book JdM6x1406931-20978754 (14 page)

“Come, Elisabeth,” he whispered, “I shall show you something new.”

To her surprise, he turned upon his back and pulled up his shirt so that his yard pointed to the sky. Elisabeth was confused, for they had never used the posture before, but at his urging, she bestrode him and learned to ride him as he gave her sharp spanks behind, upon her blazing backside, to urge her on. Her cunny seemed to gain back all the heat it had lost to the fierceness of the strap ten times, and she cried out with her eagle cry again and again, until finally she felt Angus spending inside her, and she fell limp upon him, where their plaids covered them, under the Highland sky where the eagles wheeled.

Chapter Sixteen

They were in Argyll-shire at the MacGregor stronghold of Glenstrae when they heard about the raid the MacDonalds were planning on Castle Urquhart. Angus had found employment with the laird easily, in part because of his skill in herding and in part because of his tales of raids back and forth with the MacDonalds. And when the Laird of Glenstrae, Alistair MacGregor, heard that in Elisabeth he was hiding the heiress of Urquhart, married to a MacGregor, he was eager to provide his finest hospitality. Angus and Elisabeth dined at the manor-house of Glenstrae almost every night.

At table there, a traveler, by clan of a sept of Clan Gordon, spoke of what he had heard on a recent journey to the Isle of Skye and the feasting hall of the Lord of the Isles.

“They took it ill that the king rebuilt Castle Urquhart,” he was saying.

Angus glanced at Elisabeth, who was looking right back at him to be sure he had heard.

“Indeed,” said the laird. “There are two here who would be interested in the tidings, though I have promised not to say who.”

Alistair MacGregor was a canny man, and he did not even glance at Angus or Elisabeth.

“They plan another mighty raid. ‘Why not go back and take the same number of sheep and kine again, if the garrison will only favor us with such another flight?’ That was what I heard the Lord of the Isles say, laughingly, more than once, and by the time I left, they were making their plans for a month hence, this time to plunder all of Glen Urquhart and Glenmoriston.”

Elisabeth looked desperately at Angus as Angus tried to keep his face impassive. Alistair noticed her expression and said, “Surely the king’s forces will defend the castle.”

“Have you met the Lord of Urquhart, Laird Alistair?” the traveler asked. “He’ll be away down the loch the first hint of a MacDonald war cry.”

Angus risked a glance at his wife. Elisabeth’s face was bright red, but Angus knew that she was blushing because the man spoke true.

“They will take everything from Achmonie too, Angus,” she whispered to him, while they were still at table. “We must go back to warn them, at least.”

Angus sighed. She was right. But he could tell that warning the MacGregors at Achmonie was not what her true intent was.

“Do not lie to me, Elisabeth,” he said. “Think on what you really wish to do.”

Then it was time for the ladies to withdraw, and they did not see each other again until they were back in the little house that the laird had given to them for as long as they needed it, now that Angus had come into his service as a senior herdsman. It was not much by Elisabeth’s standards, but it was by far the most elaborate dwelling Angus had ever occupied.

Above all, it had the first feather bed upon which Angus had ever slept, and over the past five months, he had grown well used to fucking his naughty bride upon it.

They sat in chairs—another luxury for a man who had sat on stools when he was not squatting on his heels, all his life—beside the little hearth.

“Tell me true, Elisabeth. What does your heart of hearts hold about this news?”

“What if we could save the castle? My father brought enough men to defend it, surely, if they are warned?”

“So you wish to warn your father?”

“Not for his sake, to be sure, but for your kin and for the Grants and Gordons of Glen Urquhart.” She paused and he could tell she was keeping some thought back. Then she continued, “And to strike a blow against the MacDonalds.”

“To defend the castle is not to strike a blow, though, ‘tis only to avoid the blow of another.”

“What if we could strike a blow against them, though?”

She was trying to keep the excitement out of her voice, he could tell, but she clearly had an idea. It was likely, he thought, to be impetuous or even impossible, but he could not help loving the way her blue eyes seemed to burn in the lovely face that was now red with the winds she had braved, instead of creamy white, but all the more beautiful to him for that.

She told him her plan.

He considered for a long while. Then he said, “I am going to spank you, my eagle, for even suggesting something so dangerous to yourself after I believe I made myself perfectly clear.”

She smiled mischievously at him, and reached out and took his hand.

“That will be simply upon the principle of the matter, and you must not try to avoid it.”

She giggled, as he gave her a look of mock sternness, but squeezed her hand at the same time. Then, he made his tone more serious. “But I know what it means to you, to try this way, and I believe that if we plan well, you will be safe, now that we are under the Laird of Glenstrae’s protection and can turn to him to free you, if we must. On the morrow, we will lay out the plan for those whom we must tell about it. Hear me, though, Elisabeth. I was not jesting when I punished you for the risks you took the last time we were at Urquhart. You
must not
put your life in unnecessary danger. But as I said, I know you and your spirit, and what we can do, we will.”

“Oh, Angus, you don’t know what it means to me to hear you say that. You are the most wonderful Highlander a lass could ever have for her lord and master.”

“Well, let us see how you feel about that in a little while. Please remove your plaid and shift and lie over the side of the bed. I shall be there directly to punish you.”

He found her there, obedient to his command, still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen: the naked Lady of Urquhart lying with her bottom offered to him, ready for spanking.

He sat next to that bottom on the soft bed. “When I threw you over that hay bale, milady, did you ever imagine you would find yourself undressing for a spanking from me so willingly?” he asked quietly.

She turned her head upon the mattress. “No, My Lord,” she said, “I cannot say that I did.”

Angus gave her a nice, hard spank across both cheeks, and Elisabeth gave a little cry. “What else could ever befall such a naughty lass, though, I ask you?” He spanked again and again, marveling as always at how perfect her bottom felt to his hand and how very pleasant it was to spank his wife.

“Nothing, My Lord,” she cried. “I simply did not know what was best for me, or who!”

He spanked again and again and again. “Did you know,” he asked sternly, “how naughty your little cunny was?” With his quickness, he dropped on the instant to his knees behind her and spread her knees in a trice and played at her cunt with his tongue.

She screamed, “Yes, My Lord! Yes, I knew, but…”

He pulled his face back. “But what, my Highland eagle?”

“But I never knew what to do about it!”

“Well, then, perhaps I should show you what to do about it.”

Then he stood and entered her, and before long she was again his Highland eagle, crying out into the mattress as he rode her as hard as he liked, as hard as he knew she craved too, and they at last spent together and then lay still.

Chapter Seventeen

At mid-morning, wearing the hood of her arisaid around her face, she walked through the gate of Castle Urquhart. There were enough Highland girls who came to visit the men-at-arms inside the castle that no one remarked on her passage at all. By horse all the way from Glenstrae, along the whole of the Great Glen by way of Inveraray, and her backside was now as sore as if Angus had strapped her within an inch of her life. But all was going to plan, and she thanked heaven for the soreness, because it had been acquired in pursuits so productive.

It was only at the door to the family tower that she was stopped by a man-at-arms. She lowered her arisaid and said, “Take me to my father.”

* * *

“Get the boats ready, Gordon,” said William Grant, the greatest coward, Elizabeth thought, the Great Glen had ever known.

“Father, listen to me. If you will only defend Urquhart, we will be able—”

“Silence, Elisabeth!” he said. “You know not of what you speak. The king has told me that the strength of his forces must not be put in peril. I am…” He seemed at a loss for his next word for a moment, but then, with a grudging tone, he continued, “…grateful to you for bringing these tidings to me. But I know what must be done at this pass.”

Elisabeth looked desperately at Sir James. The man was scarcely human, she thought; his heavy eyelids shielded his thoughts from discernment by any observer.

“Sir James,” she said, “surely—”

“I bid you be silent, girl,” her father said. “Need I have you removed?”

Her eyes met Gordon’s, and she could tell that at least he knew that her father was the worst lord ever to set foot in Urquhart.

“Now, as I said I am… grateful. And I am glad you have returned; your mother would be very happy. With any luck, your brute of a husband—and I do not even blame you for that, for I know what weak creatures women are—will be dead ere long in the feuding, and we will make for you the sort of marriage you deserve. Your maidenhead may be gone, but your beauty remains—not to mention your lands, Lady of Urquhart.” He smiled at her, and she wished she had put the dirk between his ribs that day she had saved her truly noble husband from her ignoble father.

“I will withdraw, then, Father,” she said, “if you will permit me, until the boats are ready.”

“That would perhaps be best,” he replied, smiling in a manner he must have thought paternal.

By the Rood,
she thought as she climbed the stairs to her old chamber,
to have all go right until this moment, and to have everything fall apart thus.
The tears came to her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. Never had she wanted Angus by her so much.

There was that circumstance they had discussed, when Angus had said she must never consider trying it unless her life were in mortal peril. Surely, in one sense, her life was in mortal peril, for her father was going to leave the castle to be sacked again. She must try it, must she not?

“If your father flees,” Angus had said, “you must go with him. I will be safe, in that case, and we will free you from your father forever.”

But what if the flight put her in mortal peril? It would, would it not? For if the MacDonalds fell upon them while they were embarking, surely they would slay her?

Sitting upon the stately bed with its fine linens which now graced her chamber, the castle being nearly rebuilt in the months they had spent in Argyll, she sighed. She knew precisely what Angus would tell her to do, and she was not going to do it. If they both survived, her backside would most certainly pay a terrible price.

She left her room and took the staircase to the top of the tower. She was being watched from the town, she knew. She walked back and forth along the crenellations once, twice, three times.
The castle will be defended
.

Then she went back down to her chamber again, her bottom tingling under her shift in the knowledge that she had just earned the strapping of her life.

* * *

An hour later, she walked sedately down to the dock with her father and Gordon. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she could scarcely believe it would stay inside her body. This moment would decide whether she had a chance of succeeding. If not… well, she had
probably
not doomed her husband to capture or death. She swallowed hard.

Just at the point of crossing the gangplank onto her father’s boat, she said. “Oh, Father—I am so sorry. I left the little portrait of my mother in my chamber. I will run and fetch it and take the next boat.”

Her father looked unhappy but not suspicious. She had wished him a coward when she had rescued Angus from the dungeon, but that wish was nothing to the one she sent up to heaven now that his craven soul might be her ally.

“Very well,” he said. “You will stay with her, Gordon?”

“Oh, no, Father,” she said. “I will be fine.”

“I am sure you will,” he said impatiently, “but you are the heiress, and you must be accompanied.” He signed to the oarsmen, and the boat began to get under way.

She and Gordon watched it go.

“My Lady,” he said, “I do not know what your plan is, but if, as I assume, it tends to the safety of this castle, I am with you.”

She turned to look at him in astonishment.

He was smiling wryly at her. “Is it wrong, do you suppose,” he asked, “to wish that boat at the bottom of the loch?”

She responded by shouting to the men-at-arms who were preparing to board the second boat. “You, there! Listen to me! We are going to defend this castle!”

Perhaps without Sir James at her side, she would have failed. But perhaps not, she thought, for as she told them what they were going to do, she felt in herself the strength that had been instilled in her this past year with Angus’ help. By heaven, at least they could try.

* * *

The MacDonald raiders were in the town, running furiously towards the castle. From Elisabeth’s place, sitting with her back to the stone behind the battlements atop the gate-house, she could hear them screaming their war cry, “Gainsay, who dare!” over and over as they came. All the lights in the castle were out. It was deserted, they could see, just as they had found it the previous year.

She had wanted to be in the bailey with a claymore and a dirk. As long as she had already broken her promise to Angus, she might as well put all at the hazard. The men-at-arms had loved her from the moment she had told them that she would stand with them, and for her to be there in the bailey would, she thought, have made victory secure. Sir James, however, had insisted she be behind the battlements in relative safety.