Highland Menage: A Perfect Wife Part 10

It would be a full day. Kiera would be in her element, surrounded by her clan here and in the village. Knowing their wife, she would likely try to get to the sh.o.r.e. She'd miss the sunrise blessing of fishermen, nets, and boats by their new priest, Father Patrick. The feast would be held in the bailey. By the time it was cleaned up they'd be ready for some football. That would be the highlight of his time so far at Kinrowan. He would be outside, running and fighting for the ball. The thought of pounding his opponents would get him through the rest of the day.

He used the garderobe, washed, and then listened at the door. He heard nothing so a.s.sumed they'd gone back to sleep. Both of them needed it. Malcolm only relaxed in their chamber. Duff figured his twin could use Kiera's comfort as much as the release.

He had a duty to his laird and their lady's clan. He'd grab a tray of food on the way through the kitchen and break his fast with Fergus. It was a brilliant day, cool but not cold, and after the feast he'd be breaking a few heads, starting with his brother!

Kiera smiled to herself within Malcolm's strong grasp. His hand on her breast was more of a comfort hold than a way to arouse. After Duff left they'd both taken care of their morning needs and returned to bed. She was, she realized, content. The two o.r.g.a.s.ms Duff gave her had relieved the strain that had been building.

She floated, neither awake or asleep, just...content.

Malcolm's slow, regular breathing and the slack grip he had on her breast convinced her he was asleep. This was a rare thing, something to cherish. She'd had times like this with Duff at the sheiling, but had not been alone, awake while Malcolm slept very often. He was with his brother most of the time and since they had much to do they'd not had time to play. Play was for long, cold, winter nights. She would enjoy this snuggling while she could.

As he was asleep, and they were alone, she took a chance.

"I ken you canna return it, but I love you, Malcolm MacDougal," she whispered. "You are a good man, a kind man who puts his people afore himself. That alone endears you to me. When I lie with you like this your strength, courage, and honor canna be seen. But it is always there."

Kiera's breathing slowed as she relaxed into him. She would remember this moment when she was furious with him, or he was away. She'd remember and feel blessed.

She drifted, letting sleep take her where it would go, knowing she was safe in the arms of one she loved.

Malcolm fought to keep his breathing slow and regular. Kiera loved him? How could she? He was a nothing compared to her. Though he was laird of a castle beyond his wildest dreams, it was not what he was born to be. Though he detested lies, he was living one. They called him laird and looked up to him but it was all due to his marriage with Kiera. He was an unschooled, barely literate man from the west coast who'd had to scramble all his life to survive. How dare he think he could rule over people?

Kiera had grown up with men who should have been great as they'd been sons of powerful lairds. Some had even been educated at St. Andrews in Edinburgh while he barely knew his letters. It was still more than her father, who'd admitted to needing a hand guiding his quill when he signed his name on their marriage contract.

But, though MacKenzie could neither read, nor write, he was a wily man with power over more land than any other in the Highlands. How could Kiera think of him in the same league as her father? He had no right to a woman like this, yet she'd chosen to marry them both.

Perhaps it was the babe she carried. He'd heard women got notional when carrying one. But women got notions to do strange things when they weren't, as well. From what Laird MacKenzie said, his lack of knowledge about women had nothing to do with growing up without them. Most men, it seemed, were confused by females.

What didn't confuse him was how he felt having Kiera sleep in his arms. Powerful. Protective. If anything happened to her, if anyone tried to harm her, he would not stop until she was safe, and avenged.

Perhaps she spoke those words because their marriage finally allowed her to come to Kinrowan? Yes, that must be it. She was convincing herself that her life was as she'd dreamed it.

"Aw, la.s.s, ye drive me mad," he whispered.

She was a puzzle, a perfect lady outside their chamber and a wild woman inside it. None but he and Duff saw her concentrate at the chessboard as if the outcome would determine whether their castle would lose a siege, or triumph. None heard her laughing in delight as she came while riding them.

Duff was right. She was beautiful, inside and out.

He would easily give his life for her, especially knowing his brother would take over when he was gone. He would die for her, but he'd rather live to watch their bairns grow and, if they were blessed, have babes of their own. The child she carried was Duff's. None would know who the father of the rest were. Nor did it matter.

He let her sleep. Growing a baby was a miracle that took time, energy, and rest. His c.o.c.k had other ideas. It hardened, inching up between the cleft of her a.r.s.e. Should he move to let her sleep? Her breathing didn't change, but a knowing smile appeared on her beautiful face.

"Did I wake ye, la.s.s?" He whispered in case it was a dream smile.

"Aye, but 'tis a wondrous way to wake." She wiggled her hips, rubbing her a.r.s.e against him. Somehow she caught his c.o.c.k between her cheeks and squeezed.

"Jesu!"

She giggled. "Why don't you put that where it would do the most good?"

His c.o.c.k jerked in agreement. "Ye need rest."

"I've had a rest. I need your c.o.c.k in me. Now."

l.u.s.t hit him like a strike of lightning. "Are ye sure?"

She got up on one elbow to look over her shoulder. He chuckled at her glare. He set the tip of his c.o.c.k on her p.u.s.s.y and entered in one thrust. They both gasped. He held her body tight to his chest, just feeling her clench around him. Lying on their sides like this he had access to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"I like how the babe has changed yer body." He gently squeezed her breast, making a good handhold for his thumb to flick her nipple.

"My a.r.s.e is spreading, my waist disappearing, and I'm top-heavy," she complained.

"Aye, ye are even more beautiful than the night we met."

She groaned in exasperation. "'Twasn't a compliment I was giving."

"Ah, la.s.s, what a woman thinks of her body is not the same as what her man does." He looked in her eyes and shook his head. "Ye have beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s and a fine a.r.s.e, aye. But 'tis yer smile and yer laugh, and the way yer eyes turn green when ye wish me inside ye that makes me bless yer father for bringing us together."

She blushed, looking away for a moment. "And I like your strong arms and deep voice, and the way you bellow 'mine!'."

He frowned. "I do that? I thought 'twas only Duff?"

"You are not listening when you do it," she replied with a laugh.

"I've heard you say it yerself once or twice."

Her mouth dropped and eyes opened wide. "Nay!"

"Aye." He gripped her breast in emphasis. "'Tis not just men who wish to claim what is theirs."

She crinkled her nose, something he found most endearing. "I dinna like the way some of the women eye you as if you were a sweet they'd been craving for years."

He'd seen them look. It made him uncomfortable. The ones who flashed an ankle and gave him a saucy eye, thinking they'd gain by bedding him, were the worst. He'd made it known he respected women and would keep his wedding vows. Taking a whip to a man's back for rape had shown them he was serious, but only time would prove that Kiera was the only one he wanted.

"They can look," he said, "but none can touch me but my wife."

She drilled her eyes at him. "They'd best not look too close!"

"Good to know," he replied, hiding a smile at her fierceness. It quickly faded. "'Tis like me and Duff are two halves of a whole. We shared a womb, and now we share our woman." He toyed absently with her breast. "We dinna remember our mother. Ye're the first woman to hold us, or to care since Mary died. Mayhaps that makes us more fierce to hold ye."

"I do care for you, husband." She clenched his c.o.c.k with her p.u.s.s.y muscles. "And I care for your hard c.o.c.k as well." She tilted her head and gave him a look of impatience. "I also care for food. So shall you do something about this"-she squeezed him again-"or shall I get up and break my fast?"

She'd not spoken of love, just caring this time. And then she'd reduced that to daily things. It relieved him of the burden of speaking comforting words to her. 'Love' was a nothing word, one most often used in a lie to allow a man's c.o.c.k to find release inside a woman rather than his hand.

He rolled them both over onto their knees, still joined. One hand went to her c.l.i.t while the other clutched her hip. He'd not last long but would be d.a.m.ned if he'd let go before she peaked once more!

The slightest touch on her eager c.l.i.t had her moaning.

"Is this what ye wish from me, wife?"

"'Tis a start," she said coquettishly. She gasped when he pinched. He gathered her fluid on his finger and entered her a.r.s.e. That, and his fingers on her c.l.i.t, held her in position while he slowly filed. Faster and faster, the wet slaps filled the room.

"Ye wish more?" he demanded.

"Aye!"

He twisted and drilled his finger in her a.r.s.e while pinching her c.l.i.t. She keened, high and shrill as her o.r.g.a.s.m caught his c.o.c.k in a vise. He set both hands on her hips and plowed into her, hard, as she rippled around him. He gritted his teeth, growling his roar of possession.

When the shudders faded he leaned over her, resting on his fists with his elbows locked to keep from crus.h.i.+ng her. They both fought for air. When he could inhale he moved her hair aside and kissed her shoulder.

"I missed ye, Kiera," he said between kisses. "And I missed sharing this with ye."

"Then the laird of Kinrowan had best put pleasing his wife on his list of daily ch.o.r.es, aye?"

He chuckled at her demand.

"Aye."

Chapter Twelve.

Duff pa.s.sed through the laird's office and into Fergus's lair. The old man perched on his tall stool and peered out the north window over the village to the sea. He didn't turn around.

"Ye'd best have brought me sommat to break my fast, laddie."

The only place Duff could set his tray of bread, cheese, and ale was on the extra stool. The rest of the flat surfaces, other than the floor, were covered in things Fergus insisted he needed to keep in sight. Fergus was a cantankerous old man who loved to battle with words. That suited Duff well this morning.

"Could ye mayhaps put a thing or two away?"

"The laird kicked ye out of the lady's bed, did he?"

Duff narrowed his eyes at the cackling old man. "I wish my brother hadna outlawed the use of the whip for insubordination. My arm would even now be swingin', ye auld goat!" That made Fergus slap his leg in glee, which was Duff's purpose. "Do ye never leave this place? Ye sit on yer wee stool and watch out the window like a corbie waitin' for sommat to die, so ye can feast on the carca.s.s." He poured a mug of ale and held it out.

"I see a lot, laddie." Fergus glowered at Duff as he took the mug. "'Tis quiet here, and I have all I wish to do my duty. Aye, and a thick pallet for me auld bones, a fireplace, and a garderobe all me own!"

"The garderobe's for all those workin' in the laird's office."

"Aye, but the laird dinna use it much, 'less he swilled too much ale the night afore." Fergus cut himself some bread and cheese, using quick efficient motions that didn't match his coa.r.s.e speech. "Ye'll be thankin' me for keepin' an eye out. 'Tis good I have my wee Trumpet of Doom to sound an alarum."

"Trumpet of Doom?"

Fergus, a serious look on his face, pointed to a dark corner. Peering, Duff saw an ancient, well-tarnished straight horn. "Aye, for if I must use it, 'tis deep trouble we are in."

Duff doubted the man could lift it to the window much less make a blast but one never knew what might be useful. Fergus could always drop the thing out the window on someone creeping up and knock them out.

"What have ye seen today?" he asked.

The old man had lived in Kinrowan all his life. He had keen eyes and knew everyone, by the way they moved as well as their faces. He'd told Duff how Malcolm held himself stiff like a guard dog while Duff moved with loose limbs, like a cat. Duff had practiced moving like Malcolm when alone in case the worst happened and he had to take over as laird.

He'd be free of this d.a.m.ned job but as becoming laird meant his brother was dead, he'd rather it not happen. MacDougals do their duty with pride, not s.h.i.+rking in their tasks, he reminded himself.

"'Tis nay what I've seen yet, laddie, 'tis the day," said Fergus ominously. "The sea is full on Michaelmas. 'Tis a day to take yer womenfolk out in yer wee boats. A wife tosses wheat to feed the fish so St. Michael will keep her man safe for another year."

"So there'll be lots of boats at the sh.o.r.e, with people coming in and out."

He'd not thought about that. Cromarty Strait was so narrow there'd be nothing to tell if a boat held a Ross or a MacKenzie.

"Aye, and since yer laird and lady said all could feast with 'em, and 'tis a sunny day, ye'll have strangers stopping by to have a wee peek at the new laird and lady."

"Aye, we kenned that would happen."

"But did ye think yer lady would wish to traipse around the village? Ye havena let her out for any wee visits yet, aye?"

Duff cursed. "You're right. Lady Kiera hasn't pa.s.sed through the bailey gate since we rode in. She'll wish to explore the village, and to meet all." He ran his hands through his hair, growling at his stupidity. Looking at life secondhand through papers had made him forget about reality. "We'll put a guard on her."

"Nay, lad, ye canna. They'll think ye dinna trust them, or that their lady fears them. And afore ye say it, ye canna stick to the lady yerself. The three of ye must meet every soul, and that means ye must spread yerselves out." He shook his finger to make his point. "A man willna fight as well for a laird he doesna ken. If the womenfolks like yer lady 'twill be far easier on all of us."

"I'd best talk to the keeper."

"He's at the stables but will be off to the armory next. Then 'tis the hall to break his fast. Aye, a man of habit is our Ramsay." Fergus cackled again. "Though his wee wife is changin' a few things about him."

Duff didn't know the man well, having spent most of his time with Fergus. "And what would that be?"

"He came near to a smile the other day. He ne'er did that afore Bessie."

Duff thumped his fist against his chest as if needing to start his heart again in shock at Fergus's words. He left the old man chortling, but he cursed as soon as he left the chamber. He hurried down the narrow stair and out into the bailey. Ramsay was just leaving the stables. Duff slipped into the armory as he didn't want to be obvious about meeting him.

Ramsay didn't miss much. He nodded as he came through the open door. "Master Duff, to what do I owe the honor on this fine Michaelmas Day?"

"I just had a wee word with Fergus. The man has eyes like a hawk."

"Aye, but he keeps most of what he sees to himself. Did ye ken he hasna left that room since 'twas built? Mistress Hetty sends him all he needs."

Duff grimaced at the thought of experiencing life only through watching others, or reading about them.

"Did Fergus speak of the boats, and our lady wis.h.i.+ng to wander in the village?"

Duff nodded. "Aye, and I dinna like it. We need someone to stay near her, someone she'll accept without kenning 'tis a guard, yet has keen eyes, is a quick thinker, and can pretend to be eager when he's lookin' around, not searching for the d.a.m.ned Rosses. Our laird willna wish Lady Kiera to ken she may be in danger. We've let her think all is sweetness and light so as not to upset her with the babe and all."