The Border Lord's Bride (30 page)

Reaching out, the laird pulled her into his lap, one big hand caressing Ellen‘s small heart-shaped face. "I was well nourished at Cleit. Adair does not stint her guests," he said. "You, my lass, are what I hunger for, and what I need." He brushed his mouth across hers, and the hand caressing her face moved to the laces of her shirt, untying them with quick, supple fingers, sliding beneath the opening in her chemise to cup a breast. His thumb rubbed slowly over the nipple,

encouraging it to tighten.

Ellen sighed with pleasure. From the first moment he had made love to her she had enjoyed all of his attentions. Now, used to the hands and lips that offered her such pleasure, she welcomed his touch. "Ummm, there are servants in the hall, my lord," she murmured softly, but she shifted herself to allow him greater access to her body.

"It is to be hoped that you have trained them well enough to look the other way," he whispered back. "God‘s blood, wife, I have missed you. I was away but two days, and yet it seemed like forever. I slept in Cleit‘s hall surrounded by a group of men, all snoring and groaning in their sleep, while I could think of nothing but you, Ellen, lass." He kissed the side of her neck, nipping gently at it.

"Do you not think that those men were missing their wives too?" she asked him.

"Their wives do not drive me mad with lust like mine does," Duncan told her, and he gave her nipple a little pinch. "I want to fuck you," he breathed in her ear.

Ellen gave a little squeak of surprise. "Not here!" And she yanked his hand from her blouse and, jumping from his lap, straightened her garments.

"Then you had best hie yourself upstairs right now, madam," he said.

She turned and ran, picking up her skirts to climb the stairs quickly. As she hurried down the hall to their bedchamber she heard him coming behind her. The thunderous sound of his boots on the stairs was both exciting and frightening. She burst through the door of their chamber and spun about to face him. His look was deliciously dark and wicked. Slamming the door to the room shut, he twisted the key in the lock and turned to face her. Then, before she could think what she should do next, Duncan reached out and pulled her hard against him.

Her breasts were crushed against his hard chest. Her breath was coming in short bursts. She almost swooned as, reaching up with one hand, he tenderly cupped her face, bending his head to meet her mouth with his own. Ellen sighed as her lips softened to accept his delicious kisses. His tongue licked at her lips, and she parted them to allow him entry, meeting his tongue with hers.

The two digits entwined about each other in a sensuous exercise of passion. A hand kneaded urgently at her small, round breast. Reaching down, she stroked the hard ridge burgeoning beneath his breeches.

"Ohh, my," she purred in his ear. "You are a randy lad, husband." Her fingers undid the breeches, and, slipping her hand inside the garment, she grasped his cock with her hand as he had taught her. "Such a bad thing it is," she whispered against his mouth.

Turning her about, Duncan backed her up against the door, where his long, lean body held her a willing prisoner. He pushed his breeches down and they fell to his ankles, where he stepped from them, kicking the apparel aside. Then, with a quick movement, he yanked her skirts up, lifting Ellen as he did so. His hungry gaze met hers as lowered her onto his raging manhood, and she, with a sigh, wrapped her legs about him.

She was almost faint with the sensation of him buried deep inside her. He was hard and hot. His turgid cock throbbed with its lustful need for her. He shuddered with his desire restrained, and then Ellen whispered once more against his lips, "Fuck me!"

With a growl, his hands cupping her round bottom, he began to piston her. She threw back her head with a glad cry, and his lips pressed kisses on the exposed flesh. Again and again he drove himself within her until she sobbed with her release, but he was not yet finished. His raging cock buried within her, he turned about and walked slowly across the bedchamber until he reached their bed. Lowering her down onto her back, he unhooked her legs from about his torso, pressed them back over her shoulders, and began to ream her fiercely, his manhood driving into her again and again and again. He ripped her blouse open and buried his face between her round breasts with a groan, suddenly enveloped in the fragrant scent of white heather that she favored.

Ellen cried out with the incredible pleasure he was giving her. She tore at his shirt, sliding her hands up his long back, raking her nails down the flesh as she felt herself losing control.

"Duncan! Duncan!" She cried his name, overcome by the passion she always felt with him, and the sudden realization of the love that had begun to bloom within her heart for this man who was her husband. "Oh, holy Mother!" she sobbed as he pounded against her, and her passion peaked a second time.

"I love you, wife!" he cried out to her as his crisis overcame him.

And then the only sounds in their bedchamber were the crackling of the fire and the whimpering gasps of release from them both. Finally Duncan managed to stand up. He pulled Ellen from the bed, wrapping his strong arms about her, kissing her face, and murmuring to her how much he loved her. She nestled against him, wondering if she was truly coming to love him, or if it had merely been her desire for him. How did one know? But it felt wonderful, and it was comforting to know that this big man loved her. I think perhaps that I do love him, Ellen considered. I‘ll tell him soon. Aye, I will! But not quite yet. I need to be certain. And yet, did it really matter? She was his wife no matter, and he did love her.

They came to Duffdour under the cover of darkness. Hays and Elliots. Kerrs, Stewarts, Hepburns, and Bruces. There were a few Scotts, and several Fergusons from just west of Dumfries who had heard there was to be a fight with the English and, having time between the haying and the harvest, had come along to help. They showed neither clan badges nor plaids, and Ian Johnston was very visible by his absence.

The laird of Johnston‘s Keep had sent word that his wife was sick, and he could not leave her side. He had sent two messengers out to warn Lord Colby of the border lords‘ plans, but each of these men had been taken and killed by Bruce clansmen. When the first of his men had not returned, the traitor considered that Lord Colby might have had him remain at his keep, but, concerned, he had sent a second man. When he had not come back, Ian Johnston began to

consider that his treasonous behavior might be known, and he was afraid.

Knowing what her man had been doing, Mary Johnston realized that sooner than later border justice would be meted out to her husband. She had tried to flee to her brother‘s house, but had been caught. Angry at what he considered his wife‘s lack of loyalty, and now in terrible fear of his own life, Ian Johnston had beaten his wife so severely that she was near death.

At Duffdour, Ellen had been preparing for a week for her guests. Duncan and his men had spent a great deal of time hunting in order to bring in enough game to feed their many guests. The cook and her helpers had baked enough meat pies in the past two days to feed a small army, and the pies were stored away in a cool, dry place safe from vermin. The first of the clansmen arriving in the dusk of the late twilight were greeted by the fragrance of roasting meat, and their pretty hostess. They had not met Ellen MacArthur Armstrong before, and were charmed by the laird of Duffdour‘s pretty wife. And seeing how he doted upon her, even the most flirtatious among the border lords minded his manners. They were here to fight the English, and not one another.

Soon the hall was filled to overflowing, the men at the trestles below the high board enjoying a hearty meal of roasted venison, cold meat pies, a pottage of vegetables, bread, and cheese.

Ellen‘s well-trained servants saw that the cups were never empty of ale. And at the high board the laird and his fellow lordlings sat talking. It was agreed that they would ride at moonrise, crossing the border and doing as much damage as they could that night before returning to Duffdour.

"What about Sir Roger‘s fine house?" Andrew Hay asked.

"Devil‘s Glen can be reached only by riding through a narrow passage," Conal Bruce said. "It‘s too dangerous for such a large group. Duncan and I raided it with a small force once to get back my cattle and some village lasses. Colby was off on our side of the border, and his house seemed sparsely staffed, but that may have changed by now. Besides, Colby poses no danger without his own large force. It‘s our job to cause enough dissention among the English that they will not follow him any longer for fear of losing what little they have."

Several of the lairds had brought pipers with them, and now those pipers played for the assembled men. The music began with lyrical tunes, but slowly the songs played became more martial in sound and spirit. And then Artair‘s younger son, Evan, came into the hall. Going up to the high board, he murmured something in Duncan Armstrong‘s ear. The laird nodded, and then he stood up.

"Men, I am told the moon is just peeping over the hills. It is time to ride!"

A cheer went up, and the hall emptied quickly, but Duncan did not get away before Ellen found him. As the sound of laughter, braggadocio, and boots echoed around them, the lady of Duffdour stood before her husband.

"Be careful, my lord," she told him.

"Why?" he teased her. "Do you want me back then, madam?"

"We have a son to make," Ellen replied seriously.

"Is that all?" he asked, looking into her fair face.

"Why would you ask such a thing of me, Duncan?" Ellen wondered.

"Because of late I have had the feeling that there is something you are keeping from me, wife. I am an intuitive man, lass." His eyes searched hers for an answer.

"Come back then because I love you," Ellen said quietly. "I but sought for the right time to tell you, and this, it would seem, is it." She reached up and touched his face with her hand. "I cannot lose you now, my lord."

His great heart soared at her simple declaration. He took the hand touching his face and kissed the palm. "You love me," he repeated softly. "You love me!" he almost shouted, and the servants in the hall stared a moment at their master in surprise.

Ellen laughed aloud. "Aye, I love you, you great, tall man. Now go and take your men over the border to wreak a bit of havoc among the English. But you are not to take chances; nor do I want you to get wounded, Duncan. Come home in one piece, if you please, my lord." Standing upon her tiptoes she gave him a hard kiss, then pushed him out of the hall, walking outside with him to where a stable lad was holding his stallion.

He mounted his horse, but then, reaching down, he pulled her up and kissed her a long, hard kiss that left Ellen breathless. Around them the men cheered. "I‘ll be back," he said softly. "Be waiting for me, madam." He set her down again, and, turning his horse about, he raised his hand, signaling the great troop to proceed.

Ellen stood watching as they rode through the gates of Duffdour, and the gates closed behind them. She climbed to the top of the house and watched until the shadowy forms in the pale moonlight disappeared over the hill. Then, returning to her hall, she directed her servants as they restored it properly, seeing that the bed spaces were prepared for the other lairds when they returned. Their clansmen would sleep in the barns and stables. Then, having seen to all the preparations necessary, Ellen retired to her own bed.

When morning came she arose and, having dressed, visited her old nurse, Peigi, who was sitting up in a chair by the window in her chamber. Young Gunna had brought Peigi a bread trencher of hot oats, and was coaxing her into eating it.

"Cook put honey and cream on it," Gunna said cheerfully.

"What are these bits?" Peigi demanded querulously. "They look like wee beetles." Her spoon poked at several tiny dark objects amid the porridge.

"Cook had some raisins," Gunna said. "She thought you might like them."

"Raisins, is it? Cook is getting fancy," Peigi observed.

Ellen came and sat by the old woman. "How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"I‘ll nae die today, lass," Peigi answered her, "but one day soon. And I ne‘er thought to die so far from my Highlands."

Ellen patted Peigi‘s hand. "If I thought there was a corner for you back at Lochearn, and you wanted to go, I would send you myself," she said.

"Go back to Lochearn? Never, lassie! I could nae bear to see that bold whore Anice lording it over all in the hall," old Peigi declared.

"He may not have wed her," Ellen remarked. "He‘s the son of the MacArthurs of the isles, and he who is the favored piper of the great MacDonald lord himself. I somehow do not believe Balgair would wed the by-blow of a Gypsy woman and some unknown man. He has too much

pride for that, Peigi. He will have kept Anice as his mistress, for her lust is well suited to his, but he will have taken a younger daughter of some Highland chieftain to wife. I pity her, poor thing, but if she does her duty by Balgair and gives him a son or two she will be safe from him."

"And what of you, my chick?" Peigi asked. "When are you going to give your husband a child? I had hoped to live to see it, but I fear I will not."

"The child will come, and you will be here to see it," Ellen said, patting her hand again. "How can it not come when we love each other so deeply?"

"Ahh," the old lady said, "so you‘ve come to love him. He loves you, you know. He has since almost the first moment he laid his eyes upon you. You‘ve told the man, I hope? You haven‘t sent him off not knowing?"

"I‘ve told him," Ellen said with a small smile. "And he‘ll come home to me; never fear. We have a son to make." She stood up. "I must make certain there is food enough for the men when they return, for they will be hungry after the long night." She bent and kissed Peigi‘s cheek. "I will come and see you later. Gunna, see that she eats."

"Yes, my lady," Gunna said. "We talk, and she gets it all down eventually."

Ellen patted Gunna‘s shoulder with a smile and then hurried off. In the hall all was in readiness for the return of the clansmen, and shortly before the noon hour the watch at the gates called out that a great party of men was even now approaching Duffdour. Ellen ran from the house and, climbing up the ladder to the catwalk along the walls, watched the approach of the riders. She immediately recognized her husband in the lead, but would not allow the gates to be opened until she was certain all was well. Then, climbing down from the walls, she greeted the laird as he rode through the now open gates. "Come into the hall, lads," she called to them. "There is food for all, and then you will want to rest. From the look of you it has been a hard night."