The king’s full attention was on the reluctant messenger. “What loyalties are bestowed by Ewan MacDougall?” he asked, intensely.
The shuffling turned into almost a hop. “Well, my lord king, he has yet to declare his oath to King Håkonsson; however, he surrendered his isles to him,” he murmured as if the quieter tone would spare him the wrath to follow. Ewan MacDougall, huh, sounded familiar. Where had she heard this before?
The hall rushed anew with whispers in intrigue on what would befall the messenger. The king’s features had become flushed by anger.
The night-glance: this was where, aye, on the voyage to Bute.Tell the king!“My lord king, may I offer a humble consideration in the times yet to be as seen by the fates?” she asked, delicately.
All eyes flashed toward her –Oh my.If not for all the years in King Håkonsson’s court she would have crawled under her chair to hide.
King Alexander tilted his torso slightly her direction to command, “You may, Lady Keirah.”
“The fates revealed one spark to come before my marriage severed the tie.” She began with the ruse to any curious ears which might be present. She saw the acknowledgement in Alexander’s eyes at the gesture. “I have had revealed to me that, although Ewan MacDougall’s messenger may dance as if he were standing upon a blazing cooking pot” – a few dark chuckles tookat her words – “when the ‘flames’ settle he will seek to be bound only to you, my lord king, in his oath.”
It was a hint belonging to code between them: she referred to the ‘flames’ being the battles to come, and once it showed they turned in Alexander’s favor, Ewan would return to his true king. The king’s narrow face grew wider with a slight smile at her give, and the messenger let out a long sigh, making his gut appear more a plump tomato than clansman.
She heard anahemecho through the filled hall, which had grown silent, and turned to find a tall Scottish guardsman to the king, probably a fresh knight for the crown. New arrivals were appearing each moment at the king’s summons for the battle to come.
Huh– this one, standing by the far rear entry arch, was smartly clad in full mail and an impeccable surcoat bearing the king’s crest; he was cleanly shaved and had shorn onyx hair. The knight was tall, very…verytall, and looked familiar…Wait!Her eyes doubled in size. Aonghus! The mercenary’s cocoon had completely shed; before her stood a high-born knight. The face, no longer half hidden by a beard, was –oh my– handsome beyond measure. His lips broke into a grin at her. She choked on her own spittle.
Chapter 20
“You may have stayed that messenger from a journey into the tunnel,” Aonghus declared while they walked from the great hall under the massive archway leading out into the bailey.
“’Twas only the truth,” she replied. “Ewan will turn back to King Alexander once the battles to come favor the Scots. It was shown to me when I slept upon the voyage after leaving the Hebrides before Bute lay in our sights.”
Stepping out into the rare sunshine, she took a deep breath. No more odor from males having traveled long journeys unleashing a sweated stench.Ahhh.Only sweet hay by a stalled nearby cart.Charming.
“Do not dally too long, Lady Keirah,” the familiar voice quipped behind her.Ugh, not charming.
Before Aonghus could reply, she turned toward their taunter. “Certainly not, Sir James! However, I will make certain time is ample to allow your endeavor for the French wine you sneak when the eyes of merit are not upon you.” She threw the words back at him. If her anger at how he had tormented her husband earlier were a storm, they would be knee deep in water.
The royal guard’s captain raised a brow, said nothing, then stomped off.Aye, keep walking!The archway entrance she and her knight stood under cast a shadow over while she lookedup, meeting the rich, blue eyes belonging to Aonghus while he spoke.
“Cluaran, remind me not to seek your sharp tongue” – he then grabbed her close to claim her lips soundly before finishing his sentence – “unless ’tis for a noble cause.” He pulled away but stole her palm to kiss her hand gallantly. Feeling breathless after they parted lips, she raised her fingers, still in his, to stroke over his smooth jaw. Astonishingly lovely.
“I sought the barber surgeon,” he explained, then asked, unsure, “Cluaran, you care for the change?”
Quickly darting her eyes at the surroundings –good, no one about– she yanked him into a shadowed entry corner to lean up, giving wild kisses like rain over each angular line.Oh, aye, nae more burn from bristle.Her breath echoed back over his flesh with each bestowment. “Verymuch, my knight.” She ended with her lips unleashing a nibble upon his lobe. A low rumble vibrated his torso; he crushed her hips up against his. There was that massive…
His growl interrupted her carnal reflection: “Perhaps Sir Brayden’s lesson shall keep.”
She jumped when a familiar visitor sounded off behind them. “Brother!” Alec descended on them with a smile bright as the sun overhead, joyful as always, and oblivious to the intimate exchange. “I find the new post of husband agrees with you. I passed Sir Brayden at the far side of the bailey on my trek here; he has missed the arrow target at least four times.” Alec leaned close to wink at her. “I believe his batch of nerves is takin’ the best of him at the thought of your lesson.”
“Well,” Aonghus said reluctantly, “then we’d ‘best’ take him from his misery.” She nodded, and the three began shuffling across the cobblestones.
She inquired carefully, “Where is Callum this fine day?” The muscles on the forearm she rested her hand upon grew tight as steel.
“Still out trainin’ with the MacCade warriors,” Alec answered. “A fukin’ taskmaster in chief he is found to be. Look at you!” The youngest MacCade pivoted on topic, rubbing his fingers over Aonghus’s jaw. “Fresh and knightly. Suits you, tall cocksman!”
“Thank you,” Aonghus grinned, “wee brother.”
“Alec,” she leaned closer to inquire, “is there a certain consideration why you refer to Aonghus as” – she fumbled the question – “well…”
“Tall cocksman?” Alec replied the words with a chuckle while he looked to Aonghus. “You did not tell her of Red Ruthie?”
Ruthie? Who was Ruthie?!“Nae.”
“Finest hen the Highlands has ever seen.” Alec gave a suggestive wink.
