Once Upon a Plaid (20 page)

“If we’re to be the harbingers of prosperity, food, flavor, warmth, and good cheer, it willna do to neglect any of the symbols,” Will said. “Though truth to tell, most of the menfolk would be satisfied with just whisky.”

“All the symbols are important,” she reminded him.

“So they are.”

The Scepter of Badenoch wavered in her mind. It was a potent symbol for the Douglas clan. A few days lost in a stable hadn’t diminished it. Being brandished by a fool for the season of Christmastide didn’t lessen its pull on her husband. The rod meant continuity, the perpetuation of a strong family for the good of the people who depended upon them.

“We’ll ride double on Greyfellow, then,” William said as they parted ways at the door to the great hall. Katherine would have to venture into the souterrain to assemble the gift parcels.

“Remember what happened the last time we rode out on that gelding.” She stood on tiptoe to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Let’s hope ye’re luckier this time, Will. Ye dinna want to end up walking home again.”

—From “Get Ivy and Hull”

 

 

—An observation from Nab,
fool to the Earl of Glengarry

Chapter Twenty-Five

The night was moonless, but it didn’t matter. The sky was so thick with clouds, that not even starlight penetrated to the narrow game trails William and Katherine took. Fortunately, she was cat-eyed enough to recognize the correct way even in the gloom, and the cloud cover kept the night from being as stingingly cold as it might have been.

Riding at a leisurely pace, Katherine snuggled up close to William, pressing herself against the warmth of his strong back. She was slightly foxed from too many cups of ale, for every cotter they visited had insisted upon toasting them. A low fire glowed in her belly from the alcohol, and the sharp wool and leather of William’s scent made the glow dip lower in her body to simmer between her legs.

Will was her man, to do with as she pleased. And it pleased her to touch him. She slipped her hand around to run her palm under his kilt and along his muscular thigh.

“What are ye doing?” he asked.

“Passing the time between crofts.” She brushed his stiffening member, reveling in her power to rouse him. “Do ye not like it?”

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl, but she knew he was pleased. “That’s not in question. The thing is, how can I hope to first-foot for your father’s crofters when my cock is like to be the first thing through the door?”

She laughed and gave him a hard stroke from root to tip. He was so warm in her hand, almost feverish.

“Mercy, woman.”

“I have none.” She raised herself and nibbled behind one of his ears. When she took his lobe between her teeth and gave him a nip, he reined Greyfellow up sharp.

Will was off the gelding’s back in a heartbeat and pulling her down with him. His mouth was on hers, demanding and gaining entrance. He tasted of ale and heather honey from the sweet cranachan they’d been served at the last croft.

His hands parted her cloak and found their way in around the folds of her arisaid. He kneaded her breasts. He pinched her sensitive nipples the way she liked, and still she wanted more. She wanted his mouth on them, sucking and biting, but this wasn’t the place for prolonged love play.

When he pressed her spine against a broad yew tree and raised her skirts, she hooked a knee around his hip to help him. He wasn’t the least gentle, but she didn’t want him to be. She was wet and ready, and when he thrust in, she tilted her pelvis to meet him.

She’d never felt so wanton. The thrills swirling over her skin had nothing to do with the cold. She wanted this man to take her, to pound into her body, to drive himself home and claim her indelibly. She wanted to take him into herself and never let him go. If a whole troop of woodsmen chanced past them at that moment, it wouldn’t have mattered a bit. She was beyond shame.

They came at the same time, with pants and helpless noises of release, limbs jerking. The connection between them pulsed with life.

When the last contraction was over, she sighed and rested her cheek against his chest. “Oh, Will. Ye do me so fine, ye know.”

“If by that ye mean I took ye like an animal in rut, I’ll have to plead guilty.” He stroked her hair and cupped the back of her head, holding her close.

“Ye’re always so in control. Sometimes, it pleases me for ye to lose command of yourself for a bit.” She glanced past his shoulder. “Dinna look now, but ye’re about to lose control of our mount. Greyfellow is wandering off.”

Will pulled out of her and ran after the gelding. The horse had stopped on the other side of the clearing to paw at the snow in hopes of finding some grass beneath.

“Weel, this is what comes of vexing me, woman,” Will told her as he helped her up onto the gelding’s pillion once again. Katherine was a little sore, but she was totally satisfied with the result of his “vexation.” “’Tis what ye may expect when ye tempt a man beyond bearing.”

“Do ye promise?” She snuggled against him once he mounted ahead of her. Sated and still slightly tipsy, she was likely to fall asleep before they reached their next stop. Katherine was in no danger of falling off the horse, though, for William had wrapped the end of his plaid around both of them.

It occurred to her that she’d gone all day without thinking of Stephan or conceiving or the empty cradle in their chamber at home. And it was a good thing.

“If this is what happens when I vex ye,” she murmured as her eyelids drifted closed, “dinna be surprised when I do it again. Often.”

 

 

The croft of Sawney MacElmurray was the northernmost and farthest from Glengarry Castle of all the households that counted themselves attached to Katherine’s father. But it was certainly not the least. MacElmurray boasted eleven strapping sons and seven pleasant daughters.

And one very overworked good-wife.

Still, Mrs. MacElmurray was a veritable Martha of a hostess and presented Kat and Will with hot cups of spiced cider after William “first-footed” through their door. After all the ale, Katherine accepted the cider with gratitude. Mrs. MacElmurray insisted they take off their wraps and have a bit of broth to warm them as well.

The MacElmurrays were a musical family and, accompanied by a homemade harp and small bone flute, the brothers and sisters sang half a dozen carols for William and Kat before they had finished their cider and broth. When William rose to give them thanks and make their good-byes, Mrs. MacElmurray pulled Katherine aside.

“Afore ye go, my lady, ye must needs hear what my wee Hew has seen.” She motioned to one of her offspring. “Hew, fetch yerself here and tell our noble guests what ye stumbled across yesterday.”

Wee Hew turned out to be a lanky young man who was so tall he had to duck to avoid the ceiling beams in the low croft. He nodded respectfully to Will.

“I was trapping north of here when I seen ’em.” Hew tugged on his bottom lip and his brow wrinkled, clearly concerned. “I’ll not get into trouble for hunting off Glengarry land, will I?”

“Not with Lord Glengarry,” Will said. “I canna answer for the landholder ye were poaching from.”

“Och, I take yer point. No harm in telling ye then.” His legal questions assuaged, Hew launched into his tale with broad hand gestures. “Anyways, whilst I was setting some snares, I chanced to see Ainsley MacTavish and nigh onto fifty men tromping through the woods after him.”

“My Hew can count all the way to a hundred, my lord, so ye can trust his word,” his mother cut in with a beaming smile.

“I take it these men weren’t hunting,” Will said.

Hew shook his head. “They scared away the game for miles with all their clankin’ and jawin’.”

“Clanking?”

“Aye, there be some in armor and some in mail. They bore crossbows as well as swords. Ten were mounted.”

“Where were they headed?”

“From what I overheard—they was bumping their gums something fierce as they marched along, ye ken—they was on their way to MacNaught’s stronghold.”

“Do ye think MacTavish means to attack my cousin?” Katherine asked.

“No,” Will said, his face grim. “I think your cousin means to attack your father. He’s gathering fighting men and MacTavish is turning away from the earl to support MacNaught’s challenge. Doubtless the rest of your cousin’s cabal are following suit.”

“Surely Ranulf doesna mean to besiege the castle.”

“That seems to be his plan unless he has a way over the wall.”

A denial died on her lips. It was exactly the kind of thing grasping, defiant Ranulf would do. In the absence of her brother, Donald, her cousin had become restless and ambitious. Her father was growing older, more feeble. Without a visible heir, without Donald to keep the fighting men loyal to Glengarry, allegiances had shifted.

“We need to warn my father.” Katherine thanked the MacElmurrays for their hospitality and William counseled them to move to the safety of the castle as soon as possible.

“What about our stock?” Mrs. MacElmurray asked.

Katherine had counted one shaggy milk cow, two goats, and half a dozen hens in the listing stable, but they no doubt represented a goodly portion of the family’s wealth.

“Bring them with ye to Glengarry,” she told the woman. “Dinna tarry. If an army marches through here, there’ll be no safety for any of ye.”

“Hew, take three or four of your brothers and visit the other crofters hereabouts. Ye mind where they all are, aye?” William said as he wrapped his plaid around his shoulders. “Tell them to make for the castle with all speed. We’ve no idea how soon MacNaught intends to move. Come, my lady.”

William didn’t need to urge her to haste. She ran beside her husband to the stable, where Greyfellow was sheltered with the MacElmurrays’ beasts.

The earl was fond of boasting that Glengarry Castle had never been taken from without. But if her father’s people weren’t safely inside Glengarry’s walls, if her father didn’t make preparations to defend its battlements, the castle might just fall.

 

 

The ride out to all the crofts had been at an unhurried pace, punctuated by a decidedly hurried but supremely satisfying moment of “vexation.” The trip back to Glengarry, lit by a sickly dawn, was much different. There was no time for Kat to even contemplate “vexing” her husband. The countryside whipped past in an icy blur as William urged Greyfellow to as much speed as possible. Katherine clung to Will to keep her seat, with the wind biting her cheeks.

Once they clattered into the keep, they sent Nab to wake her father and, while he dressed, waited for him in the solar, rousting Sir Ellar and his lady from their makeshift bed. Apparently, the quarreling couple had reconciled over Christmastide and he was no longer planning to put her away, so they’d claimed use of the solar as ranking guests. They were more than a little put out at being roused so early, but William gave him such a storm cloud glare, Sir Ellar stopped his complaint in midsentence and dragged his wife from the chamber.

As soon as the earl made a grumbling appearance, William told him everything they’d learned from Hew MacElmurray and what had been done about it.

“What d’ye mean by ordering my crofters to gather here?” Lord Glengarry roared. “Jamison is finally satisfied with the state of the larder. The influx of all those additional mouths will send him into a foaming-mouth fit.”

Actually, Katherine’s father looked more likely to succumb to that malady than his seneschal. A vein bulged on the earl’s forehead and his color was too florid to indicate good health. She fought the urge to encourage him to calm down because nothing was more likely to agitate him further. The laird paced the length of his solar like a caged wolf.

“I gave the order because it’s what ye’d do yourself once ye think about it. Ye have to protect your people from MacNaught. He’s coming. Ye know it in your heart,” William said. “Ranulf may be your kin, but there’s no love lost between ye. He means to take your place or I’m much mistook.”

“Ye’re more than mistook, Badenoch.” Lord Glengarry shook a fist at his son-in-law. Calling William by his title instead of Will or “laddie” was an indication of how upset he was. The earl quivered with rage. No one but he made decisions about his people, and he wasn’t about to let William start. “Your orders betray ye as a coward and ye’d have me be one too. Fleeing behind the walls and shutting the gate. And against my own nephew!”

Katherine’s gut churned furiously. She hated seeing the men she loved most in the world at odds with each other. Will was showing remarkable restraint, but the way that muscle in his jaw ticked, she knew his patience wasn’t endless. “Father—”

“That’s enough, daughter.” The earl cut her off with a dismissive gesture. “’Tis bad enough I must listen to your husband. I’ll not take counsel from a woman.”

With every appearance of meekness, she sank into one of the Tudor chairs. Katherine wished she could convince her father that Will had done the right thing. She longed to describe the look of gratitude on Mrs. MacElmurray’s face when William offered the protection of the castle to her family, but her father would likely send her away if she said another word.

“’Tis true I rarely saw eye to eye with Ranulf’s mother, not after she married against our father’s wishes,” the laird said, “but I’ve done nothing to cause my nephew to turn on me.”

“Ye didna need to do anything,” Will said, his tone measured and low, a sure sign he was struggling to keep his temper in check. “’Tis not personal with MacNaught. He only wants your position, your place. It doesna matter to him if you’re in the laird’s chair or Donald or even wee Angus. Mark my words. He means to claim Glengarry for himself.”

“That’s against all law and precedent. Glengarry is not his to claim. When I pass, the earldom goes to Donald. No court in the world would rule otherwise.”

“Aye, but MacNaught’s not taking ye to court. He means to take your castle. Remember, possession is eleven points in the law and they say there are but twelve. Once he has the castle, the title will follow,” William said, “and Donald isna here to defend his inheritance, is he?”

Katherine bit her lip. Nothing would anger her father more than a slur against his heir.

“Ye’ve not a shred of proof against my nephew,” the earl bellowed. He couldn’t defend his son’s perpetual absence, so he turned back to blaming William. “I’m thinkin’ ye still hold a grudge over the black eye he gave ye in that wee bit of roughhousing a few days ago.”