Possessed by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  Duncan needed to get her into bed, so he turned and walked over to it, stopping first to lift off the extra blankets that Jocelyn must have had sent there. Tugging on the top layers, he pulled the bedcovers down. If she watched him, she did not react. Going to her side, he knelt down next to her, tilted the cup and told her to drink the rest. Then he began to loosen the ties of her gown.

  Still no reaction.

  “Come, lass, you need to stand,” he said softly, drawing her to her feet so he could get her tunic and gown off.

  He accomplished it far easier than he expected because she did not resist him, a fact he feared more than anything. Soon, he lifted her into the bed, took off his own clothes, put out the candles and climbed in next to her. Shifting her onto her side, he slid one arm beneath her head, around her body and held her close.

  The tears should not have surprised him, for she’d been much stronger and for much longer a time than he would have thought possible before she let go of it all in his arms. But these tears seemed to rip her apart as she sobbed so deeply he thought she would lose her breath. Listening to her cries and thinking on all that had happened to her in these last weeks made him realize how desperately unhappy she was.

  Oh, there was an attraction between them, one that with enough time and left on its own could have developed into something more. Instead it had been used, she had been used, most foully to trap them both in this handfasted marriage. After the changes in her life since his arrival in Dunalastair, ’twas no wonder at all why she cried.

  The tempest calmed after a short time and he held her until he felt her body go limp. He smoothed the hair back from her face, adjusted her covers and let her sleep. Just as he felt the pull of sleep on his thoughts, a soft knock came at the door. Slipping carefully from her side, Duncan tugged his shirt over his head and opened the door.

  “’Tis the lass, Duncan. She is crying so,” Glenna said.

  “I will come.”

  “We tried to soothe her, since ’twas her first night here and all, but nothing works.”

  “I ken what she needs.”

  He followed Glenna back through the keep and up to the nursery. He heard the soft weeping that nearly imitated her mother’s before he entered the rooms. Ciara sat in Peigi’s arms, crying even as the woman rocked her gently to and fro and whispered soft words to her. She lifted her head and stopped crying when she spied him.

  “Duncan,” she said, holding out her little arms to him. He lifted her from Peigi’s lap and held her against his chest.

  “Hush, now, sweet,” he whispered, rubbing her back as he spoke. “What is the matter?”

  “I dinna like it here, Duncan. I want my mama,” she whispered back, causing him to smile.

  “Come then, I will take you to her, Ciara.”

  He nodded to the women and carried her through the now dark keep to his rooms. Marian had not moved, so he lifted the girl over and laid her next to her mother. Ciara squirmed her way into Marian’s arms and he heard her say her daughter’s name, though still asleep.

  Once convinced they were settled for the night, Duncan left his room and climbed the stairs leading to the top of the tower and out onto the battlements. Making his way around the outside of the tower and then the keep, he met up with the soldiers on duty and spent some time catching up on the news of the clan while he’d been away. Several bairns had been born, one of the oldest of the villagers had died and Father Micheil had witnessed the exchange of wedding vows between two couples.

  Apprised of all of the goings-on he’d missed, Duncan continued walking the battlements for a long time before walking the rest of the grounds around the keep and out-buildings. He was too wound-up for sleeping so he spent most of the night thinking on the words he would use to explain the situation to Connor. After supporting him and Marian without question this night, Duncan owed him at least an honest accounting of how he’d come to this point and what he planned to do to keep the clan safe and unharmed by whatever machinations. He spent the night walking and thinking, turning ideas and words over in his mind, seeking the right thing to do.

  When the sun rose brightly the next morning, promising a clear and sunny day, he was still walking.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A soft knock dragged her from sleep and Marian found herself surprised by two things—the sun was high in the sky, and her daughter lay sleeping at her side and her husband did not. Climbing carefully out of the bed, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and opened the door a crack to see who knocked.

  “Good morrow,” the cheerful young woman said. “I am Cora, Lady Jocelyn’s maid, and she sent me to invite you and your daughter to break your fast in the solar.”

  “What time is it?” Marian asked, embarrassed to be caught abed as the day must be nigh on three or four hours past dawn.

  “Lady Jocelyn said not to fret over the time, just to come to the solar when you and your lass are ready.”

  Marian made sure the woman told her the location of the solar and accepted the invitation. Closing the door, she discovered that someone had taken out her gowns and tunics and laid them over a trunk. With not many to choose from, Marian brushed the dirt of traveling from the best one and got dressed. ’Twas when the thought of how she’d come to be in bed undressed struck her.

  Looking around, she saw no signs of Duncan. His clothing she discovered in the other trunk, but nothing was disturbed in it. His cloak was gone as was the sword she remembered seeing ever at his side. Had he not slept here? How had Ciara gotten into her bed?

  She thought she remembered him bringing her here and giving her wine. And when she thought back to last evening, she remembered crying in his arms. Marian felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks as she remembered his arm around her, holding her close as she sobbed out her misery. ’Twas only the second time ever she’d let her feelings loose and both times had happened since the Peacemaker walked into her life just over a month ago.

  Marian climbed onto that bed and slowly roused her daughter from sleep. After their journey, sleeping in such a large and comfortable bed such as this was seductive. Ciara finally rubbed her eyes, sat up in the bed and looked around the room.

  “Where is Duncan?” she asked.

  “I ken not, sweet,” Marian answered.

  “That is what he called me, Mama,” she said as she scooted off the edge of the bed and went searching for her sack of toys.

  “Ciara, when did you see Duncan? This morn?”

  “Nay, Mama. He came in the night when I cried. I wanted to see you, but Glenna said I should stay with her and the bairns.”

  She left Ciara in the nursery after their evening meal and had not gone back. But Duncan had. In the night.

  “What did Duncan do?”

  “He held me and whispered to me and then he carried me here to sleep in the big bed with you.”

  “He did?” she asked. He would never cease to surprise her, and nothing did more than this.

  “And then he covered us up and told me to sleep. And I did.”

  “Come, Ciara. Lady Jocelyn is waiting for us to visit her.”

  Marian found her brush and arranged their hair into long braids. With the dye wearing out of her hair each time she washed it, she needed to find more of the plant root she used for the brown color. Tempted to wear a kerchief, she decided that it would bring more attention to her since none of the women in the keep seemed to be wearing them. So, she wrapped her braid around her head, covering the hair that was losing its brown shade.

  If only her hair had not been cut, she could have covered her whole head with it and not worried for several more weeks. But that, like so much of her past could not be changed now. She finished arranging and took Ciara to the lady’s solar. Greeted with friendly words, she was introduced to Rurik’s wife, Margriet, who by the looks of it, was also carrying.

  The signs were mostly Rurik kneeling in front of her with his large hands rubbing over her abdomen, clearly outlining the bairn
growing inside her.

  Was every woman here as fruitful as this?

  Her expression must have spoken for her, for Jocelyn began laughing and told Rurik to leave. He did not immediately react, apparently enjoying the feel of his babe moving under his hands, but when Connor bellowed his name out from several floors below, he moved. But before he left her side, he kissed his wife senseless right in front of them!

  With Rurik gone it took several minutes for everyone, including the lovely Margriet, to recover from his enthusiastic display of affection. A wonderful, hot, thick porridge sat warming near the hearth, and soon both she and Ciara were eating large bowls of it, sweetened with honey and creamed with fresh milk and butter. Noticing that only the two of them ate, she asked about it.

  “My husband prefers to break our fast in our chambers, so we have already eaten,” Jocelyn explained, but she did not explain the blush that filled her cheeks as she did so.

  “As does Rurik,” Margriet added, as a blush crept up her cheeks as well.

  Then the two women looked at each other and burst out laughing. Finally Margriet leaned in closer to Marian and whispered so that Ciara did not hear.

  “Our husbands find our blossoming bodies arousing, Marian,” she explained, to Marian’s complete confusion. “’Tis a struggle to get rid of them most morns.”

  Whatever could they mean? Surely Connor and Jocelyn did not…? Still? But she was carrying. And not Rurik and Margriet as well? None of this made sense to Marian.

  Men such as these usually kept lemans for their pleasure, so that their wives were not burdened by such things, and especially at times like this when they were…breeding. And men such as the laird and his valued warrior, with their status, their power and with their nearly breathtaking appearance, should have no difficulty finding any number of willing women to warm their beds. Coming up with no way to ask strangers about such things, Marian simply shrugged and turned her attentions back to her food.

  “Marian, I need your help,” Jocelyn began. “Duncan tells me of your talents with plants and herbs. Is that correct?”

  “Aye, lady…Jocelyn.” She nodded, giving the bowl to a waiting servant and wiping her hands on a linen cloth. “I kept a garden back in Dunalastair. My brother promised to send me cuttings so that I would not lose everything.”

  Ciara finished her porridge and Margriet called her over to play with her own daughter in one of the corners of the large chamber. As she watched Ciara took out her carved animals and offered one to the younger child. Content that she was playing, Marian turned her attention back to Jocelyn’s request.

  “I tend to the one here, but these last few months have been difficult and now the daft man will not let me work there. ’Tis hard to explain to someone who knows not how to break up the soil with their fingers to avoid damage to the roots the importance of such a thing.”

  Marian smiled, understanding her exact concern. Some were too heavy of hand. Some trampled tender plants underfoot. Some could not see the difference between one plant or vine and another. Very few could care for plants correctly.

  “With our harvest quickly approaching, the men will be busy seeing to that, but I thought that mayhap you might take the garden into your care and prepare it for winter?”

  “Oh, Jocelyn, I would like that!” she answered. “When can you show it to me?”

  “Since the day is a fair one, we could go now,” Jocelyn said. “Bring your daughter, if you would like and I can show you both the keep and grounds.”

  “I would like that.” Marian called out to Ciara and held out her hand. “Come, sweet. Lady MacLerie will show us around the keep. We will have gardens to work in.”

  But, the displeasure at being asked to leave her toys and her playmate lay clear on her face. Margriet smiled and looked from one to the other.

  “Ciara may stay with us and play, if you would like, Marian. ’Twould be no trouble.”

  “Mama! May I?” Ciara jumped to her feet and ran over to her, tugging on her skirts and whispering. “May I?”

  “Only if you promise to do as the lady tells you.” Marian rubbed Ciara’s head, smoothing her hair back.

  Ciara jumped up and promised to do so. “I will, Mama. I promise.” Then, with the ability that children seem to have, she ran back and lost herself in the play.

  “I can find you if there is a problem, Marian. Worry not about her,” Margriet said, answering Marian’s unspoken fears.

  With a nod, she turned to follow Jocelyn out of the solar, down to the main floor and out through the kitchens. If everyone quieted a moment when she entered or when she passed, she tried not to notice since she was, after all, a newcomer to the clan, the keep and the village and would have sparked an interest even if her name was not known. Even if…

  Jocelyn continued pointing out things and places and people that Marian should learn, so Marian paid close attention as they walked. She promised the cook to come back and speak about which herbs he favored and the steward about which ones were needed by the household. Just as she was beginning to believe that this undertaking might be bigger than her abilities, Jocelyn reassured her that others in the village also tended their own plots and provided other plants to meet the clan’s needs.

  They entered a gated plot of land and Marian took note of the size and layout of the garden. Many sections were overgrown, some looked well-tended, others not. Walking around the perimeter of it and then up and down its lanes, she evaluated the good and the bad…and the worst of it. Her assessment must have shown on her face, for she looked up to find Jocelyn frowning back at her.

  “’Tis truly that bad, Marian? If you had come at summer’s start, you would have found it in much better shape, as I was at that time.” Jocelyn laid a hand on the swell of her belly and laughed. “Where do we begin?”

  “Where do I begin,” she repeated. “I suspect your husband would not be pleased to find you working when he has told you to cease.”

  “Daft man that he is,” Jocelyn muttered. “Come, show me where you would begin.”

  They walked up one path until Marian came to the worst of it. “I need to clean this out to see where the new growth begins and what I can remove.”

  Jocelyn provided a small trowel and Marian was soon on her knees, digging happily into the rich soil of the garden. Marian lost herself in the work, following Jocelyn’s instructions and directions and at sometime later Jocelyn joined her in the work. She never realized it until Jocelyn’s startled cry as Connor lifted his wife bodily, yet with an unmistakable care, to her feet. Sitting back on her heels, Marian watched as the laird held his wife until she regained her balance. Even then, his arms stayed around her.

  “Jocelyn, you are not to do this work,” Connor growled.

  Marian climbed to her feet and started to bow to Connor, thinking of some way to explain away or at least mitigate his ire at his wife. He shook his head before she spoke her first word.

  “Nay, Marian. Think not to interfere in this matter,” he said, frowning at both of them. When she thought she might have already made herself the unwelcomed guest, he shook his head again. “You must stop this bowing to me. The only time you need do that is when the king’s man is here or some other outsider.”

  “Aye, my…” She caught the words. “Aye, Connor.”

  Jocelyn wiped her hands of the dark soil and glanced at her husband’s angry face. “I was simply helping Marian learn the garden,” she explained.

  Once he let her go, she looked around for the person who usually reported her behavior, and especially her bad behavior, to her husband. Rurik was nowhere to be seen, but she could be certain he’d told Connor of her activity here. “Connor, it feels good to move and to stretch, even as the bairn grows bigger within.”

  She smiled when she saw him understand the reference she made to their earlier private time this morn. He would not allow her to take on more physical tasks with the bairn expected in another two months, but that did not stop him from enjoying her
body as he would. They had bent and stretched together just this morn, and she now enjoyed his discomfort and the blush that moved up his face.

  “Jocelyn…” he began and then stopped, looking from her to Marian and then back. Finally, wise man that he was growing to be, he realized he could not win and stepped away.

  Jocelyn enjoyed his discomfort for a moment and then she reached up and touched his cheek. “I thank you for your concern, Connor. I promise I will not do anything more than is safe for me and the bairn.”

  He covered her hand with his and turned into it, kissing her palm. She enjoyed his touch for another minute and then stepped away. Marian was studying the soil intently, but Jocelyn did not miss the flush of embarrassment in Duncan’s wife’s cheeks. Hardly what she would have expected from a harlot.

  “Husband, if you would but bring that bench here, I could sit and talk with Marian while she works.” She waited as he did just that and as she settled on it, she asked, “So, how did you ken of my working here? Rurik as usual?”

  “Nay, do not lay the blame on him this time, wife,” Connor said. “I was on my way to speak with Duncan when I spied your disobedience from yon window in the tower.” He nodded above and behind them at the window, where Rurik now stood waving. He sighed as she raised her brows to him. “Mayhap Rurik pointed you out to me….”

  Whether Connor detected it, she knew not, but she caught Marian’s hesitation and pause in her work at the mention of Duncan’s name. Well, ’twas a usual thing for a newly married woman to take notice of her husband.

  “I have delayed you from your work long enough, Connor,” she said, itching now to learn more from Marian about how their handfasting had come about and knowing she would learn nothing with Connor’s presence. “I will see you at the noon meal?”

  Connor leaned down now and kissed her fiercely, as was his custom. Before he let her go, he whispered to her.