A castle he and his liege, Duncan MacKenzie, had designed with great care.
A strategically ideal fortalice to guard the southern reaches of MacKenzie land.
A home perfect in every way save one.
Unlike his liege and closest friend, Marmaduke lacked a fair lady wife to grace his side. His castle would be filled with men.
Quelling the bitterness that often mocked him when alone, he adjusted his grip on the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword and lunged again at his unseen foes. Faster and faster, his blade rent the morn as he spun and dipped, thrust and withdrew, skillfully slicing his doubts and regrets to ribbons, banishing them one by one.
Until the morrow, when he’d challenge them anew.
* * *
“Sir…”the soft voice behind him was little more than a whisper to his ears but a great roar to his warrior’s instincts. Lowering his sword at once, Marmaduke wheeled around to face the lady who’d addressed him.
“Fair lady, I am pleased as always to see you, but you should know better than to approach a man’s back when he wields a sword,” he said, sheathing his steel. “Nor do I believe it is good for you to be out in the chill morning air.”
“I am fit enough,” Lady Linnet countered, drawing her woolen cloak more securely about her before resting one hand upon her swollen middle. “I would speak with you alone, now before the others stir.”
Sir Marmaduke peered intently at his liege lord’s lady wife. Her lovely face appeared more pale than it should and lest the vision in his good eye was failing him, she bore faint purple shadows beneath her eyes.
Nor did he care for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. That she’d overtaxed herself in seeking him out was painfully obvious.
“Lady, you should be abed,” he admonished, trying to sound firm but unable to be duly stern with her. “Does your husband know you are about?”
The two bright spots of pink that bloomed on her cheeks gave him his answer.
“I must speak with you,” she said again and placed a cold hand on his forearm.
“Then let us go to the chapel.” Closing his fingers over her hand, Marmaduke led her toward Eilean Creag’s small stone chapel. “It is closer than the great hall, and more private.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I would know you warm before I hear what troubles you.”
He’d scarce ushered her inside when the chapel’s door burst open behind them. With a resounding crash, it slammed against the whitewashed wall.
“Saints, Maria, and Joseph!” Duncan MacKenzie fumed, ignoring the sanctity of the holy place. Ill-humor swirling round him like a dark cloak, he made straight for his wife. “Have you taken leave of your senses, woman? You should be abed. The entire household is searching for you.”
Bracing fisted hands on his hips, he tossed a dark glance at Marmaduke. “Why am I not surprised to find her with you?”
“Becalm yourself, my friend,” Sir Marmaduke urged, unfazed by the other man’s bluster. “No harm has come to her.”
Duncan harrumphed. “Were she your lady, I vow you would want to know her safe, too, Strongbow.” Duncan ran a hand through his wind-mussed hair.
“I care for her as if she were my lady, as you know.” Marmaduke placed his own hands on his hips. “Her well-being is of equal importance to me. There is naught I would not do for her.”
“My lords, please.” Linnet leaned back against the recumbent stone effigy of a former MacKenzie warrior, one hand still resting upon her belly. “I have told you nothing will go wrong this time. I know it. My gift has shown me.”
Duncan peered hard at her, his handsome features as set-faced as his stone-carved ancestor. After casting another annoyed look in Marmaduke’s direction, he swung about and strode across the chapel.
Dropping to one knee, he busied himself lighting a small brazier in the corner near the altar. “Have you told him?” he asked his wife when he stood.
“Told me what?” Marmaduke quirked a brow.
“My lady would ask a favor of you.” Duncan slanted a glance at Linnet. “A great favor.”
Sir Marmaduke didn’t care for the way his friend spoke the last three words, nor the ghost of a half-smile suddenly twitching the corners of Duncan’s mouth, but such reservations scarce mattered. He’d championed Lady Linnet since her arrival at Eilean Creag Castle five years ago, and she’d repaid his gallantry a thousandfold and then some.
In her presence, he could almost imagine himself rid of the scar that marred his once-handsome face and believe that, once more, hislooksand not his well-practiced charm could turn female heads.
Indeed, he revered her greatly.
