Bedding the Enemy [Highland Menage 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Marriage to a man wishing to please her, in any way, was not something she’d ever imagined. She’d cringed at having to do her duty with her elderly, controlling husband, but had no choice. Luckily Edgar preferred inflicting pain and humiliation in other ways. While he could order her to do as he chose, he could not control his limp cock, and it infuriated him.

  Bedding would be a totally different act with a man who could get his cock to stand. No, there would be two men!

  “I told you of Somerled,” said Cam. “Niall will do anything for his laird and their clan, including standing up to his twin. He sees much, speaks more than his laird, and laughs when he can. They make a good pair. You could make them even better, as a triad.”

  Margaret’s heart pounded. She fought to swallow past the lump in her throat. Sharing her bed with a pair of young, virile men would give her the babes she craved. She’d had far worse blows from her father, brothers, and cousins. Edgar had added his own cruelties.

  “Lass, I ken you wish a safe home to raise your bairns,” said Cam quietly. “The MacDougals are good with bairns, as they raised one another. Once everything is settled, you will learn to be content.”

  “Settled?” It pulled her from thoughts of holding a babe in her arms. “What do you mean?” He pressed his lips, refusing to look at her. It could only mean one thing. She shoved her hood back to see him clearly. “Laird Somerled doesna ken he married a Campbell, that he’ll be bedding his enemy?”

  “’Tis best he doesna ken it for now.”

  She shook her head in horror. “You said he willna harm me. How could he not when he discovers who I am, and rages? He canna attack the king, so he will—”

  “Nay, Lady Margaret. Aye, he will roar and pound his fists, but on the table or his brothers. Not you. Never you.”

  She blinked at him, wishing but doubting. “I dinna believe you. I am just a woman, and easily replaced.”

  “Nay, you are the bride chosen for him by King James himself. An insult to you is an insult to the king.”

  Many a wife had died through accidents that were too convenient. Duncladach was far from Stirling Castle, and King James rarely came even to Edinburgh, preferring to stay in the south. Who would know if she “fell” off that high curtain wall? Yet the clan needed heirs and it was well known Somerled never, ever left Duncladach.

  “I will introduce you as Lady Margaret Stewart,” said Cam. “There’ll be naught said of Campbells.”

  “I resemble my Stewart mother, so that may help. But I was born a Campbell and married one. Surely they will ken—”

  “My lady, these men stay on their own land. Those who have left are far away and dinna send letters. Somerled kens little of events.” He waited for her sigh of agreement. “Aye, ’twould be best if they didna learn of your past until you are carrying the MacDougal heir. That will ensure they accept you.”

  No, they would accept the babe she carried. She would be just the womb. That was all her father wanted from her mother, and all Edgar wanted. Would she be locked in a dark, cold chamber once more?

  Margaret slowed her mare to a bare walk. It felt like she was nearing her own funeral. Cam didn’t seem to notice.

  “So all your talk of safety is for naught if they discover my name?” she asked.

  He turned, stopping to wait for her to catch up.

  “I dinna believe they will harm you. Truly. Yet Somerled willna look to find Margaret the woman if he hears the name Campbell. Once he kens you, he may bluster but if the twins are like the rest of their brothers, you’ll be carrying a babe by then.” He shifted, standing in his stirrups to look around.

  While it would be easy not to speak of her father, brothers, or cousins except in curses, her marriage to Edgar was something else. She’d learned a lot there, things that might help her manage Duncladach. Plus, he’d know she was a widow and could be curious.

  “I was also married to a Campbell,” she reminded him.

  “Tell your husband ’twas nay your choice, he was an old man, and you didna care for him. Somerled will frown at hearing it but ’tis in the past. Once you consummate your marriage he will be thinking of the woman sharing his bed, not who you were with afore. They will learn where you’ve lived for the last seven years but ’twill be far too late. You will be well bedded and, as there has been no Lady of Duncladach in over twenty years, you will have made their lives more comfortable.” He raised an eyebrow. “A well-fed laird with a well-run castle and a wife eager to bed him will ignore much.”

  She blushed at Cam’s direct words. To be safe she must ensure her husband, and his brother, enjoyed her body. As her father had few servants she knew her way around a kitchen. That, and cleaning, had filled her days and half her nights until she was married. If, as Cam said, MacDougals could help her enjoy the bedding, her life could be more than tolerable.

  “Why would they learn of Duntrune if I dinna speak of it?”

  Cam’s expression hardened. “That, I cannot say.”

  “You mean you willna.”

  “Lady Margaret, the king wishes this feud stopped, and that means your marriage will stand.” He paused. “You ken what is at stake for your brother, aye?”

  Margaret nodded, lips tight at the rebuke. Cam had told her Hamish was safe and would remain so as long as her new marriage lasted. If she did not make it work, he would be sent home. As Hamish resembled her—small and blond while the rest were big and brown—their brothers thought it sport to attack him.

  She would do what she must to keep Somerled from learning of her marriage and, more importantly, her birth. Her future, and that of Hamish, depended on it.

  “There’s been no Lady MacDougal at Duncladach for twenty-five years,” continued Cam as if he’d not threatened her. “They dinna ken the duties of a lady and will accept what makes their lives better. You will be able to do what you choose as long as it is acceptable to your laird husbands.”

  She heard, and mentally winced at, the plural. If they cared for her surely the bedding wouldn’t be as terrifying as the near-rapes her cousins found so entertaining? The laird might allow her some of the freedoms she’d had at Duntrune without the responsibility. She would do her best to rule the inside and let her laird and his brothers do what they wished elsewhere. Once she’d had an heir even if the laird died she would have a place. That lack had forced her from Duntrune.

  “You have met them?”

  Cam nodded.

  “What can you tell me to help me be accepted?”

  He thought for a few moments as they rode past more gorse and nettles and boggy areas. The rain was finally easing.

  “Lady Isabel visited for a few weeks. She made strawberry tarts one day. The lads couldna remember such a treat. After that they would do anything for her, as long as it didna go against their laird. She said their joy at something so small brought tears to her eyes.”

  “You suggest I bring them to my side with honey?”

  “Aye, both sweet food and sweet smiles. It has worked with others.” He opened his cloak, shaking the drops off it. “Use more spice than sweet with Somerled. He’ll respect you more that way.”

  “Spice? As in stand up to him?”

  “Aye, in private, when the time is right. And if you are eager for him, let him know.” He winked. “Many a wife learns how to make a man sweet with a bit of spice in the bedchamber.”

  Having never wanted a man’s touch she didn’t know how to flirt or seduce. She hoped she would find Somerled somewhat attractive. If so, perhaps the flirting would come naturally. She could act like one of her father’s doxies, pulling down her gown to reveal more of her breasts and swaying her hips. The thought made her blush. What would it be like to have a man look at her with desire?

  “Somerled will do what is best for his clan,” said Cam. “That means bowing to the wishes of his king, which means accepting you as his wife. His brothers wish for a lady to turn Duncladach into a home. And you wish a safe place to raise your bairns. If all go
es well you will also gain a pair of good men to hold you in the night.”

  Margaret also wanted a man to talk with, not at her, and to listen. From Cam’s description Somerled would not listen to a woman, but perhaps his twin might. If not, there were a number of other brothers. Maybe one would be her friend. At the very least they may allow her a kitchen cat.

  Enough!

  She could bemoan her fate, or she could take charge of her life as best she could. Cam said her husbands were men of honor and would not harm her. Therefore, she would not cower. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and rode into her future.

  “At least the stables will keep the cold rain off us this night,” she said, pleased to have found something positive to say.

  “Stables?”

  “Aye. None could see us coming in this rain, nor are we expected, so the drawbridge would be down, aye? If not the stables, mayhaps we can shelter in the village for the night.”

  “You’ll be inside Duncladach this night. Ewan has the Sight. He will have sensed us as soon as we touched Clan MacDougal land. He’ll ken we’re coming, and meet us.”

  She’d heard of those with the Sight, of course, and agreed there was much beyond her understanding, but she’d not heard of such sensing. She didn’t believe it but, for the sake of her shivering body, hoped it was true.

  “How far now?”

  “See that white blur ahead? ’Tis the lime-harled stone of Duncladach Castle. Your new home.”

  Margaret peered, leaning forward as if it would help. There was something lighter in front of them. Something very wide and tall. She took a deep, steadying breath. She could do this. She would live here for the rest of her life, no matter its length. Lives depended on it. Her own, her younger brother’s, and those of the babes she wished to bear.

  Chapter Two

  “The stables be this way.”

  The deep voice rang out from Margaret’s left, startling her and making her jerk her knees. Her mare reacted, shying away. She took a moment to calm it. She couldn’t calm her heart. Somehow they were expected. She followed the herald toward the lamp.

  “Thank ye for meeting us, Ewan. ’Tis Herald Cam here.”

  “The old man’s gone?”

  “Aye, Herald Murray is at Calltuin with Sir Tearlach and Rory. He trains them in history and the like while they rest between battles. Lady Isabel will be giving you another nephew, or mayhaps a niece.” Cam made a noise in the back of his throat. “But ye kenned that already, aye?”

  “Aye, ’tis a laddie. Do ye wish a hot bath, my lady?”

  She heard the words but could not believe them. “A… A hot bath?”

  “Lady Isabel sent a tub for ye on Laird Fraser’s wee galley. She said a lady must have a hot bath when she rides in, so I put water on to heat.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. She sniffed, wiping her eyes and nose along with the rain. “Sir, I didna expect such, but am most grateful.”

  She was now close enough to see her first MacDougal. He did not have horns like a devil. No forked tail stuck out from under his plaid. Nor did he have fangs. He was certainly tall with dark hair. He also had broad shoulders, a wide chest, and muscular arms and legs. All he wore was a plaid with the loose end tucked over his shoulders. Their horses eagerly moved into the shelter of the stables.

  “No pack horse?” asked Ewan.

  “Lady Margaret has few things. We left in haste,” replied Cam.

  That wasn’t the only reason she had only one gown in her saddle bag. She’d taken all she had a right to, according to her father. The only reason she had the extra gown was that she was too short for it to be given to any of his whores. She’d hated everything provided by Edgar so had left it all at Duntrune. Her father would only have sold it anyway.

  Ewan made the same sort of grunt that her brothers used as their main form of conversation. He took hold of her bridle, peering at her.

  “Faith, look at the size of ye! Be she as feisty as wee Fiona of the red hair and knives?”

  “Lady Margaret demanded to meet her fate this day, so we rode out despite the rain. She’s made no complaint. Does that answer your question?”

  Ewan nodded briskly. “She’ll stand up to the laird.”

  Margaret tried to pull her right boot out of the stirrups. Nothing happened. She would not be dismounting gracefully. She might be unable to dismount at all.

  “I doubt I’ll be able to stand up to anyone as I canna get out of this saddle,” she replied ruefully. “I’m so stiff I shall be stuck here, a statue to stubbornness.”

  “Aye, stubborn like the laird.” Ewan had a dry chuckle.

  Cam dismounted, dropping his reins. “I’ll get her down if ye hold her mare steady,” he said. He stood to her left and put a hand on her thigh, squeezing reassuringly. “Come, lass, fall into my arms. ’Twill be the last time any but a MacDougal touches you. Somerled and Niall will keep you close.”

  She wasn’t sure if she should take that as reassurance or a threat. At this point she could barely think. It took some doing, but finally she was on the ground, standing on her own. Now that the possibility of warmth appeared, shivers wracked her body.

  “Could you stand close enough to Lady Margaret to get her to a fire?” asked Cam of Ewan. “If you can, I’ll take care of the horses and follow you in.” He grimaced. “I dinna wish to bring the woman all this way and have her die of the ague.”

  Ewan tilted his head, staring at her. He nodded, though it came slowly. “Aye, she has pain, but her kindness rules.” He held out his elbow, covered in his plaid. “Best get ye dry, warm, and fed.”

  She placed her hand on the rough cloth over his forearm. The muscles underneath were like rock, but they were warm. She shuddered, suddenly freezing.

  “I’ll leave ye the lamp,” said Ewan. “Can ye run?” he asked her. “I canna carry ye. The run will stir yer blood and give ye a bit of warmth.” He pointed the way.

  With no mother to guide or protect her and an uncaring father, she’d had to run fast to escape what her brothers and cousins called teasing. They didn’t think they should treat her any less harshly just because she was a lass. Everything changed when she arrived to foster with Lady Agnes, the Countess of Argyll. Ladies, she’d been informed, moved slowly and with great dignity. It had been a rude shock, one of many.

  Years with Lady Agnes, and then marriage, meant she hadn’t run in years. She gauged the distance to the corner. She would be judged by Ewan MacDougal in these first few minutes. She could act as the lady her foster parents and husband demanded, or she could be herself. Decision made, Margaret hiked up her skirts to run. Instead, she stumbled. Ewan caught her before she landed face-first in the mud.

  “I’m still stiff from riding,” she explained.

  “Then walk,” he muttered, releasing her abruptly.

  She got her balance and set off, stomping to warm her feet. By the time they came near the corner of the curtain wall she was ready to run.

  “Race you!”

  This time she managed to run without tripping. Her hood fell back and she laughed out loud, glorying at the freedom of it. When she turned into the tunnel her laughter bounced off the walls.

  “I dinna wish to ride another horse for a long, long, time,” she said, breathing hard but pleased.

  “Ye’re here now. No need to ride.”

  He ducked into a hollow cut into the wall. A moment later they had their own lamp. The tunnel led to a covered area that linked the gatehouse, kitchen, and other buildings. Ewan insisted the kitchen was safe for her to bathe as he’d guard the door while she did what was necessary. He set the lamp on the table and helped her remove her heavy cloak, sodden with water. The kitchen was warm, a delightfully unexpected pleasure. So was the tub half-full of water. Ewan filled a pail from the pot over the fire and added it. After testing it with his hand, he nodded.

  “Under them bowls is cheese and bread. I didna wish Shadow to eat yer supper.”

  “Shadow?”
/>   Ewan went to the corner. He bent over, and she realized a cushion on the bench contained a gray cat. “The wee beastie likes to sleep in the kitchen. ’Twas the only cushion at Duncladach ‘til the laird got a new chair.”

  “The laird doesna mind?”

  “Mind?” Ewan used both hands to scratch Shadow’s chin. A deep purr emerged. “We MacDougals dinna take joy in giving pain to any creature, be it of the body or mind,” he said quietly. “Dinna judge us by yer past.”

  She couldn’t answer without revealing something so turned over the bowls. It got Shadow’s attention. She nibbled on some cheese to take off the edge of hunger. She broke off a small piece and approached the cat, holding it on her palm as she would a piece of apple for her mare. Shadow accepted her offering.

  “Ye’ve made yer first friend,” said Ewan.

  “I was hoping you might be my friend.”

  “We’ll see what the laird thinks of ye first.” He moved past her to the door.

  “You really kenned we were coming?” she asked before he could escape. He nodded abruptly. “It must not be easy to have such a gift.”

  “Gift?” He barked a sarcastic laugh. “’Tis a curse. I hear voices yelling and I canna close my ears to it. Nor can I touch any but Torquil without getting visions.” His eyes held deep pain. “I would rather be a man like my brothers, having a life rather than watching others live theirs.” He yanked the door open with more force than necessary. “I shall wait outside, my lady.”

  She lost no time in stripping down, tossing her sodden clothing aside to deal with later. Her nipples and breasts, firm from the chill, stuck out from her chest. She stepped into the water and sank, knees to chest. She groaned, sagging in relief. Heaven. No other word would suit. It was as close to sinning as she’d ever experienced. No wonder the church didn’t like the idea of bathing. Shadow conducted his own bath, having finished what she’d set out for him.