King's Knight [Highland Menage 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Highland Menage 8

  King’s Knight

  Isabel's marriage to Tearlach and Rory becomes strained when they live with the MacDougals at Duncladach rather than her home. Rory wishes to be with Isabel at Calltuin but must support his older twin.

  Laird Somerled is an overbearing beast, ordering her to clean decades of bachelor dirt while keeping her husbands apart from her, working elsewhere. She's determined to prove herself and refuses to complain. When Tearlach and Rory realize the situation Tearlach must choose between his wife and his laird.

  Rory and Isabel thrive in Calltuin's peace though it drives Tearlach crazy. He's a warrior and must face danger, claymore in hand, to be a man. When the king orders him to train group of highborn lads who've been lazing around Stirling, Tearlach eagerly sends for brothers Artair and Zander to help.

  Suspicion and danger increase when it's discovered a Campbell, Clan MacDougals' ancient enemy, is suspiciously added to the group at the last moment...

  Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 44,245 words

  KING’S KNIGHT

  Highland Menage 8

  Reece Butler

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  KING’S KNIGHT

  Copyright © 2015 by Reece Butler

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-484-6

  First E-book Publication: July 2015

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of King’s Knight by Reece Butler from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

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  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Reece Butler’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Reece Butler’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  Years past, while researching sixteenth century Scotland for a “back in time” romance trilogy, I took a course in Chivalrous Swordsmanship from Marshall William Edward (Bill) Fedun. He taught me accurate fifteenth century techniques with a hand-and-a-half battle sword, how to make chain mail (one slow link at a time), and much more.

  Bill died of an aggressive form of cancer while I was in Scotland researching this series. He was only 58. He was well known internationally for his custom battle armor and swords.

  From his obituary: “Swordfighter, medieval armourer, airman, mentor and teacher. Died as he lived life, faithful and steadfast to all that is best in the chivalric ideal, worshipped God, defended his country, protected the weak, encouraged the faltering and honoured his wife, Brenda.”

  In these days of selfishness, Bill was a truly chivalrous man, a hero living by the knightly virtues of Chivalry: Honor, Courtesy, Loyalty, Generosity, Prowess, Wisdom and Noblesse Oblige.

  Bill would certainly have been a King’s Knight.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About the Author

  KING’S KNIGHT

  Highland Menage 8

  REECE BUTLER

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter 1

  “Put me down!”

  Tearlach MacDougal affectionately patted the upturned arse of his struggling new bride as he left the Great Hall at Stirling Castle. She was his now, his and Rory’s. She had a few bad habits he intended to curb, such as her thinking she could give orders to him. He didn’t know much about women, but now that she had a pair of men to take care of her she wouldn’t have to make decisions. She could just do what she was told.

  “Do ye hear me, husband?” she demanded.

  She could do what she was told, but would she? It mattered not. Isabel was such a wee thing he could easily pick her up and take her where he wanted her to go, as now. He hoped King James would ensure the feast continued for most of the afternoon as the weather was too poor for a hunt. That would give them some privacy to thoroughly bed their new wife. They had to share a chamber with Lord Lovat and Lady Janet Fraser as accommodations were cramped. They didn’t mind the pallet on the floor. It was the lack of privacy to do more than cuddle that frustrated him. But with everyone feasting he intended to consummate their marriage properly.

  “Hush, wife,” he ordered when Isabel continued to struggle.

  “Dinna ‘hush’ me, Tearlach MacDougal! I may be yer wife now, but—”

  Holding her legs with his left arm so she wouldn’t kick him, he used his right to swat her arse soundly. She shrieked. Behind them Rory laughed, encouraging others to do so.

  “There is nay ‘but’ to it, wife,” said Tearlach loudly. “Ye’ll obey me in all things.”

  “Sweetling,” said Rory quietly from behind, “ye told King James ye wished to marry yer man. Tearlach said he’d train ye to be a good
wife. Best to act it. Ye may speak up when we are in our chamber, alone.”

  She stopped struggling. “Aye, husband,” she said clearly.

  Tearlach put her down once they were outside. Her face was red from being upside down. He told himself he had to hold her tight so she wouldn’t swoon.

  “I said ‘aye, husband’ meaning that I’d speak up in our chamber,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  She was a stubborn, wee lass and would need some training. That was for later. “I am eager to bed ye and make this marriage complete.”

  She flushed darker. “Aye, well, I’ve gone without as long as the two of ye.” A thought must have struck her as she glared up at him. “Or were ye sampling the fleshpots of Stirling while I visited with Lady Janet?”

  “MacDougals dinna stray,” he replied, affronted.

  “Why waste a coin on such women when we have ye,” asked Rory. “And the women who wished to sample us were none as bonny. So I told them all nay.”

  “Well, now that ye are married they willna—”

  “Rory’s not married to ye, I am,” said Tearlach. “But it willna stop them. Herald Murray said now the old widows will also be after me, as I canna be forced to marry them.”

  He shuddered, thinking of the old woman who’d winked across the table. He didn’t want her knobby old hands anywhere near his cock. That’s what a wife was for. He cupped her breast over her gown. She knocked his arm away and escaped.

  “’Tis another good reason to leave for Calltuin straight off,” she said, hurrying away.

  “Lass, we dinna ken if Calltuin will be yers,” replied Tearlach as they neared the Frasers’ chamber. Her feet slowed, head and shoulders drooping. They came around what he hoped was the last corner. It was but his hopes sank at the figure waiting for them.

  “Congratulations on your nuptials,” said Sir Parlan Murray, the herald who’d brought them together. He beamed as Isabel ran to him. Tearlach scowled.

  “Are we going to Calltuin?” she eagerly demanded.

  “’Tis best we go inside,” he replied, opening the door. “Ah, we are in luck. Empty.”

  “’Tisna luck,” grumbled Rory. “Laird Fraser hoped to give us a few hours to do sommat other than talk with our new wife.”

  “You’ll have time for that after you hear what I have to say.” Murray turned to Isabel. “Aye, you are going to Calltuin but ’twill be for a few days only.”

  Tearlach grabbed to support her elbow when she nearly crumpled. “The king said nay?” she asked, her voice cracking. She pulled away as if it was his fault.

  “Dinna fash, lass,” continued Murray. “The king hasna decided yet. Calltuin is empty of all but a kitchen table, a few benches, and your pallet. Laird Graham must return what he took all those years back. He has denied what was yours for too long.”

  “I can—”

  “Ye canna be there.” Murray shook his head at her. “I dinna trust his misbegotten son not to harm you.”

  “I’ll protect her from Roderick Graham,” said Tearlach. His hands curled into fists.

  “We’ll protect Lady Isabel,” corrected Rory.

  “Aye, and you can do that best at Duncladach,” replied Murray.

  “We are going to Duncladach?” Tearlach brightened. He hated Stirling Castle. Hated the city, and the narrow hills and trees that blocked his view at Calltuin. “Ye’ll love it, Isabel. ’Tis summer and the sea is fresh. There’s—”

  “There’s a few things to do afore you leave,” interrupted Murray.

  “Aye, bed my wife!”

  “The impatience of youth,” murmured Murray, shaking his head.

  Rory took a step forward, holding his hand out to stop Tearlach from poking the older man. “Sir Herald, ye’d best remember ’twas me and Tearlach who told ye how to please yer young wife, aye?”

  “Aye,” agreed Murray. He lifted his hands to placate them. “I’ll be but a moment. You must stay here until I get the list of everything Laird Graham took from Calltuin. King James ordered the Earl of Menteith to take up the matter with Graham.”

  “What will happen to him?” asked Isabel.

  “Your guardian said you had no dowry though you had extensive property along the border with England.”

  “What?” Isabel pulled away from Tearlach. He immediately missed her warmth. She looked from one man to the other. “I thought all I had was Calltuin?”

  The herald scratched at his chin. “Aye, well, if you hadn’t married afore you turned one-and-twenty you would have gained control of all your dowry. Calltuin is but a wee bit of it.”

  She pressed her lips together. Her fists were tight as well. He didn’t know her well, yet well enough to let her be for now. She turned doe eyes to Tearlach.

  “Did ye ken this, husband?”

  Tearlach closed his eyes to think better. “Herald Murray spoke on it the night afore we met. He said…” He tilted his head, thinking back.

  “He said the king must be careful who controls certain lands,” said Rory, “that Isabel inherited as she’s the only one left.” He turned to the herald. “Ye led us to believe all the lass had was Calltuin. I said the lady was merely the king’s pawn, holding the place until he wished to use it. Ye agreed.” He curled his lip at Murray. “How do ye sleep at night?”

  “Does it matter?” asked Murray with a sigh. “You complain Calltuin is barely into the hills, too near the Lowlands. Isabel’s other properties are just north of the border with England. Would either of you even ride there, much less live?”

  “Where doesna matter. ’Tis that Isabel wasna given a choice.”

  “She is a woman and lucky the king was amused at her outbursts and entertained by your sword fighting.” Murray exhaled. “His advisors wished her to be sent to marry Somerled, losing even Calltuin. They would easily have accepted Roderick Graham as he is her kin. When I met Isabel and saw what was at Duncladach, and then saw how the two of you were…” He turned to Isabel. “You have husbands that care for you, and that you can abide lying with. There is a good chance Tearlach will be given the home you love.” He held out his hands like a priest seeking benediction. “’Twas the best I could do.”

  “Thank ye, Sir Parlan Murray,” said Isabel with dignity. “Ye are right. I should look to what I have and not to sommat that would never have been real. I hope I dinna lose Calltuin as well.”

  Murray wiped his flushed face with a handkerchief. “After taking so much, I dinna think the king will say nay to your home.”

  “When will he decide?” demanded Tearlach.

  “He will first think on who should be given the best of Lady Isabel’s dowry.” Murray cleared his throat. He stuffed his handkerchief back in his sleeve. “Back to the matter at hand. Graham emptied Calltuin, and took gold saying ’twas for tutors, gowns, and the like for Lady Isabel. The first was wrong but not a crime. The second is an offense against the Crown. When he stole from the lady, as she was the king’s ward, ’twas as if he stole from the king. His Majesty is most displeased with Laird Graham.”

  “Good!” she blurted.

  Tearlach couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to touch Isabel. He moved behind her, placing his hands lightly on her waist. She leaned against him, accepting his support. This was what he needed. His wife to accept his comfort and protection.

  “What of Roderick?” he asked.

  “His father begged for his life so he was sent home to Duchray Castle. He should have been punished for attacking your twin with a naked blade in the presence of the king.” Murray nodded toward Tearlach. “Though Roderick screamed like a cat in heat you didna break his wrist.”

  “Pity,” murmured Rory.

  “And I’ll never see him, or any Graham again,” said Isabel.

  Murray mopped his face again. “Ye must ride to Duchray Castle, lass. We must see what is there, and what must be returned to Calltuin.”

  Tearlach grabbed her around the waist before she could bolt. Her fingers dug into his forearm.


  “But I ken naught of what is missing. Whatever is sent will help.”

  “Graham took from a ward of the king. His Majesty canna allow such an insult,” said the herald. “As you ken Calltuin, you’ll have the best idea where it all should go. I will take notes, and ’twill be set where you wish.”

  “He canna touch ye, sweetling,” murmured Tearlach. “Ye will be riding into Duchray with a king’s herald and two warriors. Ye are no wee lass, but a woman grown. As yer husbands, Rory and I have the right and honor to protect ye.”

  Isabel nodded stoically. Tearlach was proud of her strength, of mind, heart, and body.

  “The first thing you must see is the cask of jewels belonging to Lady Elizabeth Elliot, your mother.”

  The pulse in her throat throbbed. He kissed her temple.

  “My mother had jewels?”

  “Aye, and Lady Graham has been wearing them. You will have them back.”

  “But, where would I wear such things? I canna dance and dinna like gossip or flirting, so canna be at court. Where else would I wear them?”

  “Your husbands may wish to dress you in them,” replied Murray.

  Tearlach had a sudden view of Isabel wearing little more than ropes of pearls. One rope held her wrists over her head. Two more kept her ankles far from each other. His need to claim her as his wife grew, as did his cock.

  “I dinna have the gowns to go with—”

  “’Twould be all ye wore, wife.”

  He leaned out to look her in the eyes. The pupils were mostly black. Her cheeks turned pink. So did the flesh he wished to pillow his head on while sucking her pert nipples.

  “Mayhaps one day you’ll have a daughter to wear them,” continued the herald as if he hadn’t heard. “Or sons who may wish to gift them to their wives.”