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

Clamping his hands around her waist, he lifted her up
effortlessly onto his belly and locked his gaze into hers, marvelling that the ocean had followed him home in the color of her eyes.  He turned his mouth to kiss the fingers that were now so delicately touching his face, tasting the saltwater from his own body.

"
Ye're some lass..."

Ranald changed his mind.  She could ride him to his spill and he'd notify the Bard it had been done.

Oh aye, she knows well the way of it... and a twinkle in those bonnie green eyes that says she'll no' be fit for the walk home when I've finished with her... 

His
senses reeled with the intoxicating scent of her hair.  Ginny had prepared her well, for this one was as sweet as grapes needing picked, smelling of chamomile and clover that took him to summerdays pasture.

Her breathing came in gasps at the busy work of his
fingers on her teats, and their kissing became desperate again.

There was no need for him to hold back at all if she wanted it this
much... he might even take a bit of time to bliss her twice before he slept, just for the pleasure of watching her come apart. 

He
grasped her tight and brought her down on his throbbing length.

VIRGIN! 
Hell's sodding PIT...

Her
screwed-up eyes and bitten lip were sign enough, but her body's reaction to the shock told him even more.  He was now trapped in her tightness and powerless to get out.

Baring his teeth in grimace, he willed himself to limpen for the sake of decency
and tried as gently as he could to separate them... and his hand slipped, and she slid further down to the limit, her shuddering born of pain instead of passion.

"
Be still!"
he growled, and felt hellish for his snapping.  This was no' her fault.  Yet even in his frozen state the seed left him, seeping out in defenceless reaction like a mother’s milk to a babe’s cry, and no gratification to feel along with it.

I've hurt her
bad…
The second he was able to lift her carefully off him she slid from the bed and stumbled to find her chemise.

He sat on the bed's edge, e
ars ringing and heart still thumping.  "Ye should have said!  Ach, lassie, why did ye no' say to me?"

She
snatched her robe up and did not turn.

"
Meredith!  Come back!  It will no' hurt again, and I will bliss ye!"

The room was suddenly empty of her, save the blood on his groin and an ache that should have been confined to the same place, yet was not.  Her tears would be tripping her all the way back to the Swordmaker's Cottage.

The ability to
sleep was wrested from him.  He washed and shaved and dressed with the slowness of shame, and then sat awhile at the fireside in the very chair she'd warmed with her pert wee arse.

He
could not settle.  Rising to pace the room, he looked with remorse at the incriminating bedsheet with her blood and his seed smeared on the side nearest the fire.

If she'd been some other bride but the Swordmaker
Archie's… if she'd but
said
she was virgin... if he'd been clear-minded instead of dropping weary… if his temper had not been so riled afore beginning the job...

Guilt brewed his regret into resentment.  W
hy should he feel the discredit of it?  The daft lass could have told him.  And he'd twice asked her if she was ready!

He
crashed the door open and trudged down the corridor, grumping at his mother's ladymaid Ginny in the passing.  Those chirpy grins for him would be ended when she heard her cousin Meredith's tale, and there was little doubt that she would.

The highboard
in the Great Hall was already full but for one chair.  Through the permeating reek from the venison and wild boar roasting on the spits, Ranald could dimly make out his parents presiding over the packed gathering.

A great
cheer erupted from the clansfolk present as they all stood up to welcome his official return, the noise ricocheting round the limewashed stones of the Great Hall in his beloved MacKrannan Castle, lifting his spirits and theirs.

It was good to be home
.

H
e made his way through the trestles, ruffling the heads of the young cadets he trained for soldiering and thumping men's backs until he came to the highboard.

"
Welcome, son!  Sit there next yer mother for now," said Sir Thommas, standing back in formal greeting. "Ye'll be wanting to meet the Lady Elinor."

No' really…
but he'd better put a face on it for the widow who would marry the Earl of Maxton.  He'd all but forgotten Elinor Keirston in the stramash of bedding Meredith the bride, and he was far from being in the mood for social conversation.  Let this be only his clansmen's victory dinner, and thanks be that none were lost in the battle with the Cambels.

A couple of strides
brought him behind his mother and their guest, and he made ready to bow upon introduction.

"
Good eve, Ranald," said his mother Agatha, in the reserved manner she kept for Hall and visitors.  "Lady Elinor, this is my son Ranald, chieftain of MacKrannan, of whom our dear king spoke."

With a bland smile,
Elinor Keirston turned to receive his low bow.

The
anger in Ranald was his coldest, plain for all to see, and the Hall became oddly quietened. Agatha knew her son too well to voice comment on his rudeness. Instead, she covered up for him with chatter.

"
...did I tell ye that Ranald is also well acquaint with the Earl of Maxton?  Ye'll surely have much to discuss throughout this fine dinner."

"
And beyond, mother, I thank ye," said Ranald, looking at the guest.  "By your leave, on the morn I will take the Lady Elinor on the boat with me to continue our talk, for I was also well acquaint with her first husband." 

"Ah, but yer stables
are of better interest to Elinor," said Agatha.  "Perhaps a dawn gallop across the moors on yer fine new gelding she has been admiring?  She is much accomplished at racing.  She even outsped yer father, and her sidesaddled."

"The air of the open sea will do her more good
," said Ranald firmly.

Lady
Agatha made to speak, but hushed upon seeing the almost imperceptible movement of his eyebrow.  "As ye wish, Ranald.  A sea excursion, then," she said, and looked thoughtfully to the Chief.

Sir
Thommas was intrigued, but trusted their son to know what he was about.

Ranald extricated himself from among the fancy tall hats and long hanging
veils of the ladies' attire, and sat with an audible thud in the vacant chair next the guest.

The face that now swivelled again to his was one he knew.  And from many angles, having held it under, over and upon several parts of his own body but an hour
ago.

He leaned nearer,
baiting Elinor with narrowed eyes.

"
Ye are spared a long hard ride to the finish, madam!"
he growled.

Elinor
beckoned him even closer to whisper, "Indeed I am, chieftain.  I intend travelling home by horse."

And at that she turned decisively away, swiping him on the
nose with the pointed end of her bonnet.

The absence of movement w
as reminder enough to Ranald of his whereabouts upon awakening, for it seemed long since he'd slept in the stillness of his castle bedchamber and not on a seaborne galley.

Intense dreams had
left him fatigued and bewildered at the deceit of Elinor Keirston, her that sat through supper in all her boldness.  The implications of her virgin state had maelstromed in his mind throughout the night.  The Lady Elinor had plenty to tell – did he but get her alone, which was simple, and in his trust, which would be difficult.

W
hat had she hoped to gain by coming to his bed?  Had she thought to blackmail him in some way?

None of it made sense.  This lass had been wife to Sir Alain Douglas yet remained untouched from wedding to widowhood, clandestinely surrendering her purity to a man she'd never
met while guest of his family.

At his bidding, two of his guards went to give orders to their counterparts watching the houseguest.  All now had instructions to shadow her personal guards as well as herself, for a woman capable of such trickery would employ her men well.

His mother's ladymaid scuttled in with a basket of wood.  Ranald stared, arms folded, as Ginny kindled the fire and hung the kettle to heat water for his shaving and ablutions.  Her dip of a curtsy was her usual, but her manner with him was not.  And tending fires was far beneath her status.  Ginny had something to tell, and he made it easy for her to get on with it.

"
Ginny, come here to me."

His
mother’s ladymaid slunk across the chamber like a dog expecting a thrashing.

"
What news of your cousin Meredith?"

Ginny appeared to find her reply somewhere on the floor,
"She is well, milord.  Gone to Archie's cottage."

"
When did she take leave of the castle yestreen?"

The tremor in her was visible now. 
Ranald was the worst of the MacKrannans to be crossed, and both knew so.  "Before supper, milord."

Ginny's sleekit streak came of use whiles, but she knew better than to couch the whole truth in such vagueness to
him of all people.  He waited to hear what she'd next come out with.  Always he had been decent and fair to her.  She was flustered by his tetchy manner and her resultant prattling might tell more than she intended.

"
Milord, the Lady Elinor passed on to Meredith the marriage gift of silver from yer own good hand.  My cousin thanks ye most kindly, for in other parts it is the bride-price must be paid to the Chief… if the bride's family chooses that way, as ye know… instead of the Lord's Right, if they get the choice, that is... and Meredith thanks ye most kindly, as I said…"

It was simply done, then.  The woman had even paid for his services
in bed, which should have amused him but did not.

He watched Ginny's face carefully as he barraged her with questions, one following fast on the other so that he’d espy any
hesitant move from the truth.

"
Where did the Lady Elinor go then?"

"
To her own chamber, milord.  She dismissed her guard to Hall, for the castle was barred and safe with your own men.  I did not see milady after that."

"
What of the maid she brought with her?"

"
She kept to milady's room."

"
Who changed my bedsheets while I was at Hall?"

"
Milord, I did it myself, for one of yer wounds must be seeping blood and the like, and ye know how the chambermaids can be squeamish that way."