Arsenic and Old Armor (13 page)

He pretended to wince in pain.

“
What are you doing,” he
lied, “tearing my bloody arm off?”

She looked into his face and smiled. “I’m
only taking your shirt off, you wee bairn.”

“
Oh, that’s all right,
then.” He paused for a moment. “Can I take your dress
off?”

Even in the dim light he could see the blush
that crept into her cheeks. He reached up and ran his finger down
the silky softness of her neck.

“
I promise I shan’t
complain about your fussing, so long as I can help you out of this
black tent you’re wearing.”

He saw her bite her lip in an attempt to
hide a smile. She finally managed to work the shirt off his
shoulder. He was impressed to see she was not squeamish at the
sight of blood.

“
I want my wedding night,
Marion.”

“
Hush! Your people are just
outside.”

“
Good. That means we’ll
have an entire night with no interruptions,” he said, slipping an
arm around her and bringing her mouth to his. She immediately
opened up to his kiss, and he felt the tingling heat in his loins.
After a moment, though, she pulled back, breaking off the
kiss.

“
I have to clean away this
blood first. I need to know if there is any need for
stitching.”

“
You can wash anything you
want,” he said, leaning back on his good arm and watching Marion
dip a cloth in the pitcher. She moved around him and gently dabbed
at his shoulder.

Excitement. Contentment. Hope. The feelings
curled around him like wisps of smoke and filled spaces inside that
had been empty for a long time. And they all had to do with this
woman. Marion was filling his mind. She was under his skin.

Iain couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman
as much as he wanted Marion. The image of her in her dirt-stained
dress, armed with the weapon she’d taken from her attacker, wild
hair flowing around her shoulders, was too fresh in his mind. From
that very moment, all Iain had wanted to do was to bring her inside
this cottage and make love to her. Make love to his wife.

He reached up and pulled at one of the
combs. Her hair spilled down to her shoulders.

“
You are distracting me,”
she said, inching closer to him but not moving her gaze from the
wound.

Laces ran down the front of her dress, and
Iain reached out and untied the top lace. He heard the breath catch
in her throat.

“
Iain, let me finish,” she
whispered.

He reached up again and slowly pulled the
laces out of the first pair of holes, running his finger along the
silky skin of her throat.

“
You just keep on with what
you’re doing.” He slowly pulled the next pair of laces free, and
the next.

She shifted her weight from one knee to the
other. He saw her hand tremble slightly as she dipped the cloth
into the pitcher again before taking it back to his shoulder.

Undoing the next pair, Iain gently spread
the neckline of the dress open until the tops of her breasts were
exposed. She shivered as he trailed his fingers along her throat
and chest, slipping his hand inside the fabric of the dress and
chemise. He cupped one of her breasts, lifting it and stroking the
hardening nipple with his thumb.

A soft gasp escaped her. He saw the hand
with the wet cloth withdraw from his shoulder, but she didn’t move
away. Sitting there, with her eyes wide and uncertain, she stared
at him.

“
I am not done with
you.”

“
I know,” he whispered
back, leaning down and kissing her neck. “I’m not done with you,
either.”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
Remember what I told you?
You can do whatever you want, so long as I can help you out of this
dress.”

“
But what I am wearing
underneath is hardly proper.”

Marion’s words trailed off as he pressed his
lips to the top of each breast. He pushed the dress and chemise
down and gently suckled her nipple.

She softly cried out his name, and her
fingers delved into his hair. After a moment of teasing, Iain found
she had no objection left in her as he loosened the rest of the
laces and slipped the dress off her.

Her neck and throat were a pillar of ivory,
her arms long and graceful. Her breasts were perfect and the thin
chemise did little to hide them.

“
If anyone comes in here,
I’ll die,” she said shyly.

“
Anyone comes in here, I’ll
kill him,” he replied, unable to stop touching her.

She knelt close to him again and picked up
the cloth, washing his wound.

Iain’s hand moved up her leg and beneath the
chemise. Her skin was like silk, her legs strong and smooth. His
fingers reached the juncture of her legs and she gasped again, her
hand stilling. She was moist, ready for him. He stroked the
feminine folds for a moment before withdrawing his hand. Marion’s
face was crimson, but she held her head high and cleared her
throat.

“
You are still bleeding,”
she said in a husky voice, “though less so. Unless I sew up the
wound, it may bleed again when you ride.”

“
I like your powers of
concentration,” he said, slipping the chemise off first one
shoulder and then the other. The linen fell and gathered at her
waist. “But my shoulder is not the part of me that needs your
attention right now.”

Her gaze moved down his chest. “You’ll need
to tell me what to do, where to start.”

Iain threw the towel aside and rolled her
onto the blanket. “We’ve already started.”

More than a hundred candles lit the great
hall of Fleet Tower and logs crackled and blazed in the wide
fireplace.

Torches had been set up along the top of the
square tower house, at the corner bartizans, in the courtyard, and
even along a section of a road leading in and out of the seat of
the area’s McCall clan. Because of the lack of available house
servants, the two McCall sisters had each taken on so much to keep
everything ready and festive for the impending arrival of their
niece. At the last minute, they had even decided to give their
brother a job to do…just to keep him from stealing food and
retiring to his room or escaping to the castle’s dungeons. Sir
William had been given the responsibility of keeping the candles
inside lit and the torches outside burning, a responsibility that
he fulfilled with the air of a warlord inspecting his legions.

Margaret had been in and out of the kitchens
for most of the day. The help she’d been able to muster had run for
their lives around the middle of the afternoon. Sir William’s
appearance in full armor had seen to that. In spite of the shortage
of help, Margaret wanted to have a meal ready for whenever the
travelers arrived, which to her understanding could be anytime. Sir
Iain’s mother had sent a message over, but had not given them any
specific time.

Other than assisting Margaret, Judith’s
chief responsibility today was to keep their brother, William, from
stealing away with all the food to feed his “army.” She had been
somehow negligent this forenoon, however, for she’d found two large
platters of roasted mutton missing. That is, in addition to a large
platter of cheeses and dried fruit. And three loaves of bread. She
was being a lot more careful tonight.

“
William, you will take
only what you eat,” Judith scolded him when he returned from his
inspection of the parapet. To show him what she meant, she prepared
a plate for him and placed it at his assigned seat, motioning to
him to sit down.

The array of weaponry strapped to William
McCall’s shoulder and belt and legs made it difficult for him to
sit.

“
I shall eat standing,” he
announced after several attempts. He tried to reach for his
plate.

Judith slapped his hand away. “You shall
sit, Sir William.”

“
You shall sit,” Margaret
repeated.

“
I shall stand!” he replied
authoritatively.

“
Sit,” both sisters
announced simultaneously.

“
Women!” William blurted
the word like a curse before starting to disarm. “No wonder my band
of merry men and I prefer the quiet of Leglen Wood.”

A cacophony of pings and clangs rang through
the great hall as the various weapons fell in a heap on the
floor.

Margaret poured their brother a cup of wine,
and Judith dragged the bench closer for him to sit on. The sisters
liked to fuss over him, and despite his grumbling, they knew he
enjoyed the attention.

The first bite was rising to his mouth when
the sound of horses arriving in the courtyard outside reached
them.

“
Are we under attack?” Sir
William cried, rising from the bench. “Is it the damnable English?
Sound the alarm! Call out the men!”

Judith and Margaret ran off to check. As
they knelt on one of the window seats and looked out, Sir William
hurried to arm himself.

“
Is it Marion?” Judith
asked excitedly, pushing the shutters wide open.

“
It is too dark out there.
I cannot tell,” Margaret responded.

Both sisters leaned farther out the
window.

“
Only two riders,” Judith
announced.

“
It must be our Marion and
the laird,” Margaret explained.

The crash of at least fifty pounds of metal
behind them caused both sisters to jump. They turned around and
scowled at their brother. A belt appeared to have snapped, and Sir
William—cursing under his breath—was scrambling to retrieve the
fallen arms.

There was a call of greeting from the
courtyard. Margaret and Judith waved excitedly.

“
It is Marion, and she is
dressed in…in armor!” Judith exclaimed as the two travelers moved
into the light of the torches.

“
That must be part of the
nuns’ habit on the Isle of Skye,” Margaret whispered, unable to see
that far. “Very different from the nuns here, I must
say.”

“
Very
different,” Judith repeated before calling out.
“Halloo!”

There were no grooms or servants to run out
and greet them or see to their horses. She looked over her shoulder
at William, but he was once again tangled up in his weapons, which
were continuing to drop noisily at his feet. Turning back, she was
relieved to see the two had dismounted and were tying their
steeds.

“
And she is armed,” Judith
whispered. “Do you see the size of the sword strapped to her
belt?”

Margaret squinted at the moving objects in
the courtyard, but quickly gave up. She was too excited to attend
to such details.

“
Perhaps the sword was a
going-away gift of the prioress,” she said as she leaned out the
window. “Welcome! Come in…come in!”

“
She is rather round in
shape,” Judith noted somewhat hesitantly.

“
It must have been the food
they fed her on Skye.”

The two travelers were exchanging a few
words on the steps leading up to the tower. Both voices sounded
deep, even to Margaret.

“
I cannot believe my ears,”
Judith whispered in shock. “Did you hear her voice just
now?”

“
She must have gotten a
chill on the journey. I shall give her some of my honey-ginger
brew, and she’ll be all better before the wedding.”

The more portly traveler threw back his
hood, and the two sisters stared open-mouthed as a hat fell to the
stairs. Beneath it, a shiny bald head reflected the light of the
torches.

“
Marion?” they both
exclaimed loudly with shock.

The traveler looked up and waved. “My dear
ladies, would you be so kind as to offer two lost travelers shelter
for the night? We rode ahead of our party as sunset came upon us,
and appear to have lost our way. Our destination is Blackthorn
Hall, but I don’t believe it would be wise to venture any farther
on this dangerous road until morning.”

Judith and Margaret turned to face each
other. Their whispers were simultaneous. “Englishmen.”

Judith smiled. Margaret leaned out the
window and called an enthusiastic welcome, inviting them again to
come in.

The sisters turned away from the window
seat. William had finally succeeded in strapping on all his
weapons.

“
Up to your room, Sir
William,” Judith ordered.

“
I need to inspect the men,
kind lady.”

“
Later.”

“
You can do that later,”
Margaret agreed, rushing to the table to set things
right.

“
I shall visit them now,”
William asserted.

“
Sir William, as the great
Wallace, you know that you must be prepared to train any new
recruits.”

“
Indeed.”

“
Well,” Judith said
reasonably as she took her brother by the elbow and turned him
toward the arched doorway on the far side of the great hall, “you
must rest and prepare yourself to train some new men who will be
arriving quite soon.”

“
New soldiers?” William
asked excitedly.

Judith nodded, a twinkle shinning in the
depth of her dark eyes. “We just received word.”

“
How many?”

“
Two to start with. But
there could be a dozen more at any moment.”

“
I must say I am elated at
the prospect, m’lady.”

The two sisters stood together and watched
Sir William stride through the doorway to the base of the steps.
Pausing there, he drew his sword and raised it high.