Risk Everything (38 page)

“Get you here,” the MacDhaidh roared.

She could not speak to him now. Not after spying his naked body next to his wife but a short time ago. The hurt was too deep, and she feared she could not mask it.

“Meghan. Obey me!”

She would as soon obey Lucifer. Guiding Luath toward the far side of the bailey, she made for the stairway leading up to the walkway. ’Twould be easy enough to slide off the horse and be away in a flash.

She did not have a chance. His demanding whistle split the air. Meghan fought for control of Luath and thought she had succeeded, until an even louder and more insistant command shrilled. She could not break Luath’s years of training. He turned. Drat the man! By the time the steed galloped over to the MacDhaidh, she wanted to strike out at him with her feet.

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’Twas good she had no other arrows, else the temptation would be great to embed it in his fickle tarse.

’Twas fortunate for her that the excited men gathered around their master. Before Luath’s hooves settled, she slid off his back and turned toward Dougald.

“If ye train the men in such a way—” She got no further afore a heavy hand grasped her shoulder. She need not smell his scent to know who it was. Her body stiffened with rage.

“Take yer filthy paws off me, MacDhaidh.” Gathering all her strength, she slammed her right elbow into him. Staggering back, he released her. She spun around to face him.

“Ne’er put hand to me again. Ye have not the right.”

“I have the right. All at Rimsdale are under my protection and control.” The hard look in his eyes warned her not to speak. “If you dinna wish me to shackle you, ne’er act so brainsick again! What if somethin’ had startled Luath? He could have killed you.” He winced and rubbed his temple.

“What possessed you to allow such?” he shouted as he glared around at his warriors.

So violently did the vein in his forehead swell, she feared it would burst.

Dougald frowned in displeasure, for he had been most pleased with her instructions. Alpin raised his brows, and Jamie scratched the side of his face. Garith’s jaw stuck out in a mulish way.

“Meghan of Blackthorn is more skilled than our best riders, Rolf,” Garith said. “We could learn much from her.”

“Aye. And you could also have learned how to scrape up her remains and bury her afore dusk,” Rolf bellowed. “Leave us.”

Gauging his rage correctly, the men took to their heels faster than a flock of red grouse scattering on finding a hunting dog in their midst. Meghan folded her arms and ignored him.

He would not allow it. He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “Have you no thought to your own life?

What if ye are carryin’ my bairn? Ye could easily lose it.”

She looked down at his hands in silence until he released

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her. “
Yer
bairn? Ye have no right to claim a bairn as yers. Ye gave up that right the day ye took another as bride.”

They glared at each other like two rabid foxes, neither wanting to be first to look away.

Meghan sucked her teeth. “I have done the riding often afore. I was ne’er in danger from Luath. The perils to my life have all been under yer hands. Especially now.”

“Nay. Why think you such a thing?”

“Why, indeed? Are ye not the same man who last eve spoke of a contest of strength with me as prize? Ye would bestow me on another like a common slave?”

Meghan watched shame steal across his face.

“What will ye do to excite their interest, MacDhaidh? Will ye strip the clothin’ from my body and describe how ardent a lover I was? Or do ye think the sight of my flesh will be enough to stoke their desire?”

“Dinna speak such filth.”

“Your wife spoke such filth.”

“In kindness, she sought to find a man to husband you, since you are no longer virgin.”

“Kindness? Are ye blind as well as a fool?” Meghan wanted to smash his nose. “I need no aid to find a husband.

Once I return to Blackthorn, I will wed a man I choose to father my children.”

“Are ye carryin’ my bairn?” His teeth grated together.

“When ye have a son, ye will learn of it,” was all she would reply. Looking up, she spied Ailsa hurrying toward them.

“Yer wife craves another swivin’. She charges toward ye like a bitch in heat.” While he hesitated, Meghan strode toward the stable. Luath followed close behind her.

The next days saw tensions within Rimsdale tighten near to the point of an explosion. Ailsa’s voice became waspish and shrill. Rolf turned coward and spent most of his day away from the castle, leaving everyone else to bear the brunt of her anger. Though the servants tried hard to please their new mis-tress, they could do nothing right for the woman.

Of an evening, Alpin sat to Meghan’s left to shield her from

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Ailsa’s spiteful stares. One night, after Alpin was especially attentive, Meghan felt the MacDhaidh’s eyes scorch her back. She glanced up and jerked with surprise. Ailsa’s glare of hatred was directed on her husband and not on Meghan as was usual.

How quickly love turned to hate.

Not for the first time this day, Rolf fought to control his temper. Time and again, Ailsa carped at him. After he refused her idea of a contest, she demanded he force Meghan to marry.

He refused every name Ailsa put forth, saying Father Mark would never perform a wedding ceremony over a woman who was bound and gagged as Meghan would likely be.

Tonight Ailsa ventured a name he tried hard to find arguments against. ’Twas Alpin. Her claim that he loved Meghan was true. Anyone with half an eye could see Meghan made the man daft. The chance was high Father Mark would be in favor of it, for he had lectured Rolf long and hard on the sin he had committed by despoiling Meghan.

Though Alpin was his lifelong friend, the thought of him cradled between Meghan’s thighs made him want to kill him in an ungodly way. How could he feel such emotion about a woman he had set out to ruin? He shuddered and watched his friend. Alpin’s face softened with an inner glow whenever he looked at Meghan. ’Twas love. Rolf didna doubt it.

Pain shook him. His eyes blurred. He could never have her.

His revenge had turned to bitter defeat. Wrenching dishonor shredded his soul. He had done the unpardonable. He had heaped shame on the one woman he had ever truly loved.

Rolf was unaware of the tears that tracked their slow way down his sun-browned cheeks. Ailsa was not, though. Fury sparked from her. All those years she had planned and prepared had been for naught. Aye, her love for him had been fervent, as fervent as the hate that now roiled through her.

The fool! He had not seen how useless Ingirid was as a wife. A weakling. She wouldna have birthed a worthy son.

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Could he not see that she, Ailsa, could give him a son to rival all others?

On a visit to Rimsdale as a girl, she had spied Rolf’s father secreting the postern gate key behind a loose stone in the great hall. It had been easy enough to steal it and have another made.

Years later, it took little persuasion for her lover to pilfer clothing from Blackthorn while Connor and Damron were at Abernethy. Damron’s leman had been more than obliging, for she and Ailsa shared lovers. Two brothers. One who rode with Eric MacLaren, the other with Alpin. After a frenzied night of coupling, the Blackthorn leman had given her lover a helmet of Connor’s and a tunic.

The fools at Rimsdale thought Blackthorn’s men had climbed the walls to gain entrance. They had no need. An ac-complice inside Rimsdale used the key to give them easy ac-cess. Her man made sure the lout didna see the next dawn.

The one failed part of her plan was that Garith yet lived. He would cause no problem now.

Alpin remained an issue. Her twin was weak. Too tender.

She should have been the male. She must needs assure he suspected nothing, yet she would gain Rimsdale through him.

Meghan must be first to go. Then she would see Rolf and Garith soon followed.

Ailsa was certain she was increasing with her lover’s child.

No one would suspect. She had made certain the servants had passed on the story of the bloodied sheet after her wedding night. When she had drugged Rolf a sennight earlier, she’d had unforseen fortune when the servant opened the door the next morn and saw them naked together.

She had one regret. Rolf had collapsed afore he could ram his magnificent shaft into her eager body. Not one to do without pleasure, she had spent long, luxurious hours licking his body and marveling over every inch of him.

After accomplishing her plans, she would persuade Alpin to take over Rimsdale for the sake of what he would believe was Rolf ’s child. That the babe was not Rolf ’s made her triumph all the sweeter!

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* * *

Meghan oft visited the blacksmith and the armorer, and it was not long afore she spied a short sword that would fit her needs. The blade had nicks that needed honing, and the wooden hilt had begun to crack. The weapon had been left there for many moons. No one would miss it. As darkness fell, the men had yet to return from their meal. Like as not, they reveled in the ample charms of the scullery maids. In less time than it would take to count to five, she secured the weapon beneath her clothing.

Each night she spent time with Luath, avoiding Ede’s chamber until sure the MacDhaidh would have left Ailsa’s bed. This night, on hearing two people stealthily enter, whispering, she went quiet as a feather landing on a frozen loch.

She backed into a dark corner of Luath’s stall.

She had no need for caution, for the pair was too concerned with their own mischief to be aware of her. ’Twas Ailsa and an unknown man she heard entering a nearby stall.

“My rutting stallion, you serve me well. You relieved Rolf of his nithing of a wife and made way for me to be his bride.”

Ailsa’s voice sounded breathless in her haste to disrobe. “I have brought the love potion.”

“I ha’e no need for such. Am I not as massive as Luath when he services the mares?”

The man’s voice sounded familiar. Meghan rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and prayed they would hurry with their love sport.

“Umm, aye, you are as great around. Ah, so hard. Like a wild beast.” Her words sounded slow and disjointed as if she stroked him while speaking. “After Rolf drank the love potion in his wine, his tarse swelled near to bursting as the crone promised.

His eyes deceived him into thinking ’twas the slut Meghan who lay under him.” Her voice turned peevish. “The potion was too strong. He passed out afore I could enjoy the swiving.”

“What need had ye o’ him when I service ye often?” the voice asked.

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“Ah, but he is even more massive than you,” she said with a spiteful tone. “After he passed out, I stroked his tarse so he remained rock hard. I straddled him to take my pleasure, but the bastard rolled to his side afore I could guide him in. I couldna turn him.”

“Ow! Dinna squeeze me ballocks so hard,” the man com-plained.

“You like pain. See? You have swollen near to bursting.”

“Bitch. On yer knees,” he ordered to the sound of a hand slapping bare flesh.

From the sounds of it, Ailsa seemed to take great pleasure in pretending she was a mare in heat and her lover a stallion.

Her cries of pleasure sickened Meghan as much as the man’s hoggish grunts while laboring to please her.

If they did not soon finish their unholy rutting, Meghan feared she would be sick. She concentrated on breathing slow and deep and near missed their whispered words once they were done.

“Be there enough mandrake to bring down a man of Rolf ’s size and his brother too?” Ailsa asked.

“Aye. Ye need but a drop or two in their ale each day.

They will quickly sicken. ’Twill look like a common ailment pesters them.”

“Like a dutiful wife, I will tend them myself.” Ailsa’s voice sounded wicked. “My pleasure will be to watch his pain. I will allow no other into the room. His own filth will soon cover him.”

“Mayhap ye should dose others to make it appear a common ailment?”

“The Blackthorn bitch must be first. I will give her but two days to live, and then put it about that she shared her sickness while swiving with Rolf and his brother.” Her laugh was more a quiet cackle. “Rolf will believe she spread her legs for Garith and the men she pursued.”

“I near had her that night here in the stable. Had I spread her virgin’s blood o’er her, that crazy Ugsome would have ripped her apart,” he said with disappointment in his voice.

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Meghan’s lips pulled back in a silent snarl. So, it was the lout Fergus whom the MacDhaidh had thrown out of Rimsdale.

“Leave now. I will return to my chamber and smear your seed on the sheets. The servants will believe Rolf and I swived the night away,” Ailsa gloated. “I canna come to the gate with you. Leave the key in the hole as afore.”

Keeping to the shadows after they left, Meghan watched Ailsa slip away toward the castle, then she followed Fergus.

Several times she despaired he had heard her, for he turned and she felt his eyes search the darkness. He came to the postern gate and scurried behind a large bush. He knelt, and within moments, he was back out with the key in his hands.

After unlocking the gate, he returned the key to its hiding place, eased the gate open, and disappeared into the night.

No doubt, Ailsa would return the next day and retrieve the key. Meghan knew she had to escape tonight. Yet she could not without first warning Rolf what his wife planned. No matter how much she now hated him, she could not allow Ailsa to follow through with her evil plot.

Minutes later, she eased his solar door open and slipped inside the dark room. She had not moved a step from it afore a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm of steel pulled her back against rock-hard flesh.

Chapter 28

The MacDhaidh’s familiar scent and the soft rustle of his breath in her ear made her quiver. Rough fingertips caressed the side of her cheek as he growled low in his throat. Fighting a relentless urge to melt back against him, she twisted her head and bit the tip of his middle finger. He squeezed her cheeks hard in warning, afore he removed his hand and spun her to face him.