Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (12 page)

“Did you get a good spy of her?” the man
said.

The other man shrugged, nodded. “Aye. Good
enough.”

“We’re to follow her to her new husband’s
holding; somehow, get behind the gates. ‘Twill take a bit of time
to arrange it so that there is no suspicion of our purpose.”

“Aye,” the other man said with a nod.

“And then we will devise another test, to
see if her memory of us, of what we did, is truly lost.”

The other man scrubbed his fingers across
his well-trimmed red beard as he thought o’er the man’s words. He
nodded at last, saying, “Aye, ‘tis a good plan.”

The man did a quick scan of the smoky,
raucous chamber, dipped a glance to his half-empty cup, took a long
pull, almost in afterthought, then leaned across the table closer
to his partner and said just above a whisper, “She has a dread of
the song, this I know for sure, but no recollection of why ‘tis
so...
and
no recollection of me, either, ‘tis clear, and no
doubt because the disease I took from the whore two years past has
left me with little meat on my bones and pocks on my face. But the
earl is right to worry that a scheme is in place to rout us as the
culprits of the ambush, so we will watch and wait, and scheme
ourselves, and above all else: Not get caught!”

* * *

Robert shut the door and walked over to
stand in front of Morgana. Before he’d completed his last step, he
hauled her into his arms and kissed her. He tried to keep his
embrace light, but when she slid up his body, pressing those lush
breasts of hers against him as she went and opened her lips to him,
he tightened his hold. He drilled his tongue into the soft,
succulent orifice she’d proffered so sweetly and mimicked, in crude
detail, exactly how fast, how deep, and how hard he wanted to
plunge into her other delectable cavern. With first his tongue and
then his cock.

He was still a bit stunned by how quickly
and easily she was able to give him a second release each time they
swived. And this past night’s had surprised him, for he’d nearly
fell upon her in a dead swoon immediately afterward. A thing which
had now happened twice to him with her, but had ne’er before
happened with any other. And ‘twas not something for which he was
proud. That rather embarrassing reaction this night past, he hoped,
had only occurred because he’d had little to no sleep in the three
nights since they’d returned from the hunter’s cot. And the other
time—well, it had been after fucking her several times, and they’d
been
trying
to make the other swoon.

Aye, ‘twas no doubt that he had been wearier
than he’d realized which had given him such a reaction. For he’d
stayed awake the first night after their return, worrying, planning
and scheming o’er his new conquest. The second night, he’d spent
out in the cold on the heath with his temporarily lame horse, and
the third had been filled with anxious anticipation of the next
morn’s exchange of vows and the horrid feast that would follow.

God, but she was sweet. He loosed the ties
that closed the side of her gown and ran his fingers and palm down
into the bodice before capturing one of her breasts. He lifted it
up and out. “I’m not going to fuck you,” he said against her mouth,
“but I want a bit of what this abundant tit of yours offers.”

He moved his mouth further south, avidly
tasting and nibbling the soft skin of her face and neck. She tasted
so good, he couldn’t keep himself from biting and sucking the
tender place where her neck met her shoulder. When she jerked and
stiffened, he soothed the spot with the tip of his tongue before
continuing his mouth’s journey down her chest and o’er the rise of
her breast.

He wasn’t so gentle when he opened his lips
wide o’er her nipple and drew hard on its peak, teasing the hard
nubbin that grew tauter still with each new flick of his
tongue.

When he had her trembling and straining
against him, when he knew she would now be as avid to fuck as he
would be all day, he released her.

They both stood staring at each other, the
black centers of their eyes magnified and their bodies rigid. The
sound of each grating breath they took echoed in the chamber like
the wind o’er
Sìdh Chailleann
.

Robert dipped his gaze first to the place on
his wife’s neck and then to the swollen, hard tip of her breast.
There were white indentations in both places where his teeth had
been. And within each, the skin was swollen and red. A bit abraded,
even.

There was something about her that made him
want to leave his mark on her.

“Straighten your gown. ‘Tis time we left.”
He turned and strode to the door. After swinging it wide, he turned
back. “Come.”

Almost as an afterthought, or so it seemed
to Morgana’s dazed mind, Robert held out his hand to her.

She hurriedly tightened the laces on her
gown and realigned the neck of the shift beneath so that it covered
her well. Then, with a bit of a skip in her step, she walked toward
her husband and placed her hand inside his calloused palm. When a
very slight, but warm smile curved his lips and a twinkle lit his
eye, she grinned and happily allowed him to lead her out of the
chamber.

* * *

A while later, as their wagon shuddered and
jerked, and began to move out the gate, Donnach Cambel seethed and
worried.
‘Tis the basest of fortune that the meddling Norman
paid so much of the MacVie’s debts.
Instead of having his mute
niece well out of the way again, and too poor to be of any danger
to him, he’d now have to spend good time and coin to have her
watched—and if need be, killed. But, what tormented his mind even
more, was
why
the King had suddenly insisted the lass be
brought from the nunnery and presented at Court.
How had he
learned she still lived?

A Lady’s Journey

“
But, soft: behold! lo where it comes
again!

I'll cross it, though it blast me. - Stay,
illusion!

If thou hast any sound, or use a voice.

Speak to me.”

Hamlet (Act I, scene i)

“
Mad call I it, for to define true
madness,

What is’t but to be nothing else but mad?”

Hamlet (Act II, scene ii)

“
O, that way madness lies; let me shun
that;

No more of that.
”

King Lear (Act III, scene iv)

The Highlands, Scotland

The MacVie Holding, May 1207

M
ORGANA SWUNG HER
arms in a lively arc as she walked around the corner of the keep.
‘Twas nearing two moons since she and Robert had returned to his
holding and all around her was activity. Some were hard at work
repairing portions of the fortress’s structure and others, like
herself, were preparing for the
Bealltainn
festival that
eve. The warm yellow beam of the sun’s rays had melted the last of
the snow a fortnight past and now kissed her cheeks, giving them a
slight rose tint.

She’d received a missive from her cousin
that morn. Vika was still bold as ever, it seemed, openly giving
forth every shameful detail of who was with whom at the King’s
court. But there was a rather worrying, and telling, omission: With
whom was Vika spending time now that Robert was gone?

Morgana shrugged and shook her head. Her
cousin was a bit of a puzzle, brazenly giving her body up to men,
yet ne’er giving any of them the slightest hope of winning her
hand, or her heart. A thing that was so far removed from Morgana’s
own desires as to be nearly unimaginable.

She allowed her palm to rest lightly o’er
her lower abdomen. Had Robert’s seed at last taken root the eve
before? She prayed so. She’d had her flowering twice since their
first time together, and Modron had explained that her monthly
courses would stop when a babe began to grow there.

The sound of metal striking metal jerked her
from her thoughts and she turned toward it. A contented smile
formed on her lips for, there, not more than thirty paces from
where she stood, was her dark-haired, handsome husband. Bare to the
waist, he hefted the long handle of an iron hammer into the air
again and blasted it down on top of a long, heavy spike.

‘Twould not be many more moons before their
keep was back to the condition Robert had told her it had been in
when he was a young lad—before his father’s compulsive need to make
war on the de Burgh’s had o’ertaken his duties to his clan and
fortress.

Aye, the
de Burgh’s!
She’d had no
idea that Robert’s family was so closely linked to Guy’s. Not, at
least, until she’d arrived here and heard the tales from a few of
the more vocal clanswomen who spun for the keep. And then Robert
had utterly shocked her last eve, after their first loving of the
night, when he’d lain on his back, tucked her up against his side,
and
talked to her!
Not in short, blunt commands, as was his
usual way, but in expressive words. About his days as a young
squire, about his hopes for the future, and about how consumed his
father had been in trying to destroy the de Burgh’s—so much so,
that his sire had put their clan and holding at risk.

And ‘twas upon hearing him speak to her thus
that her heart had truly tumbled. She sighed. Aye, ‘twas going to
be much more painful than she’d e’er imagined when he left her bed
for another’s.

But, she was sensible. Especially so after
seeing at court just how faithless most marriages were. For now,
however? Aye, for now, she’d enjoy every last moment of this mad,
surprising,
fortunate
twist in her fate.

Modron walked up and stood next to her.
“Think you the rowan arch will be completed in time for the
festival?”

Morgana smiled, but didn’t turn her eye from
the flexing, sweaty bands of muscle across her husband’s abdomen
and chest. She nodded and motioned with a wave of her finger toward
the center of the courtyard.

“Ah, I see now. But...what e’er is your
husband working on then?”

Morgana shrugged one shoulder and shook her
head. She knew she no doubt had a worshipful look upon her
countenance, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of him.
And she truly cared not what he was making. She just hoped it took
a long while to complete, so she could savor the view for a bit
longer.

Aye, she had enjoyed watching Robert at the
tourneys; watching him meet each new challenge, each new test of
strength and prowess. And not only win, but far surpass his
opponents.

And to think, ‘twas all to save his holding,
to rescue his clan from total ruin. Not for the renown had he
competed, as so many of the young knights she’d met at court had
done. Nay, ‘twas for a much nobler cause than that.

All at once, Robert’s eyes locked on hers.
He gave her the most heated, conspiratorial smile she’d e’er
seen—or that he’d e’er bestowed upon her. Her nipples tightened
under the light wool of her gown. When his eyes dipped to them and
an avaricious spark lit their pale gray depths, her canal grew
heavy and damp, pulsing in readiness for his next invasion.

“Breathe, or you shall be in a swoon in
another moment,” Modron said in a low voice.

Morgana gave her an absent nod, but forced
air into her lungs as her maid—who had also become a dear friend
these past sennights—had advised her to do.

“My, but your husband is a virile one.
‘Twill not be much longer, I trow, before he’s bred a strong son
‘neath your heart.”

Morgana lifted her hand to that rapidly
beating organ and lightly rubbed it with the tip of her
fingers.

Her husband clearly misunderstood her action
for, in the next second, he was striding toward her. And in not
more than five after that, he had her lifted into his arms and was
marching them in the direction of the keep’s front entrance.

Aye, Morgana thought happily, ‘twould not be
many more days, she was sure, until she’d have his babe growing
inside her.

* * *

God!
The way she’d looked at him—as
if he were invincible, mighty, as if she thought he was a god. It
both frighted and thrilled him. And now, Robert was so ready for
her, he nearly dropped her twice before he made it into their
chamber and tossed her crosswise on the bed. He flipped up her
skirts, shoved down his braies, clamped his hands under her knees,
spread them wide, and entered her. When she came immediately, it
almost caused him to shoot his seed, but he gritted his teeth and
growled, somehow managing to keep the unbearably pleasurable
impulse at bay so he could enjoy gliding in and out of her a while
longer.