Adair had left the high board to make certain there was enough wine and ale for the many guests still in the hall. Then, with a whispered word to the laird, she slipped away. Conal Bruce went to each of the trestles below the high board and thanked his guests for coming to their wedding. “There’s plenty of wine and ale left for all,” he said. “Enjoy yourselves!” he told each group of men and women remaining. Then he too departed the hall.
The high board had been long cleared, and the hired servants had departed back to the village over the hill.
Elsbeth locked the door down into the kitchens after Flora and her son had gone to the attic. Grizel was now sharing the bed spaces off the kitchens with Elsbeth, who was frankly grateful for the human company. The two women now slept, Elsbeth with the orange tomcat on the pillow by her head.
“Someone is in your brother’s chamber,” Adair toldher husband, “and it is not Duncan or Murdoc. There is a woman in there, and she is being used mightily. I heard the bedsprings creaking and the sounds of pleasure as I passed by.”
“It’s the prince, I suspect, with Agnes Carr,” Conal answered her.
“Your whore is in my house?” Adair said, wondering if she should be outraged.
“She isn’t my whore, and she never was. Agnes is a warm-blooded lass who is always glad to share herself with a like-minded lad,” the laird said. “Duncan knows the prince, though young, is a man in every way, and has a great appetite for women. Agnes was willing to aid the laws of hospitality. Prince James will remember Cleit as a hospitable keep, and it cannot hurt to please him. He will one day be king.”
“You are showing signs of ambition,husband,” Adair murmured.
“Not for myself, lass,” he replied, reaching out to touch her belly. “For him.”
“It could be a daughter I carry,” Adair reminded him.
“Nay, I have gotten a son on you, my honey love,” he told her.
“I cannot yet forgive you,” Adair said.
“But you are no longer angry?” he asked.
“I had lost my anger when I awoke this morning,” she replied. “It seemed rather futile and foolish in the face of reality to maintain such a choler. And I would have a peaceful house, Conal. Besides, you cannot help it that you are a fool.” Adair sighed.
“I suppose we must accept that,” he responded dryly.
“Aye, we must, or we will quarrel again, and it is not good for the bairn,” Adair murmured softly. She had removed her gown and was clad only in her chemise. Now, seated upon the bed, she undid her plait and began to brush her hair.
He took the brush from her and sat down. “Nay, honey love, this is my task.” The brush began to slickthrough her tresses. “I love your hair,” he said softly. “It is so soft and so rich in color. One moment it is sable, and in another instant the light touches it and it has the blue sheen of a raven’s wing.” He took up a lock of her hair and pressed it to his lips. “It suits you,wife.”
A small shiver rippled down her spine. His voice, his words, excited her. It had been so long since they had shared themselves. Adair felt herself melting with the love she knew she had for him. But then she stiffened her spine. He needed to be punished. He couldn’t think he might wheedle her with sweet words when he would not say the three words she longed to hear from him.
“We must have a care of the bairn, Conal,” she said softly. “I have never been with child. I do not know what is permitted and what isn’t.”
“I’ll ask the village midwife tomorrow,” he told her as he drew off his own garments and laid them aside. “I will not let you deny me, Adair; nor will I let you deny yourself, my honey love. Our lust has always been very equal.” He stood up and put the brush away in her trunk. When he turned back she was tucked into their bed. He joined her, and they lay side by side, not speaking until Conal Bruce sat up, propping the pillows behind him. Then he pulled her so that she half lay between his long outspread legs. He drew her chemise up over her protest. “We will not couple until I know it is safe for us to do so,” he told her, “but I do not see why you and I cannot still enjoy each other in sundry other ways.” He began to fondle her breasts.
“Oh, please be gentle,” Adair begged him. “My breasts are very tender.”
“And sensitive, I see,” he murmured as her nipples grew tight and hard to his eye.
She shivered under his touch, feeling the stirrings of desire within her fertile body.
He continued to play with her breasts for some time, his warm breath against her ear. Then his hand moved to caress the beginnings of her belly.
“Conal,” she begged him, “please stop.”
“Why?” he taunted her, tweaking her nipples.
“Because I want you, you devil!” she admitted.
He smiled behind her head. “I do not know if I should pleasure a woman who cannot forgive me,” he whispered softly in her ear.
“Then I cannot pleasure you either,” she told him.
“Please, at least wait until we have spoken with the midwife.”
