Duty of the Chieftain - a Highland 'Lord's Right of the First Night' novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #3)

Duty of the Chieftain

~ a Highland
'Lord's Right of the First Night'
story ~

by

JONNET CARMICHAEL

Novella #3

in the erotica series

'Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions'

~~~

The 'Lord's Right of the First Night' goes terribly wrong for Ranald MacKrannan when he mistakes a virgin bride's passion for experience.  The clan already have plenty strange and secret Traditions, so they reinvent this ancient duty of lairds into 'THE BRIDE'S RIGHT' to get their chieftain out of trouble.

Ranald and his own bride Elinor are still strangers during the test phase of this new Tradition, but Elinor's need to impress turns into ordering everyone around.  A life lesson is needed.  Ranald must perform a special Duty of the Chieftain.  Elinor must be taught never to act superior with a MacKrannan man, and then she'll find life the more enjoyable…

~~~

FOR MATURE READERS ONLY

Approx. 39,000 words

Highland erotica with GSOH!

Copyright 2013 ©
Jonnet Carmichael

The characters, places and events depicted in this book are fictional or are used fictitiously.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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NOTE TO READERS

The medieval Lord's Right of the First Night – also known in Latin as 
jus primae noctus
and in French as
droit de siegneur –
was the right of a feudal lord to take the virginity of his serf's daughter on her wedding night.  What had begun in history as a spiritual duty by tribal leaders later became a coveted perk for the toffs.

Academic researchers debate the truth of it happening.  Ordinary folks who grew up in 20th century Scotland under the superior attitudes of their local nobility might think it extremely probable that it once happened all the time…

Ranald
MacKrannan
heard the creak of a ballista being cocked, its missile pointing with deadly accuracy at the boat’s hull across the swell of the peninsula bay.  Only two men were with him on the galley, bait to draw the Cambels' attention while the bulk of the MacKrannan clansmen silently moved into position on the hill above.  Ranald saw their signal and cried
"NOW!"

A
ll three jumped from the far side as the missile hit.

It was a rout
.  Not one MacKrannan life had been lost in the attack from the rear, and the king would replace the galley now sunk, but the quelling of the Cambel uprising had taken near a whole moon till this final skirmish.  The politics had then to be dealt with, as arduous a task as any swordfight, so that Ranald was exhausted by the time his four remaining galleys were home safe and berthed at the castle's harbor.  A man could only go so long without sleep.

"
Come here to me, man!" a booming voice called as he stepped ashore.

"
Sir Thommas, you do look well on it... whatever it is," Ranald grinned.

"
A week at court, a win at dice and yer mother her usual self, is what.  And the news coming there of yer victory.  The king is fair delighted, and the name of Ranald MacKrannan mentioned much.  Ye did well, son."

From every cottage in the
village poured forth women who stopped briefly to dip curtsies in the passing, children running at their sides and babes in arms.  Ranald gave leave to his soldiers to disembark and reunite with their families as the sky reddened for the sunset.

News from the royal court was never wholly good, and Sir
Thommas kept the details until they had reached the castle's solar.  "Yer mother and I are but a day back.  There's trouble in the Borders again, and the truce with England in doubt."  

Ranald
relaxed into an oaken chair by the fireside, fighting the need to drift off to sleep.  This unwelcome news from the court was just enough to keep him awake.  "Father, tell me I am no' sent there till I see my own bed for a night…"

"
Nay, nay," said Sir Thommas, "it is the Earl of Maxton leading the king's army, and two of yer brothers with him.  The king is strengthening the Borders.  Tidying up the landholdings anywhere near it.  But hear this... an English delegation came to court.  Negotiations did no' go well."

Lady Agatha
heard the latter of her husband's words as she rushed into the solar.  "Ranald, my fine chieftain lad, ye are home!" she called, her eyes misted with joy.  "Yer father speaks true.  Mercy, if you could have but seen the English in all their finery!  Oh aye, they mean to have the upper hand in the business."

She passed her riding cloak to the
ladymaid scurrying behind her.  "Away with ye, Ginny, standing there with yer lugs flapping!  See that the lassies have the fire kindled in Ranald's room and fresh linens to his bed... and
Ginny! 
Tell them to take an extra cloth to his window – he must have a clear view to the ocean, still.  Thank ye, lass… and
Ginny! 
Extra hot water, for Ranald to shave."

Ranald
rose out the chair, exchanging a look with his father at the womanly fussing, and allowing his mother her customary swipe at his forehead to smooth back his flopping black hair before offering his cheek for her greeting. 

Agatha
continued with the court news of women's interest.  "And the king has bade the Earl of Maxton to marry the Lady Elinor Keirston."

"
Maxton?  His betrothed will have lands, no doubt," said Ranald, cynically.

"Indeed she has
, in the heart of the Borders – and a hunting forest and lochs and two decent sized towers and all.  She's the widow of Sir Alain Douglas of Fordnethan."

Ranald's blood chilled at the name.
  Sir Alain Douglas had been alongside him at the Siege of Drumallager and the death earned little lament.  Ranald had been hard-pressed to say anything beyond the plain fact when writing to the man's wife, for the details of it were not for a woman's ears and nor was his opinion of the dead man.

"Hell mend that
weasel.  Six clansmen buried and he damned near got every one of us killed!"
he spat, gripping the high mantel of the fireplace as his mother took his chair.

"
Quiet, my son…" Thommas spoke low.  "Elinor is here in the castle.  The command to wed Maxton was a shock to her, and yer mother thought the sea air would lift her spirits.  Have pity on the girl.  Maxton is more than twice her age."

Ranald felt more of the pity for Maxton having a widow foisted upon him,
although the gift of an earldom from the king of Scots tended to come with many such penalty clauses.  Maxton would be paying for his title for many years yet.  He was glad to be a MacKrannan, expected to marry a virgin for love and naught else when the day came, and none to announce the name of his wife in advance. 

"She's a nice lass
," said Agatha.  "The queen is particularly fond of her."

"Should she no' still
be in mourning?" Ranald asked his parents.  "What was she doing at court?"

"The king
summoned her," his father answered.  "Her dowry lands at Keirston Tower are in far too strategic a position in the Borders to let a widow keep it, and Fordnethan Tower no' far behind it in importance.  That is why she has been put onto the Earl of Maxton."

Ranald knew how crucial those landholdings were, but it was hearing the
name of Sir Alain Douglas had riled him, and his temper already shortened with tiredness.

Sir
Thommas thought it time to impart better news.

"Ye may calm yer
self in a pleasant manner, Ranald.  A wedding took place this morn and I saved the bride Meredith for ye when yer galleys were espied.  She’ll warm yer bones, man."

"
I'm thinking she'd need to waken me first," said the homecoming warrior.

"Ach, wait till ye see her
!  She's a fine lass to look upon.  Well worth dunking yer head in a cold water tub for.  Away, if you please, Agatha, and have Ginny take her to Ranald's room."

As his wife's footsteps trip
ped excitedly down the stairs, Sir Thommas turned again to his son.

"
It is some time since ye performed the Lord's Right as chieftain of the clan, and with Ginny's wedding to your steward coming close, I'm thinking the practise will be of use.  You’ll remember how it is done, then?"

Ranald
grimaced.  It was no' his favourite duty, and best left to his father the Chief.

"
I remember.  They lay there and do nothing, I get all the work of it, they say
'Thank ye kindly, milord'
and go on home to their husbands.  Do ye no' want to take care of it yerself?"