Page 55 of Darach

Reothadh grimaced. “I dinnae ken if ’tis wise to show the lass such favor, my lord. She’s an outsider, and, ah, different. ’Twill also cause the other vassals to revile Revna, and cast doubts on her chastity.”

“Aye, which ’tis why you shall murmur into the right ears that in truth I’ve made her my bed wench. Say I’m too proud to openly name her as such.” He folded his arms. “Also mention how angry I shall become should anyone bully Revna.”

The master sage frowned. “I’ve never ken you to have a foul temper.”

“Indeed.” Struan smiled. “If anyone harms that wench, you shall make acquaintance.”

From there he went to his chamber to undress, and found Revna snuffing out the braziers some fool had lit. He stood for a time to watch her graceful movements as she lit candles and placed them in the wall brackets, high enough that the heat of their flames would not plague him. Only when she finished at the back of the chamber did she turn and see him.

“Eventide, my lord.” Revna bobbed, and smiled at him, her cheeks flushed. “I reckoned you wouldnae wish to roast in the heat of so many braziers burning.”

Struan nodded, and gestured for her to continue. While she did he placed the apples he’d brought on the table, and took out his smallest knife.

“I’ve turned down the bed, my lord,” she said as she came to him. “’Tis anything more I may do?”

“Aye.” He cut a slice from the apple he’d been peeling and held it out to her. “Come and sit with me.”

* * *

After the morning meal Charlotte walked out into the lists, where Darach stood with his back toward her while watching several men sparring. As soon as the clansmen saw her they grinned, but she shook her head and lifted a finger to her lips.

“Dinnae look at me, you daft eejits,” her lover snapped. “Should the Carack attack on the morrow they’ll no’ be gazing about wondering what’s what.”

“Really.” Charlotte slid her arms around him from behind. “So what’s what, my knight?”

Darach went still, and then turned in her embrace and enveloped her in a hug.

“Lads, continue the matches and remember fight fair.” He took hold of her hand and hustled her back inside, taking her into the garrison hall and then up to their chamber, where he drew her in before he bolted the door.

“I know that look,” she said as she took a few steps back toward the bed. “When you were marked, your eye would turn more gold than red when you wanted me. But your eyes match now, and you just had me last night.”

“Aye.” He advanced on her. “And now, ’tis morning, and still I want you.”

“That means someone else will have to take over training the men when you’re not around––I’ll guess Taveon will step up today, but soon you’ll be sharing your command with someone else. Emery dropped some hints.” She waited for him to scowl, which he didn’t, and then smiled. “I never imagined you’d be okay with that.”

“’Tis much work, and I’m not a selfish man. Then, too, I’ve a beautiful lady to coddle and comfort me.” He picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. “As happens, I’m in dire need of such just now.”

Charlotte propped her head with her hand as she watched him strip out of his clothes, her big eyes growing dark with desire. “I need to paint you like this.”

“Now that I’ve a face to rival Camdyn’s, you’d yet make sport of me?” He tickled her as he leaned over, and then quickly removed her gown, leaving her just in a thin shift. “If I look upon you naked, I shall spill on your thigh.”

She tugged him down beside her, and rolled atop him. “Then I might just have to keep you here in bed with me all day.” With her fingertips she traced the outlines of the birthing mark that no longer disfigured his face. “I never thought I’d see you again. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop looking at you. Waking up beside the spring and seeing you was the most beautiful moment in my life.”

Darach hiked up her shift so he could come into her soft, wet quim, and once he had buried his full length in her he smiled. “You’re the beauty, my lady. I’m but yours––and more moments shall be ours, for we shall love forever.”

* * *

Much later Darach left Charlotte sleeping, and slipped out to the great hall. There he found Luthias standing in front of the portrait of Prince Ross, his expression thoughtful but his jaw tight.

“’Twas the only likeness painted of our sire during his lifetime,” Darach reminded him as he came to stand at his side. “As much as you wish, you cannae burn the damned thing.”

“For what you and your lady endured with that madman,” Luthias said, “I’m yet tempted.” He gestured for him to follow him to a table, where he poured them both a whiskey. “To Charlotte, who beneath all that beauty possesses the heart of a true warrior.”

“To my beloved,” Darach said simply, and touched his goblet rim to the laird’s before swallowing the smoky spirit. He glanced up at the empty crystal casket over the great hearth. “When the Fire Sword vanished I imagined melting the blade in the forge when it returned. The thought makes me shudder now.”

“Aye, I cannae tell you how often I’ve thought the same.” Luthias sat back in his chair. “Yet the sword brought to us our ladies, and saved the clan twice now.” He took a long drink.

Darach sighed. “Taveon said you rode with the men who took the corpses back to the village, but you didnae name their killer.”