Risk Everything (37 page)

On the day following their wedding, he was at first startled when his warriors baited him about the bloodied wedding sheets. Ailsa had faked the consummation, but he did not fault her for that. She had reason to be offended that he had not claimed his marital rights.

Alpin’s growing desire for Meghan made Rolf grind his teeth and fist his hands with the need to pummel his friend into the mud. ’Twas often he noted the man’s tarse strained against his clothing, raging to be satisfied. That Meghan appeared unaware of her admirer’s increasing lust eased his mind somewhat—until she smiled and he heard her husky chuckle over some quip.

Lucifer’s fetid teeth! Did Alpin’s hand inch its way around her waist?

Rolf ’s legs tensed to spring up and declare ’twas time they sought their beds, but Meghan swatted at the invading hand and scowled at its owner. Rolf ’s muscles relaxed. An angry hiss turned his gaze to his wife. ’Twas obvious she had noted his reaction to her brother’s attentions. She glared at Rolf, her hand clenched tight to her eating knife.

“Ne’er think on it, woman. Try it but once and you will find yourself confined to an abbey till your heart grows too ancient to beat.”

“ ’Tis not seemly your slattern resides within the castle with your lawful wife,” her angry voice hissed at him.

“Ne’er has she been my
slattern
. She came to me intact of

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her innocence. Not until she believed we were legally handfast did she come to my bed.” He stared at Ailsa in stony silence until her gaze sidled away from his. She picked at the food on their trencher and again spoke, annoying him that she dared.

“If she was as virtuous as you claim, you have ruined her.”

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “Even common men will deem her fair game for their attentions.”

Rolf scowled at her. That some ruffian might expect Meghan to serve his needs made his breath catch with sudden rage.

“No decent man will seek her to bear his children.” Ailsa, with a sly look, added, “If she is for truth not the slattern everyone believes, you must see her settled and safe.”

“I willna return her to Blackthorn.”

“Nay. Still, would it not add flavor to your revenge to see her wed without her brother’s knowledge?” Appearing indifferent about the situation, she drew patterns on the cloth with the tip of her eating knife.

“Didna you just say no decent man would seek her hand?”

“If you held a contest of strength where men for leagues around could attend, and offer
her
as prize, mayhap—”

“A contest?” Rolf shouted and surged to his feet. “Are you brainsick?”

Dougald slammed his goblet down so hard it sloshed ale across the table, drawing Rolf’s attention. Garith’s cheeks were red with anger, and feeling angry stares from the men nearby, he noted the downcast eyes of their wives. They had overheard.

“What is this? A contest, Rolf ?” Alpin’s eyes were alight with curiosity.

Meghan tilted her head, looking as inquisitive as her wee sparrowhawk.

“Every available male within twenty leagues would fight to the death to win that match,” Dougald muttered.

Ailsa, with a sly smile, started to answer Alpin. Rolf grasped her shoulder and hauled her to her feet.

“Eneuch! Not another word.”

Sparks flew through his body, as though lightning was

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about to strike. Anger coursed through him. Nay, not just anger, ’twas more like battle fury. He imagined Meghan being dragged away to some dingy castle by a sweaty, hairy giant of a man. The lout would likely toss her on a grimy pallet and force her legs apart.

The vision of a swollen shaft ramming into her sweet body made him wish to spew his meal onto the steps as he shoved Ailsa up the spiral stairwell and into her bedchamber. How had she dared put forth such an obscene suggestion?

Night had fallen and all was in deep shadows in the room.

Ailsa scurried over to the bedside table. Keeping half-turned from him, she took a small container and sprinkled its contents into the pitcher of wine waiting there.

“Linger a moment, husband. Ede prepared sweet spices that I added to the wine,” she explained as she stirred. “ ’Tis said to enhance the flavor. Have but a drink with me.” She poured some into two goblets and offered one to him.

’Twas not too much to ask of him. He would down it and leave. Ailsa gulped her own as he sipped, cautious. Did she think to entice him with wine? Swirling it around in his mouth, he tested the taste. Sweeter. Fruitier.

“Why have you not come to my bed, Rolf ?” She caught her breath, and her eyes opened wide. Then, coyly, she lowered her gaze. “I have heard of men who canna perform their marital duties. They take a lowly woman who is skilled in pleas-ing warriors into their bed to use her wiles till she entices him to excitement.”

“What? How came you by such a brainsick notion?” When had she discarded her red tunic?

“You have gone to your bed each night alone.” She grasped the hem of her pink smock and slipped it over her head to drop at her feet. “We have been husband and wife these past ten days, but you have yet to consummate our vows.”

He gulped down the rest of the wine. Already he could feel the effect, for his appetite had been poor of late. He shrugged and gestured for more. Were they to talk of his marital duties, he had need of it. She ref illed his goblet,

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then propped herself up against the tall pillows of her bed.

She stared at the juncture of his thighs in an appraising way while she lifted one slender white leg and began to peel down her stocking.

“Alpin has oft of late shown an eagerness to swive, while you remain shriveled, without even a hint of manliness.”

Letting the silk stocking slide through her fingers over the side of the bed, she spread her legs wider as if to balance. Bit by bit, she rolled down the other stocking and disposed of it.

His wife thought him a eunuch?

A shaft of moonlight worked magic on the gleaming silver thatch guarding her exposed flesh. Her pink nether lips glistened with feminine dew. Her hands cupped her breasts, offering them to his view. He stared, then blinked and gulped down the rest of his wine. He swayed on his feet. What caused such dizziness? His blood pulsed harder through his veins. Why did his body flame as if he were suspended over a roasting pit? He plucked at his stifling clothing.

Watching him, Ailsa pinched her nipples till they were erect. She sighed with pleasure and smoothed her hands over her softly rounded belly, then stopped to rest on the insides of her thighs. She lifted her hips in invitation.

Rolf ’s groin ached and his tarse thrust outward, ardent and turgid. Stumbling, he looked down to scowl at the obstacle.

Clothing littered the floor. When had he ripped his own off ?

He rubbed his eyes and tried to see through the hot haze.

From the bed, the scent of heather and spices floated up and surrounded the air around them. Silver hair darkened to rich brown, and pale flesh turned to sun-kissed gold and lured him.

Meghan mine? ’Twas his love there who welcomed him with beckoning arms and legs spread wide. Uttering a frantic groan, he tripped over his feet in haste to reach her. As he fell on her, she locked her legs around him.

Twitching with impatience, his lips searched her breasts.

Through the flaming haze, he puzzled that they were smaller.

Her body leaner. He coaxed a nipple into his mouth and suck-

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led, noisy with greed. Filled with urgency, he felt he would die if he did not have his Meghan. A groan of agony welled up from his heart, and he angled his hips to thrust into her.

Afore his world went black, he cried out.

“Meghan mine!”

Chapter 27

Rolf’s mind clawed awake well past dawn the next morn. Lucifer’s cloven hooves stomped a sword dance on his head, turning it to porridge. Just as he believed he could bear it no longer, the accursed torturer set his brain to burning over a cook fire.

The faint scent of heather teased his memory, as did the certainty that a warm, female body lay curled against his back. Heather? ’Twas Meghan!

With a glad cry, he turned to her. When his hands touched the woman, his arms that had been eager to pull Meghan into his embrace, recoiled. Pain near blinded him.

“You.” The word tore from his lips. His heart plummeted in despair when he looked through slitted eyes at the woman beside him. What did he here? In Ailsa’s bed?

She was naked. As naked as he.

“Good morn, husband,” her voice purred while she stretched and preened her pale body like an elegant white cat.

If she thought to entice him, she failed. He felt only disgust. He was about to demand that she explain what had happened the night just passed, when her servant opened the door. With an appreciative glance down Rolf ’s body, she grinned and hesitated.

Rolf rose up and balanced himself on his elbow. “Get out!”

The maid jumped back through the doorway and near knocked Meghan off balance. Meghan caught hold of the doorframe and steadied herself. While her startled gaze took in the scene, her lip curled with disgust.

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Ailsa, her eyes lit with hostile glee, slung her leg over Rolf ’s groin, as if to shield his sex from his lover’s sight.

Rolf sensed rather than heard Meghan’s sharp intake of breath, afore she blanketed her face with cold indifference.

For a moment, he met her gaze. Revulsion stared back at him afore she squared her shoulders and turned away. Her footsteps faded.

Wanting only to hold his head and close his eyes to the piercing light, he forced himself to stand and welcomed the shock of the cold floor beneath his feet. Faint shadows of memory plagued him.

“How came I to your bed?”

“Do you not remember, husband?” She gestured to the rumpled bed and the clothing strewn across the floor. “You were in such heat to swive me, you tore the clothes from your body.”

“ ’Tis not possible. Ne’er have I been so needful.”

“Oh? How do you explain their shredding and yourself in my bed? Do you not remember ramming your monstrous tarse into me throughout the night?” She glanced down coyly and gave a little shudder. “You were like an animal. Never satisfied.”

Rolf remembered nothing of the sort. After splashing cold water on his face, he noticed the empty chalice. Suspicious, he picked it up and sniffed.

“Mayhap you drank overmuch. You were beyond reason.

Each time I pleaded for rest, you allowed me but moments of sleep afore you woke me again.”

He snorted in disbelief. ’Twould take more than a dozen cups of wine to make him ready to swive his wife even once with any degree of success. Even more suspicious now, he glanced at where he had lain and then down at his own body.

He saw no evidence of a night of heavy swiving.

Bellowing for Cormac, he yanked the door wide. He had no need. The squire waited there, fresh clothing over his arm and a mug of foul-smelling liquid balanced gingerly in his hands.

“After hearing yer yell a bit ago, Dougald said ye might have need of this to kill the devils in yer skull.” Cormac avoided looking anywhere but at the middle of his lord’s chest.

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Rolf scowled and motioned for him to follow. Thankfully, no one was about to see their naked lord grimace and groan with each footstep. Once inside his room, he grabbed the proffered remedy, held his nose, and swallowed as fast as he could. After the third gulp, he thrust it back, slapped a hand over his mouth, and made a mad dash for the window opening.

“Dougald said ye would do that, but I was to be sure ye finished the rest,” Cormac said, and handed him a wet cloth. After Rolf wiped his face, Cormac shoved the mug at him again.

Rolf reluctantly took the mug of odious liquid and downed it. He grimaced, though not from the potion. Lucifer’s puckered arse! His squire looked at him as if he had found him cheating on his wife. His soul shuddered. Why did he feel as if he had?

“Dougald said ye were to keep it down else he would come and see ye drank another,” Cormac all but shouted.

“Dougald said, Dougald said,” Rolf mimicked. “Know ye not somethin’ else to speak of ?”

“Aye.” Cormac eyed him warily. “The Lady Meghan was up at sunrise. She is teaching Garith the skill of riding bare-back.”

Rolf grasped the sides of his head, having the fearful fancy that if he did not, it would split apart.

Cormac eyed him warily and continued. “She showed how a man could be seated then rise to stand on the horse’s bare back. She rode around the ring, her arms in the air. I know not how she guides him. As she passed beneath a tree, she grasped a branch and pulled herself to the top of the tree while the horse continued. She said a man can escape pursuit by doing such.”

“What?” Rolf bellowed. “Ahh!” Pain shot through his skull. He waited a moment for his thinking to clear. “The lady has no horse. Tell me she uses that old swaybacked Plodder, Garith’s first nag?”

“Nay, Lord Rolf.” Cormac shifted about on his feet, watching as his master began throwing clothes on his naked body.

He waited as Rolf tried to shove his head through an arm

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opening thinking it was the neck of the tunic. “Dougald says she could ride the devil’s back and not be thrown.”

Through muffled curses, Rolf demanded, “What horse does she ride?”

“Luath.”

Riipppp! Rolf ’s head cleared the fabric. Fortunately, he had already donned leggings, for he pulled the torn clothing from his head and slung it behind him as he ran.

Meghan had returned to her room earlier to get her bow and arrow, and ’twas then she saw Rolf and his wife abed.

Sickened by the sight, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. She could not, for the men had clamored and reminded her of her promise to show them this last trick.

Now, holding an arrow between her teeth, she took one last swift circle around the field and concentrated on watching her prey. Luath’s gait was smooth as the sea on a windless day. In the center of the ring, a warrior twirled a small target in the air much like a falconer would tempt a raptor. Foreseeing where the target would be on its highest arc, she notched an arrow and let it fly. It struck, causing the lure to plummet.