“Aye,” Sir James replied with a mere click of his lips into a smirk. “I am present to gather you for Sir Brayden to commence training,SirAonghus.” Aonghus noted the bitter tip on his new title.
A huffing breath sounded before the owner, who was Sir Brayden, appeared around the torchlit corner, obviouslyattempting to keep up with Sir James. “Sir James” – the robust knight gasped for breath – “why? Why did you bolt ahead of…” His words trailed off when Aonghus came into sight. “Oh…good to see you, my friend. I am assuming this is not the chosen attire for the day to come. Why are you looking like a well-hung bull canvasing the fields?”
Aonghus’s eyes narrowed on Sir James. That pompous leech was taking glee in the post of being a disruptor.
Sir James explained, “Sir Brayden, with the wedding feast complete and marriage consummated, I am tasked to see Keirah to the great hall at our lord king’s request. Keirah is to remain by King Alexander’s side this day while he hears complaints, then the plans regarding the siege to come upon the horizon will be discussed with his council later. I am simply making certain my announcement was heard by her husband.” He finished with a snap of his fingers, sounding the same as an axe landing on an executioner’s block.
“Sir James,” Sir Brayden gushed, “that was you hammerin’ upon their door? What were you considering?”
Aonghus tightened his fingers on the timber doorframe when he turned his attention from Sir Brayden back to Sir James. The highest-ranking knight didn’t answer his friend because Sir James’s eyes had strayed to the fetching sight upon the bed.What a voyeur pile of swine shite.
Taking a step, Aonghus purposely blocked the view of Keirah. Hell! He should have closed the drapes on the bed. At the foe trying to sneak a look over his shoulder, Aonghus crossed his arms.Don’t take his teeth with a fist. Sir James lowered his eyes then narrowed them on him, but not before Aonghus saw the flash of desire for his wife written there. Aye, there itwas again – the captain of the royal guard wanted Keirah. His knuckles cracked when his fist tightened.
He would speak about this to Sir Brayden later in private, but it held obvious – Sir James was only seeking to create chaos for them in retaliation at not being chosen by the fair lass he could see in his peripheral vision currently pulling the sheet tighter about herself when shuffling off the bed.
Aonghus stepped up, becoming nose to nose with his rival, who held an air of heavy wine on his breath at the early hour. “In the times which lay forthwith, I do not care much for what you refer to me as, but I willnothave you address my wife in any other title than the one now bestowed,” he gritted out between his clenched teeth. “You address her as Lady Keirah or I will take the weight of each lack of propriety from your hide, understood, Sir James?”
The adversary’s eyes narrowed to the point lines appeared where his lashes ended. “Aye.LadyKeirah shall be atmyside in service to our lord king,allday.” He paused. “The traitor Sturan MacNaller’s head is mounted at the castle gate; traitors are given such a warm reception here at the king’s court.”James is now threatening Keirah after he knows he can’t have her as his own wife. Not on this one’s watch.
Aonghus cracked his knuckles while forming a second fist with his other hand.
Sir Brayden took quick lead at the escalating tension to grip the door and plop himself between the pair. “There is not a moment to spare! We will venture toward the great hall, awaiting your arrival there,” he gushed, nervously, then tugged the door heavily, seemingly looking to place a physical barrier between the two.
“Much obliged, Sir Brayden, for your delicate hand with the proceedings,” the lady of the group called out before the door slammed by Sir Brayden’s determination.
***
“If you are in need of anything, you seek me at once; do not hesitate.”The words Aonghus had departed with hours past rang in her mind.
Ohhh, if only his offer could apply to doing away with the thought which remained locked in her mind. Each time she closed her eyes, the picture of Aonghus ripping off those braies before opening the door appeared. Had his glory beneath the garments crushed any other thought from entering her mind? Aye.
Never had she craved a lad’s touch. Now? Her hands smoothed down her gown’s waist where her skin still burned from his beard; no, it was more than only his beard’s shadow on her flesh – her body burned with an ache in ways as if awakened from a thousand-year slumber by his mere touch. The sight of him naked with his manhood matching the rest of his colossal build was astonishing, and how…Stop this, right now – focus and stay the course.
Cough.A nearby loud clansman clearing his throat snapped her back into the proceedings. She rubbed her temple, still throbbing from the odd night-glance. It had already been a trying morning since Sir James crashed his fist onto their doorway, beginning with sitting on a chair too quickly, her clumsy nature cropping up. One of the chair legs gave way – yep, onto her arse she landed! At the sound, the king and many surrounding clansmen darted their eyes her direction as she scrambled back onto her feet, after which she simply smiled. The bloom heating her cheeks had turned to flamefrom mortification when Sir James whispered something into Sir Sean’s ear. Sir James chuckled at her expense, leading to a flurry of whispers sounding like leaves rustling through the wind sweeping the air.
“Enough!” the king had bellowed, order proceeded, and the initial complaint was heard.
Clans pledging their oaths in the battle to come commenced, alongside hearing about squabbles already taking the bailey and beyond. It was a natural progression one could expect when you suddenly gathered Scotsmen who had been sworn enemies together for a common cause.
She leaned forward in her chair, staring at the king from her spot tucked at the side near Lord Constable Sir Roger de Quincy. Alexander’s style of ruling held an iron will. If only she could offer more to help him regarding the Northmen’s ships from her night-glance. She had spoken to the sovereign about them before they had taken into the throne room.
Her chair creaked when she leaned forward a bit more. Patience. She had seen the king’s patience earlier after speaking about her shortcomings on the enemy ships’ locations. It was this patience the king had to have called upon many times as a sovereign over the proud clashing clans while he also balanced his English ties through his queen consort.King Håkonsson has met his match.Håkonsson was a formidable ruler in his own right despite her emotions toward Kollungr, but the coin pressing the strip of cloth she had tied about her thigh, ensuring it remained with her, would be Kollungr’s undoing.
A smile eased onto her lips at the bright spot among the proceedings, Lady Maise, currently occupying the chair next to her. Lovely nature and sweet voice and the longest eyelashes Keirah had ever seen – she could see why Sir Brayden wassmitten. Her own eyes narrowed some when observing that Sir Sean also seemed taken with Lady Maise, from the numerous glances toward the lady of noble birth from a well-appointed Lowlander clan. This wouldn’t do at all.
“Sir Sean believes a few sweet words shall lure me into a dark corner of his choosing,” Lady Maise whispered to her new confidante while two Highlanders brought forth before the king a complaint on smiths not being paid. “I beg to differ upon this accord. I am pleased to see Sir Aonghus declared by his fist a most fitting offering, ensuring Sir Sean’s exterior features now match his dark intent.”Ohh, the earnest Sir Brayden is perfect for her!
“Is there perchance another you fancy?” she inquired, carefully.Pleasesay Sir Brayden, please!
An easy smile appeared. “There is a true knight. I have seen his merit in acts shown by his kindness when I ventured into Stirling with the queen consort before she became with child,” she answered eagerly; then the smile faded. “However, when I seek his attentions he shuffles away in haste – ’tis rather odd.”
“Does the ‘true knight’ carry a name you wish to offer?”
“Sir Brayden.”
In the middle of battles and chaos and bloodshed, was it possible she could sow a tiny bloom of love? A tiny bloom nurtured by her hand to grow defiantly in the winds born by war. Absolutely! She would raise all in her grasp to see it so. It meant hope, and hope there should be. Her eyes looked toward Lady Maise once more. If not, what was all this battling and suffering and pain for?
First up in sowing the hopeful garden: conquering Sir Brayden’s shyness. With the proceedings breaking for middayand her lesson in archery about to begin, it was perfect timing. Her attention snared back toward the final Scot, who was rotund, bald, and nervous, his feet shuffling like he was in dire need of a chamber pot. What was this all about?
