by Wine, Mary
“We’ll leave the men to their business,” Noreen declared softly.
Cora stopped and faced off with Laird McKay. She performed a perfect reverence, touching one foot in front of her before placing it behind her and bending the knee to lower herself before him. “I will be certain to tell me brother how grateful I am to Chief McKay.”
Laird MaKay’s eyes squinted. He didn’t miss the warning in her words.
Honey-coated words…
The weapons of a lady were often considered insignificant against the greater strength and authority of men, but Cora watched her words hit true to target. A moment later, she was being tugged through the doorway. Out in the passageway, more McKay Retainers were clustered about. There was a full dozen there.
Faolan wasn’t welcome at all.
Noreen pulled her past the steely-faced men.
Cora felt the urge to stay.
And do what? Protect him?
She wanted to. Cora found herself dealing with the unexpected urge, while Lady McKay took her through the passageways of the McKay stronghold.
*
“What did ye do with the girl?”
Noreen looked at the reflection of her husband behind her. She finished drawing her comb down the length of her hair before she answered him. She didn’t hurry, either. Malcolm McKay’s gaze went to where her fingers were holding the silken strands of her hair as she drew the comb slowly through them.
Perfect.
Noreen turned and smiled at her husband. Her dressing robe was open just the right amount to allow him a view of her cleavage above her stays. The edge of her smock was decorated with lace, and her efforts were not wasted. Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he closed the distance between them, his gaze turning hungry while he eyed her breasts.
“I have her well in hand,” Noreen answered sweetly. “She is such a child still. I bathed her, fed her, and tucked her into bed without a quibble.”
Malcolm shifted his attention to her face. “Buchanan’s sister is worth a great deal.”
“In the right condition, yes.” Noreen agreed as she held up a single finger. “Maintaining appearances is the only thing of any real importance.”
Malcolm gave a short grunt. He reached up and laid his fingers on the swell of one of her breasts. “Ye are very skilled, madam. I forget how much so from time to time.”
Noreen leaned toward him as she placed her hand on his belly. “I would be happy to remind ye husband…of all my talents…”
Malcolm didn’t need any further baiting. He pulled his wife close, taking full advantage of her invitation.
*
Her husband snored.
Malcolm was on his back in the middle of her bed, his spent member laying in plain view.
Noreen might have been annoyed, except she needed Malcolm in her bed too much to be sour. There was an ache between her thighs, which made her smile because Malcolm had been infatuated with a buxom little maid for the better part of the last year. At long last, he was by her side once more.
After five years of marriage, all she had were two daughters. Malcolm had become cold toward her since the birth of their second child. So, she laid still on her back as the midwife had instructed her and didn’t let her mood darken over her husband’s lack of affection toward her.
He’d remained in her bed, so she would keep her thoughts focused on that fact, for it was the most important. He would wake soon, affording her another opportunity to entice him.
She needed a son, not her husband’s heart. Of course, when she’d been younger, she’d entertained ideas of falling in love. Such thoughts were folly, though, or at the very least, guaranteed to conflict with ambition. She might have only one—position or love. Let the maid have Malcolm McKay’s heart, for Noreen was the lady of the manor.
But her two daughters wouldn’t help Noreen keep the portion as mistress of the castle.
Malcolm began to stir. Noreen allowed the bedding to slip down to her waist. The snoring ceased as he woke. He propped himself up on the pillows and reached out to toy with her exposed nipples.
“Seeing Faolan reminds me of what needs doing,” Malcolm remarked.
He pinched one of her nipples. Noreen bit her lip. He was a heavy-handed man. Once she had two sons, she’d never entice him into her bed again. But for the moment, she’d endure his rough touch.
Malcolm chuckled and pinched her nipple again. “Ye are almost perfect, Noreen, but I see the distaste in yer eyes.”
He rolled over her and caught her chin, so their gazes were locked. “Shall I tell ye how much I enjoy knowing ye wed me instead of Faolan? I like knowing I took his woman.”
Malcolm’s cock was hardening again. His lips were twisted in a smile of enjoyment as he pressed her thighs wide.
But Noreen grasped his forearms to pull him to her. She lifted her hips so his cock nestled into the opening of her body.
“I have always welcomed ye in me bed,” she said in a low hiss. “Yet, ye have left me cold while sleeping with a maid.”
Malcolm grunted as he thrust into her. “Ye’re too delicate. Which is why ye’ve given me naught but daughters. I should have ye whipped for making sure me mistress does nae conceive.”
“I will give ye a son!” Noreen declared. “A high-born son! No maid can give ye a son to compare with the one I will birth for ye. Would ye have yer son suffer a bastard brother to covet his place like Faolan?”
“Do nae say his name, woman,” Malcolm declared. “Ye are the finest-blooded mare in me stable. And ye are mine!”
Malcolm was breathing hard, but she saw the determination glittering in his eyes. He twisted a hand in her hair as he rode her, pulling the strands as he neared his climax. She’d learned early in her marriage to move in time with her husband. Such effort shortened how long he’d last. Tonight was no different. He spilled his seed inside her, and before long, he was snoring again beside her.
Of course, he wouldn’t leave while Faolan was inside the castle. Malcolm was a very jealous man.
Faolan had courted her, but he’d lacked the ambition to do what was necessary to take the lairdship. Malcolm hadn’t. Her husband had a streak of cruelty in him. It was cold and vicious when he applied it to his rivals. As a son born out of a handfasting, Faolan was deemed just shy of legitimate when he stood next to Malcolm, who was the child of a union blessed by the Church.
Such a thing would have mattered little if Faolan been willing to fight for the lairdship of the McKay. Noreen let out a soft sigh of regret. Faolan had a core of integrity. It was admirable, as well as his Achilles heel. Power went to those willing to shake hands in dark passageways. To get a position such as a lairdship, a man would have to be willing to make a few promises to the older captains who wouldn’t cast their vote without knowing for certain that their interests would be priorities for the new laird.
Faolan believed in fairness and a man receiving what he earned. Pity. For she would have preferred Faolan over Malcolm. But she would be Lady McKay.
And so she was.
And the witnesses to the handfasting between Faolan’s father and mother were all gone now. The topic forbidden inside the walls of the castle. Which meant it was whispered about, and Noreen had made sure the matrons who owed her allegiance told the new generation that the handfasting had never taken place. That Faolan was a bastard. His children could never be allowed to grow up and threaten her own with their blood.
Noreen allowed her true feelings to show on her face. The moon was rising, and with the bed curtains open, the silver light washed over Malcolm while he slept.
He was harsh and jealous, but she knew how to use such traits to her advantage. Even if she’d been wearing sackcloth, her husband would have bedded her tonight. Malcolm couldn’t abide the thought of her sneaking out to tryst with Faolan.
But she needed a son. If Malcolm hadn’t come to her bed tonight, she might have contemplated cuckolding her husband. Malcolm truly was a good match for her, for she had ambiti
on, too. And there was no way she was going to allow her husband’s fickle nature over who he bedded to see her losing her position due to the lack of a son. If Malcolm didn’t fill her belly, Faolan would do well enough for the job. The bloodline wouldn’t be broken, just bent.
Noreen really needed to think of a way to keep Faolan in the stronghold for a bit longer.
*
There was a tingle on the back of Cora’s neck.
She paced across the center of the chamber Lady McKay had provided for her and turned around. Everything appeared in good order. There was a fine bed for her. Maids had hurried to make certain she had a clean smock to wear. Neatly hung in the wardrobe were no less than three dresses for her to try in the morning. Clothing was so costly, the abundance was clearly an attempt to impress her brother when Cora returned home and recounted her treatment.
Something was bothering her, though.
Ye know well what is needling ye…
Cora let out a little huff. She did know what the center of her restlessness was. She didn’t like the way Faolan had been treated.
Alright, she’d downright detested the cold look Laird McKay had used.
Do nae get involved in other families’ personal affairs…
It was sound advice. She really should listen to it. After all, she didn’t really know Faolan.
He saved yer life.
He had, and it appeared that nothing much else mattered when it came to the way she felt about the McKays.
He’d be gone at first light.
Cora couldn’t blame him. She certainly wouldn’t want to linger in a place where she was greeted so coldly. In fact, she doubted Faolan would even have stayed for the night if he wasn’t mindful of the fact that his captain, Gainor, needed to rest.
Cora felt another emotion gripping her. Just like an icy hand closed around her heart. She felt abandoned, left behind, and tears actually burned her eyes.
Tears?
She sat down, completely absorbed in the idea of knowing Faolan affected her so deeply. Her temper started to flare, but she snuffed out the flame. There was something more important to think about than her pride.
Her brother.
Aye, that was what she needed to contemplate. Buchanan hadn’t insisted on sending her to her groom. He’d given her time and freedom. Cora knew the reason why.
Her brother loved his wife.
Against all odds, he’d found love with a woman Fate and circumstance had attempted to separate him from. All of the lectures from her childhood couldn’t hold up to the fact that Cora had seen the way Buchanan looked at his wife.
Love was real.
Are ye suggesting ye love Faolan?
The question stirred up a memory of the way Faolan had carried her over his shoulder.
He could not be the man for her.
She shook her head and stood. What she needed to do was think of the encounter as confirmation of the fact that there was nothing wrong with her. All of the frustration she’d been battling before leaving the Mackenzie stronghold had a purpose. To help ensure she didn’t end up in a marriage that would strangle her.
So ye will go home and never see Faolan again?
That icy feeling was back. This time it was harder to shake off. Cora had walked toward the bed, but by the time she made it there, getting into it felt like a task she just couldn’t force herself to perform.
She let out a little hiss before she turned around and marched toward the door. A glass of warm milk would settle her down. A stronghold the size of the McKay one would have enough milk to last throughout the day.
“Ye are far too impulsive, Cora.”
She yelped.
It was an instant reaction to the way Faolan’s voice came from the darkness just outside the door to her chamber. The landing wasn’t very large, but the end of it was dark. The McKay chief materialized, walking forward on those silent steps of his until the light from behind her illuminated him.
“Christ’s wounds!” Cora exclaimed. “What are ye doing here, Faolan McKay?”
“A better question is, where are ye heading at this late hour?”
The chilly reception Faolan had received from Laird McKay hadn’t affected his confidence. His tone was edged with authority just as it always had been.
“Why are ye here?” she demanded again.
Faolan’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t precisely given to keeping his face in a pleasant expression, but she still noted the way his eyes narrowed with irritation.
“You,” he pointed at her, “have a persistent habit of going belowstairs after dark even though I have warned ye against it more than once. ’Tis the truth, I’m thinking of riding down to Mackenzie land just to have a bit of a discussion with yer brother over how lax his upbringing was of ye. Why he’s allowed ye to ride out with his Retainers is something I cannae understand.”
“Me brother wanted to grant me the chance to meet Rolfe Munro,” Cora said. “It was an act of compassion, to no’ force me to wed a man who has no’ even sent me a single letter in spite of the betrothal binding us together for more than a decade.”
Faolan tilted his head slightly to the side. He appeared to bite back whatever it was he’d been intent on saying. Cora felt her cheeks heat.
“Well, now ye know the truth of the matter,” she mumbled, uncertain as to just why she was sharing such personal details. “Me brother is kind to me.”
“Kindness is no’ always the wisest path, lass,” Faolan remarked. But there was a hint of relenting in his tone.
More like pity…
Cora lifted her chin. “And ye think I am so muddled headed as to not understand the ways of the world?” Cora inquired. “I assure ye, Faolan McKay, I do, and I’ll face them without a quibble.”
Faolan wasn’t put off by her tone. She was being harsh at best, shrewish at worst.
But at least ye are not whimpering…
“If ye truly understood, Cora, lass.” Faolan stepped closer. “Ye would have made certain the bar was secure across the door, and no’ moved it until the sun was up and ye had plenty of maids to stand as yer witnesses. Betrothal or no’, there will be no wedding if yer reputation is tarnished.”
Cora propped her hand onto her hip. “As if there is anyone in this stronghold who would go against the laird and lady of their clan.”
His lips twitched. For a moment, his lips settled into a grin. It was one that told her he was enjoying her display of stubbornness.
Lord, what that knowledge did to her.
Like tossing oil onto open flames. She felt the response flare up inside her, burning away at her resolve to remain aloof and cool beneath his hard stare. For a moment, their gazes locked. Cora felt like the very ground she stood on shifted. Her insides twisted in a crazy little motion, which made her gasp.
The sound seemed overly loud. Or perhaps it was better to say it unmasked her. Betraying her lack of composure. Something flickered in his eyes, which made her roll her lips in because they were suddenly too dry and sensitive.
His gaze lowered to her mouth.
Somehow, Cora had never really realized how long a single moment might last. She felt suspended between heartbeats. Waiting for something. Anticipation gripping her so tightly, she might well be crushed by it, but she found herself craving to know just how much more intense her feelings might become.
*
“Ye are the finest-blooded mare in me stable.”
Malcolm grinned on his way out of his wife’s chambers. Noreen was indeed blue-blooded. One of her relatives had even been a royal princess. Such was one of the many reasons he’d wed her. For the advantage her family line would add to his. Making his claim on the lairdship stronger than his half-brother, Faolan.
But Noreen had disappointed him.
Twice.
Malcolm ground his teeth as he opened the outer door and found two of his Retainers standing there. Both were loyal to him and the best men to have watch his back when he was distracted. They rea
ched up and tugged on the corner of their caps before falling into step behind him as he made his way down from the tower Noreen lived in.
Of course, loyalty had limits in any man. It was something to be traded for position and security.
His daughters were a growing source of discontent among his clansmen. There were plenty of them who had favored Faolan as laird. Malcolm had emerged victorious when the time had come for votes to be cast, but now, some of the men were rethinking the matter. Five years was a long time, and as no sons arrived, there were doubts rising. The whispers in the dark passageways were growing stronger that his lack of a male heir was a sign of God’s disapproval. The source of his clan’s worry was that he’d leave the clan in a bloody fight when he died because there was no clear heir.
Malcolm wasn’t planning on vacating the position any time soon.
He chuckled as he made his way through the dark passageways of his stronghold.
It was his.
Noreen had helped him secure it. Malcolm grinned. She was ambitious, with just the right amount of ruthlessness in her. Of course, he had more. But such was the nature of a man.
Cora Mackenzie was strong. The red hair on her head matched the fire in her eyes. She might not boast royal blood, but as the only sibling of the Mackenzie laird, she was a fine candidate for a bride.
Malcolm felt his member stir.
She’d give him a son.
In the darkness, there was little to hold back his desires. Were they sinful? Aye. Yet he didn’t much care, and even the faint flicker of hellfire he felt on the back of his neck was welcome, for it cut the chill.
Aye, Noreen, had failed him. Why wait for her to deliver another daughter? Such would be another nail in his coffin as his men looked to replace him with Faolan.
Fortune favored the bold, after all.
Cora was in his stronghold without any of her kin to watch over her. Her brother Buchanan should have kept her on a tighter leash, for the world was full of men who were looking for an opportunity to get ahead.
Malcolm was one of them.
He didn’t spare a thought for apologizing either. Cora was a prize mare and had been since her birth. Cormac Grant was a fool for not having claimed her while he had the chance. Malcolm would not make the same mistake. Now, while the night was darkest, Cora was his for the taking. Much like a lamb to a wolf. He turned and headed toward the stairs. By dawn’s light, Cora would know her place and keep her mouth shut about just how she’d ended up in his bed, for Cormac Grant wouldn’t want her with Malcolm’s seed already spilled inside her.