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The long name sank into her rapidly deteriorating mind and she gave him a startled expression. “Stewart?” she repeated. “Like the king?”

“Not like the king.”

It was a lie, but she didn’t question it. She accepted his answer and settled down quickly, finishing off her cup of wine. She was well on her way to becoming drunk and Titus quickly poured her a another.

“Good,” she said. “I dunna want Whitekirk tae fall tae a relation tae the king.”

“Ye worry too much,” he said, avoiding a direct answer to her statement. “Drink yer wine and tell me about yer family. Where do ye come from?”

It was a distraction. He wanted to get her talking and drinking, hoping she’d have so much wine that she’d eventually pass out from it and their evening would be over before it started. He’d have the castle and that was all he cared about at the moment, an unexpected bonus to the situation. He feigned interest in her when she spoke of her home as a lass in Blackness and how Harry MacMerry – as that was truly his name – came courting.

What he was really waiting for was the moment all the drink in her hand would claim her.

It wasn’t long in coming. After her third full cup of the strong Spanish wine, Mary lay her head back on the couch and promptly passed out. Titus sat across from her, watching carefully, and called her name a couple of times. She didn’t respond. He set his cup down and went over to her, lifting an eyelid, making sure she was still alive. When he saw that all was well, he thought he’d have a little fun with his so-called friends.

They thought they’d pulled a joke on him.

He was going to get even with those bastards.

The apartment was semi-private, with the heavy woolen curtains pulled over the balcony doors. Whenever Clegg entertained a female admirer, the curtains were always closed. That was the sign that something intimate was going on inside. Titus realized that the curtains had been pulled the moment he’d entered the apartment, another sign that his friends were having a great time at his expense. Undoubtedly, they were listening.

He’d give them something to listen to.

With Mary MacMerry, widow of Harry, in a dead sleep on the couch, Titus went to work. There was a bed in a sectioned off area of the apartment, back behind a massive screen with a scene depicting ancient Rome painted upon it. It was a big bed, with a carved wooden frame, and he braced himself on the end of the bed with his hands on one of the four end posts.

Using his considerable strength, he started ramming the bed into the wall behind it in a rhythmic beat, as a man would when making love to a woman. The banging bed was accompanied by loud grunts on his part, as if he were genuinely bedding the woman and having a good time doing it. His grunts were peppered with high-pitched gasps, meant to mimic the old woman’s cries of pleasure.

He went on for an hour.

A solid hour of the bed bumping, of his loud growls of pleasure, and of female-sounding shrieks. It was the performance of a lifetime. He only stopped because he was becoming weary, especially after having fought three bouts that night, so he ended the spectacle with rapid thumps against the wall and then a high-pitched scream.

After that, there was dead silence.

At least, silence to anyone listening in from the outside, but by then, he was nearly doubled over with laughter. He could just see the shocked faces of Cam and Brody and Galan as they realized their arrogant friend had not only taken the bait but had used it. By the sounds emitting from the apartment, he’d had a good time, too. Titus glanced over at Mary to see that she hadn’t awoken the entire time. The woman was still sleeping like the dead.

That only made him laugh harder.

After he rested a few minutes, he went on to bed bump for another half-hour that would certainly impress his friends. They were going to know that their trick on him had failed spectacularly. But his exhaustion got the better of him and he finally ended his brilliant performance for the night.

Then, he went to bathe and eat the food that had been brought up earlier, meant to be shared by two. He took his time with both, passing the hours until it neared dawn and the Ludus Caledonia was shutting down for the night. Patrons were leaving on horseback or fine carriages, and warriors were retreating to their cottages, so Titus went to the old woman and gently shook her until her eyes lolled open.

“Time tae leave, m’dear,” he said as he pulled her into a sitting position. “’Tis time tae go home and then return another day.”

Mary was extremely groggy. She halfheartedly helped him as he draped her with the shawl she’d been wearing, covering up her nearly naked top portion. She smoothed at her bristly hair, but Titus ruffled it, making it a wild mass of silver. She looked as if she’d spent all night being pleasured by a virile warrior. He wanted to make sure her disheveled appearance matched the screaming he’d done earlier, and he pulled her off the couch, directing her towards the entry that led out into the common areas of the Ludus Caledonia.

“Ye have a carriage, I assume?” he asked as he practically carried her to the door.

Mary nodded unsteadily. “Aye.”

Titus threw open the door and began walking her out to the area where the carriages usually waited. His gaze scanned the area, immediately spying Galan and Axel, the enormous Saxon manager of the Ludus Caledonia. He could see that they were trying to stay out of sight, but everyone made eye contact, so there was no use in trying to hide.

He could see the pair smirking in the torchlight.

That only made Titus give the old woman a squeeze.

“There, now, m’lady,” he said. “Ye had quite a night. Go home and rest and I will see ye another time.”

Mary was having difficulty with her balance, and her awareness, but she managed to spy her carriage. She pointed to it and Titus turned her in that direction.