My Cursed Highlander (12 page)

Viviana felt very wicked indeed.

Chewing on the side of her lip, she twirled the wedding band on her finger that felt a little more familiar this day. She swayed with the motion of the carriage as she studied the vision inside her head. Laird Kraig looked positively succulent atop his steed—naked. He stared at her with deep blue eyes, or were they green? It didn't matter. He was naked. Mayhap the fact she wasn't wearing undergarments was why she'd managed to work herself into a tizzy envisioning her new husband in the flesh outside the carriage window.

It was a fine fantasy. Sculpted muscles glistened with a sheen of sweat. His thighs and thick calves rippled as he guided the black stallion onward. And, oh, the man was well-endowed.

Truly a living masterpiece.

Laird Kraig had been in her thoughts since that morn when he'd nibbled on her ear and threatened to ravish her. For hours now, he'd hummed cheerfully outside her window while she stripped him of his garments in her head. She'd pictured him on his horse—naked. On the bench seat across from her—naked. And then on the bench seat beside her—naked.

God save her, but by noontide she was naked with him, and oh, what the man could do with his tongue was deliciously sinful.

Mannaggia!
Moisture gathered between her crossed legs and perspiration made her breasts stick to her ribs. She fanned her face. Never had she brought herself to such arousal with thoughts of her previous husbands. While she once thought Radolfo might satisfy her early in their marriage, he never concerned himself with her needs and always finished the deed moments after he started.

"Would ye mind if I sat a spell, m'lady?"

Viviana snapped her shoulders back, startled by Remi's voice.

"My arse needs a wee bit o' relief." He spoke through the window, and she could only assume he stood on the footstep of the moving carriage.

Remi would free her from her lust-filled thoughts. She smiled and nodded, thankful for the company. The door swung open and Miocchi's movements became anxious beside her. "Out."

The dog left her side, and Remi took his place with a loud exhale. "Good, den, m'lady."

She couldn't see his smile, but knew it was there. "Good den,
Signore
Remi."

"I see ye are still wearing my bracelet."

Viviana had plenty of baubles, but none of them were gifts from the heart. "I am."

Horse hooves clomped outside her window. She felt Laird Kraig's gaze on her. The carriage provided no buffer from his attraction. Her cheeks heated. Thank the Lord in Heaven the man couldn't see her thoughts.

"What do ye think ye are doing?" The lilt of jealousy touched Laird Kraig's voice and made Viviana giddy inside. Neither of her first two husbands ever made such a fuss over her.

"Ye gods." Remi's hair brushed her arm as he leaned over her to look at Laird Kraig through the opposite window. Thankfully the man had bathed as he was practically lying in her lap. "Am I not allowed to speak to m'lady?"

"Ye are allowed, just mind your tongue and dinnae be eyeing her favors." Laird Kraig paced his steed at a trot beside the carriage. The two men bickered like a pair of old hens. They were more entertaining than the jesters at the palace.

Remi leaned forward to rummage through the bench seat opposite them. He tossed a soft wool blanket on her lap then continued his search.

"What are you about,
Signore
Remi?"

"I know I saw a... here 'tis." Remi settled back beside her and snatched the wool from her lap. "Once we reach the mountains, your beastie will be in need of a heavier coat. I thought I might make him one until he can adjust to a colder climate."

"Ouish!" Laird Kraig most likely rolled his eyes or some other annoying habit she had yet to pinpoint.

She ignored his foul mood and sat up straighter, eager to help Remi. "What can I do?"

The frayed edge of the blanket filled her hands. "Pull the threads apart and tie the ends together so I can run them through the loop. My Meghan's the weaver, but I can work a hook and wool almost as fast."

"Meghan is your wife?"

"Aye. And the mother of my bairns." The pride in his voice caused a twinge of longing to burn behind her breast.

"Brodie, Nate, Gordy, and the wee snap we call Jack," Remi supplied.

"You have four sons?" Viviana suddenly felt inept.

"Filthy hedge-pigs, every one o' them," Laird Kraig added from outside.

Remi chuckled. "S'truth. Jack is the only one who comes to the Great Hall with white palms, and 'tis only because my Meghan can still catch him."

Viviana forced a smile, not wanting Remi to see how his words pained her. She once wanted babes, but neither Radolfo nor Luciano did. It was for the best neither of them procreated. "Your children sound wonderful."

Remi snorted. "'Tisnae a word I would associate with the laddies, but I suspect my Meghan might agree."

"Are there many others in your clan?" Viviana asked, curious about the place she would soon call home.

"Clan Kraig is small compared to most. Sixty or more reside at Ravenhurst and mayhap another hundred live in cot-houses within the bailey wall. Then there are twenty or so landlords and tenant farmers who live outside the stronghold with their families."

Viviana thought those numbers high. Not nearly so many resided at the Medici Palace. Aside from Lorenzo's immediate family and the servants, the remainder of those who frequented the palace were guests—artists and poets who didn't often stay long. She doubted the people living at Ravenhurst spent their days painting frescoes or sanding marble. "What do they all do?"

"Most days the kinsfolk prepare for winter; cutting wood, drying meat, harvesting and such. When we are not doing that, we prepare for battle. Laird Kraig trains our warriors, while his brother, Keegan, tends to the landlords and maintains affairs with our King James. Of course there many others; the fletcher, the smith, the cordwainer, the hunters..."

"And the women? Have they duties as well?"

"Oh, aye. As I said, my Meghan is the weaver. Cora-Rose is a healer and manages the staff at the keep. Sela, the clothier," Remi leaned into her ear, "is the lassie Monroe is sweet on, but dinnae tell him I told ye. Then there are the cooks, the laundress, the apothecy." Remi continued adding names to occupations while he separated the wool into a pile of loose threads that filled Viviana's lap.

It seemed everyone had a responsibility at Ravenhurst.

While Sister De Rosa had provided Viviana with a suitable education at
Spedale degli Innocenti
, Viviana could no longer read, nor was she good with accounts. Radolfo and Luciano always managed the finances and the servants.

Viviana twisted the threads into knots, worrying over her place at Ravenhurst. She and Fioretta died vestments in the laundry, but that was hardly a skill. Sister De Rosa had taken Viviana to San Marco monastery once a week when she was young to help the garzoni prepare the walls with plaster, but she was certain there were few frescoes, if any, to be painted at Ravenhurst. None of these skills would gain her favor among Laird Kraig's kin. "I doubt you need a sculptor among your people. Are there certain duties expected of me?"

"Your duty is to provide the clan with an heir," Remi offered, the hint of sadness weighing his voice down.

Viviana's hand stilled on the wool. The kinsfolk expected the wife of their chieftain to provide him an heir even though she would die fulfilling that obligation. It was as if she were a sacrifice.

"M'lady is barren," Laird Kraig stated bluntly outside the carriage.

"S'truth?" Remi's surprise was evident in the stiffness of his body, but his tone was akin to relief.

Heat crawled up Viviana's neck and spread over her face. She wanted to spout back words just as hurtful, but feared she would only humiliate herself with the effort.

"S'truth," Laird Kraig answered for her, the same as Radolfo always did at court.

"Ye gods, m'lady. 'Tis good news. Ye are protected against Elise's curse. Ye willnae be shunned by the kinsfolk."

"Shunned?"

"The kin take the curse verra seriously, especially the elders. They would have guarded themselves from becoming fond of ye."

The pressure between her back teeth made her jaw ache. What breed of people shunned a woman because death darkened her door? "Is that why Monroe does not speak to me? Should I expect to be treated in like by the rest of your kin when we reach your homelands?"

Remi patted her hand, obviously sensing her hostility. "Monroe keeps to himself. He is badly scarred and most find it difficult to hold a conversation with him. Plus, he is a big mon. Bigger than the laird. He is quite feared among the kinsfolk."

She knew Laird Kraig scrutinized their every word. That fact didn't prevent her from sharing her opinion. "Your people are shallow minded if they do not converse with their own kin because of his looks and hold no compassion for a woman who is cursed to die. I suspect Cora-Rose is shunned because she fulfilled her duty to provide Clan Kraig with the very heir that has sealed her fate."

Silence was her answer. Repulsed by their backward thinking, Viviana shook her head and felt a strong desire to form a sisterhood with Cora-Rose. "I wonder what manner of man would betroth his daughter to a son of Clan Kraig. Cora-Rose's father must have hated her."

"Nay. Quite the opposite really. Cora-Rose is a MacKaskill, the daughter of our neighboring clan's chieftain. She was scheduled to be whipped and drowned by decree of our good King James for heresy."

Viviana gasped. "Cora-Rose is a witch?"

"She possesses the kenning, the gift of foresight. Those who accused her of black magic were elders and High Priests of the Kirk—leaders in the church," Remi explained. "These men held the ear of King James and presented Laird MacKaskill with a signed affidavit for Cora-Rose's execution nigh two years ago. Laird MacKaskill came to the leaders of our clan in desperation. He offered an alliance in exchange for his daughter's hand in marriage."

"M'laird," she directed her question out the window, "why did you not marry Cora-Rose?"

"Keegan wanted her."

"Your brother saved her from execution?" Viviana thought the situation oddly romantic.

"Aye, he did," Remi provided when Laird Kraig didn't respond. "Clan Kraig needed the alliance and Cora-Rose needed refuge. Since no mon of God has stepped foot on Kraig soil in over a century, Cora-Rose was safe. We had hoped she might put an end to the curse with her gift. Instead, she has become a victim of the curse itself and once again, death awaits her."

"Like Elise." Viviana pointed out, but none responded. These men were as superstitious as Lorenzo. If they believed so strongly in their curse, why did they continue to marry? She leaned closer to the window. "In a hundred years, did your forefathers ever once consider the easiest way to break the curse might be to quit procreating?"

"'Tis easier said than done, sweetling." The arrogance in his words sparked her fury like a flame to dry brush.

"Castration, I'm told, is a simple procedure."

Her comment gained her three sharp intakes of air—one from beside her, one from out her window, and one from the driving seat of the carriage.

"Fortunate for me, I can keep my bollocks intact and enjoy the splendor of our marriage bed without fear of tainting your womb with my cursed seed."

It was her turn to gasp. How dare he? Laird Kraig's openness about such intimacies further infuriated her. "Mayhap I will take a blade to our marriage bed. What think ye to that?" Viviana laced her words with their Scottish burr in an attempt to mock him.

"Ye are a brave woman to threaten me. I suspect I will have to tie ye to the bed to prevent ye from maiming my person."

Viviana eyes widened. Her fingers strangled the threads in her lap. It didn't help that Remi found a great deal of humor in the path their conversation had taken. The man nigh choked on his laughter.

"'Tis good your Lorenzo forced m'laird to the altar, even though he did take quite a beating. The women are going to like ye."

"Shite, Remi!" Laird Kraig bellowed.

The carriage jerked. "Christalmighty," Monroe added then cracked the reins to set the carriage forward again.

"Forced?" Viviana didn't think her pulse could beat any faster. White stars flickered in her darkness while a knot formed in her throat. "Who beat him?"

She felt Remi hesitate and shift on the seat.

"Answer me," she snapped.

"The Medici warriors."

Lorenzo forced Laird Kraig to the altar? That's why he married her? Not because he felt any sort of attraction toward her, but because he'd been threatened to do so.

"Get out of the carriage, Remi." Laird Kraig's voice took on an authoritative tone.

Viviana held on to her tears while Remi leaned over her to peek out the window. Laird Kraig, no doubt gave the man a menacing look for the merriment fell away from his person liked a stone in water.

"Forgive me, m'lady. Oftentimes I speak without thought." Remi set the hook and threads in her lap then slunk out of the carriage.

"You lied to me," Viviana said to Laird Kraig with guarded emotions.

"I saw no point in hurting ye further."

Viviana jerked the curtains over the window. She didn't want Laird Kraig to see her, nor did she want his pity or his excuses.

"Damn-it-to-Hell!" He kicked his steed into a gallop, leaving her alone with her tormented heart.

Chapter 10