Always Mine (26 page)

“Enough!” Damron broke in. “Ye meddle where ye have not the right.” His jaw thrust forward.

Mereck’s chin rose in challenge, then his gaze swept to Bleddyn. He looked to have found his answer in the mystic’s gaze.

An increased number of men awaiting their meal sported bruises and split lips. They laughed and jostled each other,

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and bragged about their fighting prowess. All but Bleddyn looked to have been in a melee. The men at the high table had taken pains to wash their faces and hands and rinse the dirt from their hair, but even so, their odor was so pungent she wrinkled her nose.

The grunts and belches as they shoveled food into their mouths disgusted her. After the men left, Brianna whispered a plan to Meghan. They went to each woman they could trust to ask for help. Soon, the women were giggling and nodding agreement.

Late that afternoon, Damron called to his men training in the open field to join him at the river to wash away the day’s filth. The usual number followed him, but the rest jostled each other to see who would be first to enter the keep.

After they bathed, Damron and his men mounted and rode at a leisurely pace for the drawbridge. At the sight that greeted them, their mouths gaped open. Men stood bellowing and cursing with rage and refusing to pass beneath the barbican.

He soon saw the reason why.

All who passed through into the bailey were doused with soapy water poured through the murder holes and over the top of the barbican. The scent of lavender and roses wafted on the air.

Damron spied the culprits.

“If you want to dine with women,” Brianna yelled in a commanding voice, “then don’t come to us reeking of sweat, urine or anything else. You men outside the gate go to the river and bathe or we’ll help clean you.” She stood in an open embrasure. A stout older woman gripped her waist. Brianna glared down at the warriors, her hands fisted on her hips, her legs wide apart in a belligerent stance. “What sissies you are,” she taunted. “Afraid your sex will shrivel from soap and water? It won’t hurt, and it might improve your love life.”

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She had not noticed Damron, so intent was she on the smelly horde below. Meghan peeked around her and saw him.

She threw him a cheeky wave, and her loud, boyish whistle filled the air. Brianna teetered. Meghan grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Brianna, get ye down. Now!” She looked down and shook her head. He narrowed his eyes and glared. She raised her hand in a strange gesture, her middle finger pointing upward.

He need not know its meaning to ken it was not an affection-ate gesture.

“Go, Guardian,” she shouted. The wolf streaked through the portcullis. With growls and nips at their heels and buttocks, he herded the cursing men toward the flow of soapy water. The water was less menacing to their manhood than was her four-legged champion.

“Well, ladies, we willna ha’e to hold our noses this night.”

Meghan laughed, and stuck her tongue out at Damron.

He watched his men jumping and pulling off their clothes as they loped to the horse troughs to rinse themselves of the sweet-smelling soap. As they ran, they shouted curses to the heavens. Others went to the well where giggling women poured buckets of water over their soapy, naked bodies.

Damron’s long legs made short work up the stairway to the barbican. He stalked up to Brianna, grabbed her waist and turned her in the direction he wanted to go. Grasping a handful of hair at her nape, he propelled her before him. She swatted at his hand, to no avail. Mereck lifted Meghan and carried her like a bag of grain. She fought like a wildcat. He didn’t flinch.

Inside the great hall, Damron released Brianna.

“Don’t ever pull my hair again, you freaking monster.” She rounded on him, her fist aimed at his chin.

He caught it in midair. “Have we now reached seven,

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Lady?” His anger built, thinking of her precarious stance on the battlement.

“Nay, Damron,” Bleddyn said quietly. “Freaking is not what you think.”

Damron nodded, accepting his word. “Do ye realize, lass, ye could have fallen and broken every bone in yer body?” His voice made her flinch. “And what will ye do if my men decide to take matters in their own hands?”

Brianna huffed. “You’ll stop them, of course.” She looked at him as if he lacked the wits of a child. “I won’t have a stubborn herd of unwashed louts stinking up the place.”

“Ye have not the right in this.”

“Ha! Ye have not the right,” she mimicked, “to expose women to their filthy bodies. They
scratch!
”

“Scratch? Why canna they scratch?”

“Can’t they keep their hands off their private parts until they at least finish their meal? Every time I look up, some man has his hands where he shouldn’t, looking at us like we’ve given him a rash.”

“Ye are tellin’ me they are lookin’ at ye and doin’ things they should not?”

“I didn’t say that. I said they scratched when they shouldn’t.”

Brianna muttered. “You can’t talk to men who have no horse sense.”

“Horse sense? What horse sense?” He took a deep breath and tried mightily to control his temper. “If ye have a special task, ye should come to me. Ne’er do anythin’ like this again.”

“A lot of good that would do us. Ye all are near as guilty,”

Meghan said. “Ye shift and wiggle in yer seats like ye were sittin’ with tight breeches. And stink? Ye think because ye wash yer face and paws ye dinna smell? Bleddyn and Granda are the only ones who dinna reek of sweat and piss by day.”

Connor grabbed her shoulders and shoved her toward Damron. “For love of God, cousin, pull Meghan’s hair, too.”

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Damron snorted and turned on his heels. He motioned for the men to follow him to the stables, where they saddled their mounts and rode into the woods. When he called a halt, Bleddyn’s face broke into a smile. Connor and Mereck howled with laughter.

“Did you see the men’s faces when they smelled the suds?”

Connor asked when he caught his breath. “’Twill make for a sweet-smelling garrison. By God’s love, I’ve near pissed myself,” he added as he vaulted off his horse and ran behind a tree.

“Did you see Angus cup his ballocks? He believes water will shrink his treasures.” Mereck shook his head and chuckled.

“The dairy maid calls his weapon her ‘battering ram,’”

Damron replied. “’Tis likely he fears she might change the name to rosebush.”

“This count of yours, Damron. You dinna plan physical punishment, do you, brother?” Mereck’s eyes narrowed as he asked.

“How I handle Brianna is my right. Ye willna interfere. She is the most unruly woman in all of Scotland.” He hesitated, shook his head, and then added, “Except for Meghan. I must have an obedient wife. I canna allow a woman to thwart my orders, or argue over every issue. I would lose all respect from the men.”

In Meghan’s room, Brianna and Meghan laughed and compared notes on the different shapes of the men’s buttocks, shanks and other interesting areas. Suddenly, Damron’s threat flashed to Brianna’s mind. She told Meghan about his disgusting total, and about being but a few points away from a thrashing.

“Do you think he will really beat my bottom? Would he shame me like that? I’ll not stand for it.”

Meghan’s hands fisted on her hips. “He willna think twice about shamin’ ye.” Her eyebrows near met in a scowl. “He

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took my own punishment into his hands when Connor was unwillin’ to attempt the task. The first time was terrible. After that, I stitched a drying cloth to my smock. He smacked away.

I pretended to cry. Afterward, he patted my head and said he was sorry I had pushed him to be a brute. Mayhap ye should try the same trick.”

That evening, Brianna wore a loose-fitting tunic and spread her clothing as she sat. For the first time, the food’s aroma didn’t have to compete with the odor of sweat. Angry looks were cast her way. Here and there, loud arguments broke out. She gripped her trembling hands in her lap.

“Ye dirty scum! If ye think to bed me agin with yer dirty shaft ye can go back to yer sheep,” an angry woman shouted, then poured a tankard of ale over the head of her latest bed partner. Other women picked up the clamor. The men were hard-pressed to lull their shouting women so they could plead with them.

Meghan jumped to her feet. “Ye blarsted auld sheep lovers.

Ye smell like rams with yer piss and dirty arses, and then ye expect yer women to swive with ye. Afore we ducked ye with a wee bit of water this day, I doubt ye have had a drop of it on yer bodies since last summer.”

“Hold your tongue. You talk like a slattern, not a lady,”

Connor scolded as he grasped her shoulders and forced her to sit.

“Dinna tell me to shut up! They try to cause our Brianna shame.”

Damron drew his short sword and slammed the flat of the blade on the table.

“Haud yer clack.” His voice near rattled the rafters. He turned to hold Brianna’s arm. “Well now, wife. I have talked to all this day and heard a score of meanings for the word patoot. Many think it the sound a ram makes when mating,

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a sheep breakin’ wind, the name for an old ram or a ram’s sex rod.”

Brianna relaxed somewhat. But not for long.

“But, as I suspected, most deemed it somethin’ else,” he added silkily. “Callin’ yer husband a sheep’s arse brought the total to eight. Lyin’ about it, nine. This day’s events brings ye to ten.” He took his hand away.

She swallowed and watched him from the corner of her eye.

Brianna stood. “Laird Douglas, if you will excuse me? I’d like to visit Cloud Dancer tonight.”

Damron reached to haul her back to her seat.

“The lass did not ask your leave, Damron, but mine. Sit. Lord Bleddyn, if you would escort Brianna, I would be grateful.”

“Thank you, Papa Dougie. I’ll visit you in the morning.”

Mustering her dignity about her, she left the room.

Her fingers trembled on Bleddyn’s arm and, when they were out of sight of the great room, her hand tightened for firmer support. The falcon trainer was settling the raptors for the night and smiled as they came into the glow of the rushlight.

Cloud Dancer and Damron’s falcon, Gawky, stretched their necks and twisted their heads side to side to get a better view.

True to Damron’s strange naming of creatures, Gawky was the complete opposite of what he was called, for Brianna had seen him soar to the skies as gracefully as Cloud Dancer did.

Both birds made soft sounds in their throats, and she smiled.

“I wonder what they talk about?” She tilted her head as she listened, unconsciously mimicking the raptors. The men looked at each other and smiled.

She sighed and thanked Bleddyn for escorting her when they left the mews. She kissed his cheek good night. Not once had she asked him what her husband had in store for her.

Chapter 16

Brianna stood outside her bedchamber door, one hand outstretched to open it. She drew it back, then leaned her forehead against the heavy wood and closed her eyes.

Bleddyn was the catalyst to her way back to the future, though by his actions, he had made it amply clear he wanted her here. In this century. He knew everything about her. How she had no love who awaited her return to the twenty-first century. No parents. No siblings.
No one
.

Had he known about the other time? When she had thought life wasn’t worth living? And for just a brief moment had wished to give it up? Anyone would have despaired if in her shoes.

Gordon had followed her home that dreadful day. He had argued against divorce, saying she would never leave him, for she needed him. They’d always had a passionate sex life, and he had thought to rule her by it. He threw her down on the bed, and when she fought him, he used his fists while spew-ing his venom at her. He called her a fool, and said he had never loved her. Her global reputation in genetic research had opened doors for him, had made her
palatable
to him.

Her assistant, Harvey, had turned to boxing to pay his way through college. Upon learning Gordon had followed her, he

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had become uneasy and driven to her house. Harvey used his feet to nearly kick in her front door. He used his fists when he found Gordon beating her.

She didn’t leave the sanctuary of her home until sunglasses hid her fading bruises.

Gordon didn’t leave his hotel room for well over a week.

He didn’t contest the divorce. If he had, Harvey swore he’d testify Gordon had tried to murder his wife.

Brianna shuddered at the memories. Bleddyn would not have kept her here if he believed Damron would treat her violently. Would he? She wiped her sweat-soaked hands and threw open the bedchamber door.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Every candle burned, chasing the creeping twilight from the room. She spied the bed. That damned rock rested on her pillow. She bolted from the room and sped to find Meghan.

“The rock. It’s on my pillow. Do you know where Damron is?”

“With Granda.” Meghan grabbed Brianna’s shoulders and peered into the corridor. “Quickly. Hide in one of the rooms below till his temper cools.”

Brianna nodded and sprinted out the door. She made her way to the bottom of the keep, where there was a weapons room, the men’s bathing room and at the end, a storage room.

In it were barrels of goods, heavy bags of wheat and flour, bolts of cloth on shelves on the wall and every possible item needed to supply the keep. Spying an opening between the bags of flour, she scrambled toward it.

She shivered and rubbed her arms, muttering, “When did I become such a coward?”

Two floors above, Damron did not stop at his own door but went instead to Asceline’s. He would ensure she stayed well

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away from the corridor outside his chamber. He would not have his leman gloat over his disciplining his wife.

Asceline was naked. She sprawled on the cushions of her window bench, her blond hair spread over her shoulders and breasts to allow her nipples to peek through. Her legs were bent and open, inviting him. She smiled with triumph as his gaze went to the center of her that she so brazenly exposed.