The Chieftain's Daughter

by Frances Housden

  Chapter 11

  Strangely enough, nae great contretemps occurred to make Maggie doubt that Dhugal wished to marry her. Their loving sometimes verged on the spectacular, leaving them both without breath or the energy to talk when they were done, Dhugal seemingly content to quickly drift off to sleep. Then there were the other times, like moments caught in a bubble, so filled with tenderness that Maggie felt she could die happy.

  The only true difference frae the first night they had shared their bodies was the way Dhugal avoided spilling his seed inside her—a subject she had swithered about bringing up. If he had nae longing for a family as yet, she could have told him about the wild carrot seeds the women in their family used to prevent conceiving. It wasnae like her to feel shy, and if the subject had been about swords and the like she’d see nae problem in having her say. Yet while they were abed together, the only sword Dhugal was interested in was the one he plunged inside her, over and over as if he couldn’t get enough until the last moment when he pulled away. It had got so that Maggie tensed, knowing what he would do, imagining ways to prevent the inevitable happening.

  Tonight she wrapped her strong legs about his hips and hung on to him for dear life. For a moment he lifted his head and matched her stare for stare until she dug her heels into his arse and pulled him in tight, tighter again and again until the weight of him, his heat inside her rose like a wave that smashed her high against the cliffs of Cragenlaw with Dhugal’s arms circling her as if he would never let her go. Teeth clenched he growled like a bear as he spilled all that he was inside her, until Maggie felt that at last she could breathe again.

  Dhugal’s breath warmed her ear while he lay heavily atop her, as if unable to move. For a few moments she thought he had fallen asleep, then his teeth nipped her earlobe. “It isn’t that wouldnae love to have bairns with ye, Maggie, but what have I to give them? Naught. It isn’t right to bring a bairn into the world without giving them hope of a guid future, a better one than their father’s. While my father lived, I was like ye are today, felt I could do nae wrong. Then my father died and my uncle threw Skene, both lands and Hall away in the mistaken belief that Donald Bane would make him at least a moermar if not an earl. When he died, there was next to naught left and even that was broken. I want more for any bairns we have, more for my wife and me as well.” He kissed the corner of her eye and her eyelashes fluttered against his lips. “Since the day we met I’ve had this feeling that such an achievement might be possible, that Skene might be mines again—ours. It’s something that has to come frae the sweat on my brow and the strength of my back. I can’t and won’t do it the easy way. I won’t accept favours frae yer father or his friends that’s not the way to make my bairns proud of me or to leave them something of substance.”

  He paused…”I want to leave my family the pride my family had afore. The self-esteem that first Robertson of Skene brought the clan when he killed that wolf and saved the king’s life with nae thought for his own safety—just the knowledge that it had to be done.”

  Maggie twisted her head until their lips met and forced a kiss on them—a kiss filled with love and longing that poured out of her frae the top of her head to the soles of her feet and all the bits betwixt, especially her heart, and she sighed as she pulled away. “Yer a guid man, Dhugal Robertson Skene, and I love ye for all ye are and all ye will become, for I have faith in ye.”

  They were still linked, for her legs still held him close, and while they kissed she felt his prick swell inside her until his full hard length had planted itself and nudged at her womb. As if reminding her he was there. She laughed at the notion, though it sounded tremulous to her own ears until she realised it was because she felt shaken, knowing the full extent of the love they shared.

  Her chest swelled, filled with emotion, pressing her breasts against the width of his naked chest, wanting closer yet knowing it was impossible. She heard Dhugal’s feelings echo her own in the roughness of his voice as he informed her, “Remember this is our last night together until we wed.”

  “Aye, I could have done without all the fuss, what with the wedding and Alexander arriving at Cragenlaw on the morrow. I hope yer aware it really wasnae what I wanted.”

  His laughter was a light in a world that had grown dimmer while Dhugal spoke. “It’s understandable, yer the Chieftain’s daughter, his only one, and he wants to spoil ye while he still can, which makes me think he has nae great opinion of me being able to do the same. I don’t blame him, but I intend to prove him wrong.”

  “And I believe ye can, but we’re wasting the night, our last one together until our wedding night,” she pointed out.

  “Ach, Maggie yer a darlin’. I remember thinking ye a wee bit forward when ye sat on the side of my bed with me half-naked and trying to hide my arse frae ye.“ Dhugal chuckled, a deep sound of joy that speared her heart. “I should have learned my lesson then, realised what I was getting myself into, for I can’t escape this love I have for ye. It burns deep inside me.”

  “But then ye don’t want to escape, do ye?” she asked the question, suddenly uncertain.

  “I’ll love ye till the day I die, lass,” he said, and sealed it with a fierce kiss.

  A lassie couldn’t ask for more that.

  Chapter 12

  “And those whom God has joined together, let nae man put asunder.” The priest’s words kept rolling around Dhugal’s mind the way the wind circled the Keep at Skene during the winter months. He dared anyone to try to part him frae this woman who had given him so much of herself.

  It was easy to admit that the sight of Maggie walking towards him in the chapel almost took his legs out frae under him. Aye, her bonnie face had blinded him and almost cost him his life the first day they met, but today she wore a blue kirtle that matched her eyes and the lass walking to him looked like an angel—his angel—and he would never forget it.

  She had brought him so much in the last month; much that had been missing frae his life—love and a family who had welcomed him with open arms and tried almost too hard to include him. How many years had it been since he experienced that?

  Not since his father’s death.

  From the start, Dhugal had suspected that the McArthur was stubborn, and today had proved him correct. He and Maggie had been given the places honour at the head of the high board, with Alexander seated on his right and Maggie on his left.

  Aye, Euan McArthur might have set his plans in motion. That didn’t mean Dhugal had to follow his lead. He had nae argument with Alexander. The man spoke with great sense and not a wee bit of humility for an earl who would one day inherit his brother’s crown. Folk said he took after his mother, Queen Margaret, who had been a godly woman and done much for Scotland, which bade well for the future.

  That didn’t mean he intended to take advantage of his guid nature.

  However, that didn’t mean he could ignore Alexander, the Earl of Gowrie. “My late mother had a fondness for the McArthur, aye and Morag’s brother Gavyn. They always supported the House of Dunkeld.”

  It was a statement Dhugal couldn’t let pass, unanswered, “As did my late father, but if he had said black, my uncle would have said white.”

  “Ah,” Alexander nodded. “Yer father didn’t always agree with his laird.”

  Dhugal’s eyes widened and his jaw might have dropped to learn Alexander, mayhap the McArthur as well might be unaware of the truth, and shaking his head, Dhugal told him, “Nae, my father was the laird, but when he died I was too young to take his place. My uncle took over the mantle of Skene’s care, with the promise it would be mine eventually.”

  He felt Maggie’s hand grip his forearm as she leaned forward on his other side. “Dhugal, how could ye never mention what happened to ye until now?”

  Her eyes were troubled, and he felt guilty, as though he had told her lies. “I thought everyone knew. It’s never been a secret.” He turned to Alexander and spoke up for himself, “However, my uncle’s actions definitely placed my sy
mpathies at yer brother’s door, having faced the same treachery myself.”

  Alexander turned to the McArthur seated on his other hand, though Dhugal had made guid note that her father hadn’t lost track of what was being said at the head of the table. “Euan this calls for a toast, have the Quaich filled with yer best Uisge beatha. Yer daughter has found a guid man.”

  Dhugal swallowed, he couldn’t believe that simply speaking what he knew to be the truth would make a difference, but who could tell? In the future, a name for veracity might very well help the Robertson clan, all of them scattered far and wide, away frae their home.

  It took a wee while, but eventually the Quaich were filled and, meanwhile, Alexander made light conversation in which Maggie and Euan joined and nae more mention was made of what had torn Dhugal’s family apart—none of which went anywhere towards relieving the tension stretching Dhugal’s nerves so tight he felt they might snap.

  At last Alexander got to his feet, a moment which meant everyone in the Hall had to do him the courtesy of standing as well. Dhugal rose up frae his seat and took Maggie’s elbow, enabling her to do the same, and she giggled, balancing her wine goblet in one hand and the other lifting her skirt to make sure she didn’t stand on the hem as Alexander lifted his Quaich. “McArthur clan, friends and family, I give ye the bride and groom.” And so saying he tipped back the Quaich in one swallow.

  About to follow suit, Dhugal’s attention was distracted by some sort of commotion at the other end of the hall as stools toppled, shoved aside as folk appeared to be hurrying away in the tight space betwixt the boards set about the hall to accommodate all the guests. With the Quaich halfway to his lips, Dhugal recognised Shug, the man he had done his best to avoid, knowing that a confrontation could ensue, mindful of the fact that hand-fasted to Maggie or nae, he had still felt like a guest in the McArthur castle.

  Even the length of the Great Hall couldn’t disguise the mad gleam in the housecarl’s eyes, and as wedding guest dodged out of the man’s way, it took a moment to recognise he held a bow in his hands with arrow nocked. As Shug’s elbow bent and the bowstring stretched, Dhugal let instinct take over, pushing Maggie to the floor with one hand and stretching the other out to Alexander, pushing in front of him as the arrow let fly, jolting him back into the Earl as pain blossomed in his shoulder. The last he remembered was Alexander supporting him with both hands as he toppled into him, listening to Maggie’s screams and the smell of Uisge beatha scenting the air.

  Like most of them seated in the hall closest to the high board, Nhaimeth was taken by surprise at the commotion coming frae behind him. Turning, he watched Shug’s unhindered march, facilitated by nae one wearing arms, having come straight to the Great Hall frae the chapel where the priest frowned on the wearing of arms, as if nae lesson had been learned frae the day of his wedding, when Brodwyn Comlyn was crippled by the slash of Henry Lamont’s sword.

  With everyone standing, Nhaimeth’s lack of inches meant his view was blocked, and as he made to push into the space betwixt the seats, Ghillie laid a hand on his arm and pulled him back, but not afore he saw Dhugal’s blood spilled. Maggie was naewhere to be seen, but he could hear her scream, “Dhugal!“ as Alexander caught her brand new husband afore he hit the floor.

  Rob, Jamie and Nhaimeth himself shoved the board away to give them room, all of them aware that Shug was about to nock another arrow. Jamie was closest, and Nhaimeth watched as with one swift movement he released a sgian dhub frae his boot and let it fly.

  Shug dropped like a stone the sgian dhub sticking out of his spine and his bow and arrow spilled onto the flags to be stamped on by Rob, who had leapt across the board to reach the housecarl.

  Of all the folk around him, Rowena and Ghillie appeared the least upset. In fact, Ghillie was grinning at him. “I told ye it would be all right,” he said.

  “All right?” Nhaimeth yelled at him, something he seldom did. “What are ye thinking lad, Dhugal has an arrow in his shoulder.”

  “Aye, but he stepped in front of Alexander and saved his life,” his son said as they watched Jamie reach down and pull his blade out of Shug’s back.

  Nonchalantly, Jamie wiped his blade clean on the dead man’s plaid. The smile he gave them was cauld, almost a hard-edged sneer as his lips narrowed. “Nae need to look surprised, Rob, It was my turn to step up. I owed all of ye.”

  His words sent a host of memories tumbling around Nhaimeth’s mind of those who had deserved to die and those that hadnae: Lhilidh. He saw a hard glitter in Rob’s eyes and kenned his thoughts had gone to her as well, so Nhaimeth decided to speak up and break the tension. “What’s that Jamie, did ye think ye were keeping up a tradition?”

  “Never mind tradition,” Rob growled through his teeth, “I need to discover if my sister’s been made a widow on her wedding day.”

  Chapter 13

  Maggie knelt on the floor beside Dhugal, tears she couldn’t control streaming down her face. She brushed them away with the back of her hand then began ripping at her bonnie kirtle to cover his wound and stop the bleeding.

  Alexander still supported Dhugal, lifting his shoulders up off the raised wooden dais. “It’s gone straight through, the devil nearly got us both.”

  “Kathryn,” Maggie was crying, “we need Kathryn.” Then her father was pulling her away when she didn’t want to leave Dhugal’s side.

  “Yer aunt Kathryn is here, lass. Let her get in to see what she can do to help him.”

  Silent and shaking, she sat down to watch Kathryn take charge with her usual efficiency, and soon the shaft of the arrow had been cut in two and drawn out—not without some pain. The moan drawn frae Dhugal as it was removed turned her heart over in her chest, and if Shug wasnae already dead she would have killed him herself; however, Jamie had seen to that small matter.

  It took the Uisge beatha to bring Dhugal back into the world, and he came to cursing housecarls and all who gave birth to them as Kathryn poured it into his wound front and back. Brodwyn’s daughter Merida was close to hand as Kathryn was teaching her cousin’s daughter how to heal. How the years had flown, it seemed nae time since she had watched Kathryn work on the wound that had crippled Brodwyn and back then, Merida had still been in her mother’s womb.

  With that done, her father and Alexander helped Dhugal to his feet, but he protested that he would be fine. “I can walk,” he said and immediately sat down next to his wife. “Ah, Maggie, don’t cry, love.” He said wiping at her tearstained cheeks with the end of his plaid, loosened by Kathryn to get at his wound.

  “I warned ye about weddings held at Cragenlaw,” she said. “We should have got married at Skene. It would have been safer.”

  “An impossible dream, Maggie lass. It nae longer belongs to the Robertson clan, but never mind, we’ll get by as long as we have each other,” he said with such feeling that she bent forward to kiss him.

  “Don’t give up on Skene just yet, Robertson.”

  Maggie looked up to see Alexander holding out his hand to her husband. “Ye saved my life today, and I’ll do my best to see yer place returned to ye. My hand on it.”

  “Actually, my lord, it was me he wanted to kill,” Dhugal, ever truthful, told Alexander as they shook hands.

  The earl laughed, “Aye, I heard he had a grudge against ye; but he also didn’t have a very guid aim, and if ye hadn’t stepped in front of me, I’d be watching guid Uisge beatha being poured on my wound instead of down my throat. So, aye, ye saved by life and I won’t forget.”

  And in case he did, Maggie wouldnae. She would make sure Dhugal got his due.

  Rob stepped forward to offer his support on the way upstairs to their chamber, and once they got there Kathryn finished binding his wound after placing pads front and back covered with tinctures she made herself.

  After everyone finally left them alone, he lay on his side, chest bare apart frae the binding Kathryn had wound around him. “At least one thing worked out well. The wound frae the arrow is atop the scar y
e gave me when we first met. Ye will never have to admit how ye stabbed me with yer sword.”

  But his words didn’t console Maggie, and her tears began to flow again. “I almost lost ye,” she sobbed, thoughts of what might have been, tying her emotions in knots.

  “Nae, my love,” he said, pulling her down on the bed to lie facing him. “Haven’t ye realised by now that there’s nae way ye will ever be rid of me. Ye couldn’t kill me, and neither could Shug, and if Alexander is true to his word, eventually we’ll return to Skene and spend the rest of our days there together.”

  “I love the thought of us, Dhugal, Maggie and our sons, at Skene together.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Sons?”

  “Aye, sons. There’s naught I can teach daughters. I can’t even thread a needle. Morag gave me over to Euan long ago, so together we can teach them to defend themselves and Skene to make sure it is never lost again.”

  Dhugal smiled, his eyes sleepy frae the potion Kathryn had mixed and poured down his throat to reduce his pain. “I love the sound of that.”

  Maggie reached out to sweep a lock of dark auburn hair away frae his eyes. “I love ye, Dhugal,” she whispered, as if it were a secret.

  “And I love ye as well, my dear heart, and I’ll expect ye to tell me that every night afore we make love, but I’m afraid I can’t manage tonight.”

  Leaning toward him, Maggie gently placed her lips against his. “Don’t let it worry ye, my darlin’. I already know how it can be betwixt us, and that’s well worth waiting for. You and me together at Skene.”

  “Together,” Dhugal murmured and promptly fell asleep.