Page 60 of Highland Storm

Realizing that he had pulled the washcloth down to drape over his lap, she reached over to grab it and Keane stilled her hand.

“Nay,” he said.

“But…”

“I will finish on my own.”

Her cheeks burning with chagrin, Lianae released the cloth and stood, moving away from the tub. “I-I am sorry,” she said, and swallowing her tears, she hurried out of the room.

Keane heard the door close and only once Lianae was gone, he removed the cloth from his lap, snarling at his traitorous cock. He was prepared to raise her child as his own, but he would not allow himself to mingle his seed with that of William fitz Duncan.

However, the last thing he needed was to leave his old chap unattended. The tension was insufferable. As hard as he was, as long as he’d been denied, he didn’t need much coaxing to find his release… and in the moment when he did, it was Lianae’s face he saw.

Nothing she did seemed to please him.

For the remainder of the week, whilst her husband avoided her, Lianae occupied herself with Kenna and Lael, learning from each woman. Having been raised on a farm in the bitter north, where men and women both tended their duties together, Lianae was only now learning how to sit and sew, beginning with the adjustment of her new gowns. A few were too short. A few too tight. All, save one, had belonged to a young lady from the border lands—a daughter of the laird of Teviotdale, who’d perished some years past, although none of the women present seemed overly inclined to reveal how.

From Kenna, Lianae gleaned everything there was to be known about Lael’s mysterious brother. It was curious to hear the girl speak of Keane, because Lianae had met a very different man—one who was not so aloof and who had taken Lianae under his wing from the instant they’d met. She longed to see that man returned.

“I will never forget the first time I saw him,” Kenna confessed, with rosy cheeks. “He was newly arrived and I thought to myself that he was the epitome of male beauty, so dark and handsome. But of course, the ladies were all half in love with him from the instant he rode through the gates.”

Lael laughed. “Dinna speak such things in front of my brother,” she forbade Kenna. “His head will grow overlarge, and Lianae will suffer his arrogance all the more.”

“I dinna find him arrogant,” Lianae demurred.

Kenna smiled. “Aye, well, until you, if wasna made of metal, feathers or horseflesh, Keane did not see it. One day, I thought I would come to sup dressed as a shield, with feathers in the front my head and a horse tail behind.” The ladies present all tittered over the image.

Lianae might have told a different tale, but she didn’t wish to make Kenna feel bad. There were many things she might find to call her new husband, but inattentive was not one. Blind was not one. And neither was passionless. Despite that they had yet to consummate their vows, she knew this for a fact, for she’d certainly not missed that lump beneath his washcloth. Her cheeks heated over the memory.

But the bath had been a pointless endeavor. Now, even more than before, he would come to bed in the wee hours, whenever he thought Lianae was fast asleep and he rose early, long before she could chance to open her eyes. She took her frustration out on the cloth she was sewing, shoving her needle furiously through the hem. There was only so much she could say, for today Lael’s daughters were all present in the solar.

Some of the ladies in attendance were the daughters of neighboring lords. Others were the wives of Jaime’s wards. And some were lowly maids who served the lady of Keppenach. Lael seemed prepared to invite anyone within, whether or not they were ladies in truth. All were welcome in her solar, with the hearth fire blazing and the candlelight sparkling overhead. A beautiful carpet had been laid out upon the floor, with enormous, brightly colored pillows tossed hither and thither—a style, Lael had explained, was inspired by her husband’s travels to the land of the Saracens.

“I have never traveled overmuch,” Lianae confessed.

“Mayhap you will now that my brother is sworn to David?” Lael suggested, smiling as she worked her needle through the hem of one of Lianae’s new gowns.

“Mayhap,” Lianae replied. Although, as of now, her husband was like to carry her back to Dunràth and leave her there ever more. Alone. “Green was the Lady Aveline’s favorite color?” she asked. It certainly seemed to be so, for nearly all the gowns she wore were some shade of green.

“Aye, but if the color does not please you⁠—”

“Oh, nay!” Lianae reassured. “They are all lovely and I have never seen their like. My own gowns have always been far plainer. I am grateful for all you have done, m’lady.”

“Mine as well,” Lael confessed.

“And mine,” Kenna added. “But it surprises me that yours would be, Lianae.”

“Me?” Lianae asked, with some bewilderment.

“You are a princess!” one of Lael’s ladies interjected.

Lianae blushed. “Ach! A princess of what? Ye must have a people to rule to be a princess, and Moray is no longer what it was.”

Both Lael and Kenna shared a glance. “I ken what you mean,” Lael confessed with a sigh. “Neither is Dubhtolargg.”

Lianae’s needle stilled, remembering suddenly what King David had called her husband. Dún Scoti. “Dubhtolargg?”

Lael continued to sew, nodding, as though her revelation were ever so mundane.