Chapter 7

"Are ye going to try to lure me sister to the gardens again tonight?"

That question from Payton drew Graeme's gaze away from where Annella stood across the great hall. Two days had passed since

his encounter in the stables with her, and two nights when she had missed dinner to tend to the injured or ailing. Much to

his surprise, Graeme had actually found himself missing her presence at table, but he was also frustrated that her absence

had forced him to temporarily shelve his attempts to make her his wife.

Tonight, Annella had actually joined them at sup. But she'd barely been at table long enough to eat before the stablemaster

had approached with a blond soldier and requested a moment of her time. She'd agreed at once and followed the two men to where

she presently stood. A long conversation had followed and was still happening.

"Well?" Payton asked impatiently.

Scowling, Graeme glanced to the man he hoped to make his brother by marriage and nodded grimly before turning back to where Annella had apparently finished her talk with the stablemaster and was now talking to Angus. Again. The lass just couldn't seem to get it into her head that she was no longer laird here, and that dealing with Angus was now his job.

"Ye're sure ye can get her there this time?" Payton asked with narrowed eyes.

"Aye," he snapped, meeting the other man's gaze with firm determination. He would get Annella to the gardens tonight, or die

trying, Graeme vowed to himself and then grimaced at how ridiculous that sounded in his own mind. All right, perhaps he wouldn't

die trying, but—

"So, ye want us to go out ahead o' the two o' ye and hide in the gardens... again?" Payton asked dryly.

"Aye, I'll—Where the devil did she go?" he asked with surprise as his gaze slid back to where Annella had stood a moment ago,

only to find the spot empty.

Payton, Teague and Symon all peered in the direction he was looking, but no one had an answer.

Frowning, Graeme scanned the room quickly, but Annella was nowhere to be seen. He considered the stairs, but she'd been close

to the keep doors and couldn't have crossed the great hall and got up the stairs and out of sight in the short time he'd looked

away. She could have got outside though.

Cursing, Graeme stood, but then paused to tell Payton, "Get to the garden. I'll bring Annella there." He then turned and hurried

for the doors.

He spotted Annella the moment he stepped out of the keep and his eyes narrowed. She was entering the stables, but not alone. A tall, blond man he recognized as a Gunn soldier was holding the door for her, and once she'd entered, followed her in.

Graeme immediately felt jealous rage roar up within him. She wouldn't! Would she? Mouth tightening, he jogged down the steps

and hurried to the stables. On first entering, he didn't see anyone, but then he followed the sound of voices to the back

of the building. The stalls took up the better part of the stables, but ended five feet before the loft, and under the loft

was a large area divided into three sections. On the left was a room where saddles and such were stored. On the right was

a small chamber where the stablemaster slept. In the middle was an open area where a few things were stored, including several

stacks of straw and hay at the front that blocked the view of at least half of the small area between the storage and sleeping

chamber. In the half that was open to view, Graeme could see Annella kneeling, her body sideways to him.

His earlier jealous rage giving way to confusion, Graeme moved silently up the aisle between the stalls. He was three-quarters

of the way to her when he realized she wasn't alone. In fact, there was a man with her. Presumably the blond man, though he

couldn't be sure since all he could see was a man's limp cock hanging in front of her face. The rest of the owner of that

appendage was out of view behind the stacked bales of straw and hay.

A bellow of rage pouring from his mouth, Graeme crossed the last ten feet or so in a heartbeat, and grabbed Annella by the

arm. He jerked her to her feet even as she turned her head toward him with surprise.

"M'laird!" she squawked, yanking at her arm with irritation. "What the devil are ye doin'?"

"Me?" he asked, rounding on her with amazement. "What are ye doin'? Out here in the stables—"

"Examining a soldier with the clap," she snapped, cutting him off.

"So, I was right and 'tis the clap?"

Graeme blinked, his head swiveling to the man who had spoken. Hamish, the stablemaster, was standing next to the blond man,

who still stood with his pillicock on display. His puss-filled pillicock, Graeme saw, despite the way the limp thing was hanging

down as if in shame. His gaze shifted back to Hamish. He hadn't even noticed the stablemaster standing a step behind the blond

man, but then he hadn't really taken note of much after spotting that cock in Annella's face.

When she tugged on her arm this time, Graeme let her go.

"Aye, 'tis, Hamish," Annella said on a sigh. "Ye ken what needs doin' to remove the worst o' the pus."

"Aye," Hamish assured her with something of a wince. Graeme couldn't blame him. With the clap, pus clogged and filled a man's

pisser, making draining the dragon terrible painful. The best way to deal with it was to clap it hard between the hands, or

between two hard surfaces, to force the pus out. It wasn't pleasant, and he didn't envy the stablemaster the job, let alone

the soldier about to suffer it. He was, however, grateful that Annella would not be performing the task. It seemed the stablemaster

had just wanted a consultation on the man's ailment, not for her to tend it.

Graeme didn't think she should even have had to consult on the matter, but kept his mouth shut and simply waited as she gave the blond soldier instructions on what to do for his ailment after the stablemaster finished with him. It didn't take long, and then she turned to head for the stable doors.

Graeme immediately fell into step beside her, but was silent until they were outside again. Clearing his throat then, he asked,

"Do ye often consult on such cases?"

"Often enough," Annella said solemnly. "But usually just to consult. The men are no' comfortable comin' to me on such matters

and approach Hamish instead."

"Is he a healer?" he asked with interest.

Annella bobbed her head from one side to the other in a gesture he didn't understand until she said, "Of a sort. He kens a

great deal about animal care. Horses in particular. Some o' that knowledge can be applied to men as well."

"Horses get the clap?" Graeme asked with something like horror.

"Nay," she said on a laugh. "Well, at least I've never heard of it happening," she corrected herself and added, "The men would

just prefer the stablemaster treating them with one hard whack than myself. I'm not sure if 'tis they fear I'll not clap hard

enough and have to do it several times, or because I'm a lady and they're embarrassed."

Annella shrugged. "Whichever it is matters little to me. I'm just glad Hamish handles it rather than me. 'Tis bad enough examining

the men while they stand about blushing like bashful lads."

Graeme wouldn't have been blushing to have her face inches from his pillicock, and he doubted very much if it was bashfulness that had the men she examined doing it. More like it was embarrassment

at having a diseased and oozing cock.

Glancing around, he noted that the bailey seemed empty. Everyone appeared to be inside. Other than the men on the wall, of

course. But they were all looking outward, watching for anyone approaching the castle. Shifting his gaze back to Annella,

he recalled that he was supposed to lure her to the gardens and suggested, "Would ye care to take a walk about the gardens

ere bed?"

Annella considered the suggestion briefly, but frankly the idea wasn't an appetizing one. It had been a long day for her and

she was tired, so she shook her head at the offer. "Nay, I fear I—"

Her words died on a startled gasp as Graeme suddenly caught her arm, whirled her toward him and planted a kiss on her that

had her toes curling. It wasn't until he broke the kiss and pulled back to look down at her that she recalled where they were

and that the men on the wall, or anyone in the bailey even, might have witnessed his kissing her. But then she glanced around

and noted that there didn't appear to be anyone else in the bailey, and the men on the wall were just dark silhouettes against

a slightly lighter sky, indistinguishable from one another. Which she supposed meant that none of the men on the wall would

recognize them either, if they could even see them.

"Come to the gardens, lass," Graeme murmured, his lips trailing to her ear and nibbling there before moving down her neck.

Annella almost folded at the lovely sensations he was causing in her, but then he reached around to cup her behind and she

winced as she was poked in the bottom by what she suspected was a bit of straw. She must have picked up a few stalks while

kneeling in the stables. Hopefully that was all, Annella thought with vexation. She'd found it in places straw had no business

being the night she'd had her tryst with Graeme in the stables.

"Come with me to the gardens," Graeme repeated, his hands rising to close over her breasts through her gown as he nuzzled

her neck.

"Nay," she moaned, but her body was arching, pushing her breasts into his caressing hands, and her head was tilting to allow

his mouth better access to her neck. Whatever weariness had been claiming her was now being pushed out of her body by the

hunger and need pooling low in her stomach and making its way further south. Still, she didn't want to return to her room

later with bits of straw, or grass and leaves in places it wasn't meant to be. When Graeme stiffened and started to pull back,

she added, "I should like to try a bed fer a change."

Graeme's eyebrows jerked upward at her words. "A bed?"

"Aye." Smiling, Annella leaned back in his arms, deliberately pushing her hips against his, and said, "A bed would be lovely,

do ye no' think?"

He seemed to debate the matter briefly, but when she rubbed herself from side to side against the growing hardness under his plaid, he nodded. "Aye. That could work."

Annella raised her eyebrows at that, but before she could say anything, he brought her around to his side again and almost

jogged her the last twenty feet to the keep stairs.

Once there, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then urged her up onto the first step, saying, "Ye go ahead. I'll wait a

moment so as no' to draw attention, and then come to yer chamber."

"Oh, nay," Annella protested at once, whirling back to face him. "Ye can no' come to my room. Florie will be there. She sleeps

on a palette in my chamber."

"Oh." Graeme frowned. "That's a problem."

"Aye. So, I shall come to yer room instead."

Annella didn't give him a chance to respond, but simply turned and hurried up the stairs to the keep doors.

Graeme watched until she'd slid inside and then turned to rush along the keep, headed for the gardens in back. He had to find

Payton, Symon and Teague. The plans had changed, and this was even better. The men could wait in the room across the hall

from his, crack the door to watch for Annella to slip from her chamber and scurry to his, wait a few minutes, and then burst

in to catch them. Aye, this was much better. He'd have the lass married by midday on the morrow, Graeme thought with satisfaction.

He found the men easily enough. He just walked through the vegetable and fruit gardens to the back gardens and said, "She's

no' comin.'"

Payton, Teague and Symon immediately appeared out of the surrounding shrubbery and trees to approach him.

Graeme waited until they were close enough he could speak quietly, before explaining that she would be coming to his chamber

instead, and telling them of his revised plan to catch Annella, this time in his bed.

Payton appeared both annoyed and impatient as he listened. It seemed apparent that he was eager to have this business done.

Teague and Symon, on the other hand, were acting as if it were a lark. Graeme supposed the escapades were staving off the

boredom he felt sure must be descending on them. After all, they were used to constant travel and battle, both of which tended

to rouse the blood. Actually, so was he, he realized. Though, he wasn't feeling the least bit bored.

Deciding he'd leave that to ponder later, he finished explaining what they should do and then led them back into the keep

and above stairs. He watched them slip into the room across the hall from his to watch for Annella's arrival, and then entered

his own chamber and closed the door.

Graeme was peering around the room trying to decide what, if anything, he should do to prepare for Annella's arrival when

a very slight grinding sound caught his ear. He turned toward the sound just in time to see the passage door open wide enough

for Annella to slip through.

Graeme's eyes widened incredulously. She was wearing a white cotton sleeping gown. It was floor length, with long sleeves, but the sweetheart neckline left a lot of her upper chest on display and the material was thin from age and use. Very thin. The material of most of her gowns was thin from use too, he thought now. It was as if she hadn't had a new gown in the six years she'd been here.

The faint grinding sound coming again drew his attention to the fact that she had slid the passage door closed.

"How did ye ken about the secret passages?" Graeme asked with amazement as she turned back to face him. Truly, he'd almost

forgotten the damned thing was there, and certainly hadn't considered she might use it.

"William used the passage in our room to leave the keep the night o' our wedding," Annella explained quietly as she crossed

the room. "I saw how he opened the passage door and later tried it for meself and then went exploring to find where the passage

went and found the other entrances to and from the other chambers."

"Oh," Graeme said weakly and glanced toward the door, trying to think how to let the men across the hall know she was here.

Soft pressure on his chest drew his gaze down. Annella had reached him and placed her hand there. She was now gazing at his

wide chest with an interest that roused his interest. When she started to move her hand, following the curve of muscle through

his shirt, he caught it at once. But it helped little, she simply leaned up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. This time

she didn't just place her mouth on his and stay still. Annella had learned a bit during their previous encounters. She brushed

her lips over his lightly, then paused to nip at his upper lip, then offered his lower lip the same treatment before sucking

it into her mouth.

Graeme had managed to remain completely still up until that point, but finally, he broke. Clasping her face and tilting it to the angle he desired, he thrust his tongue past her lips and set about devouring her. She responded in kind. There were soft moans, tangling tongues and mounting passion, and then Graeme's hands moved of their own volition and began to travel her body as he backed her toward the bed.

Annella's sleeping gown hit the floor first, but was quickly followed by his plaid and shirt.

Her brother and his friends could wait, Graeme decided as he bore her down to the bed. He'd sort out how to draw their attention

later.

It was pounding on his door that woke Graeme. A yawn claimed him at once as he blinked open sleepy eyes, but it gave way to

a scowl as the pounding came again. Muttering under his breath, he tossed aside the linen and furs covering him and stood

to cross to the door, uncaring that he was naked. He always slept nude, and anyone who decided to interrupt his sleep could

damned well deal with it.

Graeme interrupted a third knock by pulling the door open. Payton paused with his fist still raised in the act of knocking,

and then blinked as he took him in.

"Ye went to bed?" Teague asked with exasperation. "Ye could no' come let us ken that—"

"Ne'er mind that now," Payton interrupted impatiently, apparently startled out of surprise by the man's words. "Annella's

missing."

"Missing?" Graeme echoed with alarm.

"Aye. My soldiers finally arrived with the wagon carrying William's bones, but Dauid was in the cart with them rather than on horseback. He's apparently badly wounded. I sent one of the lads up to fetch Annella while we carried Dauid in, but he returned to say her maid answered the door and me sister was no' in her bed. She's missing. We must start a search. She—"

The rustling of material behind him had Graeme glancing over his shoulder even as Payton did. Annella was out of bed and just

finishing pulling her sleeping gown back on. They were just in time to catch a tantalizing glimpse of shapely calves and ankles

before the thin cloth finished dropping into place.

"Annella?" Payton choked out his sister's name, but when Graeme turned back, the man was glaring at him.

Graeme couldn't blame him. It really hadn't been well done of him to bed Annella. Again. He should have resisted his baser

urges and found some way to make a noise to alert the men waiting across the hall of her presence.

"You—" Payton began in accusation. Fortunately, that was as far as he got before Annella interrupted him, because Graeme was

quite sure whatever he had intended to say would have given away their plans to force her into marriage to him.

"This is no time for discussions about what I'm doing here," Annella snapped as she snatched Graeme's shirt and plaid, then

crossed the room. "Dauid is hurt and needs aid."

Graeme took the clothing she shoved at him, but then handed his plaid to Payton to hold so that he could quickly shrug into his shirt. He would have donned his plaid next, but even as he grabbed the heavy material from Payton, Annella was pushing past her brother and out into the hall, asking, "Where is he?"

"Annella," Payton barked in alarm, and hurried after her, reaching out as he did as if to stop her. He needn't have bothered.

His sister had already stopped dead just a couple of steps past the door.

Frowning, Graeme stepped out into the hall to see what had brought her to such an abrupt halt. His own feet froze though when

he saw the men filling the hallway. Teague and Symon were there, but so were another twenty men, a mix of Gunn and MacKay

soldiers.

"I'm marryin' her," Graeme snapped as twenty-three pairs of eyes slid from Annella to him.

Annella's shoulders briefly slumped in defeat, but just as quickly popped up and back again. Her chin lifted as well, and

she started moving forward through the quickly parting men. "I assume this means ye brought Dauid up to his chamber?"

Graeme felt pride bloom in his chest. The lass had bigger ballocks than—His thoughts scattered and a scowl creased his face

again as he noted that her gown was so thin it was near see-through in places, most noticeably to him at that moment was the

area around her derriere.

Opening the plaid he hadn't yet donned, Graeme pushed past Payton and quickly wrapped the heavy material around her shoulders.

"What are ye doin'?" Annella asked with exasperation when he then tried to close and tie the top corners of it in front to wholly cover her. It was an awkward maneuver that had him pressed against her back, his arms around her and hands working under her chin as they walked.

"Aye. What are ye doin', Gunn?" Payton snapped, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"I'm trying to cover up me bride," Graeme snapped with irritation. He'd think the man would want his sister more modestly

covered.

"Well now ye ha'e," Payton said grimly. "So mayhap ye could go get another plaid fer yerself and stop swingin' yer pillicock

about."

Graeme glanced down at himself to see that he was wearing one of his shorter shirts, and his pillicock was indeed swinging

about beneath the hem. Cursing, he turned abruptly and rushed back to his room to quickly grab a fresh plaid from his chest,

then simply wrapped it around his waist as he rushed back out into the hall. He was just in time to see Annella disappearing

into a room up the hall. Dauid's bedchamber, he realized, and followed.

"Oh thank God. I feared I'd die ere they found ye, Nellie," Dauid said weakly when she reached the bedside.

Annella's mouth tightened at the nickname he'd plagued her with for years. It didn't matter how many times she asked him not

to call her that, he just kept doing it because he "liked it." Apparently, it didn't matter what she did or didn't like.

Pushing her irritation to the side for now, she ran her gaze over him, noting that his color was fine, he wasn't breathing faster than normal, he wasn't sweat ing overmuch, and when she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, he didn't feel cool. He was displaying none of the signs she saw when someone had taken a bad wound and lost a lot of blood. On top of that, there wasn't blood anywhere except on the filthy bit of cloth she could see between the fingers pressing it tightly to his lower side. In fact, if he weren't clutching that to the area just above his empty scabbard, she wouldn't have thought him injured at all.

"Move yer hands, Dauid. Let me see yer wound," she said finally, bending to nudge them away even as she said it. But his moving

his hands and the dirty cloth with blood staining it, didn't help. Annella couldn't get a good view of the wound through the

hole in the cloth of his shirt. She had to tug his shirt out of the waist of his plaid to get a proper look. Her eyebrows

drew together as she examined him. The wound was a slice in his side just above where his scabbard rested.

Straightening, she glanced around until her gaze landed on her brother. "I need my medicinals. Go to my room and have Florie

fetch them to you fer me."

The moment Payton headed out of the room, Annella turned her attention back to Dauid and pressed the bloodstained cloth against

his injury again, as she asked, "What happened?"

"We stopped to... walk in the woods," he finished, looking embarrassed.

Drain the dragon, Annella translated in her head.

"And while I was distracted, someone came up behind me and—" He gestured to his injured side.

"Did ye see who 'twas, brother?" Graeme asked grimly.

Irritation flickered in Dauid's gaze as he glanced to his brother, but disappeared as he turned back to Annella and said, "I only caught a glimpse as I fell, but 'tis sure I am that 'twas a Morgan."

Fortunately, Payton returned then with her medicinals and Annella had an excuse to turn away, hiding her expression. Her gaze

slid over the people in the room as she took her bag. There had been a lot of people in the hall, soldiers mostly, but there

were nearly as many in the room itself. Annella took that to mean that Dauid had been making a fuss and insisting he was at

death's door since gaining the injury. She wouldn't put it past him. The last six years, Dauid had either been whining and

complaining and demanding attention, or arrogant and annoying and insisting he deserved her attention. She always found it

hard to believe he was only a year younger than her. The man acted like a child most of the time.

Clicking her tongue with irritation, she set the bag on the bed and started sorting through the various ingredients and salves

inside as she said, "He's fine. 'Tis little more than a scratch. There's no need fer a death watch. Clear out."

There was an immediate mass exodus from the room, including her brother and Graeme. Annella scowled as she watched the pair of them put their heads together and start talking in low voices as the door was pulled closed behind them. She didn't have a single doubt that they were even now plotting how to force her in front of the priest. She wasn't pleased with the idea. A man wasn't forced to marry if he indulged in a little houghmagandie. Why should a woman be? Well, okay, sometimes men too were forced to marry. It depended on who they were dallying with and—

"Are you all right, Nellie?"

"Hmm?" She glanced at Dauid with confusion.

"Ye were frownin' after me brother as ye watched him leave the room," he explained. "Has he been annoyin' ye since his arrival?

I ken his rough, vulgar ways must be a trial, but once I take on the position o' laird, I'm sure he'll head back to his mercenary

pursuits and leave us be." Smiling, he reached out to place his hand on hers and added, "If he does no', I promise I'll tell

him to go. I'll no' let him bother me sweet Nellie."

"Ye ken I hate it when ye call me Nellie," Annella snapped impatiently, tugging her hand from under his. Turning her attention

to quickly collecting what she needed to clean his wound, she added, "And what do ye mean when you take on the position o'

laird? Graeme is—"

"I ken he's the second son and next in line," Dauid interrupted. "But he'll pass it up and 'twill come down to me. He's no'

interested."

"He's no'?" Annella asked, not hiding her surprise. It didn't seem to her that Graeme had been reluctant to take on the task.

He was laird by the nooning on the day after his return.

"Nay," Dauid assured her. "Graeme prefers the excitement o' battle to the more boring chores o' sitting about doing sums,

listening to the complaints o' our villeins and judging their disputes. He's always said so."

Annella merely grunted at that, then set down the various items she'd collected and moved around the bed toward the door.

"Where are ye goin'?" Dauid asked at once.

"To find a servant to fetch some ale to mix the tonic in," she explained, and opened the door to find Florie there, jug and

mug in one hand and the other raised to knock.

"I thought ye'd need this." Florie handed over the empty mug and the jug full of what smelled like ale, and then added in

a whisper, "I ken ye usually ha'e to dose him so ye can work in peace."

"Aye. Thank ye, Florie," Annella said sincerely and turned to head back to the bed as the maid closed the door for her.

"Is that ale?" Dauid asked with interest, his nostrils flaring.

"Aye." Annella poured some in the mug, then grabbed one of the tinctures she'd taken from her bag of medicaments and dumped

some of that in as well.

"Yer givin' me a sleepin' potion?" Dauid said with accusation.

Stirring the concoction, Annella said mildly, "I have to sew yer side."

"Nay. I'm sure 'twill be fine without sewin'." He sounded alarmed now.

"It needs sewing," Annella said firmly, and turned to him with raised eyebrows. "The question is do ye want to take this and

sleep through it? Or shall I call the men back to hold ye down while I stitch ye?"

"Fine," Dauid grumbled in resignation. He took the mug from her, scowled down at the contents, then raised his gaze to her

and said, "But once I'm laird—"

"For heaven's sake, Dauid, drink it," she growled impatiently as she moved away to gather the items she'd need to clean his wound. "I do no' want to be at this all night. I'd like to get some sleep."

Annella briefly considered telling him that Graeme hadn't turned down the position and was laird now, but then decided that

could be someone else's problem. Between his determination to call her Nellie, his smarmy smiles and his tendency to constantly

touch her hands or arms at every opportunity... Well, frankly, she just couldn't be arsed to put up with the temper tantrum

that would no doubt follow if he'd had his hopes pinned on being laird.