TemptationinTartan (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

’Twas a beautiful autumn morning, all vivid sky and bright
sunlight, possibly one of the last clear days that the Highlands would see
before the onset of winter. At dawn, Hamish Gwynn judged that ’twould be a
perfect day to attack Kilborn Castle. They’d be aided by the flat, calm sea,
and that midnight-loving fiend, Kieran Kilborn, wouldn’t dare to show his face.

He believed that God would stand with them, but a good bit
of planning wouldnae hurt the Lord’s cause.

The Gwynns were not a seafaring clan, but maintained a small
fleet of fishing boats as did the Kilborns. His spies’ observations had told
him that there was a small cove at the base of Kilborn Castle, possibly the
only place that the near-impregnable castle could be penetrated. There, the
ancient, broken-down keep could be breached, giving access to the interior and
then the castle courtyard.

He had already prepared for the attack by beaching the boats
and ensuring their seaworthiness by patching sails and repairing leaky hulls.
Then he’d assigned each boat two sailors to pilot it, a soldier armed with a
pistol and as many others as could be held on board without the craft sinking.
The fleet set forth when the tide permitted, with orders to attack when the sun
hit its zenith.

More firearms couldnae be acquired due to the fierce
oppression of the Highlanders by the Lobsterbacks. All weapons had been
proscribed, but many had been retained despite the law, and more forged as
required. Swords and claymores had been taken out of hiding, sharpened,
polished and distributed to his small army.

He had sent secret messages as widely as he could in order
to hire mercenaries without gathering unwanted notice. Or so he hoped. He was
aware of Lady Lydia’s Sassenach ancestry and good connections with the
Redcoats.

He hadn’t been able to garner the assistance of the famed
Gallowglass warriors, he thought with regret as he reviewed his troops the
morning of the attack. The MacLeods, influential among that outland mercenary
group, were related by marriage to Clan Kilborn.

Hamish had quartered the troops in a meadow to the east,
away from Straithness, after tavern brawls between the MacLaynes and everyone
else, for they were enemies of just about every other clan roundabout. The
constant fighting had strained his temper and that of the local watch. The
soldiers had lived in makeshift tents for a week or two, and providing
provender for them had become troublesome. All the more reason to attack
immediately.

Preceded by messengers to warn the soldiers of battle, he
rode east to meet them. He’d lead his host into Kilborn lands not by the easily
observed lane along the sea cliffs, but by a less used trail through the inland
hills that divided the clans. In this way he hoped to reach Kilborn Castle
unobserved at noon, and attack when the clan was at ease during the middle of
the day.

When the forces arrived by boat and entered the castle,
they’d open its gates. The two Gwynn contingents would join together, overwhelming
the Kilborns.

* * * * *

The bright morning sun of a perfect autumn day shone
brightly through the arrow slits, jolting Kieran awake. He flung away the
bedclothes, letting the cool air race across his skin. He stretched, his cock
alive to greet the morning as usual. He turned and allowed it to nudge his
wife’s luscious arse.

Lydia twitched, grumbled and muttered. One soft hand waved
in the air, swatting at naught. He grinned, grabbed the hand and sucked on her
longest finger.

It still retained the flavor of last night’s loving, the
rose-scented lotion she’d used to caress him to completion. He felt he owed her
something.

He slid down the bed and rolled her from her side onto her
back, nudging her lush thighs open.

He examined her quim. Her
brillean
was reddened and
pouting from its home within moist pink folds. Using his thumbs, he spread her
apart. Her slit was a humid portal leading to heaven on earth, exuding the
sweet aroma of summer fruit. Was it his imagination, or had his wife’s body
become more ripe and welcoming in the months of their marriage?

Looking up her body, he saw her breasts, bounteous cloudlike
orbs, rise and fall with her breaths. Had they grown bigger?

He bent his head to swipe his tongue from her hole to her
bump. She gasped and her breaths quickened.

He licked her again, enjoying her honey. She opened her legs
wider, shivered and blinked.

“
Madainn mhath, kylyrra
.”

She laughed. “Yes, it is already a very good morning!”

“And about to become even better.”

Stretching, she grabbed the headboard behind her, arching
her back and digging her heels into the bedclothes. Those lovely clouds
ascended, quivering, then dropped as Lydia let her body relax. She sighed—with
pleasure, he hoped—and wiggled her hips in apparent invitation.

He took that invitation, first kissing her pearl with closed
lips, then sucking in the tasty little nubbin. He licked it whilst it was in
his mouth and was rewarded with a most happy sigh.

He rose onto his knees and leaned over his wife. She smiled
up at him as he took his rod in hand and pressed it to her opening.

Heat, tightness, paradise. He allowed his cockhead to rest
in her beloved entrance for a moment while he watched her eyes droop, the
crescent of dark lashes fluttering closed. Her hips lifted, demanding that he give
her more, and he complied with one long, deep thrust, holding her pelvis for
support.

Pleasure stacked upon pleasure drew him closer to her. He
leaned over her, slipping his arms beneath her shoulders, clasping her tight.
Her pillowy breasts pressed against his chest and her legs wrapped around him.
She rested her heels upon the small of his back, pushing them down while she
lifted, taking him in even more fully.

She squeezed him every way possible, the minx, tightening
her legs around his waist, her arms around his torso and her cunny around his
cock. She thrust an insistent tongue into his mouth and sucked.

His groan mingled with hers. “Och,
kylyrra…”

No matter how often or how long they swived, it was always
good, even the simplest of acts, face-to-face, him on top. How could it be any
other way? Watching his Lydia tremble, hearing her moans, feeling her copious
juices bathe his staff while her luscious quim clenched around him…

How had he become so lucky?

The urgency of his need, and hers, flushed all remaining
thoughts from his head. He surged and receded, feeling at one with the high
tide’s waves crashing against the shoreline outside.

Her tunnel tightened and eased in time with his thrusts, his
Lydia matching him pump for pump, grasping him when he went deep, relaxing to
allow him to withdraw in preparation for the next plunge into her welcoming
heat.

She opened her lids and gazed at him with merry, dark eyes
while her hand curled around his balls, bouncing them in her palm. She gave
them a gentle squeeze and a renewed wave of arousal snapped through him. He
slammed into her one last time and came with a shout, gripping her hips tight,
pushing into her depths and staying there as best he could, swinging his body
from side to side so he pressed on her clit. Her moan of completion answered
his release.

After washing and dressing, they headed into the Great Hall,
his hand on the small of her back, her arm twined around his waist.

’Twas a clear, sunny autumn day, and Kieran judged that the
bright morn was perfect for a ride out to MacReiver Castle to see how Dugald
was getting on. At breakfast, he said, “Ho, young Edgar, would you like a break
from lessons?”

Edgar looked back and forth, first at Kier, who fancied he
saw a gleam enter the lad’s eyes. But Edgar hesitated, turning his glance
toward Lydia, whose knife had stopped midway through slicing sausage.
“Milaird.”

“Yes, my wife?” He tried to affect a stern tone, but
couldn’t help smiling at her.

“Don’t you think you should ask me first? Mayhap I have something
special planned for Edgar’s lessons this morn.” She winked at the boy, who
blushed.

Odd how the lad had begun to redden in the presence of
females. Kier, still smiling, addressed his wife. “Well, do ye?”

“Er, no, not really. But every day is special, is it not?”

“Aye, it is. ’Tis a good day for a ride to Edgar’s lands. ’Tis
important for him to inspect his property.”

“True.” She toyed with a slice of sausage.

“Would ye wish to come with us,
kylyrra
? ’Tis a fine
day for a ride.”

“Um.” She pressed her lovely lips together. “You tempt me,
milaird, but I have duties. Fenella has asked me to visit young Rose.”

“Och, aye. She is near her time, is she no’?”

“Yes, and needs extra help. Bring Dirk back if you can.”

“Aye.” He cocked his head at Edgar. “So it’s you and me,
milaird, off to visit your people.”

Grinning, Edgar left at a sprint. He grabbed another sausage
while stuffing the rest of his bannock into his mouth.

* * * * *

Seamas MacReiver had been drained more than once almost to
the point of death, but this was one of those days that he almost felt…well,
good would have been an exaggeration. P’raps better than most days. The
hell-spawned fiend had given him a little food last eve and had fed not on
Seamas but on Moira. It showed a clear preference for her, which was all to the
good.

He did not know what to think about his wife. He preferred
not to think about her, or even to look at her. She had actually enjoyed the
monster’s touch, which made her something of a monster herself, as far as
Seamas was concerned.

He’d been working on loosening the bolt that secured the
manacle on his right wrist to the rough stone wall. He’d noticed early in his
imprisonment that it was loose, and had been jerking it from side to side, as
well as forward and back, in a desperate effort to tug it out of the wall. If
he could get just one hand free…

* * * * *

Kier, Edgar and their escort found the journey swift, with
their horses making good time over what was now an oft-traveled, well-trodden
lane. Even small Scout ably maneuvered the forest track and vales between the
lands of Clan MacReiver and that of the Kilborns.

As they approached newly tilled fields, Kier surveyed them
with satisfaction. “Excellent.”

“What is, milaird?” Edgar asked.

Kieran pointed upward, where the sun was p’raps an hour or
two off its height. “We can inspect your castle, speak with a few of your
people, have a bit of lunch and be off in time to do a spot of hunting on the
way back. We’ll be home before nightfall and can sup in the Great Hall with
milady.”

Edgar grinned. He had already seen that as far as Laird
Kieran was concerned, the sun rose and set on Lady Lydia, but he didn’t say
anything about that. “Much better than lessons.”

“And here I thought ye enjoyed your lessons. Milady speaks
highly of ye.”

He tried not to blush, but it was more than possible that he
himself felt the same way about Lydia as did milaird. She was easy to love.
“The lessons are fine. But this is fine also.”

He enjoyed the time he spent with Kieran, who had put dirk
and
sgian dhu
into his hand and taught him how to use them. Together,
they’d worked at night on the MacReiver accounts, with Kieran teaching Edgar
how to budget and plan. They’d totted up what the Kilborns spent and what they
received back in the way of payment. Little enough at this time, but Kier said
that it would not always be so.

And today Edgar would be able to see the progress of his
clan. He sat straighter in the saddle as they wound between new fencing that
enclosed the livestock, making their way toward the castle gate.

“’Tis the little laird!” a feminine cry rose from near the
well.

Edgar reined in Scout and slid down the pony’s side to the
ground. “Jean,
ciamar a tha sibh
?” He noticed that the well had been
repaired and its stone rim raised.

She grasped his hand and bowed her head. She wore a plain
gray dress, nothing fancy, but not rags, and her feet were clean and shod.
Behind him, the half a dozen men who’d accompanied them led the pack animals,
loaded with additional supplies, to the castle for unloading.

Kieran was still astride his big buckskin. “Hoy!” he
shouted.

Heads turned. He pointed upward. “When the sun is at its
height, be at the castle gate, ready to go on our way.” He swung down off his
horse’s back and walked with Edgar to the castle.

A billowing cloud of excitement swelled inside Edgar’s
chest. “Look!”

The castle’s upper battlements were under repair, with
several brawny men maneuvering blocks of stone into position. He could see a
bareheaded figure in black, with hair the same midnight color, waving his hands
and shouting, though they were too far away to hear.

“Dugald,” Kier said. “Uncommonly excited, he is.”

He stuck two fingers in his mouth and emitted an
ear-splitting whistle. Dugald turned and, apparently seeing them, waved before
disappearing from sight.

“Bloody hell,” Edgar breathed. “Will you teach me how to do
that?”

“Language, my lad. Stop listening to milady. And she’ll
skewer me with my own dirk if I teach ye that trick.”

“I won’t do it when she’s around!”

“Um… We’ll see.”

Dugald greeted them at the gate, slapping Kier on the arm
and ruffling Edgar’s hair. “Ho, young lordling, how goes it?”

“Very well, sir.” Edgar gave him a little formal bow and the
men whooped with laughter.

“Let me show ye your property, so ye can tell me I’ve done
well by ye.”

The formerly smelly, dirty castle had been cleaned from top
to bottom. Every room was inhabited and, from the topmost tower, Edgar could
see that Kier’s orders had been followed. None of the small huts and crofts
that had surrounded the fortress remained, for the remaining population was
housed snugly within the castle.