Maybe This Time, page 15
She eased until she could stand the waiting no more, then thrust herself down on him. Pain, expected but shocking nonetheless, riveted to her core. She went stiff as a board and cried out.
“I tried to tell you,” Kevan whispered calmly.
“This is no time for lectures, Kevan Buchannan. It hurts like hell.”
He chuckled. “In a moment or two you won’t think so. Don’t move, angel. Not yet.”
If he thought time would ease this pain, he was crazed. Fighting the tears stinging her eyes, the urge to move off of him, she bit down into the soft flesh at his shoulder.
He cupped her head in his hands and covered her lips in a searing kiss. A kiss that breathed new life into the embers of her desire. As the fever caught her, the pain changed, and an irresistible urge to thrust against him assaulted her. She fought the feelings, but her hips refused to stay still. They demanded she move, becoming more and more insistent, until she gave in to the impulse. Kevan whispered soft words of encouragement and took over, setting the rhythm for the communion of flesh that began with time.
The feel of him stroking her inner flesh sent her spiraling headlong into a world she had never known. The pleasure of their joining had his eyes glazed, his chest heaving with sharp breaths, and his expression hard and intent. The friction of him coming flush against her, of the water lapping at her breasts, coupled with the feel of his powerful shoulders lifting, his muscles bunching and flexing under her hands, driving her deeper and deeper into desire’s clutches. She went willingly. Gladly. Gloriously.
The candlelight kissed his sunned skin gold. Her hands trembled, grazing his body. She wanted to touch him everywhere, to mark his body as hers for all time. Giving her wishes free rein, she delved deeper still into desire, so deep she feared she’d never return, and she didn’t care.
Too soon, the intense pleasure sent her tumbling. Her heart thundered, her body tensed. The tremors quaking her insides grew to blinding spasms and burst. At the same time, Kevan shuddered, nearly crushing her in his embrace, and deep inside her, she felt him pulse. He, too, had come to this magical place.
Content and as weak as a kitten, Alyssa collapsed against him. He slid his hands from her bottom up her back and wrapped her to him. Nuzzling his way to her mouth, he gave her a long, lingering kiss.
“Angel?” Caressing her name, he sounded pleased.
“Aye, husband.” She buried her nose against his neck, closed her eyes, and inhaled his masculine scent.
“You learn quickly.”
He was pleased. Tingles of pleasure rippled through her and she smiled into his neck before rearing back. “Aye. But I think we should perfect your teachings, husband. As with any skill, ardent practice is required.”
Kevan cuddled her to him and let out a satisfied sigh. “Aye, wife. Ardent practice.”
Eight
“I MIGHT HAVE known,” Kevan muttered to himself. Where else would he find his wife but on the training field?
He watched her instruct James in the use of a bow. A line of warriors stood nearby, and they seemed to be listening intently. Kevan didn’t interrupt, but monitored both her actions and those of his men from where he stood.
A sweat-soaked David joined him. “Morning, Kevan. Sleep well?”
“Aye.” Kevan answered, ignoring David’s attempt at sarcastic wit. He hadn’t slept much at all—not that he’d minded. And David knew it. Kevan nodded toward Alyssa. “How long has she been here?”
David frowned. “Long enough.”
“Let me hear it.”
“You aren’t going to like it,” David warned.
“No doubt. But tell me anyway.”
“She’s instructed Iain that the use of water to secure the wall is archaic and directed him to use heated sand.”
Kevan grunted. “I’ve seen this method at Cameron. It’s effective.”
David propped his dusty boot on a rotten tree stump. “She told the smith his iron hammerhead is too small—overworking his wrist—and to fashion one half-again as large, but to lengthen the handle only by one quarter.”
“Why one quarter?” The woman’s ideas, thus far, had merit, though he couldn’t tolerate her interfering with his men.
“Too long a swing makes for inaccuracy,” David informed him.
Kevan grunted again, and added a sigh. “What else?”
“She’s given the men instruction on the use of clubs. Tam laughed at her. Said it’d be a sorry day when he’d be felled by a woman.”
“And?”
“And she damned near beat him to death.” David swiped his forehead with his fingertip, then flicked sweat onto the ground.
“Tam?”
“Aye.”
Kevan grimaced. “But he’s good with a club.”
David sighed. “She’s better. He fell mighty hard, Kevan.”
Kevan rubbed his neck. “Is there more?”
“You really want to hear the rest?”
“Nay, but I guess I’d better. The complaints will brush the rafters before nightfall.”
“She’s nicked a letter on Colin’s chest—a B—with her sword. And—”
“And? She brands one of my best warriors, and there’s yet more? Christ, the sun isn’t even fully overhead.”
“There’s more,” David said, then winced. “But not much. She’s told Margar all the women must carry daggers. She’ll teach those who don’t know, how to use them.”
“What?” Kevan rounded on David.
His second shrugged and slid Kevan a look meant to remind him that David was merely the messenger. “She says that should the men be absent and the need arise, it’s their duty to defend the Buchannan keep.”
“Oh God.” Kevan squeezed his eyes shut. His days of peace at his holding were over. And it was his wife’s fault. He should have followed his first instincts where the woman was concerned and that was that. She’d have his home stuffed to the rafters with complaints for the rest of his days. Women with daggers? Good God, she’d have his men deserting.
“Aye, she says, too, that women shouldn’t be depending on their men to handle matters the women can handle themselves.”
His jaw so tight it pained his teeth, Kevan asked, “What matters?”
David turned red from the neck up, and his voice dropped, weak as a bairn’s. “Hunting.”
“I’ll kill her with my bare hands.” Kevan started across the field.
“Laird, wait,” David said. “Her idea has merit.”
Kevan spun back to his second. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Maybe,” David confessed, his look saying that siding against his laird when he was of a mind to murder surely had him considering the possibility. “Nay, nay,” he amended his position. “I’ve not. Innes isn’t crazy enough to attack your warriors, but he will attack. In some way he’ll seek revenge.”
“Against our women? Only a coward would attack women.” Innes had physically attacked Alyssa already, in the presence of men. Still angry that he’d been forced to let that happen, Kevan prodded. “So?”
“So the women should be able to protect themselves—at least with daggers. Your wife’s an able teacher. What will it hurt?”
David had a point about Innes, and the raiders were growing more and more bold. “I’ll allow this.” Kevan wagged a finger at his second. “But when the first woman raises a dagger against her husband, you’ll see what it can hurt, and you’ll be duly reminded that training the women was your idea.”
Kevan frowned in the direction of his worrisome wife. Standing down-field from James, she shifted her balance from foot to foot. Her concentration on the MacMillian’s son seemed intense. She spread her legs and the fabric covering them pulled taut across her thighs, exposing the sweet curve of her hip. She might not be a modest woman, but her immodesty certainly had its benefits. Mayhap he should take her back to bed and remind her who she belonged to.
Kevan shifted his gaze just as James raised his bow and took aim against Alyssa. “MacMillian! No!”
The arrow flew.
Running, Kevan let out a war cry that thundered through the lower bailey and had all heads turning. He saw his wife standing stock still, the arrow in her hand, confusion on her face.
He came to a bellowing halt. “MacMillian!”
James ran to his laird’s side. “Aye.”
Kevan grabbed James by the shoulders and shook him, doing his damnedest to rattle some sense into the boy. Tiny pelts worried Kevan’s back—Alyssa’s fists? “Stop it, woman!”
“What are you doing? Have you gone daft, for pity’s sake?” Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Put that boy down.” She stamped her foot. “Damn it, Kevan, put him down.”
Kevan glowered at James. “You will never, never again take aim against my wife.”
Still dangling a good foot off the ground with Kevan’s hands clamped around his throat, James gasped, his face blood red from lack of air.
“Kevan Buchannan, you have lost your mind. James didn’t take aim against me. I was teaching a lesson. Couldn’t you see that?”
“Teaching my men to catch arrows?” Kevan tossed the boy into the grass and planted his hands at his hips. “It’s you who’s lost her mind, wife.”
“Mayhap I have. I married you.” Alyssa glared up at him. “You insisted I be happy here. Look at this face. This is not the face of a happy wife.” Alyssa stormed from the training field.
With a resigned sigh, Kevan watched her go. “David, tell the men I’ll hear them now.”
“Don’t you want to go—”
“Nay.” The woman fairly stomped her way to the upper bailey. “Her collar’s a bit warm. It’ll take a while to cool.”
“Aye, it will,” David agreed. “A good, long while.”
“Mayhap by the time our first son is born, eh?”
“Mayhap.” David grunted. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”
THE SOLDIERS stood in line. Kevan sat at a makeshift table at the northern foot of the training field. The hall would be a more comfortable place to hear the complaints against his wife—there would be many—but angry as she was, he thought the hall too small for both of them.
Iain was first.
“Your complaint?” Kevan asked.
“I have no complaint, Kevan.”
Surprised, Kevan said, “I was told Lady Buchannan gave you instruction.”
“Aye, she did,” the baldheaded Iain responded. “She has a firm grasp of strategic defense. Her suggestions were—”
“Suggestions?” Kevan interrupted.
“Aye.”
“She did not direct you to alter your methods?”
“Nay. But she suggested sand to replace the water. I’m of a mind to agree it’s wise. As is her idea of guarding the back wall—”
Kevan rolled his gaze. “The back wall is a mountain, Iain.”
“True, but mountains can be scaled, Laird. She told me how it could be done with metal spikes pounded into the rock.”
“So you will guard the back wall and use the sand.”
“Aye, I will.”
Kevan nodded and laced his fingers together atop the makeshift table. “And you’ve no complaints.”
“Nay, nary a one.”
“Very well, Iain. You may leave me.”
“Laird?” Iain lifted his bushy brows. “May I consult Lady Buchannan on the matter of the lower bailey tower?”
Kevan propped his elbow on the table, slumped over, and rested his chin on his hand. He should have known. “Aye, you have my permission, Iain. Though the lady will be busy for the next few weeks.”
“No hurry. I’ll wait.”
Kevan gave Iain a brisk nod. “Next.”
The smith stepped forward.
“Your complaint, Angus?” Kevan asked.
“I have none.”
“Then why are you in line?”
“To defend my lady.”
“Against her husband?”
“God’s truth, Laird, you look more than a mite upset with the lass.”
“You aren’t displeased with her instructions, either.”
“Nay. Don’t know why I didn’t think of her suggestions myself.” Angus shook his head and grunted. “Too used to the old ways, I suspect. And my lady is most concerned about my wrist, you know.”
The wrists Angus flexed upward were as thick as Alyssa’s neck. But the man seemed pleased to hold Alyssa’s concern. Kevan sighed. “If you’ve no complaint, take your wrist back to the shop and do as your lady bids.”
“I just wished to offer my defense,” the smith said, walking away. He stopped suddenly and turned back. “Er, Laird? When it’s done, may I consult my lady on the hammer?” Looking sheepish, Angus added, “She is most—”
“I know,” Kevan muttered, fearing it would always be this way. The worrisome woman had captured more than one heart here already. And why that pleased him, when he ought to be mad as Hell at her for her interference, he couldn’t say. “She’s concerned about your wrist,” he told Angus. “Aye, you may show her the hammer—but not for a few weeks.”
The next man hobbled forward. Kevan didn’t recognize him, but that came no surprise. Half of the man’s face was bruised purple, his bare knee was an ungodly shade of green, and a knot on his upper arm stood raised a full two inches. Still, the man smiled. David had said Alyssa’d beat Tam half to death. Could it be? “Tam?”
“Aye, Laird. ‘Tis me.” Tam gave him a gap-toothed grin.
Surprise spiked down Kevan’s backbone. “You lost two teeth in the battle with your lady?”
“Aye, I did. And more’s loose. She done me up proper, now didn’t she?”
“I would agree.” Baffling. The man didn’t seem to resent being beaten to a pulp by a woman. “Do you wish to file a complaint against your lady?”
“Nay.” Tam guffawed. “I can’t afford to. She’d beat me to death.”
The warriors laughed with Tam, but, Kevan noticed, none denied his claim. He groaned deeper. “You, too, wish to defend her?”
“I do.” Tam stiffened. “‘Tis my own fault, she beat me senseless. I sort of,” he paused and rubbed a knot on his head, “made her do it.”
“Mmm, ‘tis a sorry day, I hear. One fit to be felled by a woman.”
Tam chuckled. “It is that. I meant no offense to your wife, Laird. I just didn’t think anyone that little could do much damage to a full-grown man. She is a soft-looking little thing, ain’t she now?”
Kevan’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Aye, she looks soft. But she isn’t. What say you to that?”
“I won’t make the mistake of riling her up again, is what I say. It’ll be summer afore my teeth don’t rattle and my jaw quits its ache.”
Kevan nodded, dismissing Tam.
“Laird?”
“Aye, Tam.”
“I granted her no quarter. She bested me, pure and simple. Done things I ain’t never seen. Reckon you would let her teach the men some of them?”
This was not what Kevan expected from his wife. “Aye, Tam. I reckon I would. You may ask her. But—”
“I know. She will be busy for the next few weeks.”
“Next.”
Colin stepped forward.
“Do you defend or complain?”
“Defend,” the young warrior said.
“I’m surprised, Colin. I understood she carved a letter on your chest with her sword.”
“She did.”
“Yet you defend her?”
“Aye.”
“Why?
Colin shrugged. “I deserved it. We were sparring, and I got cocky. Careless, I believe she said.” He looked awed. “It’s like Tam said, Laird. She’s so little that I didn’t think her any challenge.” His expression said he didn’t feel that way anymore. “Before I could blink, she nicked a B on my chest. Said it would remind me I was a Buchannan warrior and my laird wouldn’t be pleased if my sauciness got my carcass carved.”
“Sauciness?” The odd term caught Kevan’s ear.
“Aye.” Colin frowned. “I don’t know the word, but I sure enough got her meaning.”
“What say you to that?” Kevan asked.
“She’s right. I mean, you’d not be pleased to see me gouged, would you?”
“Nay, Colin. I would not.”
“And don’t worry about me getting the fever,” he hastened to assure his laird. “My lady pasted my wound. Smells rank as the stable, but she says it’s gotta be done.” Colin took two steps, then stopped and turned. “Laird?”
Kevan let out a massive sigh. “Aye, Colin, you may ask her for instruction in use of the sword.”
Colin grinned and stepped aside.
Weary, Kevan dipped his forehead into his hands and closed his eyes for a long minute.
“Get out of me way, boy. I got no time for standing in no line.”
Surprised, Kevan looked up. “Margar?”
“Aye. I want me say, if you’ve time to listen to an ordinary woman.”
“You have a complaint against your lady?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Speak your piece.”
“Lady Buchannan may be a wonder on the training field, but she ain’t worth spit in no women’s work. I’ve lived sixty-three summers without carryin’ a dagger and I ain’t wantin’ to carry one now.”
“Ah, I see,” Kevan said.
Margar shrugged. “Course, that ain’t to say the other women shouldn’t. If you boys ain’t around, I guess we women ought to be able to hold the keep together. But I ain’t interested in carryin’ myself, Kevan, and that’s that.”
“Have you spoken of this to your lady?” Kevan asked.
“No, and it ain’t likely I will. I’m too damned old to be runnin’ around without my hide.”
“If you don’t want to carry a dagger, I’m sure your lady will understand. Explain your objections to her.”
