A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book) (39 page)

“That will do.” Meg craned her neck and peered at the basket. “What other surprises did Cook prepare for us?”

Duncan sat in the laird’s seat at the high table with his family and Lady Meg by his side. A lone messenger wearing the king’s colors marched up the aisle, and the hall grew silent.

Duncan stood and met the man at the dais steps. “What news?”

He reached inside his cloak. “I’ve a missive from the king.”

Meg gasped behind him.

Trepidation raising his hackles, Duncan accepted the parchment and slid his thumb under the seal of King James.

“What does it say?” Lady Margaret asked before he could unfold it.

Duncan ignored her and read. A weight lifted from his shoulders. He handed the missive to Meg. “Thank God.”

“What is it?” Mother stood and rushed to him.

“I’ve received a pardon.” He grinned and thrust up his fists in triumph. “Both charges against me have been rescinded,” he bellowed for all to hear.

The entire hall erupted in cheers. Clansmen and women pounded the hilts of their daggers on the tables. The pipers on the balcony launched into a round of the pibroch of the Campbells whilst every soul stood and sang.

A tear streamed down Meg’s porcelain cheek, and he drew her into his arms. “I am a man truly blessed.”

“The view is spectacular from here,” Gyllis said, staring out over Loch Awe.

“Aye, it surely is.” Meg wasn’t looking at the lake, but rather stared at the men sparring in the courtyard. “The battlements give an ideal vantage point to a great many things.” With a sigh, she leaned through a crenel notch.

“Och, not there, silly,” Gyllis said.

“No?” Meg waved her over. “On that I disagree.”

Gyllis slid into the notch beside her and rested her chin on her palms. “Oh yes, I see what you mean.”

Meg fanned her face. “Unfortunate the knights have forgotten their shirts.”

“Mm . . .” By her lack of ability to speak, Gyllis must have spotted Sir Sean MacDougall sparring with Sir Robert Robinson. Formidable opponents they made, but Meg’s eyes strayed to the black-haired knight clashing swords with Sir Eoin.

She could never tire of watching Duncan with or without his clothing. But today he gave her a special treat. He wore his plaid belted low across his hips and sparred with his back to her. His sturdy waist flared until it met with powerful shoulders.

Even from the top of the wall-walk, she could see his muscles ripple beneath his glistening skin. And Duncan was nearly a head taller than all the other men in the courtyard. Meg doubted a one of them could best him. He advanced on Eoin, swinging his sword in his right hand and brandishing a targe in his left. Eoin deflected Duncan’s most savage blows. Meg bit her bottom lip. Their war play was not barbaric, but so fluid, it looked like a dance.

The two men circled, weapons held high, awaiting the next strike. Eoin lunged in. Duncan scooted aside, and it was on yet again.

“He’s incredibly beautiful,” Gyllis said.

Meg blinked, as if popping out of a trance. “Aye.”

“And faster than a fox.”

Meg sighed.

“And his chestnut hair glistens with streaks of copper when the sunlight hits it just right.”

Meg glanced to her future sister-in-law and smacked her shoulder. “You’re not watching Duncan, are you?”

“Nay, silly. What lassie would want to watch her brother spar?”

Meg recalled watching Arthur with the guard and cringed. “Most certainly not I. My brother needs an army in front as well as behind him.”

Gyllis leaned into her. “Do you think you’ll hear from Lord Douglas soon?”

“I hope so. Nearly two fortnights have passed since Duncan sent the missive to Arthur. Soon it will be an entire month.”

A sword clattered to the cobblestones. Both women peered through the crenel notch to watch Sir Sean retrieve it, then he turned and grinned up at them.

“Isn’t he dashing?” Gyllis rose up on her toes and waved with a smile full of sunshine.

Meg chuckled. The lass was smitten indeed.

When Sean resumed sparring, Gyllis sighed. “You’d think the men wouldn’t need to practice so hard since Duncan received the pardon from the king.”

“Aye, they no longer have the king’s ire to worry about, but these are trying times. The men can never let their guards down, especially with the work the Highland Enforcers carry out for the king.” Meg leaned out until she dared not go any farther. Craning her neck, she could no longer see Duncan.

Gyllis sighed and sat in the crenel. “I wish every day could be as dreamy as this.”

“I’ll say. Perhaps we could practice dancing in the courtyard after the men finish sparring. Beltane is coming. We can brush up on our May Day dances.”

Gyllis clapped her hands. “I think you have a splendid idea.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Duncan’s deep voice rumbled behind them.

Meg quickly straightened. “We were talking about practicing the May Day dances in the courtyard later.” She curtsied. “Will you come?”

“I’ve far too many things to attend. Besides, my days as a practice partner are over.”

Meg shot a glance at Gyllis. “Perhaps we’ll have to ask Sir Sean to join us.”

Gyllis nodded like a woodpecker hammering a tree. “Aye.”

“Och, are all women schemers? I’ll see to it Sir Sean has his hands full this afternoon as well.”

“Why, you’re no fun at all.” Meg grasped his elbow. “What brought you up here? Are you finished sparring already?”

He gave her a sideways look, one that made butterflies swarm throughout her insides. “We must talk.”

“Oh? Is that why you cut short today’s practice?”

“Aye.” He placed a hand upon Meg’s shoulder and looked at his sister. “Gyllis, would you please excuse us?”

Meg pointed toward the courtyard. “Go find Sir Sean to see if he’ll partner with us for dancing practice.”

Duncan frowned. “You’d best leave him alone and report to your mother. I’m sure she’ll have something for you to tend to.”

Gyllis headed toward the stairwell. “I like Lady Meg’s suggestion better.”

“Insufferable women. Now that John’s gone you’re all ganging up on me.”

Meg chuckled. “Is the poor lord of the keep being bullied by a mob of lassies?”

“Wheesht, woman, and come with me.” He led her down a flight of stairs into a small chamber where the guards upon the wall kept their weapons. He bolted the door.

Meg’s stomach squelched. “What you came to discuss must be very grave indeed, m’lord.”

He slid his fingers to the back of her neck, his gaze lowering to her mouth. “It is. Most grave.” He brushed his lips across hers ever so slightly. “Of utmost urgency.”

Moaning, Meg welcomed him while he deepened the pressure, his lips hot and demanding. Her breathing quickened. Her body instantly alive with need for him.

Growling, Duncan pulled his lips away. “When I saw you watching down below, I could not wait another moment.”

Meg pressed her body against his and swirled her hips. “If only . . .”

Duncan covered her mouth and lifted her by the waist, setting her on the bench behind them. “Let me between your legs.”

Her insides ready to erupt, she complied and pulled his mouth down to hers. Frantically kissing her, he tugged up her skirts until the air cooled her sex. But it wasn’t enough to quell her insatiable yearning. She tugged on his belt.

Duncan raised his kilt. Meg glanced down. His manhood jutted between them, demanding not to be ignored.

Her breath stuttered as she slid her hips closer to him. “I want you.”

“You’ve nearly brought me undone.” His words came out in short bursts with urgency.

Meg slid her fingers down and helped coax him toward her. “I can wait no longer.”

With one long thrust, Duncan entered her, a shuddering moan rolling from his throat.

Sweet release came fast for them both.

Panting, Meg clung to him. She opened her eyes and looked at the assortment of weapons surrounding them, and then to her bare knees. “This is an armory?”

Duncan cringed. “’Tis worse than the larder.” The place of their last tryst.

Meg rested her head upon his chest. “And the embrasure in your mother’s chamber.”

He held up a finger. “But that was a stroke of genius. Mother would never have thought to look for us there.”

Meg couldn’t help but laugh. “If we do not receive word from Arthur in the next sennight, we will need to wed immediately.”

Duncan kissed her temple. “Perhaps I should send another missive.”

“Heavens, by the time we receive word, our firstborn will be walking.”

He grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Are you with child?”

“I think not.” Meg counted back. So many things had happened, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her courses.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. No. Possibly.” Heat prickled her skin. Ah yes, it had been at least six sennights since her last show. “Perhaps I’m late.”

Before Duncan had the chance to respond, the ram’s horn blew three times. Their eyes met, and Meg’s shoulders tensed. She didn’t need Duncan to tell her three blares was not a good sign. “An attack?”

“Mayhap.” Duncan stepped back and adjusted his belt. “Unknown riders approach, that is a certainty.” He helped Meg hop down from the table and smooth her skirts. “Find my mother and the lasses. Lock yourselves in my solar until I come for you.”

Meg flung her arms around him. “Duncan, no. I cannot hide whilst you face some unknown enemy.”

He gave her a firm squeeze. “Do as I say. I’ll not see you hurt. Quickly now.”

Her heart racing, Meg descended the tower steps, but stopped at a narrow window—one used by the archers. Clutching her hand to her chest, she gasped. The approaching army carried none other than the Douglas pennant. “My God, Arthur. What are you thinking?”

Meg turned and fled up to the battlements. She would not be locked within a chamber whilst her brother led an attack on her betrothed.

Standing beside Eoin upon the battlements, Duncan watched the Earl of Angus’s great army surround Kilchurn Castle’s walls. The retinue progressed slowly, led by teams of oxen pulling two impressive Portuguese cannons. The earl’s men wore the Douglas tunics, emblazoned with the blue and red seal of the Earl of Angus.

A squire carried the earl’s pennant while it fluttered in the wind.

Duncan wanted to hit something. “No wonder it took the earl so long to respond to my missive. It would have taken a great deal of time for the teams of oxen to drag those cannons into the Highlands.”

Eoin slapped his hand against the stone wall. “Bloody oath. The bastard has no sense of humor, has he?”

“It appears not.”

“So he’s planning to use the big guns to blast through our walls though his sister is within?”

Duncan ground his fist into his palm. “Not if I can help it.”

Eoin stepped back. “You’ve a plan?”

“Aye.” Duncan headed toward the stairwell.

His friend hurried alongside him. “Oh no, you’re not walking away without a word. Besides, if your plan does not work, you’ll need alternative tactics.”

Duncan stopped. “I’ll go out alone and talk to him.”

“What? Have you lost your mind? He’s toting two cannons that can blast your miserable arse all the way to Inverary.”

Duncan placed a hand on Eoin’s shoulder and squeezed. “This is one fight I’d prefer to avoid. He is Lady Meg’s brother. If nothing else, I owe it to her to attempt a parley.”

Eoin spread his palms to his sides. “What if he fights?”

“Post the archers over the gatehouse. If it comes to blows, have them kill everyone surrounding me
except
the earl. I’ll not have Arthur Douglas’s blood on my hands.” Duncan eyed him. “Then we’ll show him what it means to fight in the Highlands.”

“But you could be killed out there by yourself.”

Duncan started down the steps. “I’m not intending to fight.” He regarded Eoin over his shoulder. “Have you not been my friend long enough to trust me?”

“Aye, but this is madness. Talk to him from atop the battlements—or by messenger.”

“Nay. I must do this my way.” Duncan pointed his thumb behind. “Go, don your armor. Organize the men.”

Duncan’s squire, Jamie MacGregor, met him in his chamber. The smart lad already had his coat of arms laid out. “I came as soon as I heard the ram’s horn.”

“Good lad.” Duncan slipped into a pair of chausses and a quilted doublet. While Jamie went to work fastening buckles, Duncan recounted the points he needed to make to the Earl of Angus. That the man had arrived with an entire army befuddled him. Why go to such great expense before he tried to talk? Had Duncan’s missive not been clear? Did the king have something to do with it? Had the king issued a pardon in hopes that the Campbells would let their guard down?

“All set, m’lord.” Jamie said.

Duncan blinked. “My thanks. Head up to the battlements with your bow.”

“Aye, m’lord.” Jamie started toward the door and turned. “Do you reckon they’ll blast those big cannons at us?”

“They might. Make sure you run for cover if they do.”

The lad blanched and headed out.