Knight in Highland Armor (21 page)

She pressed her hands against his. Aside from a little pain upon inhaling, she felt fine. “A tad bruised, nothing more.”

He refastened his kilt, then helped her up, smoothing his hands over her skirts. “I think you’d best ride with me, just to be certain.”

“Are you jesting?” She arched a brow at the big warhorse. “Ride double on your stallion?”

“Pegasus? He’s harmless.”

“Aye? Have you noticed how harmless he is biting a mare’s back when breeding? I’ll say he’s quite the boorish beast, if you ask me.”

“Is your mare in heat?”

Margaret shook her head on a laugh. “Nay, else you’d have been the one sailing through the air, not me.”

As usual, Colin got his way in the end. Together they rode back to Dunstaffnage, Lord Glenorchy cradling his bride across his saddle, pulling the mare beside them. The hunting party beat them back, and they were met at the gate by a worried Lord Argyll. “I was about to send out a search party.”

Colin gave him a wink. “Margaret had a bit of a fall.”

She waved her hand. “Not to worry. I’m quite all right. Lord Colin is simply being overcautious.”

However, when Colin carefully lowered her from the saddle, she was indeed stiff. “I daresay a glass of mulled wine will be welcomed.” She rubbed her backside and stretched her back.

***

Colin felt like celebrating. Margaret had the most astonishing way of blotting out all his cares. In her arms, he could think of nothing but his love for her. How had it happened? Never would he have believed he could love again.

Watching her flit about his chamber, removing every pillow and cushion and stacking them around the hearth, filled him with contentment. She skipped to the bed. “Come, help me pull off this huge comforter.”

“Do you think we shall need it?”

“We need every comfort known to man.”

With a tap at the door, a servant brought in a selection of breads and cheese, and the most coveted warm mulled wine.

Colin waved the servant inside. “Set it on the table and that will be all, thank you.”

Colin and Margaret had supped in his chamber nearly every evening in the past fortnight. Honestly, they should be dining in the hall with Lord Argyll this eve, but Colin couldn’t bring himself to do so—not with all their talk about wine and cheese. By the time he got Margaret back to the castle, he was ready for another round with her. God she was remarkable, hiking up her skirts in the wild. How on earth the king convinced her to marry him was a quandary. Lady Margaret could have any man in Scotland—and blessed be the stars, he was her lucky suitor.

Colin took Margaret’s hand and walked her in front of the crackling hearth. “Since the room is warm and we have multiple plaids
and
my comforter to wrap around us, I think we should dine disrobed.”

Margaret’s eyes flashed wide. “You cannot be serious. What if a servant finds us?”

“We can cover up, just as we would if we were in bed.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. “You’re simply scandalous.”

“Aye, but isn’t it so much more fun?” An adorable blush crawled up her cheeks. How could she be bashful after a fortnight of swiving like rabbits? Colin made quick work of loosening her laces and slipped the wide-necked gown from her shoulders.

Margaret crossed her arms over her shift.

Colin stepped in and ran his fingers through her hair. “Why shy all the sudden?”

She lowered her arms. “I am not.”

His eyes dipped to her bow-shaped mouth and he was overcome with an urge to kiss it. Licking his lips, he lowered his head and showed her the depth of his love for her. By the time he pulled away, they were both completely unclothed, his cock pointed directly at her. Colin held her at arm’s length and drank in her beauty. He must never compare her to his previous wives. From here on, he’d be content to fill his eyes only with the sight of her beauty. Margaret’s flesh was alive, supple and his to worship. In this moment, she filled his mind completely.

She sat first and pulled him beside her, tugging the plaid across her lap.

He fingered the wool. “Are you chilled?”

“A little…not really.”

Colin brushed the plaid aside. “Then allow me to feast my eyes upon you.” He kissed her hand and ran his lips up her arm.

She sighed. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmm. Famished.” He forced himself to pull away and place the tray in front of them. He reached for a slice of bread and held it to her lips. “Well-earned sustenance,
mo leannan
.”

Together they reclined against the pillows, ate and sipped the warm wine. Colin eyed her lute resting beside the hearth. “Will you play for me?”

She arched a brow with her sidewise glance. “A strumming naked strumpet?”

Margaret’s little innuendos could make him laugh like no woman he’d ever met, and he did so from his gut. “Exactly. Last night you played for me fully clothed. Why not an erotic concert this night?”

Crawling toward her lute, she giggled. Oh how he loved her willingness to indulge his fantasies. Admiring her heart-shaped bottom, prone to him, he could make love to her right there, but the prize would be all the sweeter if he waited.

Grasping the instrument, she situated herself atop a cushion and smiled. Her eyes drifted to his crotch. Colin liked her boldness and he lengthened for her. Her eyes grew dark and she sucked in a breath, pulling the lute across her lap.

She strummed a chord, blissful notes vibrating between the chamber walls. Colin’s heart swelled. She opened her mouth and sang a happy madrigal, so light and airy, Colin could swear the music was alive. It floated and swirled around him almost as if he could grasp it.

He reclined against the cushions and watched. Margaret’s plush breasts jostled slightly with her movement, the pearly buds pointed at him, begged him to suckle them. He licked his bottom lip. They would be the first stop on tonight’s journey to heaven.

She watched him with a heavy-lidded gaze, yet her sultry voice missed not a note. Colin smoothed his fingers along a silk cushion, imagining her skin smoldering beneath. Longing clamped around his manhood. His reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. Margaret’s voice softened. Colin spread his legs and let her feast her eyes on what he was about to give her.

When she strummed the last chord, Colin could resist her no more.

MacCorkodale lands, 30
th
November, 1455

Mounted on his steed, Ewen circled his bullwhip over his head and cracked it midair. “Get up, ye wee beasties.” It had been a good year for his heifers. He’d left it a bit late for firebranding the calves, but today it wasn’t raining and the task needed to be done with.

He and his men had rounded up the herd of red shaggy cattle and were driving them toward the yard just outside the keep’s walls. In front of him, a steer bucked and gallivanted, until he stopped at a clump of grass. Digging in his spurs, Ewen galloped after the stray. With a flick of his whip, he lashed the beast’s hindquarters.

The steer brayed, his eyes rolling back. Zigzagging, Ewen drove the blighter back to the herd with quick snaps of his whip.

Ragnar rode in beside him. “That’s a fine-looking piece of beef. I’d be careful with that lash.”

Ewen chuckled. “Makes the bastards more tender.”

The lead man hopped off his horse and opened the yard’s gate. “There’s a Glenorchy firebrand on this one,” he hollered.

Ewen waved him on. It wouldn’t be difficult to alter the brand.

Ragnar chuckled. “Thieving cattle, are we now?”

“Wheesht. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft on me. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

The big henchman shrugged and leered with a sideways look. “Was at the alehouse yesterday. Word has it Glenorchy has invited all of Argyllshire to his son’s christening two days hence.”

Ewen pulled up his horse. “You don’t say?”

Ragnar smirked. “Ye aim to pay the bastard a visit?”

“Why not?” Ewen tugged the whip through his fist. “I think we’ve left his coffers alone far too long. There’s an open invitation, you say?”

“Aye.”

How can I ignore an opportunity to pry?
“Mayhap I’ll poke around a bit, find Glenorchy’s latest weakness. That should be easy enough.”

Ragnar dug in his spurs and chuckled. “’Tis a good thing, m’laird. Things around here have been rather dull.”

***

Two days after the hunt, Margaret and Colin processed to the chapel. Effie walked behind them, carrying baby Duncan. It was a blustery day, spitting with rain, and Margaret had ensured Effie wrapped the bairn snuggly in furs before they set out. It was fitting the babe’s christening would be his first foray outside the castle walls.

Colin had donned his ceremonial armor. Margaret would have preferred he wore a doublet with matching hose and fashionably pointed shoes, but it mattered not. Their garments were covered with heavy fur cloaks. Besides, her husband looked like a king in his impressive blackened armor.

The priest waited as the procession neared the chapel’s threshold. Everyone invited had come—the Campbells of Argyll and Glenorchy, as well as the MacGregors. Most attendees would be forced to wait outside the small chapel’s walls as the mass was said, but Margaret had discussed with the priest that all who approached God’s table would receive holy bread and wine. The five deer felled on their hunting expedition would be the main fare at the feast—thank the good Lord for providing such abundance.

Margaret only hoped they wouldn’t be hit by a torrential downpour until after mass. She worried about her guests, especially the MacGregors, with whom she’d become so attached in the short time she’d stayed in Glen Orchy.

Alana stood beside Robert near the chapel door. Margaret held out her hands and kissed her friend on each cheek. “Why are you not inside?”

“’Tis packed to the walls.”

“Surely there’s a place for the MacGregor chieftain and his wife in the front.”

Alana clapped her hand over her heart. “But those chairs are reserved for family.”

Margaret took her hand. “And that’s exactly why we’ve reserved them for you.” Honestly, her parents were not in attendance and Colin’s had passed. What better way to strengthen the relationship between the clans?

Colin smiled and bowed to Robert. “Aye, of course, please join us.”

He then winked at Margaret, an appreciative gesture that spoke a thousand words.

It was a lovely service, and the priest followed Colin’s wishes to keep it short, with so many people attending outside in the cold. Duncan behaved amiably, with scarcely a whimper when the water was ladled over his head. Colin gazed upon Margaret through the entire mass, his reverence so palpable, Margaret felt as if the bairn had been born of her body. Her heart filled with warmth. Colin had finally accepted her as wife and mother. Now if only she could add to their brood and survive in the process.

***

Before the feast, Colin swapped his ceremonial armor for the more comfortable dress of a Highland lord—a plaid belted around his waist and a linen shirt with the Campbell colors draped from his left shoulder to his right hip. So many people crowded the tapestry-lined walls, there was nary a need for the roaring log fire in the grand hearth. Guests sat elbow to elbow at the long wooden tables, and yet some remained standing. Colin had never seen Dunstaffnage’s great hall so fully packed with people. “Remind me to review Kilchurn’s floor plans. The great hall must be larger than this by half.”

Margaret raised her goblet. “I like the way you think, m’lord. Never turn away a guest, for one small kindness could lead to a lifetime of fealty.”

“You’re a generous woman. I like that.” She’d even added more chairs to their table on the dais and invited people to sit along the platform edge.

At Colin’s opposing side, Argyll elbowed him in the arm. “What the devil is Ewen MacCorkodale doing here? Surely you didn’t invite him.”

Colin planted his feet square on the floor. A rush of heat shot through his fingers and toes. “I did not, and would never invite the cousin of the man who nearly ran me into ruin.”

Argyll frowned. “I could ask him to leave.”

“And cause a stir?” Colin took a healthy swig of wine. “’Tis a celebration. If he behaves, there is no reason to sour the gaiety for Lady Margaret.”

“I shall keep an eye on him.”

“My thanks, nephew.”

Argyll signaled for his henchman. “You’d do the same for me. Enjoy the evening. My men will see to order.”

The big henchman moved to Argyll’s side, and they spoke in hushed tones.

Eyeing them, Margaret clasped Colin’s arm. “Is everything all right?”

“Aye.” He patted her hand. “Just taking a few wise precautions to ensure it stays as such.”

With a clap of his hands, servants poured into the hall laden with trenchers of roasted venison, fresh bread and scrumptious honey-baked apples. Colin’s stomach rumbled when the succulent smells wafted from the kitchen doors. He stood and raised his cup. Benches scraped across the hall floor as every guest followed his lead. “My friends, I thank you for celebrating my son’s christening with me and his stepmother. Duncan is well on his way to becoming a just and diplomatic man. Welcome to my table. I wish you all good health.”

“Good health!” The hall resounded with the cheer.

Colin held his cup and eyed every person at the high table. Robert MacGregor and his wife, the priest, his adoring Margaret on one side. Argyll sat beside powerful clan cousins with whom they were both allied.

As dinner ended, Colin touched his lips to Margaret’s ear. “Are you ready to play for us,
mo leannan
?”

“Are you sure? We could just bring the musicians in now.”

“I want to show you off to the clan. ’Tis not often I hold a gathering as large as this.”

“Very well.” Margaret picked up her lute from behind a tapestry and moved to a stool Colin had placed there that morning. Aside from the day he heard petitions, she’d mostly serenaded him in his chamber—at least when he wasn’t ravishing her.

He pulled his dirk from its scabbard and pounded the hilt on the table. The noise in the hall gradually abated. When finally the lower tables quieted, he gestured to his wife.

Her faced turned as scarlet as the red tapestry behind her—so endearing. She strummed the introduction of the ballad she’d practiced for him, then her voice sang out clear as a crystal bell.

Jaws dropped across the crowd and Colin’s heart swelled with pride—until his gaze settled on Ewen MacCorkodale. Colin could not mistake the deep desire reflected in the man’s eyes. One male predator could sniff out another from fifty paces or more, and MacCorkodale sat a mere twenty paces away. The man leaned his elbow against the board and spread his legs, a long-toed shoe pointing directly at Margaret. The dipped tilt to his chin, the wolfish grin and the tongue that slipped out and moistened his bottom lip made the hair on Colin’s nape stand on end. He slid his fingers over the round pommel of his sword. One wrong move and Ewen would be a dead man.

Margaret strummed her final chord. The hall erupted in applause. Colin clapped loudly, drowning out all others on the dais.

“Ewen’s applauding nearly as loudly as you.” Argyll nudged him. “Shall I escort him out?”

“Nay. Let the bastard step out of line. It would be my pleasure to introduce him to my claymore.”

The musicians took their places on the balcony. Servants quickly folded tables and lined the walls with benches to create enough space for dancing. At once, Ewen MacCorkodale approached the dais and bowed. “Lovely ballad, m’lady.” He gestured to the crowd. “It touched the hearts of all.”

“Thank you,” she replied with genuine grace, dipping her head respectfully.

“May I have the honor of this dance?”

Colin stood. “The first dance should be with the lady’s husband.”

He didn’t miss the lesser laird’s fleeting sneer. Ewen bared his teeth ever so slightly before he bowed. “Forgive my impertinence.” Then he had the gall to reach for Margaret’s hand. “You will then reserve the second dance for a poor chieftain, m’lady?”

Margaret smiled graciously. How she could be so damned amiable given the present company was beyond Colin’s imagination. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

Colin grasped his lady’s hand and led her to the floor. “You needn’t dance with him.”

“Aye, but it may help smooth the tainted blood between our clans.”

“After Walter’s skullduggery, I doubt our alliance will ever be more than tolerant, and barely that.”

“But it was Walter who erred, not his cousin or his entire clan.”

“Lady wife, you are wise beyond your years. But blood runs thick in the Highlands. Ewen must prove himself ten times over before I forgive Walter’s crimes against my house.”

The dance ended quickly, and blasted MacCorkodale moved toward Margaret as if he had some sort of claim. Colin clenched his fist and leaned his lips to her ear. “Save every other dance for me this night. I am not disposed to sharing you with anyone.”

Returning to the dais, Colin scowled. Ewen’s looks didn’t lighten his mood. Tall, with auburn hair and dark eyes, the neighboring chieftain had always had a way of turning the ladies’ heads.

Margaret seemed to be enjoying herself, smiling. But then, she loved to dance. She’d certainly reminded Colin of that fact enough. Often, in fact, she had Colin up dancing in his chamber while she hummed the latest court tunes. A slow grin crossed his lips. The dancing always ended well—with him on top, usually, though he might even enjoy the endings with Margaret on top more. And he would have her in his arms again this very night. Ewen MacCorkodale could take his thick, wavy locks and shave his head. Damn him to hell.

A messenger approached through the side door. “Apologies for the interruption, m’lord, but I’ve been sent from Rome…”