By God's Grace (22 page)

 

 

Weeks and then months of happily wedded bliss had passed by. Duncan's anxiety about Grant and the others grew. A missive was sent to the Burns's keep, in hopes of discovering the time of Grant's return.

Instead of worrying and waiting for information, Duncan was in the lists with the keep's squires. Today the group was running through basic sword fighting skills. As he twirled this way and that to avoid Boyd's sword while the young squires watched, he began to reflect on Arbella.

In the first couple of weeks of their marriage, Duncan had gone to the stables, saddled Damon, and went riding outside the keep walls. Doing this had always made him feel closer to the land. A big part of him enjoyed the power felt when sitting astride Damon. Damon was a horse, which in another time might have belonged to an emperor or a king. The animal was of the finest quality. Cainneach had brought the beast home after his travels and presented him to Duncan as a gift.

On this particular day of riding he noticed a strange flash of light coming from the glen. This was a spot that the keep guards wouldn't be able to see from their posts. At a snail's pace, Duncan dismounted and slunk behind a rocky outcropping. Back placed to the rock, he crept around the side. Dagger withdrawn and held high in front of him, all his muscles tensed in anticipation of impending danger.

Not wishing to give himself away to the intruder who might be lurking on the other side, he waited in the hiding position. Then there was the sound of dry leaves crunching as the intruder moved. As he listened, the crunching became closer and closer. Crouched in a lunged position, Duncan readied himself. The toe of a shoe protruded around the rock. As more of the person came past the hiding spot, he leaped, grasping the person by the neck and slamming a soft flexible back hard into his chest, strategically pointing the dagger at the bared throat.

Blood pumped and roared with a vengeance between his ears. The noise kept him from hearing the captive's words. After time his heart slowed, and his vision cleared, and some things began to become obvious. The captive held within his grasp was short, had a lot of hair, and screamed at him.

“Duncan, what are you doing?”

“Arbella?” strangled past his constricted throat.

A whiff of her unique scent wafted up his nostrils. The dagger fell from his hands and bounced along the dry ground. Duncan backed up against the rock to keep himself from falling. He could have killed her. What was she doing here? Then he saw it. The blanket spread upon the ground, the ale, and the food. Clearly Arbella had been expecting him. Right?

Her hand rested upon her throat, moving back and forth in a soothing motion. All color drained from her face, leaving the flesh pale. “Duncan, what are you doing here? Filib wasn't supposed to send you for another hour. And what was that,” her finger trembled as she pointed to the dagger laying on the ground, “all about?”

Duncan gulped deeply and said, “I could have killed ye.”

“I don't understand. Didn't Filib tell you to come out here, that I had a surprise for you?”

“Nay, he did not.”

It was a miracle he'd discovered her identity before slitting her throat. Arbella frowned. The lass must've realized Duncan thought she was an intruder, for without warning, her legs crumpled. Duncan caught her in mid-fall and carried her to the coverlet spread upon the ground.

Upon the cover together, they made love. The action was fast and desperate. All the fears of what could have happened shone forth. When they finished, Duncan covered them in his plaid and held her tight.

After a time they ate their meal, then headed back to the keep. Filib was waiting for them, desperate with worry. He'd been worried because he couldn't find Duncan to tell him of Arbella's plan, and he'd been afraid to leave and search for either of them. When he noticed Damon missing, Filib hoped Duncan would find Arbella on his own.

Whoosh
went the air from the sword as it swung mere inches from his sucked-in stomach. Boyd's eyebrow rose. Duncan rarely let his cousin get so close during practice. Obviously he was distracted.

“Ye really should pay more attention, cousin. Ye don't wish to set a bad example for the young lads.”

Duncan came toward Boyd, causing him to raise his sword in defense. “Much better,” said Boyd, as if Duncan's attack was nothing.

As he pursued Boyd around the practice field, his mind wondered to other pleasurable times with his wife. Arbella had been insatiable. She seemed determined to christen any and every space inside the keep and out.

A few days after the encounter near the glen, Duncan had gone to the stables to saddle Damon when he noticed Filib was absent from his post. As he walked toward Damon's stall, he noticed all the horses were missing. The closer and closer he got to his destination, a jolly humming was heard. Duncan thought,
When I get through with this person, they won't be very jolly.

Upon entering the stall, Duncan was intent on giving a tongue-lashing to whomever was available. Who was this person to remove all his horses? It didn't matter if they were responsible or not, they would receive the brunt of his wrath. But instead of delivering the prepared speech about speaking to the laird of a keep before removing their horses, he was caught staring dumbfounded at the most beautiful sight.

Arbella was bent over a blanket arranging a type of mattress. At the moment, she was oblivious to another presence in the room. If he hadn't recognized the bum, Duncan would have left the stall; but since this particular bum clearly belonged to him, he had no intentions of leaving. Instead the stall was closed, locking him in the freshly cleaned stall with his wife.

The new mistress of the Sinclair keep muttered under her breath. Arbella leaned over while working on her project, causing her hair to fall forward across her face. Sweetly the locks were pushed behind her ear. Duncan couldn't figure out what she was up to. Had she posted guards on the stable doors to protect her person? If she had, then he'd not seen them.

Leaning against the side of the stall, Duncan watched. Had Fletcher Sinclair not loved his horses enough to ensure they were treated well, Arbella's little feat wouldn't have been possible.

When the bedding was arranged to her satisfaction, Arbella flung her body around to a sitting position. The movement caused the wayward hair to fall forward. With a blowing sigh, the strands were pushed aside. This must have been when she noticed she wasn't alone, for a scream punctuated the air.

Duncan, initially scared speechless by the scream, dropped to his knees and covered her mouth with his own. At first she fought, kicking, hitting, and pushing him away, but as realization hit as to who was kissing her, she melted against him wrapping her arms up and around his neck, snuggling into his arms.

They were breathless before Duncan pulled back. Forehead touching, Arbella sucked in air. “Why didn't you say something?”

“About what?”

A light punch landed against his arm. “About what? You scared me to death.”

Duncan surveyed the set-up. Ale, goblets, cheese, and bread, plus hay arranged as a mattress graced the area. “What are ye doing in here like this?” His hand fluttered to indicate the room.

Cheeks displayed a rosy hue while her shoulder shrugged in nonchalance. “We hadn't initiated the stables yet, and Filib told me he was to empty them out and clean them today. So it seemed like a good opportunity.”

Duncan laughed, leaning toward her. A kiss was planted on her neck; cool air blown on the moisture left behind caused a shiver. “How long do we have?”

“Not long enough,” replied Arbella as Duncan nibbled on her ear.

“Then let's get started.”

“
Duncan
!” Boyd shouted, breaking through the revere.

Duncan shook his head. “Aye?”

“What is wrong with ye? I almost lobbed yer head clean off!”

The young squires stared at them. Duncan must have done something terrifying. Their eyes were wide with horror.

Duncan glanced at Boyd. “Sorry, I'm a bit distracted.”

Sword lowered to his side, he turned and walked away.

 

 

Arbella paced the room like a caged animal. Why did she feel so strange, edgy, and tight? Her breasts were tender, and she was throwing up every morning. And that accursed flow she normally experienced had been absent for almost three months.

A cheery, happy person by nature, she tried to forgive everyone, not only the tiny mishaps, but the big ones as well. But just this morning, she'd snapped at Duncan for no reason.

Noticing how pale she looked in the mornings, especially when she tried to get up and do things on an empty stomach, he'd gone downstairs to the kitchen and had the cook prepare a tray of food. He tiptoed in, trying not to wake her, and placed the tray on a table. Ever so quietly he came and sat on the bed, brushing her hair off her sweaty cheeks and rubbing his knuckles across her cheekbone.

As she woke, her arms rose overhead in a stretch. Eyelids fluttered open as she muttered, “Good morning, Duncan.”

“Aye, it is a good morning,” his eyes twinkled with hidden secrets.

With a spring, he'd jumped off the bed and grabbed the tray. Arbella sat up in the bed. When he returned, he placed the tray on her lap. As the tray moved through the air, the smell of the food drifted toward her nose. She grabbed her mouth to hold the bile threatening to spew forth. There was no time to remove the tray. Instead she jumped from the bed, pulled open their bedroom door, and sprinted down the hall to the garderobe. Duncan was left sighing in her wake.

When she had jumped, the tray arced through the air and flung its contents all over the bed, floor, and part of the wall. Duncan would have to clean up the mess. By the time she returned, he had placed the ruined items back on the tray and was headed down the hallway toward the kitchen, almost running into Arbella.

Nose pinched against the smell, she asked, “Duncan, how could you?”

Arbella ran to their shared quarters and slammed the door, weeping aloud. Falling to the bed, large tears had flowed.

Now after some time had passed, she felt better. This morning's incident didn't seem quite as important. Arbella walked to the bed. It was still damp from earlier. She needed to find Duncan and apologize. He'd tried to do a nice thing. She didn't know why her stomach was so rebellious against food at the moment. Maybe Tamara would know?

When Arbella and Duncan married and started sharing a room, Tamara was given Arbella's old quarters, but oft times the young maid would stay with family in the village. Needing someone to talk to, Arbella searched the keep, but Tamara was nowhere around. Next she headed outside. Happening upon a group of squires ogling a swordplay lesson, Arbella squeezed between a couple of the young lads and watched as Boyd chopped ferociously at Duncan. Duncan didn't seem himself. Several times Boyd would have cut him in half had he not restrained his own hand.

Boyd yelled at Duncan. He changed directions as if awakening from a dream. Then, without a ‘By your leave', he left the field, his head lowered in a dejected manner. Gnawing at her lip, Arbella had the sense that Duncan was distracted because of her.

Determined to discover what her problem was, Arbella slipped out from the group of lads and headed to find Tamara. She needed to make amends with Duncan before he lost his head.