by Tia Isabella
She’d walked to the nursery three times to check in on Angus and Elizabeth. She’d sewn up the holes in two of Thomas’s tunics—and had the scabs to prove it. She’d walked the battlements, looking out into the night, praying for the smallest glimpse of him. And now she was sitting in bed, trying to concentrate on the thick book of Latin she had never managed to finish.
A few minutes later, the door to the bedchamber creaked open, causing Maya to dart her gaze toward it. She sighed in relief when she realized it was Thomas coming into the room. She closed the book with a small thud and scrambled off of the bed to greet him.
“Thank God,” she whispered more to herself than anyone, though he had heard her as well. She looked up at him and smiled in relief. “I was so worried about you. Are you all right?”
“Aye.”
Her eyes widened when it dawned on her that her husband had been crying. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his throat rough and scratchy. “Thomas? What is wrong? Did something bad happen?” She clutched her heart. “Is it the children? I was just in the nursery, please tell me—”
“Nay, the bairns are fine, love.”
Maya cocked her head upwards and sideways, trying to discern what was troubling her husband. “Then what is it? Why were you crying? What is wrong?”
Thomas shook his head slowly as he studied his wife’s face. He felt more love for her now than he ever had before. And that, he conceded, was saying a lot. “Nothing is wrong.” He smiled warmly. “Everything is verra right.” He held out his hands. “Come tae me, lass. Let me hold ye. Let me love ye.”
Maya didn’t hesitate for even a moment. She rushed into her husband’s outstretched arms, tears welling in her eyes as he embraced her, without even knowing why.
Love. There was so much love radiating from him that it overwhelmed her.
“I need ye, Maya mine. I need tae make love tae ye.”
Thomas dropped to the floor of the bedchamber with his wife in his arms and showed her all of the love that was bursting from his heart. He thrust into her welcoming body again and again, never wanting the moment to end, needing to stay inside of her forever.
And a long while later, when he finally poured his life into her belly, he knew that he had beaten the fates. He, the MacGregor, had learned to do what his father before him never could. He had learned to trust.
And now he knew peace.
Chapter 45
Patrick stood next to his destrier, rubbing his hands vigorously over the warhorse’s sleek muscles to work the cramps from them. He’d ridden him hard this morning, mayhap too hard, but he’d had a lot of thinking to do and riding always helped him to clear up his jumbled thoughts.
Maya was right. He did want an heir, as well as a loving wife to warm his heart and bed. She was also correct in that he had been coveting what belonged to Thomas because of what she represented to him. Oh, she was comely and spirited sure enough, and any man would be a fool not to notice, but she was also a symbol, a muse. She had, after all, managed to bring the most powerful and feared warlord of the remote and rugged Highlands to heel. If Thomas MacGregor could be tamed and enjoy every moment of it, then so could Patrick Hamilton.
“Hamilton.”
Patrick shot his gaze in the direction from where the voice had spoken. His face reddened when he met Thomas’s eyes, so he quickly looked away, back to his destrier. “MacGregor.”
Thomas strolled slowly to Patrick’s side, watching him work his hands over the coat of the warhorse. He said nothing for a long moment, simply watched. “’Tis a fine piece of horseflesh, yer stallion.”
Patrick nodded, but did not break his stare from the mount’s mane. “Aye. ‘Tis an Arab, this one.”
Thomas said nothing for a few minutes more. And then finally, when it became obvious that the Hamilton was never going to do aught but wallow in his own self-induced state of misery, he cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “Let it go, mon.”
Patrick turned hard on his heel, staring up at his old friend. He closed his eyes briefly, then flicked them back open. “She told ye, I take it.”
“Nay.” Thomas grinned, throwing a hand toward the doors nearest the bailey. “I was listening in yon bushes fer the whole of it.”
“The whole of it?” Patrick choked out.
“Aye.”
Patrick blushed, then turned around to rub down the stallion once again. “Ye must think me no’ a mon worthy of callin’ friend anymore.” He took a deep breath. “And I canna say I blame ye.”
“Nay, ye are wrong.”
Patrick dropped his head onto his chest and closed his eyes briefly. “I canna think much of myself, Thomas, so how can ye?”
“Because I know ye.”
“What do ye mean?” He turned around and regarded his closest comrade and friend.
Thomas scratched his chin, then ran his fingers through his mane of shoulder-length black hair. He looked up to the heavens as if searching them for the appropriate words, then back to the Hamilton once again. “Fer the past few days I ha’ been knowing that ye was feelin’ guilty o’er somethin’ ye had done.” He shook his head. “I ha’ tae admit that I ha’ been wantin’ tae kill ye, fer I thought that ye had fucked my wife. Ye can imagine my relief when I heard ye talkin’ tae Maya and I realized yer guilt was due tae yer thoughts and no’ yer actions.”
Patrick laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in vexation with himself. “Guilt does no’ begin tae describe it,” he mumbled.
Thomas smiled. “I know it now.” He shrugged. “I canna blame any mon fer lustin’ my wife, fer he’d ha’ tae be nigh dead or a catamite no’ tae, but I thank ye fer being a mon honorable enough tae no’ tae do anything o’er it except think on it.”
Patrick flushed, shifting back and forth on his feet. “I canna believe ye are letting this go so easily.” He shook his head. “I dinna think I would.”
“Ye are right, fer ‘tis no’ the Scottish way. Yet ye are a friend, and because ye are, ye ha’ punished yerself enough.” Thomas placed his hands on his hips and regarded him. “There is no need tae issue challenge fer naught happened. Yer conscience ha’ punished ye more than I ever could fer yer lustin’ and I am content with that. I hold ye no ill will, Hamilton, fer if ye were no’ a true friend then yer conscience would ha’ suffered naught.”
Patrick smiled as he reflected on Thomas’s words. “Ye are right. I ha’ been punishing myself much. And I did deserve tae.” He grimaced, running his hand through his hair in agitation. “Yet am I ready tae let it go. I want our easy camaraderie back, my friend.”
“As do I.”
Patrick nodded, pleased. “Then what do we do?”
Thomas clapped his hand on the Hamilton’s back. “First, ye thank me fer doin’ this.” He swung his arm back with all his might, let it rip loose, and punched Patrick square on the jaw. The Hamilton fell unceremoniously to the ground, rubbing his aching jaw as he lay sprawled before Thomas’s feet.
“Thank ye? I thought ye had forgiven me?” he asked incredulously.
The MacGregor winked in return. “Now I ha’.”
Patrick stared up at Thomas wide-eyed. And then slowly, he grinned. He threw his head back and laughed. “Now we both feel better?” At the MacGregor’s nod, Patrick rose to his feet and smiled. “Thank ye.”
“Yer welcome.”
* * * * *
“Damn!”
Maya threw her defeated hand of cards at Argyle, the three sugar-rolled ginger candies she’d just lost to him soon following. Argyle caught the candies with his mouth, gobbled them down, then rubbed his belly dramatically to goad her further.
Thomas and Patrick laughed, both of them watching intently to learn how the game of poker was played. Sara shuffled the cards, then dealt out the next hand to Maya, Argyle, Harold, her father, and herself. She glanced over to the two lairds and smiled. “Are you two ready to join in?”
“Nay,” Patrick chuckled. “I should watch a bit more afore I go losin’ my li
fe’s work tae the young knight.”
Thomas seconded that, then said, “Where is yer husband?”
“Dugald is out scouting with his men.” She shrugged, seemingly not worried. “Looking for the MacAllister as usual.” She finished dealing, then picked up her hand.
Harold scanned his cards, regarded them with dramatically greedy eyes, and smiled smugly. “I dinna need another. This hand is worthy already.”
“You’re bluffing.” Reginald waved his hand through the air. “All you ever do is bluff. Sara, dear, give me two.”
“Bluff? Now see here, Reggie, I dinna bluff this time. Ye will ken that soon enough when ye ha’ no ginger candies left tae speak of.” Harold grunted, frowning. He poked his finger toward Maya and Argyle. “These tae here are the lord and lady of yon clan called Bluff.”
“I dinna bluff,” Argyle stated matter-of-factly. “My lady cousin will tell ye as much.”
Maya grinned. “He’s right. He never learned how to. His face always turns red when he tells a lie.”
“Ha!” Harold and Reginald challenged in unison. Reginald shot a scolding finger toward Argyle. “His face didn’t redden during his last sorry hand, but he got you to fold and all he held were two eights.”
Maya’s eyes rounded to the shape of saucers. She scrunched up her face and shot a scathing look Argyle’s way. “Two eights?”
Argyle shrugged unrepentantly. “’Tis war, these cards.”
“War? I’ll show you war, Argyle! Sara!” she shouted, “give me one!”
Laughter sounded throughout the parlor. Sara grinned, then exchanged one of Maya’s cards for the one on top of the turned over deck.
Maya picked up the card she’d been dealt, then smiled sweetly towards Argyle. “Are you staying with your hand or do you wish to trade, sweetcakes?” She smiled at him again, a wicked gleam in her eye.
Argyle gulped, his eyes rounded. He took a deep breath, then sighed in acquiescence. “Give me three,” he declared morosely.
* * * * *
“I thank ye fer fergivin’ me, milady.” Patrick smiled down to Maya as they strolled through the courtyard, surveying the last of the tables that were being dragged into the great hall for tonight’s feast.
Maya shook her head, squeezing his arm. “There was nothing to forgive.” She paused for a moment, then added. “Did you think about what I said last night?”
“Aye,” he admitted. “Verra much. And, of course, ye are right. I am no’ in love with ye.”
Maya came to an abrupt halt and swung around to regard the Hamilton with a frown. “You don’t have to be so damn blunt about it!”
Patrick laughed. “Nay milady, what I meant tae say is that I shall love ye always, but I shall be noble aboot it and love ye from a far.”
Maya grinned. She jabbed her finger in his chest. “Better!”
Patrick chuckled, then reached for her arm and resumed their walk through the bailey. “Seriously, Maya, and I dinna say this tae be sweet—ye are a wonderful woman. Thomas is verra lucky indeed. And though I canna say I would no’ feel different if the circumstances themselves were different and I had met ye afore the MacGregor did, I realize now that I did fall in love more with what ye gave tae Thomas than the woman herself.” He shook his head longingly. “Ye ha’ brought him much.”
Maya smiled warmly into Patrick’s handsome face and squeezed his arm once more. “You know something? I’ve always had good intuition and right now my intuition is telling me that you are going to meet the right woman for you very soon.”
Patrick sighed. “How can ye know?”
Maya grinned mischievously. “I am wife to the MacGregor!”
He laughed. “Aye! How could I ferget?”
They walked in silence until they reached the castle doors. Then Patrick leaned down and whispered, “do ye ken who she is?”
“I know who she’s not.”
“Oh do ye now? And who is she no’?”
“She is not”—she thrust out her bosom mockingly—“Meg.”
Patrick roared with laughter, causing the heads of servants and knights alike to turn briefly toward them. He grinned down to her, truly amused. “I shall endeavor tae remember that.”
Chapter 46
Thomas and Maya lay sprawled across their bed, both sweating and sated from their lovemaking. Maya had given him two climaxes in an hour’s time. He smiled in satisfaction, knowing it would always be good between them, their lovin’. The more they came to know the wants of the other, the more fulfilling their passion became.
Thomas ran his large, battle worn hand over Maya’s silken belly and grinned. “I canna believe ye are breedin’ so soon after Angus and Beth.”
Maya glanced up at him and chuckled. “I shouldn’t be.”
“Why do ye say that, as much as I mount ye?” He ran his fingers over her still plumped up nipple and rubbed it gently between thumb and forefinger. Maya sucked in her breath. “Stop!” she half laughed and half begged as she removed her husband’s hand from her breast. “If you get me going again we’ll be late for the feast!”
“I dinna mind, vixen.”
Maya smiled up to him, bringing his mouth down to cover her own. She slipped her tongue inside of his parted lips and mated with his wet mouth for a long moment. Thomas rolled on top of his wife and settled between her thighs, releasing her from their kiss to stare down at her. He gently probed at the outer recesses of her slippery flesh with his erection. “Why did ye say ye should no’ be with my bairn?” he whispered thickly.
Maya’s eyes glazed over in need as she wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers over his buttocks. “Breast feeding is supposed to make it difficult to conceive,” she breathed out. “And I was still breast feeding when I became pregnant.”
“Ah. Then how can ye be with my bairn?” he asked.
Maya arched her hips in invitation as she grabbed a steely buttock in each hand and squeezed. “I don’t know, but I’m certain I am.”
“So ‘tis no’ impossible?”
“Apparently not.”
Thomas slid into his wife in one smooth stroke. He gritted his teeth in pleasure against the tight resistance her body always gave his thick shaft. Her moan made his teeth grind harder. “When will my bairn be birthed? How far along—”
“Thomas,” Maya chided as she gently covered his mouth with her hand.
“Aye?” he mumbled from beneath her closed fingers.
“Please hush.”
Thomas removed his wife’s hand from his mouth as he surged deeply into her tight opening. She groaned in response. “Ye dinna want me tae talk?” he whispered against her neck, sending goose pimples coursing down her spine.
“Not unless its dirty,” she qualified with another groan of pleasure.
“Dirty, hm?” He stroked into her again, thrusting into her to the hilt. She moaned, as he knew she would. “Ye dinna mind then if I tell ye of how tight yer sheath is, and of how much I love tae fuck ye?”
“I don’t mind,” she admitted on a moan.
He seated himself fully, rocking slowly in and out of her slick passage, from head to hilt, over and over again. He thrust into her as deeply as possible, then stilled, grabbing handfuls of her golden hair in his fists. “Who does yer wee body belong tae?” he asked through narrowed, lust-filled eyes.
“To the MacGregor,” she whispered without hesitation.
“Aye,” he agreed. “And dinna be fergettin’ it.”
He thrust into her savagely, then rode her fast and ferociously. Maya trembled beneath him as he drove her to climax, each hard thrust sending a new wave of pleasure rippling through her.
He was primitively sexual, her husband, and she knew there was no better aphrodisiac than that knowledge. She climaxed again, calling out his name as he pounded violently into her flesh. He shouted out not a moment later, spurting himself deep into her belly as she pulsed around his cock.
They lay intertwined in each other’s arms, spent and well sated, bre
athing deeply to still their ragged breaths. “Should we call up a bath afore we go downstairs?” Thomas asked.
Maya smiled. “Of course. I look like hell.”
“Ye could never look like hell tae me.”
“Thomas?”
“Aye?”
“I love you.”
“I know it, Maya mine. And I love ye.”
* * * * *
The revelry and merry-making of MacGregors and Hamiltons could be heard throughout the keep and no doubt for miles away. The sound of lutes and bagpipes carried out into the night, the smell of meatpies, breads, stews, candies, and berry tarts wafting onto the breeze.
Robert MacAllister watched from the trees as another group of villeins made their way through the castle gates. He motioned to four of his hired men, all as bloodthirsty as their master. They stepped from the cover of the trees in fluid strides, blending into the group of commoners with ease.
Robert smiled. Two days ago he had all but given up, realizing upon reaching the abandoned escape route that it was no longer abandoned. ‘Twas now sealed off. But he was here, walking through the castle doors in his grubby crofter’s clothing with his henchmen in tow. And no one was the wiser.
Robert spotted his quarry not a minute after emerging into the expansive great hall. She was standing next to a pregnant wench, clapping her hands in time with the music as she watched her husband dance.
Robert grew immediately erect. ‘Twas too damned easy, this.
Chapter 47
Maya watched in amusement as her husband and Maris danced through the great hall in tune with the music. She felt a little sorry for her man, knowing better than anybody just how fully he’d spent himself only an hour prior in their bedchamber. Indeed, he was having a hell of a time keeping up with the spirited midwife cum governess.
“Go easy on me, lassie,” Thomas teased as he picked Maris up and whirled her around.