Midnight's Bride (14 page)

Elise blanched white as a full moon on a clear night.

“Oh, blessed saints, sir. Do not say such.” Netta patted Elise's shoulder. “She fears Scotland's wolves plan to have her for their next meal.”

“Ah. Ye must be Mereck's Lynette. Bleddyn said yer beautiful eyes would turn a man's heart to puddin'.” He smiled at her.

“My lord, I am not Mereck's Lynette, but simply Lynette of Wycliffe.” Well, rats. Had Mereck already branded her with his possessive attitude? “I came to Scotland to keep Elise company.”

“Ock, Meghan.” Laird Douglas chuckled. “I ken Bleddyn has summoned another lovely Sassenach who fights her destiny.”

Netta started to question Laird Douglas' words, but the clicking sound of an animal's nails on the floor distracted her. The beast padded around the foot of the bed and came to a halt beside them. A large, furry head jostled Elise's legs. She jumped and jerked them away. Scrambling onto her hands and knees, she peered over the side of the bed.

“Blessed Saint Eustace,” she yelled. “Mereck failed to kill the beast. The wolf has tracked us to Blackthorn.” Searching for balance, she thrashed her arms about. It didn't help. The pallet heaved and jiggled on its rope supports. She tilted over and bumped Netta, tumbling her off the edge of the bed.

Netta landed atop the biggest, hairiest creature she had ever seen within castle walls. Sliding off its broad back, she hit the floor with a thud. Before she could protect her face, a very wet tongue licked her cheek. A huge friendly wolf appeared to grin on seeing her startled expression. She burst into laughter at the idea.

“Ah. I see you and Guardian have met, lady.” Mereck lounged against the doorframe watching her.

The sight of his laughing bride sprawled on the floor, skirts baring her legs near up to her thighs, prodded his shaft to beg for attention. Although his gaze focused on her intriguing eyes, he noted every enticing inch of visible flesh.

She was not mindful of her disarrayed clothing.

He was not about to tell her.

“Do you often play with beasties? You have a way with him.”

“Nay, sir. Never have I had a pet. Father said to feed an animal which did not perform a service was a foolish expense. He had his hunting dogs, his horses and his falcons.” Her voice became strained. “I befriended the barn cat, but he would not allow me to feed her. He said starving cats made better mousers.”

Mereck studied the stricken look in her lovely eyes. Having seen for himself Baron Wycliffe's harsh behavior, he had no need to hear her thoughts. No doubt, the cruel man destroyed any animal she befriended.

Netta thumped the great wolf on his sides. The beast licked her knee, bringing her bare legs to her attention. She blushed and scrambled to her feet. Guardian was not helpful. He demanded attention and near nudged her to the floor again.

Connor joined Mereck, and when he spied the rumpled bed, he padded over to tower above Elise. His brown eyes crinkled in amusement.

Laird Douglas put a protective arm around her.

“Are you the cause of this mayhem, Elise?” Connor's slow, appraising glance caused Elise to blush and stare down at her hands. “Mereck told me of the mischief you both caused on your journey. I see I must needs keep watch o'er you.”

“Mischief, sir? We did not engage in mischief.” Her timid gaze lifted, and her forehead wrinkled with worry. “Did we Netta?”

Connor's brows waggled upward. “What? You dinna believe aiding Netta to deceive Mereck, helping her put worms in his stew, and enticing a wounded wolf to stalk you wasna mischief?”

“Did you tell one and all every mishap, sir?” Netta, her hands on her hips, glared violet fire at Mereck.

“Uh, come to think on it”—Mereck rubbed vigorously at his jaw—“I failed to mention Elise suggested you bribe your guard to shirk his duty. If Damron learns of it, he will likely lecture you both. And, aye, I didna tell anyone how you spied on the men hoping to see something you should not. Hmm…” His brows wriggled. He whispered loud enough for all to hear. “Or how you tried to seduce me as I slept.”

Netta's mouth dropped open. She turned pleading eyes to Meghan and Laird Douglas and blurted her denials. “I never tried to seduce him. I became cold in the night and slept too close. And I did not spy on the men. I could not help it if they were careless. They should wear nappies and not expose themselves at every opportunity.”

Meghan's throaty laughter filled the room. Her eyes sparkled with humor. “Aye, ye have the right of it Netta. But then they could not display their wares fer all to see. It be how a woman selects her partner fer the night. He with the longest prick dips his wick the sooner.”

“Haud yer wheesht, Meg,” Connor bellowed and put his hands over Elise's ears—too late.

Her curious “What is a pr…” burst out before Connor's hand flew from her ears to cover her mouth.

“I think Damron should find a stern husband for Meghan afore he looks to Elise.” Mereck's tone was harsh but belied it when he winked at his grandfather.

“One who will thrash her regularly whene'er she spouts such things.” With a clamp-your-mouth-shut look, Connor glared at his sister. “I'll search for an older man. One who will think nothing of taking a switch to her at eventide, in case he missed chastising a fault that day.”

“Hmpf.” Netta gave Connor a scorching scowl and moved to stand between him and her new friend. “That is a vile notion, sir. Why can men say any horrid thing they please, but when a woman dares open her mouth, you stifle her?”

“Because we are your masters, and you are but foolish women, of course.” Mereck's voice was so close behind her, it stirred the hair behind her ear. “Women will speak in the way we instruct them, and act how we decree.”

Netta whirled about, her eyes spitting fire. That she was angry and would stand up for herself and her friends pleased Mereck. He spoke again, before she could.

“If women were given the same freedoms as men, family structure would collapse. You would not have time to tend our comforts.”

Meghan snorted and raised her hand at him, her third finger aimed upward. A most strange gesture.

Connor needed an extra pair of hands. He tried to cover Elise's eyes but was not quick enough.

“What does that…” Elise could say no more afore he interrupted her.

“So help me, Meghan, if ye e'er do such a vulgar thing again, I will have Damron take the flat of his hand to yer arse.”

Netta blinked in surprise.

“Fat lot of guid it would do him,” Meghan scoffed. “Damron kens I will be a lady when I wish. Quit yer slabberin' over Elise, brother. Canna ye see ye upset the poor lass slappin' yer paws from one part of her face to the other? Now that we have livened Granda's rest, we had best freshen up.”

Meghan glared at her brother's hands still lingering on Elise's shoulder. When he released her, Elise bolted off the bed and detoured around him.

Mereck moved aside for both her and Meghan. Before Netta could leave, he shifted, partially blocking the doorway. She tried to scoot past. Her breasts brushed his chest, sending hot flashes of pleasure straight to his tarse. When her hand grazed his suffering sex, he snapped his jaw tight. Wide-eyed, she glanced down, blushed and jerked her arm back. She bolted after Meghan.

 

Netta gazed around Meghan's room, pleased by the way it reflected Meghan's brisk personality. Sprigs of pink and purple heather spilled from a wicker basket setting beside the door, their fresh scent drifting on the air.

She crossed to the opposite wall, and peered out a large window slit. It overlooked a steep slope into the valley. The sun's rays entered to brighten the leaf-green bed curtains tied to the posts of a large bed. Someone had neatly folded their few belongings atop the forest green cover. Alongside their clothing lay several colorful tunics and smocks.

“Ye are close to my height.” Meghan selected a tunic and held it up to Elise's shoulders. “I chose some of my own garments for ye. I ne'er wear skirts if I can help it. Why should a man have the comfort of breeches, when we must drag a mountain of cloth about our legs?” Meghan's eyes sparkled with humor. “Not to mention it hinders carryin' a blade.”

Three wooden chests, one with a sword atop it, sat beneath colorful tapestries on each side of the room. Netta picked up the sword to study it. “Ah, the sword is your own? 'Tis beautiful. Was it crafted for you?” A small crystal sat low on the handle. The sword's blade, engraved with Celtic designs, reflected the room's colors.

“Aye.” Meghan nodded. “Damron gifted me with it on my sixteenth name day.” She threw the door open and called for servants to bring a tub and buckets of water for bathing.

In a far corner of the room, the bath was soon set up beside a washstand holding a pitcher, basin and cloths. A privacy screen shielded it. After the door closed behind the servants, Elise insisted Netta should be first to use it.

“Meghan, what is a prick? Is it the same as a tarse?” Netta's voice was only loud enough to hear above the sounds of her bathing.

“Aye. Their member has many names. If it be long, they do like to call it a tarse, a rod or shaft; if hard and strong it becomes a ram, a dabbler or weapon. Sometimes it be small and pitiful afore it grows, and prick or pintle seems more apt. A man does hate to have his weapon called a prick.” Hearing Netta's bark of laughter and Elise's surprised giggles, Meghan grinned and rolled her eyes.

“Father would never let me attend male visitors.” Netta grimaced, realizing her own naivete. “I thought they were like those on little boys. Until I started watching our escorts. The wind was most helpful.”

Meghan chuckled. “So Mereck didna lie about yer lookin' at the men? Did ye really try to seduce him while he slept?” The bed ropes squeaked when she sat on the pallet.

“I never did!” Netta sprang from the tub in such haste water sloshed onto the floor. Hugging a drying clothing about her, she rushed from behind the screen.

“He insisted on sleeping so close to my pallet, that in my sleep, I thought he was part of it. I did wake to find my bedding warm as fresh baked bannocks. Instead of bread, I found my head on his chest, his heartbeat beneath my ear. Its pounding awakened me.”

Thinking about Mereck reminded her to ask about Meghan's unusual gesture. Surely it meant something men disliked intensely, else Connor would not be so offended.

“What was that sign you made? Connor was so aggrieved I thought he would thrash you.”

Netta picked up a stool and moved it to where the sun's rays streamed through the window slit. She sat and combed the tangles from her hair while Elise bathed.

“Huh. He can try.” Meghan shrugged. “As a young girl, I had a frightenin' experience. After it, I persuaded Granda to allow me to train with the boys. Years later, when my skills equaled theirs, they dubbed me the Warrior Woman of Blackthorn. Connor knows I can hold my own with him.

“The gesture was somethin' Brianna used one day, when we women dunked rose-scented, soapy water o'er the men. The dirty auld sheep lovers canna bear to cleanse their bodies. They believe water will shrivel their male parts. When Damron ordered Brianna to stop, she threw him what she called ‘the finger.' She said it was common in the strange far away land where she was born. It means a man should swive himself.”

Netta thought that would be an unusual event, for she did not know how one would swive to begin with.

“Does Damron not mind that Mereck loves Brianna? I watched him with her and the babe. He turned soft as gruel around them.” Nettta felt a sharp twinge. Surely not jealousy?

“Aye, Mereck loves Brianna. But as a sister. Since he was but seven winters old, he has vowed ne'er to love a woman as wife. He has led a strange life. After our parents and Damron's father were murdered, Damron and Connor fostered for six months of each year with King William's family in Normandy. Aunt Phillipa took me with her.”

“Did not Mereck go?” Elise asked as she splashed a tide of water under the screen.

“Nay. For a reason. Afore Damron was born, his Da captured a Welsh woman in a raid. She fell deeply in love with him. She died when Mereck was born. Earlier that same hour, Aunt Phillipa had birthed Damron. She refused wet nurses and insisted on nursing Mereck along with Damron. She would have kept Mereck with us when we went to Normandy, but Granda wouldna allow it.

“Because he feared for him. When still a youth, Mereck learned he was called the last Baresark in Wales. The wild blood of the Welsh strengthened the fighting blood of the Scots in Mereck. My cousin ne'er speaks overmuch, but his temper is legendary. The first man in Normandy to call him a by-blow would have found himself with Mereck's great weight on his chest, his short sword at his neck. Any clan would be honored to call him their own. He is the finest warrior in Scotland.”

Netta felt a pang of sympathy. Mereck must have always felt like an outcast. What a terrible burden for anyone to bear.

“How does that explain the closeness between Mereck and Brianna?”

“Why, because of Damron's French leman. 'Twas unfortunate she was already increasin' when Damron brought Brianna to Blackthorn. The leman swore 'twas Damron's doin'. Our Brianna's bairn was stillborn.

“The leman birthed a girl and ordered Johanna to kill it, then disappeared. Johanna protected the bairn, but the little one refused to nurse. When Brianna heard her pitiful cries, she demanded they bring the child to her. The bairn latched onto Brianna's breast and still wails pitifully if she canna see or hear her new mother.

“Ye ken, Brianna did for Serena what Aunt Phillipa did for Mereck? Mereck loves her for it.”

Elise bobbed her head as she came from behind the screen. “Saints preserve us, Netta. I do not want to wed a Highland giant who has those leman creatures hanging about. Father would rather I died a shriveled old lady, he would.”