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

  “Oh. Yes,” she murmured.

  “Laird Graham must return everything. ’Twill be a lesson from the king for all to see.”

  She nodded her acceptance. Torquil raised his arm as if accidentally brushing the underside of her breast. She inhaled a quiet gasp. The pulse at her throat galloped. Did she wish to get rid of the herald as quickly as did he and Rory?

  “From Duchray Castle we will go to Calltuin to ensure all is well, and to arrange for what is to be delivered. I’ll part with you in Callander to return to Stirling. My guards will go with you to Duncladach to meet Laird Somerled MacDougal and your new clan. You’ll stay there until I come for you, or send someone in my name.”

  “How many of ye will be at Duncladach?” asked Isabel.

  “Ten, including yer husbands,” said Rory.

  She scrunched up her face as if wishing to avoid a dirty task.

  “I ken ye may be frightened as ’tis seventy miles, through the Trossachs,” said Tearlach. “Dinna fear. We’ll care for ye well.”

  “’Tisn’t the journey I fear,” she replied, pulling away. He let her go, but only because the herald watched. She took a few steps before whirling around to face him. “Ye’ve been living at Duncladach without a woman for twenty years, aye?” When he nodded she crossed her arms and lifted her stubborn chin. “I dinna wish to be housekeeper for the lot of ye. Or cook,” she added.

  “But ye’re a woman,” said Rory. “’Tis what women do.”

  “Aye,” she replied, teeth gritted and eyes flashing, “but I married Tearlach MacDougal and accepted ye as well. I will be yer wife and will work as hard as the rest of ye.” She jammed her fists on her hips. “Yer Laird Somerled best ken that I willna take care of yer brothers!”

  “I’d best let you work things out,” said Herald Murray, slipping out.

  The door had barely closed behind him when Tearlach reached for Isabel. Her passion was up and he wished to enjoy it.

  “Aye, ye’ll be wife to me, and to Rory. And now, wife, ’tis time to consummate this marriage.”

  She smelled so good, and felt even better. He kissed the lip she’d bitten, tasting her. There was another set of lips he wanted to taste, but her precious gown had to be removed first. Rory read his mind, going after her laces. At first he thought the thump came from his pounding heart. It came again. Isabel groaned and pulled back. Rory swore in Gaelic as few there would understand it, and answered the door. Tearlach hid Isabel behind him. A grinning page tried to peek around the door.

  “King James says ye can bed yer wife when ’tis dark. He wishes the MacDougals to show some of these young lads how to fight like a man. Bring yer claymores.”

  Chapter 2

  Three days had passed and they were no nearer consummating their marriage. Isabel was as frustrated as her husbands. They were away when the chamber was empty of Frasers, and when they returned, battered and bruised, they had unwanted chaperones. The older couple might be content to sleep cuddled together after thirty years of marriage, but Isabel wanted to start hers properly. That meant a bed in a room with a door, containing only her, Tearlach, and Rory. Instead Isabel slept between her husbands on a pallet while the older couple had the bed. She’d been was so frustrated that morning that she’d whispered she would even do her wifely duty against the wall in a quiet corner!

  Her husbands had barely arrived, having washed off the dirt from battling all afternoon with younglings, when a knock came at the door. Rory had been sharpening the last few inches of his claymore and had it in hand when he answered. The terrified page insisted Herald Murray must see them immediately.

  “This will give ye time alone,” said Isabel to Laird Fraser and Lady Janet.

  They shared a secret smile, which made her pout all the more.

  “I be as frustrated as yerself,” said Tearlach as he escorted her down an unfamiliar corridor following the page. “We’ve been training young pups for hours and wished to sup, not be called to a meeting.”

  “I had sommat else than food in mind,” said Rory. “Though I’d not say nay to a taste of yer sweet puss.”

  “Ye arena helping!” Her thighs brushed against her swollen, eager flesh. “I also wish we were presently joined in body as well as holy matrimony.”

  Twin groans brought her satisfaction, though not relief. The page opened a door and ushered them into an audience chamber. Food and ale was set out on a table.

  “What did ye call us here for?” demanded Tearlach.

  “Lady Isabel, MacDougals,” said Herald Murray, greeting them with a smile as the page left. “How is married life?”

  “We havena been able to consummate our vows,” answered Isabel, curling her lip at the older man. “How do ye expect us to be?”

  “Fighting laddies in front of the king, then sharing sleeping quarters with the Frasers is taking a toll on our wee wife’s patience,” explained Tearlach. “Ours as well,” he added in a low growl.

  “You must be hungry after all that clashing of claymores.” Murray cheerfully gestured at the food. “Eat.”

  It was obvious nothing would happen until the herald was ready. She thought of saying what she’d rather be doing, in detail. Tearlach must’ve known it. He gave her a look that promised if she did she’d not wish to be seated for some time. She considered it for a few seconds before pressing her lips together. He smirked at her capitulation.

  “Did ye see yer lady wife?” she asked Murray as her husbands dove into the food.

  “Aye.” He gave the MacDougals a strange look. A message passed between them, something that made Rory grin. “Eunice will be giving me a child by Michaelmas. ’Twas a surprise as I’d not thought of having children at my age.” He straightened. “I have requested to be released from the service of the king now that I will be a family man. I will need to find a home, somewhere away from court.”

  “Ye dinna wish all this pomp and intrigue?” Her voice was sweet, but her expression made her feelings plain.

  “Nay. I’ve had enough to last my life. I wish to be a simple man who stays home and enjoys his family.”

  “Ye will die of boredom,” said Tearlach. “Unless ye live with men who can keep yer mind from rusting.” He swigged his ale.

  “Aye, and finding men like that who dinna wish to be at court may be a challenge,” agreed Murray.

  Since the men had slowed in their feeding, she went to pick over what was left.

  “Why did ye call us here?” demanded Tearlach. “We have sommat very important to do, which ye interrupted.”

  He slid his eyes to her, letting them dwell on his favorite nibbling spots. She turned to hide her flush. Her thighs rubbed, damp from arousal. His knowing chuckle made it worse. She needed to get release from the torment!

  “Do you wish to live at Calltuin and care for the land?”

  “Nay,” said Tearlach.

  Isabel clamped her lips shut herself from speaking. She stepped away from the food, no longer hungry, or tingling. Tearlach was her husband. She must go where he sent her. And if he didn’t want Calltuin, she would lose it. Even if the king ordered them there, if he was unhappy he would make it miserable for all. “That was the way of all men,” her nursemaid had told her. Isabel had seen little to tell her different.

  “Yet I will go where my king and laird command,” added Tearlach. His look of distaste proved what he’d think of being commanded to do so.

  “But you willna like it.”

  “Does any man like all of his life? Or any woman?” asked Rory before his brother answered.

  “My wife goes with me as does my brother,” stated Tearlach.

  “Is that true?” Murray turned to Rory to answer.

  “Aye. Tearlach is the older twin, though by but a few moments. I will follow his lead as I have all my days. Most of the time,” he added with his usual grin.

  “What of you, my lady?” asked Murray, far more gently. “What do you wish of your life?”

  She dropped her head, unable to
look at them and still think. What did she want? She’d not had a choice before. Even now they all knew the king would do as he wished. She’d never been asked such a thing though she’d dreamed of what she could do with Calltuin if she had the power to decide, and the resources. Those dreams were based on her remaining alone, with little else to put her life toward.

  She loved Calltuin. She’d felt confident and safe there until Roderick Graham came calling. She’d be safe with a pair of MacDougals with her, but she would not be happy if Tearlach was vexed. She’d found something with these men that she’d not known existed. If she must choose between a familiar home where she’d be lonely, or a life of discomfort with her husbands, she would choose the men over the land. She turned to Tearlach, looking into his eyes to answer. They were shuttered.

  “I will go with my husband and will make the best of it.” His expression didn’t change. Did he take her words as a rejection of him, an acceptance based only on need? “I make this choice not from duty, Tearlach. I wish to be with ye and Rory.”

  His eyes closed. He exhaled, seeming to slump. A growl, a step of those long legs, and she was in his arms, his lips devouring her. She gave in to his demand, reveling in his need for her.

  “Can ye not stay apart for a short time?” demanded Murray.

  She broke the kiss, panting to haul air into her lungs. Her pussy throbbed along with her breasts and hard nipples.

  “Our wife told ye that we’ve not consummated our vows yet.” Rory scowled, an unusual occurrence. “What with sharing a chamber with the Frasers, ’tisn’t likely to happen soon.”

  “Then I’ll make this brief. What is distasteful about Calltuin, Tearlach?”

  “I dinna like being hemmed in by all the hills and trees. ’Tis worse here. A man canna think with such noise and bustle.”

  The herald turned to Isabel. “We’ve spoken of this, but now I am asking as the king’s agent. Do you object to the Crown taking possession of your borderlands for the good of Scotland?”

  “Nay, I kenned none of it and willna miss it. If I have Calltuin,” she added softly. “I do wish to live there. But not if it means losing Tearlach and Rory. ’Tis just that there is much I can do to make it even better if ’twas mine. Ours, I mean.” Expecting approval from Tearlach, she found a frown instead.

  “Wife, if King James offers Calltuin ’twill be to me as yer husband. Ye will be allowed to do only what I say.”

  She dropped her eyes to the floor at his rebuke. The carpet was lovely. Not so the knowledge she could be held back by a man who didn’t wish to be in a place she loved. He might even destroy it through lack of a link with the land. Rory had that link but he, too, was under his brother’s rule.

  “Isabel?” demanded Tearlach when she didn’t answer immediately.

  Choices. Land or love…no, from what they’d said of their past there was little chance they’d love. Affection and caring, and wonderful orgasms, would have to do.

  “I lived at Calltuin for most of my life, making decisions to keep it strong. Pardon me if I forget my situation as I’ve not been a wife long.”

  She couldn’t help the biting tone, nor did she regret it. He must know how she felt, and what the land meant to her, to understand her. If, that is, he wished to understand.

  His grunt suggested they’d be having more words on it later. He patted her arse, the touch light. She looked up. His raised eyebrow emphasized what he meant. A flash of heat erupted in spite of her being upset at him. His low chuckle proved he’d noticed and was pleased at her reaction. She should not wish for a spanking yet her pussy dampened further at the thought. She tried to pull away, but he easily held her tight.

  “’Tis best you be at Duncladach until Calltuin is ready for whoever will be given it,” said Murray.

  “Do ye ken when that might be?” asked Isabel. “I am thinking of the crops,” she explained, tilting her head up to Tearlach. “Someone should be there to care for the animals and all. Janet Wilkes canna go up from the village and back each day, with her bad knees. The men willna take orders from her, and the land needs—”

  “I’ve been too hungry, too often, to allow food to be wasted or crops ignored,” said Tearlach. “We will find a caretaker.”

  Rory cleared his throat. “I could stay there while ye took Isabel to Duncladach.”

  Tearlach’s eyebrows went up. “Ye like the place that much?”

  Rory shrugged. “I wish to grow food. And Roderick wouldna come near.” He bared his teeth. “The lad fears my claymore and my temper. And the claws of Isabel’s tomcat,” he added.

  Murray walked to the sideboard and retrieved a deerskin bag. It clanked, a rich sound of many coins Isabel had heard once at Callander from a rich merchant. Her few small coins clicked, one against the other. The herald held it up.

  “Lady Isabel no doubt has things she wishes to purchase while in the city. And I dinna mean gifts for others,” he added, directing his words at her. “There must be things you need for yourself.”

  “I canna think of any, other than paints and brushes. I do wish for some of those.” She slumped. “But only if we are at Calltuin.”

  “Lass,” said Murray. “You are no longer an orphan with naught. You are the wife of two warriors, men you dinna wish to shame by not looking your best. Ye need gowns—”

  “My wife doesna need silk and satin to look her best,” said Tearlach.

  “Aye, our wee Isabel looks best wearing naught,” said Rory. “Though I havena seen her that way in far too long. Mayhaps we should strip off yer gown and remind ourselves. What say ye, brother?”

  Chapter 3

  “Rory!”

  Isabel was both mortified and aroused at the thought of being stripped naked. She wanted Tearlach and Rory’s hands on her skin, and their mouths as well. She pulled away from Tearlach, needing a break from his touch. He let her go but muttered under his breath, something about later.

  “Shall we keep to the topic at hand?” asked Herald Murray. Rory held up his hands as if promising to be quiet. “No matter where you be, a woman wishes to have certain things about her. Or so my wife tells me. Is there a bathing tub at Calltuin, one you can sit in?”

  Lady Janet Fraser had told her of such things though she’d not seen one. The thought of climbing into a tub of warm water that went as far as her hips, or more, seemed a scandalous luxury. One she could easily get used to. She shook her head.

  “There you are, one thing on your list already.”

  “Ye must pick out some paint, and brushes,” said Tearlach. “Wee Jenny showed us what ye did with charcoal and dabs of dye.”

  She flushed, shrugging it off. She’d once been proud of her efforts. Seeing what was at Stirling Castle had revealed her lack of ability. Though she really did wish to brighten the walls.

  “Isabel,” said Murray kindly, “dinna judge yourself by what you see here. The king paid a pretty penny for all this. I saw what you did. You have a good eye. You could do so much more if you had paints and good brushes.”

  “’Tis naught but a lass’s fancy,” she replied, head still down. “My husbands may not wish me spending time on such.”

  “Aye, we would,” said Rory. “There’s naught at Duncladach to make us smile, but yer wee drawings did. We saw ye looking at the tapestries, paintings, walls, even the ceilings here,” said Rory. “We were gawking, but ye looked at each most carefully.”

  She was surprised they’d noticed, and that they cared. A warm feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. It was different from the need that buzzed a few inches below.

  “I will accept the gift of coins for my wife’s use,” said Tearlach. “Get yer paints, lass, and a tub. Mayhaps ye’d like a rug to keep yer toes warm in our chamber?”

  “What of yourself?” asked Murray of Tearlach. “Mayhaps a pair of new shirts, ones without rips sewn shut all over them? A pair of breeks to ride your horse instead of your plaid?”

  “We dinna have horses.”

  “Aye
, you do. King James has accepted the Earl of Argyll’s gift.”

  Tearlach frowned at him. “’Twas a loan, nay a gift.”

  “If the king says ’tis a gift from Campbell to MacDougal, the Earl of Argyll canna disagree, aye? They are gey fine animals.”

  “That they came from the Campbells makes putting my arse on them feel all the better,” said Rory. He rubbed his hands, grinning. “And speakin’ of arses, I wish to take hold of my wife’s. Ye have a wee chamber here with a fine sturdy door. Could ye disappear for an hour or three?”

  Isabel’s ache went to a full-blown throb. From the heat of her face it must be close to the color of the herald.

  “There is no bed,” said Murray, looking around nervously.

  “We dinna need one.” Tearlach, teeth bared, pounded his fist on the herald’s desk. A dull thudding filled the room. He nodded with satisfaction. “’Tis a sturdy table.” He sent a smoldering glance her way. “Will it do, wife? Ye were eager enough for a dim corner.”

  “Aye, for we have yet to see a bed,” she replied. “I have an ache—”

  “My parchments—”

  “Will be carefully moved aside, and back again,” promised Rory. He made a shooing motion with his hands, urging the man out.

  “Ah, I suppose there is that wee matter I must discuss with Lord…ah…”

  Tearlach’s eyes seared her. The heat shot to her breasts and pussy, continuing around to circle a hole she’d never have thought could bring pleasure.

  “Fare thee well, Herald Murray.” Rory held the door open. “’Tis a shame ye must leave so soon. We may see ye at supper.”

  “You willna be allowed here again without a page to show you the way,” Murray warned, “so this must be the only time.” He hesitated. “Try to keep the lady from screaming. If rumors got to my wife—”

  “Our hands are big enough to cover her mouth if need be,” said Tearlach.

  “Are ye goin’,” asked Rory impatiently, “or do ye plan to watch our consummation?”