what are ye saying, love?”
Sara shot up out of her chair and giggled as she and her very pregnant form waddled over to Maya’s side. She rubbed her belly in a circular motion and grinned at Thomas.
Thomas gasped, cocking his head to stare up at his wife. “Already? We’re tae ha’ another bairn already?”
Maya chuckled, nodding her head.
Cheers went up throughout the hall. Thomas felt dizzy. He looked down at his chubby cherub-faced children sitting contentedly on his lap and laughed. He then grinned up at his wife, speechless. “Wow,” he breathed, at a loss for any word save that singular Tampa English exclamation his wife often muttered.
“Wow is right,” Maya agreed. She bit her bottom lip, struggling with a thought that just popped into her brain. She looked down at Thomas and frowned. “And I am naming this one.”
Chapter 39
“Look over here!” the soldier bellowed, drawing the attention of every man present. Gilfred rode quickly to his side, smiling in grim satisfaction when he beheld the sight at the lower soldier’s feet.
‘Twas Robert MacAllister. Dead.
Gilfred would recognize that red hair and matted plaid anywhere. “Good work, Philip,” Gilfred nodded. “The MacGregor will be verra pleased.”
Philip smiled, invigorated by the idea of gaining the laird’s approval. He had traveled all the way from the Lowlands to be taught how to fight.
Gilfred dismounted and kneeled over the shredded flesh of the former laird. He studied the wounds intently, using a fallen branch to hoist the body over, face up. A boar. ‘Twas definitely the doings of a wild animal, a boar being the most logical assumption.
Gilfred knew ‘twas more like than not the body of Robert MacAllister. Still, he would have preferred to know for sure and ‘twas hard to tell in all certainty when the man's face had been mauled so irreverently. He shrugged. It had to be the MacAllister. It could be no other. No outsider save Robert would be daft enough to venture onto MacGregor soil without welcome.
Gilfred ordered the MacAllister’s body to be bagged and loaded onto a mount. “Be careful,” he warned the men, “lest the vermin that bluidy
mon always sports upon his head decide they favor yers just as well.”
The soldiers balked in unison, none of them wanting to touch Robert’s grotesque remains.
Gilfred rolled his eyes and sighed. “Dinna be actin’ like women. Ye are MacGregor soldiers, all of ye. Someone needs pick him up.” He shivered and grimaced. “And ‘twill no’ be me.”
* * * * *
“I vow, Thomas, yer wife is the most comely of lasses. Does she ha’ any sisters lying around, waiting tae be swept off their feet by the handsomest of lairds?” Patrick asked the question with a grin, blocking a hit from the MacGregor’s sword in the process.
“Nay,” Thomas replied as he slashed downward, the sound of metal clanging against metal. “She has no brothers or sisters a’tall.”
Patrick grunted, whether from the news of Maya’s lack of sisters or from the jarring effect blocking Thomas’s last blow had to his sword arm, neither man could say.
The two lairds battled in silence for half an hour, drawing a large crowd of MacGregor and Hamilton spectators around them to watch. The MacGregor soldiers cheered for Thomas, calling Patrick all manner of womanly names. The Hamilton men, not to be outdone, cast aspersions at Thomas, showing the esteem they held for their own laird.
Thomas and Patrick looked at each other and grinned. By the saints, how both of them had missed this! They were, without a doubt, the other’s only rival in all of Scotland. It had always been that way.
The lairds battled fiercely, both of them stripped down to nothing save their kilts. Their tensely corded muscles bulged savagely in the late morning sun, their bodies glistening with sweat over every square inch of their bodies, winter or no. They heaved with each strike, groaned with every block, yet neither of them showed signs of exhausting the other anytime soon.
“My lord!” Gilfred cried as he and a handful of MacGregor soldiers rode through the inner gates.
“Aye?” Thomas shouted without losing his concentration.
“We believe we might ha’ found the body of the MacAllister!”
Thomas called a halt to the sparring, inducing groans of disappointment to ring throughout the inner bailey. He clapped Patrick on the back in gratitude for a good fight, then strode toward a dismounting Gilfred. “Is he dead or alive?”