Chapter 23

23

" D oes she ken?"

Duncan's voice cut through the welcome silence of the private solar. The hall had grown too loud for him and the laird had invited him abovestairs to share a cup of wine before retiring. It was obvious that Duncan wanted to speak to him now that the ladies had left the hall for their chambers.

"What?" Robert turned to face the man who was more a father to him than his natural one. Duncan had taken in a scared boy those eight years ago and turned him into an accomplished man, and he had done it with a sense of humor and a concern usually reserved for one's own children. "Does she ken what?" he repeated.

"That ye really did this because ye love her and no' for any other reason ye may give as an excuse."

"I did it to..." He could not complete his words. His reasons were now so jumbled in his mind that he could not unravel them. Robert looked at Duncan, helpless to explain the whole of it. Duncan poured more of his favorite wine into Robert's cup and nodded.

"Ye may have begun this as a way to get from Struan what he would no' give ye freely, but that is no' why ye do this now."

"'Tis worse than that, Duncan. Truly worse," he confessed as he sat down in a chair next to the table where Duncan now sat. "I wanted her because she was Sandy's wife." He put the cup down on the table and, leaning over, ran his hands through his hair. Holding his head, he rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tightness there.

"Coveting yer brother's wife? 'Tis surely a grave sin. Did the good Faither Cleirach give ye penance for that?" He could hear the laughter, completely inappropriate for the discussion, in the laird's voice.

"How much do ye ken?" Robert asked, lifting his gaze to meet Duncan's.

"All of it. Mayhap even more than ye ken yerself."

"Then why do ye support me in this?" Duncan frowned at him. "Do no' deny it, Duncan. Ye have pushed and pointed me in directions I would no' have taken since the day I arrived here. If ye are Struan's oldest friend and staunchest ally, why do ye do it?"

Duncan stood and walked over to the hearth, staring into the flames for a moment before he spoke. Without turning his head, he answered.

"Because I can tell right from wrong and he wronged ye deeply. I dinna ken his reasons, and they must be clear to him, but I dinna agree with what he haes done to ye these last eight years."

"But, Duncan, if ye back me in this folly, it could bring war between the MacKendimens and the MacKillops. How can ye risk such a thing...?" Robert could not say the words but they hung between them in the air. For me.

"Is it folly, lad? To right a wrong? To do what I can to give ye back the place ye should have within yer family? And to help the lass who haes suffered in her own way because of the same mistake by Struan? Is that so foolish?"

"She haes no idea," he said, answering Duncan's original question.

"Of yer feelings or motives for marrying her? Or do ye speak of the rightful place ye deserve within the MacKendimens?" Duncan walked to the table once more and sat across from him.

"All of those things and more. And I have no' the courage to tell her."

"She haes the courage to hear the truth from ye, Robert. She haes faced down a demon and lived through it. Surely a tale of love would be less frightening than that?"

Robert looked across the table and snorted. "Is there nothing that ye dinna ken? "

"No' much," Duncan said with a laugh. "And what I dinna ken, the Lady Margaret does."

"Do ye share all with her? Even this knowledge?" He was not sure that he wanted his and Anice's story known by anyone but the laird, Ada, and the priest. Duncan stood and walked around the table to Robert. Reaching out to him, the laird grasped his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"I learned many, many years ago that 'twas definitely less painful to simply tell that woman what she wished to ken, rather than struggle to keep things from her. Aye, Robert, she kens as much as I do about ye and yer lady wife." Duncan put his arm around Robert's shoulders and guided him to the door. "And ye have her formidable support as much as ye have mine."

"Even if it brings war?"

Duncan laughed now and put his hand on the handle of the door. "I hold thrice as much land and that many more warriors than Struan can call to face me. He may be a stubborn old man, but he is no' stupid. Mayhap my backing will cause him to think about his reasons for treating ye as he haes and to consider his options once more for the good of his clan."

The laird pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway.

"Now, ye had best get yerself to yer room before Lady Margaret comes looking for ye herself."

He turned and held out his hand. Duncan took it and pulled him into a hug.

"My thanks for all ye have done for me, Duncan."

"'Twill be thanks enough if ye tread carefully as I taught ye and settle this between ye and Anice and ye and Struan."

Robert nodded, for he could force no words from his tightened throat. He was touched beyond belief at Duncan's support for him and Anice. He turned and followed the corridor to his room. Not knowing what to expect, he knocked. He took a deep breath and tried to let the wine he'd drunk in the hall and in the solar calm his ragged nerves. He felt like a bridegroom after the ceremony today and the celebration tonight, but he knew that no bride's welcome awaited him this night .

"Come," her soft voice filtered through the door and he pushed against it.

The soft glow of many candles lit the room and the smell of freshly laid rushes reached him where he stood. He inhaled their aroma and recognized the full and powerful scent of roses. Lady Margaret had worked her wonders on the room after they'd left for the meal and she had turned it into a wedding-night bower for them. If she knew the truth of their situation, then why had she done this?

"She said that every bride and groom deserved such a start to their marriage." Anice's voice traveled to him in the quiet and he finally found her in one corner of the room. "I did not have the heart to tell her the truth."

"I have a feeling that she kens the truth of it anyway, Anice."

"She does?" At his nod, she continued, "Then why carry out this farce?" Her head tilted towards the petal-strewn bed and the decorated room.

"The Lady Margaret is ever hopeful. She wants to believe that the best will happen, even from the worst of beginnings."

He stepped further into the room and pushed the door closed behind him. At least he would not rest among vermin now that the laird's wife had cleaned the chamber. A bed of blankets on fresh rushes before the hearth would be more comfortable than many other nights he'd spent on the ground or on cold stone floors. As he walked closer, he realized that she held a bundle on her lap. Craig.

"I had to feed him, Robert. I missed two other feedings, and the pain of it..." Her words faded as she tried to explain it to him. He did not mind if she nursed the bairn here, 'twas her room now as much as his. "Lady Margaret tried to convince me to let the wet nurse see to him this night, but I needed to." Her one hand moved to her chest and she pressed it against her breast.

"If ye dinna feed him, 'tis painful then?" Robert thought he understood this situation. Like cows if not milked, he thought, and he winced then too as he realized his wife would not be complimented by such a comparison.

"Aye. "

He knew now that her clipped response told of her embarrassment on the topic. And since he did not want to dwell on the shape or size or hardness of her breasts, he changed the subject.

"Will he sleep with us here?" He looked around the room and spotted a cradle near the bed. The decision had been made already.

"It is up to you, Robert," she said as she rose from her seat in the corner. Lifting the babe to her shoulder, she patted his back until he let out a loud burp. "Once the piglet is fed, he will sleep anywhere."

He smiled at her name for the babe. She could have asked him for anything and he would have granted it while looking at her like this. The sheer nightrail trailed on the floor and her hair hung down in waves over the plaid she wore as a shawl. The red and gold shades of her tresses were lit by the fire and even her skin glowed from it. The bruise on her forehead was fading even now and would be gone before their return to Dunnedin.

All he could think about was unwrapping her and making love to her before the fire. He wanted to see the blush steal its way up her breasts and onto her neck and face. He wanted to kiss and touch every part of her and he desperately craved her touch on him. And mostly, he wanted her to return his kisses. Return them with vigor and wanting and of her own choice. Sighing, he realized that he was only fueling his own lust and for naught. Nothing but his own discomfort and sleeplessness would come from letting his desires get out of control.

She must have thought his sigh was one of displeasure for she walked to him and reached out in supplication. "Robert, truly, it will be as you wish. Lady Margaret said to call and a servant would take him to the nurse's chambers for the night. I do not wish to disturb your rest."

"Anice, ye misunderstand. If the bairn sleeping with ye will ease yer own rest, then keep him here. The bed is big enough for the two of ye."

Her eyes widened and she looked from him to the bed and back again.

"Where will you sleep? "

"There," he said, pointing at the spot in front of the hearth. "'Tis many a night I've slept on worse. With a blanket or two, it will be just fine."

She looked at him in frank disbelief and then turned and placed the babe in the center of the bed. Opening one of the storage trunks, she pulled out several thick blankets and began to arrange them on the floor.

"Here, Anice, give them to me."

"'Twould seem to be the least I can do for you, Robert." She layered the blankets and took a pillow from the bed and placed it for his use. "This would not seem to be such a good bargain for you, Robert. I cannot imagine what there is in it for you."

At that moment, with his body's desires raging and his mind warring with his wants, he could not think of anything good in this situation either. Mayhap the morning would bring a clearer mind and a swim in the loch outside the village would ease his lust. Then he could understand why he had come up with this hellish torture called a marriage in name only and why he had entered it of his own free will. He finally just grunted at her question, and, peeling off his plaid, he lay down and wrapped himself up before the fire. He could tell a long night awaited him.

He had barely closed his eyes when the knock came on the door. It could not yet be morning, but the light shining through the small glass window told him it was. He climbed from his cocoon of covers and hastened to the door, not wanting to wake Anice or the bairn. Opening the door a crack, he saw young Kevin standing in the hall.

"The laird said to join him at the stables when ye can, Robert."

"Tell Duncan I will be there immediately, Kevin," he whispered.

"He said to tell ye no' to rush. He said there's time to break yer fast."

Turning back and seeing Anice asleep on the bed, he knew this was the perfect time to leave. She would have the privacy she needed to take care of the bairn's and her own needs and he would be able to seek out the relief of the icy waters of the loch.

He nodded at the boy and closed the door. Finding a clean length of plaid, he placed it over his belt on the floor, positioned the pleats, lay on it, and gathered it around him. He still wore the shirt from yesterday, but it would suit his needs for now. Adjusting the extra material over his shoulder, he hooked on the large brooch to hold it in place. He tugged on his boots and was ready to leave when he heard her yawn.

"Is something wrong, Robert, to take you from your bed so early?"

The morning huskiness of her voice wakened his desire for her once more and he stood and stared at her as she sat up in bed... in his bed. Her hair, now loosened from her sleeping braid, flowed over her shoulders and fine wisps of it encircled her face. The sun's rays beaming through the window behind her made it appear as a sparkling crown on her head and his fingers itched to move through it again as he had during their kiss at dinner. If she knew her appeal, she did not show it. Instead she tortured him further by stretching and yawning.

Her breasts, now full and ready for her son's appetite, whetted his own as they pressed against the thin layer of linen she wore. His body reacted vigorously to the enticing view she presented and he knew he had to leave before his lust overpowered his control.

"The laird summons me. I must go now," he said as he turned away to gather his weapons and sporran.

"Now? This early? Is something amiss?"

Anice pushed back the covers, slid her feet to the floor, and reached for the plaid shawl next to the bed. Pulling it around her shoulders, she turned away from him and in but a few moments rebraided her hair. She never realized the unobstructed view of her round, soft bottom that she presented to him with her motions and although he could barely breathe, he could not look away. Memories of holding her on his lap during the ride here flooded his mind and his erection grew harder. Even the loosely hung plaid around his waist would not hide it from view.

This was, he realized in that moment, to be his punishment, his penance for his many sins. He would live in a constant state of wanting his wife who, in spite of the fact she had borne a son, was as innocent now as the day she married. She would never know the effect that her everyday movements, the way her hair flowed down her back or the sway of her hips as she walked, drove him to the brink of explosion. He was to pay for his lies and his coveting by being so near to her and yet never having and never touching her? 'Twould be a long and torturous life ahead if that was the Almighty's plan.

"I must see to the laird's call, Anice. I will see ye later in the day."

She called out a farewell to him, but he could only grunt in response. He could not risk another look at her without also risking her seeing his current state of arousal. And, innocent or not, the sight would be difficult to misunderstand. He left, pulling the door closed behind him. A visit to the loch and then to find the laird. And, with sufficient planning, he would not see her until she was asleep once more that night.