The Conquest (2 page)

Finally, Antony looked up at Elspeth, a soft, albeit surprised smile on his lips. “I hear ye, lass.” He slid in and out of her, inching the maid across the soft grass with each hard thrust. “I love ye, Elspeth.”

Rhiannon’s heart skipped a beat. She did not realize her best friend was in love, and wondered again why Elspeth had not confided in her.

“That feels nice,” Elspeth replied, saying nothing of love or the declaration Antony had just made.

His brows furrowed for a minute until she whispered, “Ye are so big, Antony. So thick. Ye make me mad with desire.”

The frown dissipated. He pumped against her in deep, even thrusts, the fierce movements making her breasts bounce. “And ye are so hot and tight, lass. So sweet.”

Elspeth grabbed his buttocks with both hands, squeezing hard, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“Ye like that, don’t ye?” Antony’s face looked strained.

“Aye, I do.”

Rhiannon’s gaze shifted down the man’s body, where he joined with Elspeth. Her pulse quickened seeing his long, slick cock enter and retreat into the maid.

The flesh between her legs tingled, growing damp.

“Are ye comin’, lass?” Antony asked in a deep, husky voice.

Coming where?
Rhiannon thought to herself as Elspeth’s hands moved up his back to cling to his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin.

Rhiannon shifted. A twig snapped beneath her feet and Antony stopped for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. She would be horrified if they discovered her spying on them in such an intimate moment. Holding her breath, she pressed against the tree’s large trunk.

“It is nothing.” Elspeth reached up, drawing his attention back to her.

To Rhiannon’s great relief, the sighs and moans continued, growing in intensity as the slapping of skin against skin quickened.

Daring to breathe again, Rhiannon pushed away from the tree, rushing back to the pathway. She raced toward the loch, pulling her kirtle off as she went. It must appear as though she had just left the water.

She had scarcely caught her breath when Elspeth’s laughter came from nearby. Rhiannon pretended to be drying off just as the maid stepped from the trees.

“There ye are,” Rhiannon said, hoping Elspeth did not notice she was winded. “I was ready to call out to ye.”

“I did not mean to take so long,” Elspeth said, a huge smile on her face as she hurried toward Rhiannon. “Antony needed help finding a special herb that grows in the thicket.”

Rhiannon almost sighed with relief. “And did ye find what ye needed?”

“Aye, I did,” Elspeth responded, her cheeks a rosy pink, her blue eyes bright. When she started humming a merry tune, Rhiannon could not help but smile.

Mayhap marriage would not be so horrible, after all. But then again, what if her husband was not as pleasing as Antony or Gerard, the goldsmith’s grandson? Could she do what she had just witnessed with an old man? “I wonder if Lord Malgor will have a pleasing body.”

Elspeth frowned. “Most soldiers have pleasing bodies, so I am certain Lord Malgor is no different.”

“How do ye know most soldiers have pleasing bodies?”

“They must be in prime condition, the warriors that they are.”

“What if de Cion is not handsome, Elspeth? Ye know I cannot hide what I feel. My face has a mind of its own, and if I am disappointed, I am sure to show it.”

“Do not fret, lass. For all ye know, he could be the man of your dreams. Mayhap he is tall, handsome, and has a body sure to please.”

“With my luck, he will be a toad. An old, tired, ugly, fat toad.”

Elspeth cupped Rhiannon’s cheek. “And perhaps within lies the heart of a gentleman and truly caring husband who wishes nothing but to please ye. Ye are a strong woman, Rhiannon. Do not ever forget it. If your betrothed is not to your liking, then ye shall find other ways to please yourself. Trust me in this.”

“Please myself. In what ways?”

Tilting her head to the side, Elspeth asked, “Have ye no idea what it means to pleasure one’s self?”

“I have touched my breasts before, but I doubt that will ever take the place of what happens between a man and a woman.”

Elspeth’s lips curved in a secret smile that made Rhiannon feel very young. “True, one’s own hand cannot make up for the absence of a lover’s touch, but if your marriage with de Cion is disappointing or lacking, there are ways to ease the ache in your body. In the days before your wedding we shall discuss how, but for now we must return to the castle and meet your betrothed. Who knows, my dear, perhaps there shall be no need for such a discussion.”

“What if he is disappointed when he sees me?”

Elspeth snorted. “Rhiannon, most any woman would give their soul to have your beauty. Your hair is like silk, and your eyes are so unique.”

“I was once called a witch because of my eyes.”

“Your eyes are unusual because one seldom sees such a color. Ye are an unrivaled beauty and ye shall make your future husband weak at the knees, this I promise.”

Some of the trepidation she’d been feeling left her. “What if he is displeased with me in the bedchamber?”

Elspeth closed her eyes and muttered something unintelligible under her breath. “Ye will drive us both crazy if ye do not quit fretting about such things, Rhiannon. Soon ye shall meet your intended and the mystery will be over. And remember, any woman would love to trade places with ye, even if her intended looks like a toad.”

“My mother was beautiful and yet my father locked her away,” Rhiannon said absently, stepping into her shoes.

“Aye, I have heard the stories, lass.”

“How could he vow to love and protect her and yet imprison her? She did nothing to deserve such a fate—save for the fact he loved another. That is why she died so soon, Elspeth. At the time it happened, I was too young to understand the truth. When Father took Deirdre as his bride months later, my heart turned to stone, and I never trusted him again.”

As usual, whenever Rhiannon thought of her mother, a mixture of melancholy and anger washed over her. Her mother had been such a docile creature who had loved her husband, and in return had endured horrible atrocities at his hands. And all because
he
had fallen in love with another woman. And now her father would force Rhiannon into an unwanted marriage.

Oh, the irony.

“Do not fret about the things ye cannot change, Rhiannon. If ye are at peace with yourself, then all else will fall into place.” Elspeth gathered up the drying cloth and soap. “Come, we have dallied long enough, my dear.”

“Promise me this, Elspeth. If de Cion is deplorable, and I have no desire to marry him, will ye flee with me?”

Elspeth took Rhiannon’s hand in her own. “Of course. Ye have been like my own daughter, even though ye are but seven years younger than me. I’ll never leave ye. Not ever. If ye take one look at de Cion and feel he is not the one for ye, then by God, we shall run as fast and as far as our feet will carry us.”

Touched by her friend’s devotion, Rhiannon embraced her tightly and kissed her cheek. “Thank ye for leaving everything behind to go with me. I know it must be hard, especially leaving someone ye love.”

Putting her at arm’s length, Elspeth frowned. “I love no one but my family and ye.”

“No one else?”

“Aye, no one.”

Rhiannon opened her mouth to ask about Antony when a bell sounded in the distance, making her heart jolt in trepidation.

Elspeth’s eyes widened. “Dear God, your betrothed has arrived!”

Adelstan Cawdor followed Laird MacKay beneath the giant portcullis of Castle MacKay. The immense wooden fortress with a large stone tower sat high on a hill overlooking the coastline, a formidable stronghold that had spent the better part of a century defending itself against the Danes.

A good thing he had come as a guest.

Indeed, he had received a most warm, if not exuberant, reception. Laird MacKay had personally ridden out to meet Adelstan and his men, a wide smile on his face as he bade them welcome. However, that same smile thinned considerably the moment he learned Adelstan had come in place of Malgor de Cion, his daughter’s intended.

Laird MacKay’s dark eyes narrowed. “Might I assume Lord Malgor is on his deathbed?” There was no misinterpreting the anger in the chieftain’s voice.

“
Nearly
on his deathbed,” Adelstan said with a reassuring smile he hoped put the older man’s fears to rest.

“And what, pray tell, has caused him to be so ill that he could not claim my daughter, his betrothed, himself?”

Adelstan, knowing full well the question would be asked, replied, “He aggravated an old hunting wound on the eve before our departure. The healer insisted he stay behind. Knowing you were expecting him, and not wanting to delay the wedding, I was sent in his stead.” Whispers among the ranks said the “wound” came by way of a dagger and a disagreement over a game of chess. De Cion’s temper was legendary but had grown more explosive in recent weeks. Many wondered, including their liege, if perhaps his upcoming marriage had been part of the cause. Everyone at Braemere Castle knew de Cion loved his leman, a woman who had been devoted to him for the eleven years since his wife had died in childbirth.

However, the woman had been a commoner and could do nothing to bolster his aspirations or career. She had not taken the news of his upcoming wedding lightly. Renaud de Wulf, their liege and Adelstan’s brother-in-law, had suggested Malgor send the woman away, back to her family near London, so that he could start fresh with his new bride and new fief. Castle Almeron was nowhere near as impressive as Braemere, but still brought with it a title and riches, and the opportunity to start a new life with a young bride.

“Ah, a hunting wound,” MacKay said, giving away nothing of his thoughts as they continued into the large bailey, where a crowd watched from a distance. “He must trust ye immensely to send ye in his place.”

Adelstan nodded. “Actually, it was my liege, Lord de Wulf, who sent me in de Cion’s stead. I assure you, Laird MacKay, your daughter is in capable hands. I will let no harm come to her.”

The chieftain stopped and turned to Adelstan, his eyes searching his so intently as to be uncomfortable. A moment later his lips curved slightly. “Ye are a man of your word, Sir Adelstan. My Rhiannon can be a handful, and at times is a bit outspoken and strong-willed for her own good. I hope ye have patience, because ye may need it.”

Adelstan was instantly reminded of his sister, Aleysia, who shared similar traits. “Aye, I am a patient man.” He noted Lady Rhiannon was not present and wondered at the reason. Did this strong-willed young woman have reservations against marrying de Cion? Mayhap she had heard of the newly titled baron’s age and resisted the idea of marrying a much older man.

The Scot stroked his beard. “I think ye and my daughter shall get on very well, Sir Adelstan.”

“I am sure we will,” Adelstan assured him.

“There should be ample room for your men in the armory.” MacKay pointed toward a large wooden building across the bailey. “A guest chamber has been made up in the tower, and ye are welcome to make use of it.”

“While I appreciate the offer of a private bedchamber, I assure you it is not necessary. I am content to sleep wherever my men are stationed.”

“Ye are here in Lord Malgor’s stead, and therefore ye will be treated as he would be treated.” His tone let Adelstan know he would accept no refusal.

Adelstan nodded in acquiescence. “Very well. Thank you, Laird MacKay.”

“Good, now that is settled, let us get on with the feasting. I am certain ye are all hungry from your long journey. Let us dine and enjoy the entertainment we have in store for this evening.”

After he’d lived on dried meat, fruit, and cheese for the past week, Adelstan’s stomach rumbled at the thought of filling his belly.

They approached the great hall, where armed guards stood at attention. With intense fanfare they opened the double doors, and a room full of men, women, and children, all dressed in their best, came to their feet.

Applause broke out over the assemblage, growing with intensity as they made their way to the high dais.

How disappointed they would be when they learned he was not Lord Malgor.

“Impressive,” Jorden, his next in command, said under his breath, bending his head back to look at the high timbered ceilings overhead.

Adelstan followed his officer’s gaze. “Indeed, the craftsmanship is exceptional.”

“Perhaps one day we shall both have fiefs as fine as this one.”

Laird MacKay, obviously pleased by Jorden’s compliment, genuinely smiled for the first time since Adelstan and his men had arrived. Jorden was a master at charming anyone, both men and women. His silver tongue had gotten them out of more than one scrape. Adelstan’s foot soldiers broke away, led by Jorden, who sat at one of the lower tables near the high dais.

When the day came that Adelstan was awarded his own fief, Jorden would be his trusted sergeant-at-arms, and he would take his place at the high table, too.

On the dais, Laird MacKay took a seat in a large chair, and directed Adelstan to take the seat to his right. A woman with long auburn hair approached the table, staring at Adelstan with obvious interest.

Adelstan tried to hide his surprise. Surely this could not be Rhiannon? The woman had to be at least Adelstan’s age, and he was just shy of his thirtieth year.

“Sergeant, please meet my wife, Lady MacKay.”

Adelstan nodded. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady MacKay.”

She sat and lifted a jewel-encrusted goblet to her lips, watching Adelstan all the while. Either the woman hid her age well, or she was not Rhiannon’s birth mother.

Laird MacKay lifted a brow, and placed a hand on his wife’s thigh.

Lady MacKay set the goblet down, leaned toward her husband, and whispered something in his ear, her large breasts pressing against his beefy arm.

Adelstan turned his attention away from the couple to the doorway, wondering where Lady Rhiannon was, and if she was going to make an appearance tonight. A sense of foreboding filled the air, making him unsettled.