King's Knight [Highland Menage 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7

  “Why did ye scream?” he asked, still astonished.

  “I wished to hear how it would sound. The lads best get used to it if ye plan to do as yer laird suggested. Ye best ken that I willna be treated as he seems to think I deserve.”

  Tearlach’s eyes narrowed. “They ken well the sound of a woman being spanked. Angus and Gillis took their hand to Fiona’s arse more than once in the few days they were here.” He leaned close. “And they made her scream the other way, as well.”

  His brothers spanked their wife in front of the others? She hoped her bright smile covered her shock. “Well then,” she said brightly. “They willna be feared if they hear such.”

  “A MacDougal fears naught!” he boasted.

  She patted his arm as if consoling him. “Of course. Remind me of that when our first babe is born and ye are getting drunken to hide from my screams of pain.”

  He blanched. She wasn’t too happy at the thought, but a few hours of pain brought a babe into the world, so was worth it. Tearlach said his mother was small and had carried two sets of them. Surely she could birth one at a time without dying?

  “Rory!” called a voice from far above.

  She held her hand up to cut out the sun. It was yet another tall dark MacDougal. Rory looked up, grinned and waved.

  “I was right to wait and not tell Somerled ye were on our land?”

  Rory’s grin widened. “Aye, thank ye, Ewan. We were delayed a wee bit.”

  “I thought ye might be.” He nodded knowingly.

  Rory had explained Ewan somehow knew when someone crossed onto MacDougal land, and whether they were friend or foe. She hoped he couldn’t sense more than that.

  “Thank ye, Ewan,” she called out. “The time was much appreciated by all.”

  One of the two in the bailey nearby gasped. “Ye mean they were—”

  “Aye,” said the grinning blond to his brother. “Ye ken they be men and wife. They do the same as Angus and Gillis with wee Fiona. Tearlach,” he called out, “did ye use yer tongue like Gillis said?”

  Tearlach’s face nearly turned purple. Isabel blushed, but she would not be cowed by the horde of giant dark men.

  “Not this time,” she replied pertly. “I expect it this night. Ye may wish to stuff yer ears for ’tis said I’m a wee bit loud.”

  “So’s Fiona,” replied the blond. “I be Finn. This dolt is Dougal.” He waggled his eyebrows. “’Tis the custom to kiss the bride, aye?” He stepped forward.

  “Touch me wife and ye’ll be cleaning out the cesspit.”

  “Och, nay,” replied Finn, undaunted, though he kept his distance. “Such is a job for a strong warrior such as yerself. Ye always said we be weaklings.”

  “How many of ye are there?” she asked again before a fight started.

  “Somerled and Niall,” Finn lifted his thumb and first finger. “Tearlach and Rory, Torquil and Ewan,” he hesitated. “The next six are gone so they dinna count. Me and Dougal, and Artair and Zander.” He looked at his fingers, then up. “Ten!” He looked around. She did the same. A bunch of them were loitering. “Line up, lads. Our new wife needs to ken who ye are.”

  “Oh, Lord,” she muttered as what seemed like a score of giant dark-haired grinning men rushed up.

  “I shall introduce my wife,” said Tearlach. He set his paw on her shoulder.

  She rolled her eyes at his possessiveness, not bothering to hide. A few snickers appreciated her small act of defiance.

  “Husband, ye needn’t hold on me like that.” She ducked away though knew better than to go far. “I ken Duncladach’s walls are high and yer legs long. Even if I wished to escape and run screaming all the way to Stirling Castle to beg for an annulment, ’tis sure I am one of ye will catch me afore I get through yon tunnel.”

  “There’s nay chance of an annulment, wife, and ye ken it well,” he replied, ignoring the rest of her speech. “King James kenned ’twas so afore he married us. Even if none heard ye when we bent ye over Herald Murray’s table in his office, ye screamed yer release a fair few times at Duchray Castle in that giant feather bed.” He turned to his brothers. “Aye, lads, our bed is big enough for three, and has a feather mattress.”

  She didn’t mind him speaking of their frolicking. It was the smug way he said it that infuriated her, as if she’d been merely the receptacle. She jammed her fists on her hips, raised her eyebrows and attacked.

  “Excuse me, husband. Best go dunk yer head in the sea to clear it. ’Twas me what bent over that table, raised my skirts and waggled my arse to get ye to fill me, nay the other way around. As for Duchray, ’tis my bed we were in. Aye, with my giant, soft, feather mattress. So is the tub that I bathed in!” She turned her face to where Somerled had gone. “Ye hear that, laird? I have a tub, and a bed, and a down mattress. If the king says we’re to bide here, ’twill be me using them, not yer lairdship!” She’d emphasized the point by tapping her thumb against her breastbone.

  Tearlach tapped her nose to get her attention, an insolent gesture that made her want to bite it.

  “Nay, wife.” He waggled his head, eyes flashing. “Yer wee body, and all ye owned, is now mine. “

  “Ye’ll not sell my mother’s jewels!”

  “Ye well ken I willna touch them.” He dragged his eyes over her body. It responded as always, no matter how furious she was. “Other than to drape over yer body.” He leaned forward. “Yer wee naked body.” He hadn’t dropped his voice. The brothers groaned, shifting uncomfortably, but they didn’t move away.

  “Lady Isabel Graham is my wife, and she will obey me.” He set his piercing eyes on her. It was a declaration of war. “Aye?”

  He was telling them all, branding her as his property. It was true, she’d vowed to obey him. She had a choice. She could get furious with him for rubbing it in or she could take advantage of it.

  “Aye, I will obey ye.” In my own way, and in my own time, she added silently. Rory had been too silent. She gestured to him. “Will ye introduce me to yer brothers, Rory? The lot of ye are a fair bit alike. I wish to ken which is which so I dinna kiss the wrong one by mistake.”

  “None will be kissin’ ye but me and Rory!” thundered Tearlach.

  Lady Janet Fraser was right. It was often quite easy to rile a husband. The problem was, it was not so easy to determine the result.

  “Ye met Somerled and Niall,” said Rory, “and ye ken us. The next are—”

  “I be Torquil, and this Ewan.”

  She’d been warned about Torquil’s scars and so looked him straight in the eyes without flinching. It was easy to smile at him.

  “Ye have such kind eyes,” she said. “May I kiss yer cheek, brother?” He blushed, which made the whip scars stand out even more. She scowled at Tearlach before smiling on Torquil again. “I wouldna have asked but my husband here gets a mite riled. He canna understand he and Rory are the husbands I chose, and wish no other.” She made a face, letting Torquil know with a wink that she joked. “Though there are times I wonder…”

  “Aye, ye can kiss my brothers on the cheek,” replied Tearlach gruffly. “But just this once!”

  She rolled her eyes at Torquil, who winked back. She placed her hands on his shirt and went up on her toes. “Ye’ll have to bend over. I’m just a wee thing.” He tentatively set his hands on her hips and leaned his cheek down. She gave him a tender kiss, not to a lover but more as to a child. “Thank ye for welcoming me to Duncladach,” she said.

  “I be Ewan,” said the next.

  He kept his hands behind him. This was the one who had visions and didn’t wish to be touched. “Thank ye for not telling yer laird we were here.” He blushed as well. She sensed a deep well of silence in him, of pain and an emptiness waiting to be filled. “I ken ye mayna wish me to touch ye, but if ye do, I can hold out my cheek.” She turned her head, tilting it just a bit.

  “Aye, I shall kiss my new good-sister’s cheek. Only if to rile Tearlach.” His lips grazed her cheek. He pulled back, eyes boring into h
er. He blinked, and it was gone. A hint of a smile raised one corner of his lips. “Ye are good for my brothers. I shall enjoy yer company while ye are here.”

  “Ye dinna think I’ll stay?”

  He shook his head, amused. “I need no Sight to ken that ye’ll be bumping heads with our laird. I hope ye enjoy Duncladach a wee bit while ye are here.”

  “I shall if I have yer company now and then.” The next moved up. He was an inch taller than Tearlach and blond. “Ye must be Finn!” She laughed. “Did yer mother have fair hair?”

  He nodded, eyes twinkling like a naughty child caught taking a tart and trying to wheedle his way out of a punishment. “Aye, though I tell the lasses I’ve got fairy blood with magical powers.”

  “Since our mams were sisters, then I have it, too. I be Dougal, my lady.”

  Another dark-haired MacDougal elbowed Finn out of the way. He had much the same face, though his smile was more along the lines of a wolf. The two of them kissed her cheek at the same time, one on each side. Both patted her bottom, bringing a growl from both Tearlach and Rory.

  The last pair stepped up. One was Somerled’s height, though far slimmer, and the other an inch taller than Tearlach. “Ye get the best at last. Artair” —he touched his fist to his chest— “ and Zander. We are full brothers, though our scoundrel of a father never married our mother.”

  “He should have,” said Rory. “Mary was an angel. She came here and took on fourteen of us, then gave us two of her own. She died of a fever when Zander was two.”

  “Aye, and if she’d lived we’d have been at least seventeen, and one a lassie,” said Tearlach quietly. The brothers shuffled their feet. “Isabel is now Clan MacDougal, lads. She should ken our history. And since two daughters have been born safely of MacDougal men, the curse is lifted, aye?”

  “Aye,” they agreed halfheartedly.

  “I canna hear ye lads. Say it like ye mean it. Aye?”

  “Aye!”

  Tearlach nodded briskly. He was obviously the ruler when Somerled and Niall weren’t there.

  “Ye’ve met the brothers, wife,” he said. She saw the warning in his eyes and braced herself. “’Tis time ye found yerself to the kitchen. The lads will be hungry, aye?”

  This time the resounding shout echoed off the walls. She scowled and jabbed the hard point of her finger in his chest. Repeatedly.

  “I told yer laird. If ye wish me to do womanly things, ye’d best treat me as one. And that means a hot bath!”

  Chapter 10

  “Ye canna be poking yer fingers in our laird, and I dinna like it meself.”

  Tearlach delivered his words calmly to his wife. He’d practiced them while enjoying the view of the sea from the wall walk before Isabel came up to dry her hair. He not only had the comforting view of the Isle of Lismore and Kingairloch beyond, he had the scent of the sea borne toward him by the steady wind. He couldn’t fill his lungs deep enough.

  Of course they had no tub for a woman’s bath but they’d done their best, heating water in the porridge pot. Isabel cringed but used the water anyway, informing them the pot needed scraping. He and Rory had been eager to bathe her but she’d banished them, insisting they guard the door. She refused to believe Somerled wouldn’t use an excuse to come to the kitchen to peek at her.

  It was an open secret that Somerled was a virgin. Their laird had never left MacDougal land. Even if a female had visited and been amenable to his touch, he insisted he would not lie with a woman unless she was his wife. Tearlach believed he’d never seen a female naked. The temptation to peek at Isabel would be great. He and Rory had seen her that morning in the sun, and he couldn’t wait to see her again.

  Isabel said her hair was brown, but the sun glancing off the strands sparkled with red and gold. The wind took it, making her still-damp hair trail like a sash. There was no reason why his brothers had to watch. Somerled wasn’t visible but Tearlach bet he’d taken a good look. None of them had seen a woman with her hair down before. Fiona was growing hers out, but it barely touched her shoulders. There was something intimate about touching Isabel’s hair. He didn’t like his brothers watching but told himself this was as close as they may get to having a wife of their own.

  “And why should I not poke him when he speaks of me as if I am invisible?” she demanded.

  She had a point. It was rude for Somerled yet he was their laird and due respect.

  “’Tisn’t seemly.” Even to his own ears it sounded weak.

  “’Tisn’t seemly?”

  He hadn’t been married long but knew his wife’s voice rising that way was not good. He still had to follow through. “Aye, Somerled is my laird, and now yers. Ye canna treat him that way.”

  “And he canna treat me worse than a pet dog!”

  She pointed her comb at him, opening her mouth to lecture him. He and Rory had spent almost an hour debating which precious comb to purchase for her. While he was pleased she used it, and had been delighted at their purchase, he did not want her pointing it at him. He tugged it from her hand and turned her to face the sea.

  “What are ye doing?”.

  “Combing my wife’s beautiful hair with the comb we bought her.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders dropped as she exhaled. He wasn’t sure but she could have blushed a bit. “’Tis a lovely comb. I do thank ye for it.”

  “Ye’re welcome.” He leaned closer in case his words traveled. “Ye can thank me properly later, in our chamber.”

  Yes, a definite blush. No one could see his face so he grinned. He liked that she reacted to him, showing she wanted to play with his body as much as he did hers. He picked up a mass of hair and brought it to his nose. Roses. She smelled of roses. He couldn’t believe so much weight pulled on her wee head.

  “I wish I’d bought ye soap in Stirling,” he said. “I’ve much to learn on being a husband.”

  “Aye, well, I must learn as well, to be a good wife to ye. We will learn what works for us as husbands and wife as we go along.”

  He took his time combing, enjoying the silky feel. She belonged to him. Body and soul. As he belonged to her. He wouldn’t say so out loud. Such things weren’t manly.

  She twisted around to look up at him. “I willna be like those women peeking in the door of the hall while ye and Tearlach flashed yer claymores. Ye are the ones I wish, and none else.”

  “We saw many things in Stirling. Things I dinna like.” He kissed her forehead. “I willna stray to another’s bed, sweetling.”

  “Nor I to another,” she replied.

  He was about to roar that he would make sure she didn’t when he saw her lip twitch. She enjoyed teasing him. He would bluster, but secretly he liked it as it led to things he enjoyed, such as touching her body. His cock nudged her. She quickly faced the sea again.

  “Are ye going to comb my hair or not? I wish it to dry afore I must face yer brothers.”

  He slowly drew the comb from the top of her hair, all the way down her back to her arse. The wind came up, blowing it playfully around him like a cape.

  “I also wish I’d taken ye shopping in Stirling,” he said. “’Twas good of Lady Janet to go with ye. We had little time alone.” The one bit of time they did have, the women were summoned to visit with the queen. It had almost seemed as if there was a conspiracy against them.

  “I ken ’twasn’t yer fault. One doesna say nay to the king or queen.”

  “Still I wish I had a ring for yer finger.”

  “Rings are for ladies who sit and sew. I ken we are married. ’Tis enough for me.”

  It wasn’t enough for him. He wanted her to wear a ring, one from him and Rory, that proved to all that she belonged to them. She had an immense cask of jewels from her mother that would make anything he could give her look cheap. How could he mark her so other men would know she belonged to him?

  The scent of roses flowed around him, giving him an idea. He would mark her in a different way, with scent. Perhaps a soap the three of them could use to sho
w they were together.

  “I ken an old woman who has a way with herbs,” he said. “She could bring them to Duncladach to show ye.”

  “I would rather ye took me out of this place and brought me to her.”

  “Ye just got here, Isabel. Ye wish to leave already?” Her silence was an answer in itself.

  He wanted her to love Duncladach as much as he did. Yet if he looked at it through her eyes he saw why she would wish to be at Calltuin instead. It wasn’t just the way Somerled growled at her. Duncladach was empty of any comfort. There was one padded chair that the laird used, and that was a recent present from Fiona. They had no beds, just straw pallets on the floor, and they badly needed replacing. He’d never questioned the way things were. None of them had, as they knew no different. When the brothers began returning from fostering they spoke of new ideas, new ways of doing things.

  Isabel had accepted the life she was given. She wasn’t used to comfort, either. She’d slept with Janet and wee Jenny on a pallet for years with the only furniture a table and benches in the kitchen. But he wanted her to have more.

  She’d loved the bed they’d shared in Duchray Castle. He’d loved what he and Rory did with her in it, and her enthusiastic reaction. He’d been so eager to get here, yet it didn’t feel like home anymore. The youngest ones didn’t need his supervision. From the looks they’d sent it was obvious they were not happy he’d returned, though they enjoyed Isabel.

  Having been away, he could look at his brothers differently. They’d grown up and no longer needed him. Did he have a place here still? Did he even want one? He’d have to think on this more.

  “I ken my laird brother was not kind to ye,” he admitted.

  She tried to turn. He grasped her hair at the back of her neck and yanked down. She hissed, and then moaned. His cock rose again. She liked it when he was rough. So did he.

  “Not kind? He was rude!” She tried to turn but he held her still. “I expected little hospitality from the Grahams at Duchray Castle yet Errol treated us well. We come here, to what could be my home if the king insists, and the man who should welcome me pretends I dinna exist!”