Chapter Seventeen

Shavon put a decent supper on the table.

Braylin received many looks of gratitude from the retainers who had traveled with them. She might have remained in the hall to enjoy them but with her belly full, keeping her eyes open proved impossible.

She climbed up the narrow stairs which went along the edge of the tower. Round and round she went until she stopped in front of a chamber door. Inside the room there was still a fair amount of dust, but at least the moldy smell was missing.

Against the wall, half of the baskets and sacks were gone now, taken below to have their contents sorted out. Shavon had collected more black marks against her ability to manage the house when Braylin had discovered the source of the musty scent was food that had gone bad while stored.

"Ye spent the day well," Dugan said, surprising her by arriving right after she did.

Braylin spun around to find her husband looking straight at her. He closed the chamber door but never broke eye contact.

"There was much to do," Braylin answered. But that was all she said. Shavon would not turn her into a weak-willed soul who couldn't face her own challenges.

Silence stretched out between them. Dugan finally let out a frustrated sound.

"A wife should come to her husband with troubles, Braylin," Dugan informed her gruffly.

Braylin started to nod, but she ended up looking at the closed chamber door. He raised an eyebrow.

"I dealt with the matter," Braylin told him.

The words were out of her mouth before she could think. Then, suddenly—joyfully!—she realized that with Dugan, she was free to offer her opinion.

But when Dugan's face tightened, she wondered if she was wrong.

"Ye are my wife Braylin," Dugan chastised her. "When someone attacks ye, it is an attack upon me."

"Shavon did not touch me," Braylin said, defending herself. "In truth, I threw water on her."

Dugan crossed his arms over his chest. "Ye are skirting the issue. She challenged yer authority and denied ye the respect due yer position."

"True respect is earned," Braylin answered. "I do not care to live a life that is naught but a fa?ade. Better to have Shavon speak her mind so I know who I need to look out for."

"She called ye a slut, Braylin." Dugan wasn't going to let it go.

"But there was a proper supper on the table. Shavon's words will only incriminate herself now that your men have been given their fair measure." Braylin smiled smugly. "Words will not hold up against full bellies."

Dugan contemplated her for a long moment. "I'd have rather ye came to me, Braylin." He closed the space between them, leaning over her, seemingly intent on impressing his will upon her. She started to argue with him but then looked again at the closed door, and catching his scent, she reached up and locked her hands behind his neck. His eyes widened and then hers were closing as she tilted her head to the side so that she could press her mouth against his.

Dugan groaned.

As far as compliments went, Braylin had never enjoyed one more.

Or felt her confidence grow so much in response.

She kissed him with every bit of that newfound confidence, moving her mouth against his and marveling at the sensations running through her body.

Dugan lifted his mouth from hers. "Ye are trying to distract me, Braylin."

Braylin pressed up against him and felt the bulge of his hardened cock. "If you think I will come to you with tears in my eyes, you should haven't have encouraged me to act like the girl you met at the bonfire."

His eyes narrowed but his lips thinned in a very sensual way. "Is that the way ye see it?"

She nodded firmly. "If anyone is going to run crying to you, expect it to be Shavon. I shall not waste my time alone with you on nonsense. There are much more enjoyable pursuits for us to engage in when the door is shut, and our duties finished for the day."

A glint appeared in his eyes. "There surely are." Then he scooped her up, cradling her against his body and carried her to the bed.

*

Hay stronghold

Alice sat in front of her looking glass—a fine item that had been brought in from France for her wedding. She smiled softly, enjoying the proof of just how powerful a match she had with Cormac.

There would be no cloister for her.

Just as Cormac was laird of the Hay, she was the lady of the stronghold and she had done her duty in providing a son.

A legitimate heir.

Noble wives who went to nunneries were the ones who had failed in their primary duty. Men had enough power in the world. They shouldn't be able to send a wife who had done her duty to a cloister.

A new maid was carefully pulling the copper hair pins out of Alice's hair. The girl set them aside, paying attention that none of them fell onto the floor to be possibly lost. Alice waited for her to brush out her hair. On the table in her room, there was a thick candle marked for each hour of the night. A quick look confirmed that it was now late into the evening.

"You are dismissed, Eda."

Eda's lips curled up into a satisfied smile. She inclined her head before hurrying to the door and quitting the room before Alice changed her mind.

The only person changing their mind tonight would be her husband.

He wouldn't do so easily.

But Alice had to admit, she did enjoy the challenge her spouse presented. No victory was worth celebrating if it was handed over without a struggle.

She moved over to where a tapestry hung on the wall. She pulled it up, slipping behind it and into a passageway which ran up and down the tower. The steps were narrow and the stairwell tight. It went up between the outer wall and the interior walls of the main stairs, cleverly hidden there in case the occupants of the upper floors needed to escape.

Or in this case, sneak into the laird's chamber.

There would be a pair of retainers in front of the main entrance of Cormac's chambers and of course, her husband knew of the secret passage. But Alice doubted very much that Cormac had stopped to consider just why she never took issue with the fact that his mistress occupied his bed every night.

Alice reached the next floor. She pushed on the tapestry that covered the opening, slipping into the room. It was cold, but then, she was only wearing a shift. She caught sight of the long hair lying on the pillow next to Cormac and heard her husband snoring.

Perfect.

Alice moved across the chamber, stopping beside the bed. She tapped the girl on the shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered, then she opened them up, blinking a few times before focusing on Alice. The girl's face betrayed her fear over seeing her lover's lawful wife standing next to her.

Alice gestured for the girl to follow her back across the chamber. Alice held the tapestry up so that the girl could slip into the narrow stairwell. "You will sleep in my bed. Do not rise until a full hour past first light. Remember your mother and sisters all work in this stronghold and they answer to me." Alice pointed down the steps.

The girl was worrying about her lower lip, clearly debating the wisdom of crying out to wake Cormac.

"Has my husband promised ye that he will elevate yer position now that he thinks to break my spirit by sending me to a cloister?" Alice asked in a whisper. "He cannot leave me there for long. My family would question the matter. Whatever place he gives you, I will push you off it when I return. And it is a very long way down, I promise you."

The girl drew in a stiff breath. "I am obedient, my Lady," she said, her hand settled over her flat belly. "I take the….concoction every day. It makes me ill."

"Of course it does, it is poison. You cannot have the laird's favor and children of your own. Not in a place where I am mistress."

The girl nodded. "I take it, Lady."

Alice smiled to soothe the girl. "Which is why your family enjoys a fine life. Your nieces and nephews are being taught to read. Think of the bright future ahead of them. They will be more than just scullery servants. Mind me now."

The girl looked past Alice, toward Cormac, longing glittering in her eyes. Alice was jealous once again, but this time, she harnessed the strength of her emotions to use it for her cause.

"He is my husband, and I am the mother of the next laird of the clan," Alice informed the girl firmly. "I have no quarrel with the place ye have in his life, so long as you do not grow outside your boundaries into what is mine. Dugan might seem congenial and kind, but all men enjoy power. He will think to taste it at some point and then both you and I will be swept aside when he takes the lairdship. An English bride will prevent that, preserving the life you and I enjoy. As a wife, I must protect my husband's place, even if my husband does not see the need for it."

The girl bent beneath the weight of the truth. Alice watched her turn and start down the narrow steps. High or low born, they shared their gender and women had to be clever to carve out their places in a world run by men.

No one had everything. Some had love. Others enjoyed a high position. Alice turned and retraced her steps across the chamber. Beside the bed she drew her smock up and over her head, leaving it on a stool. She lifted the bedding and slipped beneath it to settle in beside her husband. Cormac would discover he was no different than anyone else.

Truthfully, she was rather looking forward to the look on his face when he realized she was in bed with him.

*

Cormac groaned as he woke.

He stretched out his legs and felt his cock tightening. In the predawn light, he caught sight of the back of his bed partner's head on the pillow next to him. He rolled over, gathering her up in his embrace while thrusting forward to find release between her thighs.

"Awh…" Cormac groaned when his cock sank into her.

The bed rocked with his thrusting. He pushed his partner onto her belly, rising up behind her and grasping her hips. Need swept through him, driving him faster toward that pinnacle of release.

He cried out when his seed started to flow. His fingers gripped her hips hard to hold her in place so that his seed might find a place to take root. That was instinct, of course. In truth, he knew his wife made sure his mistress did not conceive.

One bastard was enough.

Dugan ensured the Hay didn't look around for a successor while Rohan was growing up. Dugans's wedding to an English girl was a bit of a problem but such a thing could be managed. Cormac smiled as he thought of Leana. The English lass would be gone in short order and Dugan would be well on his way to earning the respect of the retainers at Black Moss Tower.

Cormac would have preferred not to have given Dugan the signet ring, for it made it clear Dugan was his choice as successor. He had considered letting his son leave without it, but then, Alice and her meddling needed to be quelled.

There was a rap on the chamber door. His men would not have allowed the servants in until they knew the laird was ready to have company.

Let them wait on his pleasure; he was the laird.

"Enter!" Cormac called out.

The double doors opened instantly. Two neat rows of household servants came in with their arms full of items. Cormac stretched. His back popped. His personal servants reached him, one of them holding out a basin. He extended his hands so that another servant might begin pouring warm water from a pitcher over his hands. A scent of rosemary rose from the water.

"My lady," someone gasped from behind him.

Cormac turned to look back at the bed. Where he should have seen a maid helping his mistress into a dressing robe before the girl was taken to the chamber beneath his to be attended to, he saw Alice standing there, looking straight back at him.

There was a glitter of victory in her eyes. Alice made sure he saw it before she held her arms out for the dressing robe.

"Everyone out!" Cormac roared.

There was a mad dash for the doors. The two retainers who guarded those doors even grabbed the shoulders of the last servants to reach them and pulled them out of the chamber so they might answer their laird's command that much faster.

"Ye…Ye…." Cormac sputtered, his complexion darkening.

"Would ye really have the mother of yer heir be a simpleton, like your mistress?" Alice asked honestly. She moved over to a small table where one of the platters of food had been placed. She took her time selecting something to enjoy before she looked back at her husband.

Cormac appeared to be contemplating her words.

Or her fate.

"You cannot send me to the cloister now, Cormac," Alice said, deciding to voice what he was so obviously attempting to find a way around. "For the bloodline of the laird must be unquestionable. Everyone knows you bedded me. Ye cannot send me away until I bleed, and by then, winter will truly be here."

Her husband's eyes narrowed, but she'd won, and she knew it. She looked back at the platter and selected another piece of food, making a little sound of enjoyment when she bit into it.

"Ye are so very pleased with yerself, Alice." Cormac spoke at last.

Alice lowered the piece of fruit she held because there was a hint of anticipation in his tone, one she recognized, and knew to be wary of.

Cormac smiled at her. "I agree with ye, Wife."

Alice frowned, trying to decide just what he was hinting at. Cormac didn't leave her suffering ignorance for long.

"The laird's bloodline must never be in question," Cormac announced softly. "Ye will not journey to the convent for if ye are with child, I will know without question that it is my babe."

Alice felt a shiver touch her between her shoulder blades.

She almost made the sign of the cross over herself but managed to quell the impulse. Still, Cormac could likely read the trepidation shimmering in her eyes.

The wide smile on her husband's face confirmed it.

"Ye left my bed years ago, Alice, I respected yer wishes. But now that ye have returned, I will perform me duties as yer husband."

Cormac's expression became one of warning. "Ye will remain here in my bedchamber, under my personal supervision, until ye bleed. Just as ye decided it would be, madam. Since ye have decided to gamble, I will ensure ye see it through. There will be no concoctions to ensure ye bleed. Only my servants will attend ye." He looked closer at her. "And don't think about using the secret entrance. That will be guarded as well."

He pulled on a shirt and walked to the chamber door. "Open!"

When the retainers complied, her husband left without looking back at her.

"Close it!" Cormac commanded his men and the door shut with a hard bang.

Alice shivered. She had won. For now.

*

Black Moss Tower

Black Moss Tower didn't have a high ground for the master table to sit upon. The modest hall provided the most basic of benches and tables for the retainers to eat at. One table was turned longways to denote it as the head table.

"Sit beside me, Braylin."

Braylin frowned, for it seemed as if Dugan was speaking louder than normal. But it was early, and she confessed that there was still fog clouding her thoughts. Behind her, she heard the scraping of the benches being set down on the stone floor. During the night, they were stacked high on top of the tables so that the retainers might sleep in the hall.

Off to one side, several of them were still laying the pleats of their kilts out on the floor before they laid down and used a thick belt to secure it around their waists. The moment one stood up, another man was there with his length of wool that had served as his bedding during the night.

The staff was bringing breakfast in from the kitchen. It was a simple meal, meant to help everyone begin the day's chores while the main meal of the day was produced. There was bread to turn and savory dishes to prepare.

The inhabitants of Black Moss Tower were chosen because they could defend it. All else came secondary to the needs of the tower's defense. And with only the towers and the hall for shelter, there were very few women. Braylin turned to go and help bring in the pitchers.

"Ye are the mistress of this hall, Braylin." Dugan was definitely raising his voice. "The staff will serve ye. Sit beside me."

Braylin stared at her husband.

And she was not the only one.

Around them, the hall grew quiet. She heard her heart thumping hard inside her chest.

Sitting felt impossible. But her husband had spoken.

Off to one side, Shavon stood with her lips mashed into a snarl but two other maids hurried forward to begin serving Dugan and the place where he wanted Braylin to sit. They both looked at the ground, their shoulders hunched in submission.

Braylin turned and started to leave. But Dugan caught her. His fingers clamped around her wrist, pulling her to a stop before she'd traveled even half of the passageway length.

"I will not have ye called a slut, Braylin," Dugan declared. "Why do ye flee from my effort to treat ye as a respected wife?"

"Because I do not want to be like Lady Alice," Braylin replied.

Her response seemed to make him pause.

"You did not see the way the maids hunched their shoulders in fear," Braylin explained. "I do not want a place that is enjoyed at the suffering of others. What manner of life is that?"

"This is not just about you, Braylin." Dugan wasn't going to relent. "I wed ye. This refusal to acknowledge ye is a judgement of my choice."

And he'd had no choice under Lady Alice's rule.

But Dugan suddenly looked toward the end of the passageway. "Erin?"

Braylin turned her head and saw Erin, Lady Alice's personal maid frozen at the end of the passageway.

Dugan let out a word in Gaelic that Braylin didn't need translated to understand it was a curse. Dugan looked back at Braylin, pointing at Erin.

"Ye are kind Braylin, but yer compassion will only serve my stepmother's desire to destroy any future we might build here. This is our house and yet Lady Alice has sent instructions for me men to be starved and a spy to report every going on here. Ye will sit at the table tonight and be served as the mistress of Black Moss Tower. The staff will make their choices. Anyone who doesn't choose us, will be put out."