by Tarah Scott
Linnae began again, “I Linnae Donald, do now take Jacob Robert MacKinnon to be my husband. In the presence of God and before these witnesses, I promise to be a loving, faithful and loyal wife to you, for as long as we both shall live.”
Then Jacob repeated, “I, Jacob Robert MacKenzie now take ye Linnae Donald to be my wife. In the presence of God and before these witnesses, I promise to be a loving, faithful and loyal husband to you, for as long as we both shall live.” He squeezed her hand, and at the priest’s urging, added, “Ye are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. I give ye my body, that we two might be one. I give ye my spirit, ‘til our life shall be done.”
‘Til our life shall be done.
There was no turning back.
The priest said in a loud voice, “In as much as this man and woman have pledged their troth to be married this day, we call upon Heaven to bless this union. Therefore, if anyone can show just cause, why they may not be joined together by God’s law, let them now speak, or else hereafter keep silent for all time.”
He went silent for half a dozen heartbeats, and Linnae expected someone to burst into the room and shout that she was an imposter. Her heart thundered so loudly she was certain everyone in the room could hear.
Then he pronounced them married and gave Jacob leave to kiss her.
Jacob grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. She looked up into his face. He smiled down at her, and his fingers flexed on her shoulders as he lowered his head. When his mouth touched hers, she flushed at the velvety softness and warmth of his lips. When he broke the embrace, she was certain her cheeks must be flaming.
“Lass.” Lyel motioned her closer.
She sat on the bed and he grasped her hand. She was surprised at the moisture glistening in his eyes.
“I am pleased, Granddaughter.”
She suddenly felt oddly shy and said, “I will do my best to make ye proud, Laird.”
“Grandfather,” he corrected.
“Grandfather,” she whispered, and wondered when she would wake from this dream.
Jacob slowed his steps so that Linnae could match his pace without running.
“What will your clansmen think about their laird adopting a serving girl as his granddaughter, then marrying her to you?”
“They will thank him for ensuring peace.”
“Even if that serving girl is a Donald?”
He looked down at her. “Who better to help us unite our clans?”
Minutes later, they reached the great hall to find the room still filled with men and women.
Jacob grasped her hand and started toward the dais.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “You are not telling them now?”
“When is a better time?” he asked. “The longer we wait, the harder it will be.”
They reached the dais and he led her up to the table. Jacob grasped a mug and pounded on the table until the room quieted.
“My friends, as you know, I am to marry Laird MacKenzie’s granddaughter.”
Loud cheers went up.
Jacob waited until the room quieted, then said, “You also know that Lady Alison’s carriage was attacked on the way here.”
More shouts. These included threats and curses against the Donalds. “Sadly, Lady Alison was killed in the attack,” Jacob said.
A murmur swept through the room.
Jacob pulled Linnae to his side. “This is Lady Linnae, she is Lyle’s adopted granddaughter, and I have just married her with Lyle witnessing the marriage, along with Reams and Richard.
The murmurs rose again with shouts of, “Why did you not tell us?” and, “Who is Lady Linnae?”
“Lyle wanted Lady Linnae and I married before we made the announcement,” Jacob said. “This was for her safety. As for who she is, she is Lyel’s adopted granddaughter. That is enough.”
“It is true,” a man shouted. The crowd parted to reveal the priest. “I just married them as Laid MacKinnon said.”
“Is not a proper marriage until ye are married on the church steps,” a man shouted, and others joined in.
“We can repeat the vows on the church steps,” Jacob said, “but Lady Linnae and I are man and wife.”
The room went silent, then a man shouted, “Ale!”
A chorus of shouts and cries went up, and several men and women hurried toward the dais.
The women gathered around Linnae. “We must prepare the bride for the wedding night,” one said loud enough to be heard over the din.
Linnae gave Jacob a pleading look, but strong hands clamped down on his shoulders and spun him away from her.
Linnae understood what passed between a man and a woman. She just wasn’t certain she was ready for it to pass between her and Jacob.
The women had stripped her, washed her, and put her between warm sheets naked. She lay, the covers clutched to her neck, and eventually began to sweat in the warm room. How long before Jacob would come? She knew wedding celebrations could last into the wee hours of the night. Twice, she nodded off and jarred awake at sounds she believed she’d imagined.
A shout caused her to jump. More shouts followed, mingled with laughter. The men approached.
Would they all burst into the room?
Would they insist upon witnessing the consummation of the marriage?
She had heard of such happenings.
Linnae began to tremble. The voices grew closer. When they reached the door, she scooted back and sat up against the headboard, the covers up over her shoulders.
The door burst open and she tensed at sight of a dozen rowdy men pushing through the doorway with Jacob in the lead.
He whirled and shouted, “Back, lads, or I will have you whipped, one and all.”
Raucous laughter followed, along with shouts of, “There she is,” and “She’s ready for you, Jacob,” and, “If he’s too drunk to satisfy ye, lass, I can take his place.”
Jacob shoved the two closest men and they fell back into the crowd. He slammed the door, threw his weight against the wood, and shoved the bolt into place.
The door groaned against the weight of the men and a myriad of shouts and threats ensued. Jacob turned, met her gaze, and grinned. “You must forgive them. They drank too much wine and ale.”
She nodded but could find no words.
His expression gentled. “I imagine the lasses left you in a state desirable to me, but perhaps not so desirable for you.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, a man will always delight in finding a beautiful naked woman in his bed. But the woman may not care to be that naked woman.”
“I am your wife. It is my duty to submit.”
He grimaced. “A woman--particularly a naked woman in a man’s bed--should not be there because she must submit.”
“But it is a wife’s duty,” she said.
“So the priests teach,” he said. “But, Linnae, do ye no’ think that mutual liking will make for better lovemaking?”
Lovemaking? Her stomach did a flip. She hadn’t thought of it in that light. How had she thought of it? As she’d said: duty.
“You’re clearly terrified,” he said.
“Terrified?” she blurted. “I am not terrified.”
“Lass, you are clutching that sheet as if ye expect me to eat you alive.”
That wasn’t far from the truth. But her pride was pricked and she threw back the sheet and leapt to her feet.
His brows shot up. ”Ye have nothing to prove, lass. You didnae expect to be married. I’m willing to give you time to adjust to your new state.”
Her cheeks flamed, but she said, “You promised me if we wed, it would be a real marriage—you swore before God and witnesses that I was your wife.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you challenging my word?”
Linnae lifted her chin. “I am.”
“A man can’t let such a challenge go unanswered.”
He dropped his arms to his sides and strode tow
ard her. Linnae took one faltering step backward, caught herself, and stood her ground. He reached her in an instant and swept her off her feet. She cried out then tensed when he tossed her onto the bed. She bounced twice on the mattress, then frozen when he grasped his belt and unbuckled it. He tossed the belt onto a nearby bench, then shoved the plaid off his shoulder and unbuttoned his shirt.
Her mouth went dry at sight of the broad expanse of his chest. She’d never seen a man’s bare chest. Her heart pounded. Eyes locked with hers, he sloughed off the shirt, then unwound the plaid from his waist(?)body. The fabric dropped to the floor and she caught sight of the long, thick erection that jutted toward her.
She felt her eyes widened, but couldn’t help herself. She’d witnessed many a copulation between farm animals, and dogs—well, male dogs had not the slightest compunction about giving the world a peek at their male organ—but she hadn’t expected anything quite so…large.
“Not quite what you expected, eh, lass?” Jacob said.
“I am not a child,” she said.
Amusement lit his eyes. “That I can see.” His gaze dropped to her breasts… Then lower.
He took the two paces to the bed and she stiffened when he crawled onto the mattress. He swung his leg over her hips—God help her, his manhood was at eye level—and lowered himself onto her body. For an instant, the hard planes of his muscled body felt impossibly hard and heavy, then her body accommodated as he pressed her into the mattress. His hard length was crushed between them, making her feel oddly vulnerable.
He levered onto his elbows and stared down at her. Her heart thundered. Would he see her fear? He shifted and she started. Jacob looked at her as if to say, Still frightened, little rabbit? Then he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips touched, and a strange pulse began to beat between her legs in rhythm with her heart. When he’d kissed her after the wedding ceremony, his mouth had been soft and warm. Now, his lips moved with an insistence that took her breath.
She squeaked at the flick of his tongue against her mouth. He chuckled, but flicked her mouth with his tongue again, and she realized he wanted her to open her mouth. Tentatively, she parted her lips.
He drew back a hair’s breadth, and Linnae remained completely motionless as he traced her mouth with the tip of his tongue. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and tangled his tongue with hers. She drew back in shock. A tingle radiated from the apex between her legs and she touched her tongue to his. Linnae did as he had done and wound her tongue around his. He groaned. She started at the vibration of the sound through her body.
Linnae drew in a breath. She tasted the wine on his tongue, and something else undefinable. He shifted his hips between her legs and she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like for him to slip his manhood inside of her.
He abruptly broke the kiss, then slid off her onto the mattress. He yanked the sheet from beneath her and pulled it up over them, along with the blanket. He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her back against his chest and—she swallowed a yelp--his manhood nestled against her buttocks.
“Is that everything?” She asked.
“Nae,” he said.
He nuzzled her ear, then gently bit down on the lobe and nibbled. Gooseflesh raced down her arms and back.
Hurried bootfalls sounded outside in the corridor. Linnae tensed. In the next instant, the door rattled with a hard knock.
“MacKinnon,” Richard shouted. “You and Lady Linnae need to come to the laird’s room.”
Chapter 7
Jacob rose from the bench near the fire in Lyel’s room and crossed to the bed were Linnae sat beside him on the mattress. Last night, his breathing had been so shallow, everyone thought he was taking his last breaths.
Linnae had sat beside him all night, holding his hand. Lyel’s fingers were curled around hers, and his breathing was slow, but even. However, he had yet to open his eyes.
“Are you hungry, lass?” Jacob asked. “I will stay with him while you go down to get some food.”
She shook her head. “Nae. I am fine.”
He didn’t blame her for not wanting to leave. In truth, he feared leaving, as well. “I will have food brought up,” he said.
“I will remain with him, if you have things to do,” she said.
“Dinnae speak about me as if I am not here.”
Jacob froze at Lyel’s whispered words.
“You are awake,” Linnae cried. “We have been so worried.”
Lyel shifted slightly and looked at her. “No need to worry, lass. I am old. It is my time to die.” He lifted his free hand and patted the hand that gripped his other hand. “Jacob is right. You should eat.”
“He said he could have food brought here. I will stay.
Lyel's eyes shifted to him. “You have your hands full here, Jacob.”
Jacob nodded. “Aye.”
He called for food. To Jacob's surprise, Linnae was able to coax Lyel into drinking a bit of broth. By late morning, his eyes were a little brighter and he could speak above a whisper—which only gave him the opportunity to ask about the men in the dungeon and what information Jacob had learned from them.
Jacob told him that he had yet to interrogate the prisoners, then said to Linnae, “Tell Lyel about Glenwood Abbey.” Linnae hesitated, and he added, “He willnae be happy until he has every piece of information.” Jacob looked at Lyel. “He has always been like that.”
“And I will be like that until my dying breath.”
Jacob laughed despite himself. “Aye, Leyl, to your dying breath.”
Jacob stared down at Lyel, who quietly listened as Linnae described her time in Glenwood Abbey and her association with Malcolm Donald. Jacob would never cease to be amazed by Lyel. Even at the age of eighty-nine, too feeble to leave his bed, his mind was as sharp as it had ever been, and he ruled the MacKenzies with an iron fist.
“I swear, I havenae seen Malcolm in two years, Lai- Grandfather,” Linnae ended.
Lyel patted her hand. “I believe ye, lass.” Lyel looked at Jacob. “Once Malcolm learns you married Linnae, he will attempt to enlist her in his service.”
Jacob nodded.
“I have already sent word to the council. Michael will never take my place as chief,” Lyel said.
That surprised him. “I dinnae think you need me, at all.”
Lyel’s expression softened. “I need you now more than ever, lad. The lad taking my place is barely a man. Help him and you will be helping me.”
“Always,” Jacob said.
“I will leave Malcolm Donald to you,” Lyel said. “Just remember, he is responsible for my granddaughter’s death.
There was a special place in hell for Malcolm Donald, and Jacob planned on helping to get him there.
And that plan began with a wedding.
Linnae followed the wagon carrying Lady Alison’s body through the gates, then stopped and watched as it continued toward the bridge. Rebecca and Dina had no family, so Lyel had consented to bury them in the cemetery across the bridge. Lady Alison, however, was on her way home. Her brother would likely be away, but she would be buried alongside the parents she’d never known.
It seemed wrong to send her off alone, especially on an overcast day that promised rain, but Jacob and Lyel had been adamant that she not leave the safety of the castle. Whoever had killed Lady Alison might make an attempt on her life.
A cool breeze raised gooseflesh on her arms, but Linnae watched until the wagon reached the mainland and passed a group of riders. The wagon began to turn the bend.
“Goodbye, my friend,” she whispered, and stood there long after the wagon had disappeared from sight.
“Linnae!”
She turned to find Jacob striding through the gate. He hurried and caught up with her an instant later. “I have been searching for you. What the devil are you doing out here?”
A lump rose in her throat as she glanced toward the road. “I was saying goodbye.”
“What—” he broke off and p
ulled her into his arms. “I am sorry.”
She didn’t cry this time. But the pain dug deep in her heart. She allowed herself a moment of comfort in Jacob’s arms, then pulled back. They started back through the gate.
“I would like to be there when Dina and Rebecca are buried,” she said. “Their bodies are ready for burial.”
He nodded. “The cemetery is in a clearing not far from the road. I will make sure the graves are prepared.”
They passed through the gate and he pulled her aside to make way for half a dozen warriors who rode into the courtyard.
“Those are some of the men who spread the word that I have married Lyel’s adopted granddaughter,” Jacob said, as the riders continued toward the stables.
A tremor rippled through her. Jacob had sent men to spread the news of his marriage in hopes of flushing out Lady Alison’s killer.
“How many people do ye think will attend the wedding feast?” she asked.
“Cook is preparing food for at least three hundred.”
“Three hundred?” Linnae blurted. “She cannae be happy about having to prepare a feast for so many on such short notice.”
“She’s been in Lyel’s service for over forty years.” He laughed. “I think she would follow him into the grave, if possible.”
“Perhaps I should help with the preparations.”
“If ye mean giving guidance, aye,” he said.
She snapped her head up and met his gaze. “No more work in the kitchen?”
“Nae, lass. I promise, once we reach Dunakin Castle, you will be too busy running the household to do the actual cooking.” He paused, then asked, “Where did ye learn to read?”
“Some lasses at the abbey could read. One in particular, Helena, could read quite well. There were a few texts left in the scriptorium. She used those to teach anyone who wanted to learn.”
“Can you add?”
“A little.”
A group of girls, no more than sixteen years of age, passed. The lassies glanced at them—at Jacob, Linnae realized—and when they passed, giggles drifted back.