Highland Champion (13 page)

Keira turned to face them, leaned back against the worktable, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nay, he doesnae appear to. And mayhap soon that will ease the sting of what happened with Duncan. I ken ye mean weel, and I thank ye for your concern, but I have to sort this all out myself. I suffered through three months of humiliating rejections. Let us just say that it left some bruises, and they need time to heal.”

Artan nodded. “Aye, they would. Weel, your new husband will certainly help ye with that. A fine, lusty fellow Liam is.”

“Aye, verra lusty. Just ask half the women in Scotland.” She almost grinned at the way both of her brothers grimaced.

“He was a free mon.” Artan shrugged. “A free mon takes what he can when he can. Sorry, lass, but few men would turn aside freely offered favors because they want to save themselves for their wives.”

“I ken it, ye hypocrites. Ye certainly expect your chosen wife to have done so.”

“Time to leave,” said Lucas even as he headed for the door. “I scent a lecture filled with complaints about men.”

Artan winked at her and turned to follow Lucas, only to frown when his brother did not move out of the open doorway. “Are our cousins squabbling with the MacFingals again?”

“Nay,” replied Lucas. “They are bringing two men this way. A young monk who looks as if he has endured one too many fasts and a big mon with a bad squint.”

Keira started to walk to the door even as she told herself the monk could not possibly be the one she was suddenly thinking of. “Does the monk have light brown hair? Oh, and has he stumbled yet?”

Three times,” replied Lucas. “The big mon seems to have a firm hold on him though. Just keeps holding him up until he gets his feet back in the right place.”

Nudging her way past her brothers, Keira stepped outside the door just as her cousins arrived with the monk and the soldier. She blinked, unable to believe her eyes. It was indeed Kester. The big man at his side was not someone she had ever seen at the monastery. It was not clear whether he was supporting Kester or Kester was supporting him. Even though Kester was standing upright and steady, the man still held onto the boy’s arm.

“M’lady, we have come to join ye in your fight to regain your lands,” Kester announced.

It would have been a grand announcement if Kester had not swung his free arm out wide at that moment and caught Keira’s cousin Colin right between the eyes. A blushing Kester hastily apologized, but when it looked as if Colin was going to retaliate anyway, Keira hurried to get the boy and his friend into the keep. As she ushered the odd pair
along, her widely grinning brothers following her, Kester introduced his friend as Sir Archibald Kerr. Keira had not taken many steps before she realized that Sir Archibald had very poor eyesight, but she said nothing until they were all seated at the head table in the great hall, sharing the remains of the feast that Fiona was still nibbling at.

“First, Kester, I would like to ken why ye have left the monastery,” Keira said as she poured him and Sir Archibald some cider. “I cannae believe the monks approved of ye running off to battle.”

After hastily swallowing the large piece of bread he had shoved into his mouth, Kester replied, “They didnae, but when I heard about all your troubles from Brother Matthew, I wanted to help.”

“That is most kind of ye, but—”

“I dinnae want to be a monk!” the boy abruptly said and blushed. “I was sent to my uncle because my father didnae want me about I was sent to the monastery because my uncle didnae want me about either. He said I was more of a danger to his men than the cursed English. My father didnae want me back, so the two of them sent me to train to be a monk. I thought that mayhap if I can help ye, ye could find a place for me and Sir Archie at Ardgleann. I wouldst do most anything. S’truth, I wouldst rather be a swineherd than a monk.”

Keira exchanged a glance with Fiona and saw the same sympathy for the boy that she herself was feeling. Even her brothers had stopped grinning. She inwardly sighed, knowing she could not send the boy back to a life he so obviously loathed. Not only would he be hurt by her rejection, yet another in what appeared to be a sad succession, but she also knew it would be condemning him to a very unhappy life.

“And ye, Sir Archibald?” she asked, watching closely as Kester handed the man his tankard and then, after the knight had had a drink, helping him guide it safely back onto the table.

“Weel, I am nay of much use to ye, but I am as willing as the laddie to help,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I am having a wee bit of trouble with my eyes, but my sword arm is still good.”

“Are ye losing your eyesight then?” she asked gently.

“Lost it. Weel, nearly. Things arenae verra clear. Helps if I squint. Took a blow to the head a few months ago, ye ken.”

“I found him in the woods as I was following ye and Sir Liam,” Kester said. “He was talking to a tree.”

“Thought it was a mon,” Sir Archibald muttered. “Squinting didnae help much that time.”

Keira was very proud of her brothers when they both quickly shoved food in their mouths to stifle their laughter. A boy who could stumble over his own shadow and a knight who could not see clearly were of no use to her, but she could not bring herself to say so. Somehow, she was going to have to find something they could do, something that would not cause them to hurt someone or themselves. All she had to do was to get Liam to agree with her.

“Keira, they will be more of a threat than a help,” Liam said. “Kester is a good lad, but I ne’er met one as clumsy as he is. And that Sir Archie is nearly blind.”

“A sad end for a fighting mon,” murmured Sigimor as he stared into his tankard of
ale.

There was a look of sympathy upon Liam’s face, but no welcome. Sigimor and Ewan’s expressions were as difficult for her to read as ever. Keira had hunted the men down in Ewan’s ledger room after everyone had supped. It had been impossible to discuss Sir Archie and Kester with any privacy until now. Worse, even though she had had hours to think of how to present her arguments in their favor, she had come up with very few.

“I ken that they will be little help,” she said, “but they have nowhere else to go.”

“Kester can return to the monastery.” Liam grimaced when Keira slowly shook her head.

“He doesnae want to be a monk, Liam. His own father and uncle sent him there, making it all too clear to him
why
they did so. He doesnae have the calling. Better than anyone here, ye ken what that means. I cannae send him back, kenning that he will be trapped there, unhappy for God alone kens how many years. There must be something—”

“Take them,” said Sigimor, smiling faintly when everyone stared at him in surprise. “She is right. There is nowhere else for them to go. The lad will be miserable as a monk, or he will run off somewhere else and get himself killed. He is a good lad, and I can see a strong, trustworthy mon in him. Just needs to grow into his feet.”

“And Sir Archie who sees so poorly he talks to a tree thinking it is a mon?” Liam asked.

“Is a good mon, but will soon be dead if he cannae find a place to live out the rest of his life safely. We are blessed. If we suffered as he does, we would have shelter and family to aid us. He has no one. The lad and the mon together do weel enough. Young Kester is Sir Archie’s eyes, and Sir Archie keeps the lad from falling down too often. And although Sir Archie cannae make his living by his sword any longer, he did so for a score or more years. He has skill and knowledge. Ye will need some of that to train new men to mon your walls.” Sigimor winked. “So long as no one stands within reach of his sword, the mon can still show ye how he used it to stay alive so long as a mercenary.”

Pushing aside the grief she felt over how many good men had died at Rauf’s hands, thus necessitating the remanning of Ardgleann’s walls, Keira said, “Mayhap they should stay here until we regain Ardgleann.”

“Nay, take them,” said Sigimor.

Liam frowned at his cousin. “Since they cannae fight, why do ye think we should take them with us?”

“No real reason. Yet. If naught else, they can tend to the horses and guard Keira.” Sigimor frowned. “Now why do ye look as if I just knocked ye offside the head?” he asked Liam.

“I was just recalling how Kester tended our horses every day when we were at the cottage,” replied Liam. “He ne’er stumbled, ne’er had e’en the smallest accident whilst in the stables. E’en Gilmour, a verra contrary beast, ne’er gave Kester any trouble.”

Sigimor nodded. “He has the touch. That may be your answer.”

“’Tis a hard step down for a weelborn lad and a knight, mercenary or not.”

“Nay as hard as the first step into a grave.”

“Good point. Verra weel.” Liam smiled crookedly when Keira hurriedly kissed his cheek, frowned when she did the same to Ewan and Sigimor, and then shook his head when she dashed off to give the news to Kester and Sir Archie. “And now, Cousin,” he
said, turning his attention back to Sigimor, “ye can tell me the other reason ye want us to take those two with us.”

“What does Rauf Moubray do to any strong, hale mon he thinks might be a threat?” asked Sigimor.

“Kills them.”

“Aye, just so, but no mon alive would e’er see young Kester or Sir Archie as a threat, would he?”

“Nay, he wouldnae,” Liam said slowly. “Ye have a plan?”

“Only possibilities, but if one presents itself, I would like to have the proper tools close at hand.”

The aroma of roasting meat filled every corner of Scarglas. There would be a huge feast tonight, but Keira felt no joyous anticipation. In the morning, they would ride out and head for Ardgleann. No swords had been drawn yet, but the battle had truly begun. She pushed aside the guilt and doubt that assailed her. This was all Rauf Moubray’s fault, not hers, and she let her anger at the man stiffen her spine as she went looking for Fiona.

When she and Liam joined the army they had gathered, there would be little privacy, so she had decided to treat this night as the eve of battle. Keira wanted it to be memorable for him as well as for herself, even if those memories made her blush right down to the soles of her feet. Since Fiona had been married for several years now, she rather hoped the woman could give her some ideas and advice. She was not sure that some of the things she did in her dreams were the sort of things men liked or would want their lady wife to indulge in. Keira also viewed such a discussion with Fiona as a good test. After all, if she could not even talk about behaving wantonly, there was little chance she would actually be able to do so.

To her delight, she found Fiona in her solar alone, cursing softly over her needlework. “Not going weel?” she asked as she sat beside Fiona on a well-cushioned bench beneath the window.

“Och, nay, ’tis going weel enough,” Fiona replied as she set her work down and smiled at Keira. “’Tis just that I like the results, but I dinnae much like doing the work.”

“I ken that feeling verra weel indeed.”

“Weel, spit it out.”

Keira looked at Fiona in surprise. “How did ye ken I have something I need to, weel,
spit out?
”

“Saw the look upon your face as ye walked over here. It was an
I can do this
sort of look. Trouble?”

“Nay, nay trouble.” Keira took a deep breath to shore up her lagging courage. “Since we ride for Ardgleann in the morning, once weel, we are with this army we have gathered, Liam and I will have verra little privacy, I rather thought that tonight—”

“Ye would give him a night to remember? Make his toes curl?”

Keira laughed. “Something like that. Since ye have been married for several years, I thought ye could advise me a little.”

Fiona nodded. “Ye want me to give ye the knowledge I may have gathered, the value of my experience, so to speak.”

“Exactly. Also, I have these dreams in which I act rather freely, but I am nay sure if what I do in those dreams is something a husband would wish his wife to do.”

“I doubt ye do anything in your dreams that would shock Liam.” Fiona got up to pour them each a tankard of cider. “If it makes ye feel good when ye do it in your dreams, I suspicion it will make ye both feel verra good indeed if ye do it for real.” Fiona served Keira her drink, then sat back down beside her. “So let us talk.” She winked at Keira. “This will be much more interesting than needlework.”

“’Tis what we expected,” Sigimor said as he watched Liam pace the ledger room.

“I ken it,” said Liam, tossing the message they had gotten from one of Sigimor’s men onto the worktable. “I but hoped for something better.”

“Some wee bit of stupidity on Rauf’s part that would let us just tiptoe inside,” said
Lucas as he slouched down even more in one of the heavy oak chairs Ewan was so fond of.

“Aye, something like that,” said Liam as he stared down at one of the drawings Keira had made that showed Ardgleann and how it was situated. “There is no way to cover ourselves if we must make a direct assault. ’Tis open land all ’round the cursed place, and since it sits upon a rise, the men on those walls will see us coming from a long way off.”

“’Tis why I chose to go now,” said Sigimor. “In a few days’ time, it should be the full dark of the moon.”

Liam nodded, silently complimenting Sigimor’s careful planning. As he fought to calm himself so that he could think more clearly, he studied the other ones gathered in the room with him, Sigimor, and Ewan. Nanty, Fiona’s brother, sat on a stool near the hearth, idly cleaning his sword. Keira’s brothers both sat in heavy oak chairs, their long legs stretched out, their ankles crossed, and their hands lightly clasped together and resting on their stomachs. At a glance, one would think them bored with it all, but he had known them long enough now to know they were as far from that as any man could be. Kester sat next to Ewan at the worktable, diligently making copies of the maps Keira had drawn of the inside of the keep. They would need those if they ever found a way inside. Sir Archie sat next to the boy, his back straight, his hands fisted on his knees, and a scowl on his face as he listened closely to every word said.

“The mon gained his prize by stealth and treachery,” said Kester as he shook sand over the map he had just finished drawing. “He would expect everyone else to do the same, and he will have a keen eye for all the ways it can be done.”

There was obviously a fine mind inside that tousled head, Liam mused, even as he murmured in agreement, “Hence the sealing up of all the bolt-holes.”

“Nay,” said Sir Archie, startling everyone. “A mon like that doesnae live as long as he has by cutting off all his routes of escape. Aye, he has closed himself up inside those walls to protect himself, but somewhere in there is a way for him to get out if all his defenses fail him.”

Liam was glad Sir Archie’s eyesight was so poor for his pride would have been badly stung by the looks of surprise cast his way. Only Sigimor and Kester looked as if the man’s insight was just what one should expect. It galled Liam to admit it, but his cousin had been right again. Sir Archie might not be able to see clearly with his eyes or be a skillful fighting man ever again, but his years as a mercenary had left the man with a wealth of useful knowledge.

“Aye, ye are right, old mon,” Sigimor said. “The question is where? And will anyone else ken about it?”

“Moubray willnae think so, but someone always kens,” said Sir Archie. “Someone he is too arrogant to see.”

“Keira kens where all the bolt-holes are, but we cannae risk testing each one.”

“A waste of time,” said Artan. “It willnae be able to be opened from outside the walls.”

“So we are back to where we started,” said Liam.

“Not exactly,” murmured Sigimor. “We just need to have a wee bit of luck. And a plan.”

After exchanging a grin with Ewan, Liam started for the door. “Weel, I am for bed.
A mon I ken once told me that bedding one’s wife until her eyes crossed was what a husband needed to do to keep her happy.” He winked at Sigimor. “I think I will give it a try.” He shut the door on Ewan, who was saying that he thought that sounded like a very good plan to him.

Keira scowled at the bedchamber door and then finished off her wine. If Liam did not join her soon, she was going to be either too annoyed or too drunk to carry out her plan. She suddenly grinned for she suspected there was another wife in another bedchamber feeling much the same. By the time she and Fiona had ended their talk, Fiona had been making plans for her husband as well.

She was glad she had worked up the courage to talk to Fiona. Although she had been a little dismayed to discover that Ewan had told his wife all about Duncan and the humiliation she had suffered during her marriage to the man, it had helped in some ways. Not only had Fiona known that Keira had no previous experience and little knowledge, but in many subtle ways, she had also made Keira begin to truly believe that none of it had been her fault. So, too, had Fiona convinced her that her dreams were nothing to be ashamed of. Indeed, Fiona had been absolutely certain that Liam would be a very happy man if the woman who Keira was in her dreams greeted him in the bedchamber this night.

Looking down at herself, Keira realized she was no longer concerned about greeting Liam in what was little more than a thin veil of linen draped over her naked body. Fiona had called it a night shift, but Keira thought that implied a substance it simply did not have. Every night shift she had ever owned had been intended to keep one modestly covered and warm. This wisp of blue smoke she wore did neither. She poured herself another drink of wine to drown that faint pinch of modesty she still felt.

When the door to the bedchamber opened and Liam walked in, she nearly gulped down all the wine to drown a sudden onslaught of nervousness. The look on his face halted her for it banished that unease better than any drink could. The smile he wore slowly turned into openmouthed astonishment. His eyes grew wide as he hastily shut and locked the door. Even from where she stood, she could see his eyes turn that warm blue color that signaled his growing desire. He licked his lips, and she fought the urge to preen a little. Fiona had spoken the truth. Men did like to see a woman as good as naked, but not quite. And, she thought as she gave Liam a slow smile, if Fiona was right about that, the woman was probably right about everything else she had advised. As he walked toward her, Keira found herself wondering if she ought to ask him to dance naked now or later, and almost laughed. That wanton lass who skipped through her dreams had definitely stepped to the fore.

Liam finally recovered enough of his wits to approach Keira. He was almost afraid to speak, as if that would break whatever spell she was weaving. Placing his hands upon her shoulders, he slowly moved them down her arms, pausing only to take the drink from her hand and set it down on the little table she stood next to. He took her hands in his and looked her over again. The linen shift she wore revealed enough to torment him and concealed just enough to make him want more.

“Where did ye get this?” he asked.

“Fiona has granted me the use of it for this one night,” she replied.

“Now I ken why one actually sees the dour Ewan smile now and then. Mayhap ye
can discover where she found linen so fine.”

Deciding she had reveled in his flattering words and looks long enough to make her nearly vain, Keira tugged her hands free of his and began to unlace his doublet. “Mayhap I will. Of course, it isnae verra warm.”

“We could build the fire up.”

Keira could tell by the faint smile upon his lips that he was not just referring to the one in the hearth. As she slowly removed his clothes, the glint of curiosity in his eyes turned to one of challenge. She was in the mood to meet it. Recalling Fiona’s advice concerning the value of anticipation, Keira took time to place each piece of his clothing carefully on a chair after she removed it. The way he stood there and allowed her to play her game excited her.

“Tell me, wife, are ye wide awake?” Liam asked when he was finally relieved of all his clothes.

“Oh, aye, wide awake.” She looked him over as slowly and carefully as he had done to her.

“And how much wine have ye drunk?”

“Just one tankard and a wee bit.” She placed her hand upon his chest and slowly caressed each rise and hollow. Beneath her palm, she could feel his heart beating as swiftly as hers was. “Did ye fear drink was making me act this way?” She stroked his taut stomach. “Nay, not drink,” she whispered against his skin as she kissed the hollow at the base of his throat.

“Then ’tis that wanton wee lass who skips through your dreams.”

“Mayhap. Are ye going to start dancing?”

“Mayhap. Later.”

He was not surprised when that last word came out in something perilously close to a squeak for Keira had curled her long, elegant fingers around his erection. She had never touched him there before, and despite how badly he had wanted her to, he had forced himself to be patient. The way she was stroking him as she spread warm kisses over his chest was going to make patience very hard to grasp hold of this time, however.

He was trembling with anticipation by the time she knelt in front of him and began to caress and kiss his legs. It was hard to believe his wife, the virgin widow who apologized for kissing his stomach, was going to do what he now desperately wanted her to do. Liam had enjoyed the pleasure once, but the woman had so clearly thought herself the master of him that he had made it one of those things he did not do. It required a level of trust he simply had not felt toward the women he had bedded over the years. He trusted Keira completely, he realized. He especially trusted her only to give or share pleasure and never to use it to gain power over him.

When the warmth of her lips finally touched his erection, he shuddered with the strength of the desire that raced through his body. He groaned softly and threaded his fingers through her hair to encourage her, to let her know her daring was most welcome. The ferocity of the passion that took hold of him as she kissed him and stroked him with her tongue, all the while caressing his backside and thighs with her soft, little hands nearly made him dizzy. Keira would never use the passion they shared to gain power over him, but he realized she already held it. He was just thanking God that the one woman he could not resist had too gentle a soul and too much honesty to play such games when Keira took him into her mouth. Liam had to lock his knees to keep standing, and had only
enough of his wits left to keep alert for the moment when he would have to step back.

That moment came far too soon for his liking. “Enough, love,” he said as he grasped her by the arms and tugged her to her feet. “I dinnae want to finish there. Nay tonight.”

Tonight he wanted to fill her with his seed as often as he could before they both collapsed from exhaustion. Liam did not really feel as if he would be facing death any time soon, but that risk existed whenever a man went to war. He had a keen desire to try to plant a child in his wife on this eve of battle.

As he carefully removed the delicate, borrowed night shift she wore, Liam was yet again surprised by his bride. The slightly dazed look she wore and the fine tremors rippling through her revealed that she had been as aroused by what she had been doing as he had been. It had been a lovely gift she had given him, but it was obvious she had fully shared in it, and he felt an odd clenching near his heart.

Picking her up in his arms, he took her to their bed, pausing only to satisfy his need to kiss her several times. Gently setting her down on top of the bed, he crouched over her. He doubted he would ever tire of seeing her delicate body, the way she looked with her long, dark hair spread out beneath her. After taking several deep breaths to regain some control over his lusts, he kissed her. There was something he knew all about but had never done, and he was eager to try it. Now it was his turn to give.