Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance (45 page)

The outpost was positioned on the edge of a crop of pine and juniper a good hour’s walk from the village and Maclean keep, on the west side of the loch. He’d chosen the outpost as his temporary sanctuary because it was a largely forgotten area of the Maclean holding, most times deserted, which allowed him shelter while he formulated his plan. The starkness of his accommodations was wearing on him, however; he was forced to use his oil-cloth blanket much too often to protect himself from the rain and now his food supply was running low, with no new supply available.

His sister, who lived in the village with her husband and son, had met him for the last time a few days past with food and a small crock of ale in a cave not far from the village. She’d been meeting him there every few days since he’d received his orders to leave the holding, but had refused to continue the duty at their last meeting.

Clyde fumed over their quarrel as he made his daily quarter-hour trek toward the loch to get more water. She’d balked at continuing her deception and had refused to meet him again. Aye, and then she’d started in with her carping that he should leave this place and try to find work at a stable farther south—someplace where he was not known and could begin again. She’d even said he might go as far south as
Locarbaidh
!

Why should he have to leave his home just because some rich laird’s daughter decided he was not doing his job correctly and made a fuss over it? What did she know about all the responsibilities that were piled on him? She’d no doubt never done a day’s labor in all her days. He’d done the best he could with the time and coin allowed to him, and she had ruined everything.

So he’d used a few of those coins to buy ale for himself; he could see no harm in that. Hellfire, he worked hard and he got little in return for his labor. He’d just thought to even the balance a bit, ‘twas all. If the horses were not re-shoed as often as was customary and if their stalls were not cleaned every day, there was no harm in that, either. The beasts were in no danger of dying. Besides, ‘twas the stablemen who had become much too relaxed in their duty. They knew what they were hired to do and they should have done it whether he was there to watch over them or not.

He pounded his fist against his thigh. Maryn Donald had humiliated him. When he’d been told that it had not been strapping young lads who’d overcome his struggles and tied him up, but weak little lasses, he’d been the subject of every jest on the holding for a sennight. Aye, even his stablemen had had a good laugh, and they’d boldly done it in front of him; a thing they never would have done prior to the horse theft. Besides, if he had not just come back from his neighbor’s alehouse and been a bit jolly from drink, he could never have been laid so low by two wee lasses.

As he approached the loch, he surveyed the area around him to see if an early fisher had arrived here before him. Seeing no sign of anyone, he made his way to a shallow inlet to gather his water and wash his face.

The sun was just over the horizon now, allowing him to see his reflection in the shallow water as he bent down over it. Anger filled his breast as he saw the unkempt mess he’d become. His once neatly shorn dark brown hair hung in a scraggly tangle around his unshaven face—a face that until a few moons past had been much rounder, but now had grown thin from the dearth of available food. His brown eyes were red-rimmed and his lips, cracked from exposure to the wind. Tho’ he had always been a bit stout for his five-and-a-half foot height, he’d always taken great care with his appearance, keeping himself well-shaven and his hair neatly trimmed. He’d been popular with the lasses, too. Now if they saw what he’d become, they’d no doubt run off screaming to their mamas.

Cupping his shaking palms together, he brought some of the cold water up to his face and rinsed off the grime. He was out of ale and he had a need for more. He may have to find a way to steal some from the village tonight after dark. There were several ale-wives there, and one of them was bound to have a fresh batch made.

Wiping his wet whiskers on the sleeve of his woolen tunic, he was reminded again of how far he’d sunk since he’d been tossed from his position as stable marshal.
‘Tis all the red-haired witch’s fault.
The Macleans had liked him just fine until she came and stirred the pot. She would pay for ruining his life with her meddling; he’d see to that soon enough. And ‘twould have to be soon. He had no choice but to put his plan into action forthwith. His sister had seen to that when she’d refused to aid him any longer.

As he firmed up his plan, he realized that his change in appearance would work to his advantage. He could use his natural disguise to get back inside the keep. There should be some traveling players in the area soon and he would pretend to be one of them. After that, the rest of his plan should be easy to complete.

*

Daniel was just coming around the corner of the keep when he saw Maryn stealthily looking in either direction before entering the tower where their larder was stored. Wondering at her purpose, and a bit suspicious, he followed. She was not in the ground-level chamber, he quickly discovered. At least she was not attempting to haul a heavy sack of grain back to the keep. She was perfectly capable of attempting such a thing, he knew from recent experience. He’d caught her carrying two heavy buckets of water only two days past and they’d crossed swords over it for quite a few minutes before he was able to take them from her. He walked to the base of the winding stair and with silent tread made his way up the steps to the upper chamber. The same room Jesslyn had led him to that fateful day. What mischief could his wife be up to now? Knowing Maryn as he did, ‘twas no doubt something for which he’d have little liking.

Resigned now to another round of arguments and convinced he would be displeased with whatever endeavor he found her occupied in, Daniel threw the door open, letting it bang against the wall. “
What the hell do you think you’re doing?
” he thundered.

*

Maryn screamed, her mouth full of raspberry tart and her two hands full of the same. Coughing and choking a bit, she quickly swallowed as much of the confection as she was able before turning her fuming gaze on her husband. “Am I allowed no privacy, then? Must you always be two steps behind me? Aye, I was stealing a bit more tart—will you throw me in the dungeon and toss the key in the loch for my crime?”

She saw him struggling to swallow his laughter as he relaxed against the doorframe with his arms crossed, and her face flamed hotter. But his voice was gentle when he said, “’Tis glad I am to see you feeling better these past few days since our babe quickened. But, pray, why do you hide away up here to eat? You are lady of this keep; you own every morsel of food in it—how can you steal something you already own?”

Discomfited at being discovered with both hands full of food, Maryn quickly consumed the last bite of the treat from the hand which had frozen in midair when her meddling husband had burst in upon her covert gorge, then licked the sticky juice from her fingers. She didn’t miss the tender smile this produced on her husband’s mouth and her mortification grew. “I know what you say to be truth, but my hunger has grown so much that I prefer a bit of solitude when I eat between mealtimes.”

Although she knew her babe needed nourishment, she felt uneasy asking the cook for snacks as often as she had been lately. And the sidelong glances and knowing winks going on between the staff each time they saw her with another tidbit embarrassed her as well. She knew they were pleased by her condition and meant no harm, but she’d always been sensitive about her large appetite, and now the condition had doubled in size.

Her husband straightened from his position and strolled over to her. Placing his hands on her neck, he stroked his thumbs along the underside of her jaw, lifting it up. He leaned down and ran his tongue over the stray piece of tart on her chin, taking it into his mouth before closing his lips around the place it had been and gently sucking every trace of the clinging juice away. He lightly trailed his fingers down her arms before grasping her slightly widened waist and pulling her into him. Wrapping his arms around her, he said against her ear, “You should not worry so what others think, Maryn. I find your appetite very appealing; it matches other, more intimate appetites, for which I am quite grateful. My opinion should be the only one you consider, do you not agree?”

With a sigh, she nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Pray, do not get that juicy confection on my backside.”

Maryn giggled, for he’d just sealed his fate. “But Daniel,” she said with mock ardor, “I love to feel the hard round planes of your manly hindquarters in my hands.” She turned her palmful of tart downward and massaged it into his rear.

Realizing her intent too late, he sprang away “Wha—!” Brushing the gooey mess from his tunic, he gave her an evil-eyed look, clearly trying to intimidate her. In the next instant, he snorted, then roared with laughter. “You’ve some of the treat caught in your hair, love!”

Maryn blushed. “Where?” she said, swiping at it.

He swooped her up in his arms and turned in circles. “Now what do you suppose your punishment will be for ruining my clothes? Any guesses?”

Remembering the last time he’d “punished” her, her heart skipped a beat in anticipation. “Nay, husband, what terrible retribution will you visit on my poor, ‘fruitful’ body?”

Dropping her legs to the ground, he tore at the laces on her gown. “Nay, I will not reveal my ends; part of the punishment is the blindness to what might happen next.” Bending down, he placed a quick kiss on her lips. “You shall find out only as it occurs, my wee fruit sprite.”

They used their discarded garments to cushion themselves on the hard floor. After he’d removed her clothing, he refused to use his hands on her again. Instead, using his mouth to tease and inflame her, he brought her to the edge and then retreated, until she was dizzy with need and near to begging him for release. When he began an ultra-light circumnavigation around the hood of her clitoris, making her tremble uncontrollably on the edge, she tossed her head and cried out, “Daniel, please!”

He rose up on his knees and leaned over her, placing his hands next to her head with his arms straight, he pressed the head of his manhood against the opening to her sheath and said, “If you want satisfaction, you must lift your hips and take me.”

Maryn, desperate for completion, did as he commanded, holding his hard buttocks for leverage as she bent her knees and placed her feet flat against the floor. Raising her hips high, she brought him into her, rotating against him to increase the friction. The look of taut ecstasy on his face as she did so sent a thrill coursing through her.

“Touch yourself, the way I do,” he rasped out.

Tingles of shock and embarrassment
zing
ed
!
in her chest, but wanting to please her husband, Maryn complied. Using the heels of her wide-spread feet, she rolled her hips forward and back, her inner muscles grasping and pulling on him as she stroked that place at the apex of her womb that he’d taught her could give her the release she craved, and teasing the turgid peak of her breast at the same time. The combination of her fingers and the feel of his hard arousal as she stroked it inside her triggered a volcanic surge of pleasure in her womb, and the intensity of it made her see stars. A guttural moan burst from her throat and she splintered apart. It was so intense, she forgot to breathe.

While still in the throes of her acute orgasm, Daniel sent her into another as he relinquished his power position by remaining still and began pounding into her, meeting her halfway and delving deep with each thrust. Their hips pumping together in a hard rhythm, his head flew back and his body jerked as he found his own release inside her.

The two remained there for the rest of the afternoon. Between bouts of satiated dozing they made love, with Maryn at some point turning the tables on her husband and giving him a bit of the same tender “punishment” he’d meted out to her. But when they heard the bells of sunset beginning to chime, they at last rose and, clothing themselves once more, departed the tower chamber.

*

Hours later, as she lay curled in her husband’s arms ready for sleep, she thought about the wonder of the afternoon and could not say for sure who had punished whom more. She only knew that they’d both been replete and content by the time they made their way to their bedchamber to wash before their evening meal.

She’d also managed, she thought sleepily, to extract a promise from her stubborn husband to go riding with her. He’d balked until she’d sworn to behave and only ride Fia in a slow gait. Remembering the cave where she and Callum had gone the day they’d been caught in the sudden downpour, she decided to show it to her husband. Recalling how private it was, she grinned. What a wonderful lover’s bower ‘twould be. Of course, she’d bring plenty of food along. They might be there awhile, and she’d need to fill both of her appetites. She might even share her largesse with her husband, if he served her well. With that last wicked thought, Maryn finally dozed off to sleep.

*

By the time they reached the cave, Maryn was out of the mood for a lovers tryst. She was more in the mood for a murderous rampage. Her husband had instructed and scolded her the entire ride that morn and she was ready now to pull out her hair. What had ever made her believe she could go for a ride with this man?
The lovemaking
, the wanton part of her replied. But knowing he was so over-concerned with every move she made, she should have realized that he would ruin her good mood with his constant direction. He acted as if she’d never been on horseback before in her life, for heaven’s sake. She’d practically been born on a horse. She shot a fulminous look his direction and her hands reflexively gripped the reins. In fact, she was no doubt a better horseman than he was himself. Having seen for herself that that was a blatant lie did not lessen her conviction, at least for the moment.