by Reece Butler
Chapter Five
“Good morn to you, Jock.”
James backed into the shadows of the stables at the feminine voice. He’d thought Alana would be still abed. He peeked around the corner. She was as slight as she’d been as a girl though her hips and arse flared wide beneath her narrow waist. He grimaced as his cock rose to salute her. She turned slightly, and he caught a glimpse of the curve of her breast, full enough to suckle a babe. Or a man.
“I have a wee gift, a thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
Alana held out what looked like a small board. A painting?
“Lass, ‘tis my job,” replied Jock.
“Nay, ‘tis your job to teach the boys. You’ve been most kind with me over the years. Please, will you look at it?”
The old man took the board and turned it over. His eyes filled with tears. “‘Tis wee Geordie,” he whispered. His finger traced over it, not touching the surface.
“I knew you’d miss your pup when he was gone so I started this while he was alive. Geordie was a good friend to you, and the bairns. I may not ride a horse well, but I can ply a needle.”
“That ye can, lass.” The old man sniffed. He wiped his eyes with near-crippled fingers.
“I’ll miss you.” Alana gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Och, ye’ll soon forget old Jock. Ye’ll have bairns of yer own by spring.” Jock looked at the gift again. “I’ll treasure this, lass. Thank ye.”
She gave him a gentle hug. “Which horse will I be riding?”
“The dun mare. She’s ugly, but she has heart and will get ye where ye need to be.”
She smiled, though it was a sad one. “Beauty is fleeting, Jock. I’d rather have a good mount that will keep me safe than a pretty one who will founder.”
“Ye’re a smart gell.”
“Only because I’ve learned from a master horseman.”
“Whisht,” Jock ducked his head.
James had not seen this Alana before. She was beautiful, far more than she’d been as a lass though she’d gained a few lines on her face. Why was she at Lovat Castle, unmarried? Fraser refused to speak of it, saying Alana would tell him what she pleased, when she was ready. From what he could see she’d not had the pox. Her voice was sweet, she looked clean, and she spoke pleasantly to an old man. She’d even spent many hours creating a memento that would bring comfort for the rest of the horseman’s days. It was a puzzle, one that would soon be solved. Once they were alone Alana would explain it all.
“I’d best get to my horse.”
“Nay, lass, ‘tis not for ye to do.”
“I am to act as the servant of the two men guiding me home, Jock.”
“Get yerself up to the castle and say yer good-byes. I’ll see to yer mare.”
She kissed his cheek again and hurried out. Jock straightened as he watched her leave.
“I ken ye’re there, laddie. Show yerself.”
James stepped into the light. “I didna wish to disturb the lady.”
“Ye harm one hair of that lass, and I’ll find a way te kill ye. Slow.” Jock was over a foot shorter and wiry, but there was fire in his eyes.
“I am James MacDougal. My brother is Cormac. Neither of us would harm a woman, especially Lady Alana.”
Jock looked him over, his expression still fierce. “Ye ken her?”
“Aye, we fostered with her father. When we met she was five years old, a feisty wee thing with her red hair all jumbled, questions running out of her mouth along with laughter.”
“She dinna laugh much, but with the bairns.”
“Do ye ken why she’s not married with bairns of her own?”
Jock looked toward the castle, making it obvious he was not going to answer. “I heard ye’re takin’ her home to marry. Do ye ken the mon?”
“Aye,” he replied, his voice cold. “I am a bastard by birth, but William is one by choice. He would take joy in destroying a lady of such spirit. Her father thinks only of himself. The Earl of Caithness wants Alana married and cares not the character of the man she must bed.”
He hadn’t meant to say any of that but was glad to speak his piece. Jock tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Then marry the lass yerself.”
“Alana is a lady, far above my station.”
“She’s a woman first.” Jock spit into the straw. “Did she like ye afore?”
“Aye, too much,” he admitted ruefully. “She chased after us, ignoring the sons of lairds, including William. Cormac broke his nose.” He shared a smile with Jock. “We kenned the lady was not for us and had learned all we could, so when she demanded kisses we returned to Duncladach. We thought she’d soon be wed to one of the others. Why is she here, and unmarried?”
“Ye’ll have to ask the lady.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Mayhaps the lass still wants ye. Coin and a soft bed means naught if ye live in fear. Marry her.”
“I would if I could.”
“I ken the MacDougals,” said Jock. “Ye have honor and pride, if naught else.” He gave a sharp nod of approval. “I dinna wish the wee lassie to be like she was afore, all bruised and fearing.”
Daggers of ice stabbed James’s heart. “Who dared harm her? Did Laird Fraser have him whipped?”
“‘Twasn’t a Fraser what done it, lad. She were like that when she got here.” Jock narrowed his eyes, staring at James for a minute. “Dinna laugh if she’s holdin’ her wee dirk.”
She already had a dirk? If she’d been attacked in Caithness it made him more certain they must marry, bed, and get her with child as soon as possible.
“Ye care for her, aye?” demanded Jock.
“I cared for the lass. I dinna ken the woman. Yet.”
“Ye’ll have time afore ye face her da.” Jock nodded knowingly. “Alone.”
The thought of being alone with Alana hardened his cock so hard it pushed against his plaid. Jock snorted.
“Wed her, bed her with that cock yer pretendin’ isna hard, and have her belly swellin’ with yer bairn afore she sees her da. ‘Twill be too late then for him to cry nay.”
James agreed as did Cormac. They also agreed Alana must be the one to suggest it. They did not want her later saying they’d pushed her into marriage. They’d have no help from their brothers if there was trouble as the breadth of Scotland lay between Girnigoe and Duncladach. Alana had to want them, body and soul. Though the marriage suggestion must come from Alana they could encourage her to seduce them. He cleared his throat and changed the subject.
“What did she gift ye with?”
“‘Tis my wee Geordie.”
Jock held out a tapestry of a border collie. Alana had mounted it on a board to protect it. The work was so well done he almost expected the laughing mouth to bark. She’d done this for an old man who’d shown her kindness. Most women of her rank wouldn’t even recognize the man who’d saddled her horse for years. Alana the woman was nothing like the spoiled lass they’d left in Caithness. Her love for the old man, and his dog, gave him hope she might one day care for them the same.
“‘Tis a beautiful gift, one chosen with care and made with love,” he said.
The old man sniffed, then cleared his throat. “Hie yerself up to the kitchen, lad. Ye’ll not fill yer belly as well for some time.”
James accepted the dismissal and followed his feet to the castle. Alana had been badly beaten before she arrived. Why, how, and by whom? He thought on it as he crossed the bailey.
“Are ye MacDougal?”
A trim, well-dressed woman blocked his path. Judging by the way she looked him in the eye she was no servant. He nodded. A kinswoman, perhaps?
“Lady Janet would speak with ye.”
She led him up tight stairs to a south-facing room with a big oriel window. An older woman plied her needle on a strawberry cushion. Would a Campbell give him the answers he sought?
“Thank you, Maggie. You may close the door.”
She rose, sure of herself and full of dignity. He co
uld see why Fraser had rushed to visit her as soon as they docked. She held out a wooden box the size of both her fists. The lid had an intricate starburst. It was a piece of art in itself with different-colored wood inset to create the design. There was nothing like it at Duncladach. He would use his best speech and manners with this woman.
“You wish me to give this to Alana for you?”
“Nay, ‘tis yours to keep, a wee gift for caring for my dear foster daughter.”
“My clan has been well paid, my lady. We seek nothing else.”
She raised a haughty eyebrow. “’Tis a traveling chess set. Alana enjoys playing with my laird husband. He told me you share his passion. Mayhaps it will help pass the time on your long journey.”
So it was for Alana, yet given to him. He took the box from Lady Janet. It was heavier than he expected. He turned it, finding no way to open it. He placed it in his sporran. He would keep it as a surprise for a time they needed something different to do to pass the time. Playing chess with Alana would be a delight he would savor almost as much as playing with her body. Chess was more likely to happen.
“Discovering the trick of the box is part of the game, Lady Janet? Or is it your game we play?”
Her lip twitched. “You will suit Alana well.”
He tilted his head. “My lady?”
“Do not play coy, James MacDougal. We both know what Alana’s father plans for her. Alexander hired you and your brother to bring the lass to her father. We would like her married and with child before the earl sets eyes on her.” Her face hardened. “If she is forced to marry William, Alana will die. By her own hand, hanged for murder, or murdered herself. None of us wish that to happen.”
Alana would kill William, or herself, to escape him? Why would her reaction be so extreme? Lady Janet’s hard expression suggested he'd not get answers from her.
“Are you ordering me to marry the lass?”
“I am saying it will be on your head if she dies. Marry her, or find someone else far more suitable than William Sinclair of Braal.”
If Alana wasn’t a ruined, dowerless woman her father would never tolerate her marrying someone of his low rank. He and his other bastard brothers, though fully accepted at Duncladach, knew from boyhood that their fortunes would be bleak. Fate had sent Angus and Gillis to Laird Fraser with Fiona. It was Fraser’s choice to visit Duncladach to find a solution for Alana. That’s all he and Cormac were, a solution to save a young woman from a marriage she would kill, or die, to avoid.
“Why do you care for Alana so, Lady Janet?”
“She is the daughter of my dear foster sister, who died at her birth. We have sheltered her here for ten years, watching her blossom from a terrified child.”
“Why was she terrified?”
Lady Janet looked him over as if taking his measure. “’Tis no great secret that Alana was badly beaten afore she came to us. She still has nightmares and a scar on her right cheek from his ring.”
He heard a low growl, then realized he’d made the sound. “Who’s ring?” he demanded. “Did her father order her beaten?”
“Hold!” Lady Janet stood tall. She glared up at him, her brown eyes hard. “Alana does not want your pity. She was beaten badly because she fought back. She kept her maidenhead though almost lost her life. I willna tell you more, other than 'twas not ordered by the earl.”
“Whoever it was will die for touching her!”
Lady Janet’s face relaxed. She sighed, slowly shaking her head. “If men were killed each time they beat or raped a woman or child there’d be a lot fewer men left in Scotland. Or elsewhere,” she added.
That she was correct did not make it right. Pain was part of life. Deliberate cruelty was something else. He and Cormac would find, and kill, the man responsible. They’d ensure the beating would last a long, long time. He relaxed his posture, putting his rage aside for later.
“Killing off the brutes would leave more women for us handsome MacDougals,” he joked. Her tension eased, which was his intent.
“My husband has spoken of your clan. Though I am a Campbell I bear no ill wish to you. With Duncladach so far from Caithness you have little to lose by standing up to the earl and marrying Alana.”
“The earl is overly fond of his dungeon pit. Cormac was an overnight guest a few times. The cold and damp quickly cools a lad’s temper.”
She played with a ring, turning it on her finger. “Alana has spoken of you, and Cormac. In fever, and in passing now and then, but enough that I noticed. Alexander says his respect for the MacDougals, from hearing Alana speak in her fever, tempered his view of Angus and Gillis when they showed up with Fiona.”
“Your laird husband made them work hard to prove they were worth his niece. What do we have to do to prove we are worthy of Alana?”
“Nothing. She will make her own choice.”
“One forced on her by circumstances. Otherwise she would never think of us.”
“Do you care for her?”
He nodded. “Should Alana ask us to marry her we will protect and provide for her all our lives, as will our brothers if we die.”
A startled laugh burst out of her, perhaps the first honest expression he’d seen.
“You expect my niece to ask you, not the other way around?”
“It will not be said that a pair of bastards coerced the daughter of the Earl of Caithness into matrimony. Cormac and I will wait until Alana proves she wishes to wed.”
Lady Janet tilted her head. Her eyes sparkled. “You will tease her until she seduces you?”
James choked at her understanding so quickly. “Laird Fraser is lucky to have you at his side, and his back, Lady Janet.”
She broke into a delighted smile. “Yes, you and your brother are right for Alana.” She sobered. “We cannot openly encourage your union. We do, however, strongly suggest you take your time journeying north. Marry quickly and get her with child. Perhaps find an ally to tarry with until she is able to ride safely once she conceives.” She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “The earl will roar and thunder of course, but if she is already carrying his grandchild he’s not as likely to throw you in his pit.”
“We know the earl well, Lady Janet. I will have honeyed words ready for him.”
“Then go with our blessing, son of Dougal.”
Chapter Six
Alana left the nursery fighting tears. She would miss the children as if they were her own. She’d almost cried at the precious present Lady Janet had given her. A tightly rolled bundle, sealed with waxed linen, held the best needles and silk thread money could buy. She'd also given Alana a long rope of pearls, one with a clasp so she could wrap it around her neck many times. She would treasure the gifts for the rest of her life.
She’d bound her breasts and changed into breeks and a shirt after breaking her fast. She’d sat in a quiet corner in the kitchen and took small spoonfuls of porridge as she listened to stories about the MacDougal clan. It seemed Fiona, the newfound daughter of Fraser’s long-deceased sister, had married a pair of MacDougals. Fiona had handfasted with Gillis, then said vows with Angus in front of Clan Cameron’s priest. It seemed MacDougals had so many sons they had a custom of sharing a wife. Cook had made them titter when she said as long as both men were good at bedding the wife wouldn’t mind the extra work to feed and clean up after them.
She wasn’t sure how that would work. Would they take turns, one man sharing her bed each night? Or would they bed Fiona together? Her face and ears heated. She could think of that later. Much later. She had to get to the stables and ensure her gifts were well packed. She would not be late!
She took her parcel and hurried out, delighted at how much easier it was to walk without fighting skirts and petticoats. Though she carried her parcel she had one hand free. For the first time ever she ran down the stairs, going so fast the wind rushed past her ears. She laughed as she shot out of the stairway.
“Oof!”
She bounced off the burly chest of a man, arms flaili
ng. She dropped her precious bundle and scrabbled after it before he trampled it as other feet had her seedling.
“Whoa, laddie. Ye must slow yer steps a wee bit.”
A huge hand clamped on her arm and hauled her to her feet. She tried to twist away, but his fingers were so big they went all the way around her arm. His hand didn’t hurt her though it kept her from escaping. No man had dared touch her without approval since William. Nor had she been so close to one with such a physical presence. He smelled clean though the scent of horses and leather were strong.
“Let me go!” she demanded. Her voice came out higher than she’d intended.
“Alana?”
She froze, all but her heart, which pounded. She knew that voice. She looked up. Cormac MacDougal was even bigger than she remembered. The last time they’d met was burned into her brain. She’d demanded a kiss. He’d refused, turning his back on her and walking away. Furious, she’d humiliated them both. The next morning they were gone, driven away by her cruelty. And that had sealed her fate.
Cormac’s free hand went to her chin. Though she fought, he lifted it until her nose was pointing at his. She looked at his mouth rather than meeting his eyes.
“Shall I give ye what ye wanted from me the last time?” His wide lips parted in a slow smile. He still had all his teeth. White, strong ones.
“Remove your hands,” she replied, pretending a cold she did not feel.
The smile widened. He released her chin, though not her arm. “Ye canna ignore me all the way to Wick, lass.”
This was who Laird Fraser had hired to escort her? Her heart thumped even faster. If Cormac was here James couldn’t be far. Did they plan to share a wife, like their brothers did Fiona?
“No?” she demanded, refusing to allow him to know her reaction.
He gently stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Could he see her scar in this light? “Ye wanted my touch afore,” he chided.
“That was before William—”
She jammed her lips shut, forcing back the words. She yanked her arm away, then turned and ran, ignoring his voice calling her. If Cormac heard about what happened, he’d feel pity for her. She did not want his pity, she wanted…