Always Mine (22 page)

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As Damron heard his granda’s irritated bellows, his stride lengthened. He entered the room at the end of the landing to find Laird Douglas propped up on pillows, dark shadows beneath his eyes.

“Dinna think I will forget what I ha’e heard of ye,” the laird said as Damron hugged him. “I would not blame the lass if she kicks ye from her bed, with ye greetin yer doxy afore her eyes.”

“Dinna yammer about my leman. Brianna will learn it has naught to do with her. I will have my pleasures, and I will have my heirs. They need not be from the same field.”

Being in this room was like stepping back in time, for it never changed. Animal hides covered the window openings, rushes were strewn on the floor and furs on the bed. Damron settled in to talk over the problems awaiting his return to Blackthorn. Though he had been gone two months, nothing more serious than raiding cattle had occurred. His men had retaliated, and what had been taken from Blackthorn was replaced from the raiders’ own stock. He shook his head on hearing Meghan had led several of the forays.

Not many seconds after Damron had slammed out of the room, Meghan came back to be with Brianna. They talked while Brianna brushed the dust from her hair and freshened her clothing. She was delighted with the high-spirited and assertive Meghan. In the past hour, Brianna answered and asked so many questions her head was spinning. She was anxious to meet the “Old One,” as Meghan called her grandfather with much affection. Brianna sat in the middle of the bed with her legs crossed, her hair tumbling in unruly curls, which hid most of her bruised face.

“Laird Douglas awaits, if ye can manage to act the lady and not a troublesome imp.” Damron’s voice was heavy with sarcasm as he thrust open the door.

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“Bring the bonnie lassies and be quick aboot it,” Laird Douglas bellowed from his room.

“Dinna fash him by delayin’ us.” Meghan made a face at Damron as she grabbed Brianna’s hand to sprint with her down the dark corridor.

Brianna looked about her when she entered the room, taking in the burning peat, the covered windows, the furs and stale rushes. Her gaze met the deep blue eyes of the man who studied her with the same curiosity. His white hair and beard, sprinkled with black, were long and shaggy.

“How do you do, Lord Douglas? I am Brianna Sinclair.”

“Brianna
Morgan,
wife,” Damron interrupted to remind her for the second time.

“Come. Let me greet ye properly.” Lord Douglas motioned her to sit beside him. He stared into her eyes and examined her face, his rough hands gently brushing aside her hair.

“Yer bruises will soon disappear, but these crescent marks on yer jaw will always remain.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Why did he bite ye, granddaughter? A man usually sinks his teeth in a softer spot beneath yer clothes where only a bench can see.”

“I couldn’t free my hands, sir, so I had to use my teeth. I bit his thigh.” She scowled, then muttered. “I hope his leg festers and spreads to rot off his male parts.”

Damron’s jaw dropped. Meghan hooted and pointed at his stunned face. The laird started laughing and coughing, then fell back, exhausted. Brianna jumped up and smoothed back his hair.

“We have overtired you, sir. May Lord Bleddyn and I attend you after the evening meal? He is a highly skilled healer. You’ll like him very much. Come, we’ll let you rest now.” She motioned for Meghan and Damron to follow her.

Damron’s brow quirked, no doubt questioning her nerve to

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give orders. She shrugged and called over her shoulder as she went through the doorway, “I’ll see you later, Papa Dougie.”

“Ye dinna call the head of the family by such a name.”

Damron eased the door closed behind them “He is milord or Grandfather, not this ‘Papa Dougie.’”

“I’ll call him what I want, with his permission.” She quickened her steps when she saw Connor and Bleddyn lingered at the head of the stairwell to accompany them to the evening meal.

Damron led Brianna to sit on his left at the table, with his mother on her other side. As each person reached their position, he introduced them to Brianna.

He frowned when Asceline smirked and wedged herself onto the bench on his right. She wore a low-cut tunic revealing the tips of her full breasts whenever she leaned toward him. His tarse stirred in remembrance.

Never had Damron been so tense at a meal while sitting between two beautiful women. He strove to ignore his leman’s attempts to draw his attentions as they dined. By meal’s end, when servants set bowls of apples and grapes alongside platters of cheese, the tight muscles in his neck had led to a pounding headache. He kept his face impassive as Asceline’s hand slid over his thigh, then searched farther to clutch his tarse through his clothing and squeeze. His sex surged and bucked. He grasped her wrist in a steely grip and forced her hand away.

Asceline’s hair flowed free, and her clothing looked rumpled. He could smell his own scent of sandalwood on her as she flounced about, angry. Brianna stiffened beside him. He heard the hiss of her indrawn breath.

When Brianna rose to excuse herself and Bleddyn, Damron rose when his wife did. Though he tried to cover his obvious state of arousal, she noted it.

Brianna ignored him and took Bleddyn’s arm, then beckoned

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Damron’s squire to her. “Spencer, would you please grant me a favor?” she asked sweetly. “The Lady Asceline does not seem to have access to a bath. It would be a favor to everyone if you would provide her with hot water and strong soap. Surely a randy goat visited her, for she reeks with his scent.”

Asceline shrieked. Meghan burst out laughing. Damron glared at his cousin, warning her to silence.

“A wolf is within about whom I have heard,” Nathaniel warned Brianna as they approached Laird Douglas’s room. “His name is Guardian. He will seek to frighten you with his bluster.”

When they entered, Guardian sprang to his feet, bared his teeth and snarled ferociously. When he spied Brianna, he came slowly off the bed, his body low to the floor as he stalked her.

“Guardian? He’s named as a guardian angel, isn’t he?” She looked at Laird Douglas, who nodded with a smile. “Stay,” she commanded the wolf and pointed to the ground. The animal advanced another step. “I said stay, you miserable heap of fleas.”

Before the beast knew what was happening, she tugged hard on the fur at the ruff of his neck. “When I speak, you obey,” she ordered and pressed down on his haunches. His eyes looked startled.

“Don’t you growl at me again. I’ve enough trouble without a flea-bitten beast adding more.” Guardian whimpered, his tongue lolled and adoration spread on his face. She nodded and turned from him.

“Hello, Papa Dougie. Do you mind the name?” She was pleased when he grinned and shook his head. “This is Lord Bleddyn, a great healer. He has prepared a potion to ease your cough.”

“I wud like the name ye give me, but I dinna want potions of bat dung, snail slime or goat’s piss if that be yer remedy. I will no’ swallow anythin’ comin’ from critters’ nether ends.”

“Laird, I have used the juices of onions, carrots and parsley. ’Tis most agreeable and will give you much needed rest.”

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“I will try it. If ’tis better than the potions Phillipa makes, I will not be mad.” He sniffed the potion. “Pleasant.” He took a sip and nodded with satisfaction. “Tastes right good. Now get ye to yer room, Brianna, afore my grandson comes lookin’ fer ye. I would talk with this healer of yers.” He winked at her as he made a shoo-ing motion with his hand.

Brianna kissed his cheek and turned to pet Guardian. She took his chin in her hand and rubbed his head as she whispered, “We will be friends and have a good time together
.”
The gray and white wolf licked her fingers, before she left the room.

Meghan awaited Brianna in her chamber when she returned. A weapons chest, banded with steel studs and straps, stood against the wall to the left of the door. A large bed was on the outside wall, with two large shuttered windows, with window seats, opening above the inner courtyard. A washstand with the essentials was on the wall to the right. Above the fireplace hung a tapestry depicting hunting dogs killing a stag. It was done in such realistic detail, Brianna could feel the pain of the hunted, smell the blood and hear the gnashing of the hounds’ teeth.

“No way am I going to see that scene every morning,” she said. “Come, Meghan, help me take it down.” She and Meghan pulled the table to the fireplace and put a chair on top. While Meghan held the chair steady, Brianna removed the tapestry.

“There, and good riddance,” she said as she tossed the of-fensive tapestry backwards. She heard it land against something solid and turned to see it flapping over Damron’s head, its rod bouncing against his back. As he fought to be rid of it, dust puffed in the air. His head finally emerged, and he glared menacingly at them. Brianna wobbled, the chair gyrated, and she threw her arms up to steady herself.

Damron gave a gigantic sneeze and raced to catch her.

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Brianna toppled backwards yelling, “Ohhh, shit!” She landed in his arms.

“I have no doot ye are the gawkiest henny in all of Scotland, England and Wales for ye have no more grace than a Heeland coo. Does either of ye have a brain in yer heids?”

“Brains aren’t in hides. When I got in trouble, my papa always said, ‘If you had a brain you’d take it out and play with it.’ Hm.

We both have very good brains, though. I’m sure of it.”

“Will ye tell me what ye were doin’, and why ye did not call for help from someone with more sense?”

“You talk about missing brains? A child can see we’re changing the tapestries. I didn’t know the danged thing would be so hard to get off. It’s been there for a century. Huh! Why anyone wanted to look at something so unsettling is beyond me.”

“By Christ’s cross! That
danged, unsettlin’ thing
as ye call it was made by my great-grannie Elspeth. She loved the hunt.” His cheeks twitched. “Now I think on it, I spied her more than once wringing a chicken’s neck. She seemed to enjoy it. She was quite old. We did eat a lot of chicken for meals. Enough of this yammerin’. Give me Meg’s tapestry and I will hang it.”

Brianna and Meghan hid behind her tapestry, biting their lips, while they fixed it on the rod, then handed it to him.

When he finished, he ordered his cousin to bed and put the furniture back in place. Brianna watched as he placed a fist-sized rock on the mantelpiece. She raised her brow at him.

“I deem ’tis best I display the rock that split yer head to bring to mind yer forever fallin’ and totterin’ about. The sweet Lord only knows how ye survived past a nursling.” Damron paused. “This Saxon word shit. ’Tis the same as shite?”

“Why would you think so? They are nothing alike.”

“Did it not come from yer lips? Though ye quibble, I have added one to yer total. When ye reach the limit I will allow, the rock will be on yer pillow. Ye will then prepare yerself.”

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“Allow? Limit? Prepare for what? Not that I’m worried, mind you.” He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“Ten. On yer arse. Ye will be well served to think afore ye speak. I rule with a firm hand on the reins.”

“Reins! Now I’m a horse?” Brianna smiled sweetly up into his eyes. “You, husband, are a humongous knucklehead.”

“Are ye cursin’ me in strange words, wife?” he demanded.

“I wud have an explanation now, or yer total will overflow!”

“Lord husband, humongous but points out your well-muscled body. As for knucklehead, your men say you have a splendidly hard head immune to the rap of knuckles. It’s a wonderful feature. My own is soft and forever getting dented.” Brianna watched frowns flitting across his face as he mulled over her words. “My lord, don’t worry. I’m not pulling your leg,” she added and smiled.

“Of course ye are not pullin’ my leg. Ye are not touchin’

me.” He squinted, studying her. “Did ye e’er suffer blows to yer head afore ye fell from yer horse?”

“There’s nothing the matter with my head. The place I come from has different expressions which you haven’t heard. Now, let’s get back to the subject. Well?”

“Well, what? What subject? Ye talk in circles like a daft creature. What are ye talkin’ about?”

“Allow and total. Does that ring your bell?”

“Ring a bell? Why wud I ring a bell?” he yelled. “The total is five, not worth the effort till it reaches ten. One for each finger. That will leave a lasting impression on yer scrawny arse. At the rate ye are goin’, the total may be a breath away.”

“Five? It can’t be five.” She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “You cheated, adding extra points over nothing.”

“I added two each for yer attempts to lie about friggin’ and crap, and another for arguin’ about the lie. Five,” he yelled.

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“Must I remind ye of yer word tonight? ’Tis now six. Get ye to bed afore I deem ’tis now worth the effort.”

“You’d better call Spencer for a pallet.” Brianna glared at him. “You’re not sharing a bed with me tonight.”

“Oh, I am sharin’ one, wife, and dinna suggest
ye
sleep on a pallet,” he retorted as he spun her around to face him. He lowered his face until their noses touched. “Ye will forever sleep beside me unless I go raidin’ or sleep elsewhere.”

She backed up several steps as he advanced on her. With a loud “humph,” she turned her back and stripped to her smock.

She stepped onto the dais and up the two-step footstool to climb in. On the last step, he grabbed the hem of her smock and whipped it up over her head. Her arms flapped like a bird learning to fly. She dove into bed.

“Ye will sleep bare. See ye remember it.”

“I told you I’ll not share a man. See
you
remember
it.
”

She hissed the words through her teeth so he would know she meant each one. She stared into his eyes as he slowly pulled the bottom of his shirt free, then ignored her as he stripped.