A Perfect Wife [Highland Menage 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

“So did I.”

Of course her baby tears fought to escape. She dropped her eyes to hide them as well as her quivering chin. She was not used to these womanly upsets. It was Duff’s babe inside her that caused tears to form so often. At least her stomach no longer revolted each morning. Even better, she still had a need for what a pair of MacDougal brothers brought to their marriage bed, as in screaming orgasms. Just seeing them, frowns and all, made her breasts fill and her pussy throb. But it was midday and the returning men filled the hall with boasts and roars of laughter. Malcolm and Duff would join them, of course. Perhaps she’d see them at the evening meal.

Kiera’s shoulders slumped. She looked a mess, but it no longer mattered. They would judge her as they chose. She might as well ride out and clear her head. She would not show weakness by crying or complaining in front of anyone but Chester. As her dog had also deserted her, her mare would have to do.

“If you’ll excuse me, I shall let you return to your manly duties.” She made to descend past them.

“Where do ye think ye’re going?” demanded Malcolm.

Two pairs of blue eyes frowned at her from under dark brows. Malcolm had gained a commanding tone. He held himself differently as well. Was it something he’d picked up now he was a laird by virtue of her extensive dowry?

“I am going to ride,” she said.

“We’ve just spent days in the saddle,” said Duff. “We have no wish to get on the back of a horse.”

“Of course not. I’m sure you wish to drink ale with the rest of the men. I shall leave you to it.” She waved for them to part and let her past. Duff shifted to block her.

“Nay,” said Malcolm.

Her temper rose. She hauled it back. She smiled through clenched teeth. “Excuse me?”

“Ye’ll not ride.”

She rubbed her forehead, staring at the stone floor. She was not used to explaining herself to anyone, including a husband. But she would be a perfect wife. That meant agreeable, helpful, considerate, and all manner of other things she’d done now and then over the years.

“I find myself out of sorts,” she said pleasantly. “My loom is dismantled and my spindles packed so I canna use them to soothe myself. Riding will help me be pleasant for you this eve.”

Malcolm shook his head. “Ye’ll not ride without one of us with ye. And since we’re not leaving, ye’ll remain here.”

“Husband, I am in a foul temper. Keeping me indoors will not improve my efforts to be a good wife to you.”

“A good wife would have met her new husbands on their arrival.”

His growled words stung like a slap to the face. She stared back just as intently.

“Servants of a good laird would have told her of her husbands’ approach, so she could clean up and meet them. Instead, I was sent to seek something in the far attics, so I not only failed to greet you, I am a mess!” She ducked her head, shaking out her skirts as an excuse.

She fought to breathe in the quiet. All her plans had just exploded thanks to whoever hated her enough to destroy her budding relationship with her husbands.

“Ye wish to ride?” Surprisingly, it was Malcolm who spoke, and almost kindly.

Expecting anger, his soft words hit her heart. Confused, she clenched her teeth, holding onto her temper and her tears.

“Is that not what I just said?”

Duff chuckled, breaking the tension. “Yer wife has a temper, my laird.” He scratched at his scruffy beard. “Mine was pleasant when we were together.”

“Of course I was pleasant when we met,” she replied, speaking only to Duff. “There was just the two of us. We talked, laughed, and played chess, as two good friends.
’
Tis your lordly older brother who causes me to become vexed.”

“I say we let her ride,” said Duff. He gave Malcolm a sideways glance.

“See! Duff agrees with me! My horse is—”

“’Tis not a horse ye’ll be riding.” Duff’s lip twitched. He slid half-closed eyes over her. “I’ve been thinking of little but yer body since I left ye hot and wet. Ye’d best not have used yer wee fingers to make yerself come.”

Malcolm jerked, and then stared at Duff. Perhaps they’d not spoken of Duff’s visit. Her traitorous body responded, nipples peaking and pussy flooding. Heat flared her cheeks and ears.

“We’ve been apart ten nights, sleeping on pallets,” murmured Duff. “Do ye miss my tongue on yer clit and my cock in yer pussy?”

“Aye,” she admitted.

Duff made a twirling movement with his hand. “Lead the way to our chamber, Kiera. Ye can bathe us, to start.”

Her arousal vanished. “I am sorry, husband. I was told my chamber is too far to carry hot water, that bathing must be done in the kitchen.”

She’d been startled when she’d gone to the kitchen, furious but resigned, and been refused a screen for privacy. Even her maid was denied her, having been assigned to Silean’s visiting kin. So she’d carried a single bucket of hot water up the stairs every evening to wash herself. With her father away, and Colin unaware, she could do nothing as Silean was now Lady MacKenzie and Bessie, the housekeeper who’d come to Castle Leod with Kiera’s mother, reported to her.

“Is that so?” murmured Malcolm. Another unspoken look passed between her husbands. “I was told a tub and hot water would be brought to our chamber, along with a tray of bread, cheese, and ale.”

His words proved the actions against her were just another way to get revenge. The years she’d spent as Lady Mackenzie after her mother’s death, keeping Castle Leod working well, didn’t seem to matter. She’d behaved badly after she was widowed and even worse since Silean had taken away her father’s company. What they’d done to her in the last ten days was petty and hurtful.

Duff had told her the MacDougals grew up without hot water, thick pallets, or enough food. She would not complain at losing the things they’d never had. Soon it would be over as she’d be far away. Her headache intensified. She rubbed her temples. Perhaps when she had finished bathing Malcolm and then Duff she might have a chance, though the water would be cool and dirty by then.

Malcolm took a step, forcing her to back up. He kept going so she had to tilt her head higher. She was extremely tall for a woman so few could look her in the eye. She’d forgotten how much these two towered above her. It did not frighten her. Their size made her feel small, even delicate, and far from the shrew she’d been called so often. It brought another prickle of tears. She turned her back before they could notice.

Arms caught her shoulders and knees, sweeping her up. She squawked, clutching Malcolm’s neck so he didn’t drop her.

“Hush. I’ve got ye,” he murmured.

His simple caring statement had her curling her face into his chest to hide the tears she could no longer keep back. He smelled of fresh sweat, horse, leather, and something else that was all his own. She exhaled, her breath rattling in her chest. Duff passed them to open her chamber door. He stopped in the doorway.

“Did ye pack it all?”

Catching her on the stairs had made her forget what they’d find in her chamber. Malcolm pushed past Duff. He stopped, and then turned in a circle. One corner held the parts of her dismantled loom, a stool, and her spindles.

“What is this?” he demanded.

She swallowed hard to clear her throat. “I finished weaving the cloth for Duff’s shirt so took the loom apart. I’m allowed to bring it, my spinning wheel, and spindles.”

The arms holding her tightened. “Allowed?” he asked, quiet and intense.

“What of the rest?” asked Duff at the same time. “I see naught but a wee pallet on the floor, a thin one at that, and a stool.”

“I was told all was needed elsewhere, and since I would be gone in a few days I could do without.” She wriggled, her bones still sore from trying to sleep on the hard floor. They’d been gone far longer than a few days, but her father would have been the one to set the pace.

“They couldn’t wait for ye to leave?” Duff’s voice had risen an octave. His eyebrows disappeared into the black hair that flopped over his forehead.

Malcolm’s arms tightened. His heartbeat sped up, pounding against her ear. A sound like a low growl erupted in his chest. Noises down the corridor suggested servants were arriving. She struggled to get down, but Malcolm held her tight. Men bustled into the room, their hands loaded. The first two placed a tub in front of the cold fireplace. The others filled it with hot water. All kept their heads down, silent.

“I have nowhere to set my wife,” said Malcolm coldly. “I canna see a chair, nor a bed. Lady Kiera MacKenzie of Kinrowan, daughter of the Lord of Kintail, is carrying our babe. What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

An older woman bustled in as Malcolm finished speaking. Bessie had been her mother’s right hand and had continued in her role with Kiera. She’d not seen the woman since returning from the sheiling. Her face was red as she bobbed.

“I’se Bessie, Laird Malcolm. Tis sorry I am, but I was given orders, and not to tell Lady Kiera why.”

“By who?” demanded Duff.

“Lady
Euphemia Chisholm.”
Bessie’s face showed her disgust. “She’s an older kinswoman of Lady Silean. She arrived for yer wedding. After Laird MacKenzie rode out she took Lady Silean’s keys, sent her to bed, and looked in every room and cupboard in the castle.” She looked at Kiera. “She waited for ye to go to the garden. She liked yer bed and things and ordered them moved to her chamber.”

“Who is she to do this?” demanded Duff.

“
’
Tis said she’s here to advise Silean on how to be a proper lady. Silean kens naught of this as her belly has kept her to her chambers, guarded by the dragon.”

It all made sense. The old woman no doubt saw a young wife and an old laird and, thinking him besotted, decided to gain power. As Kiera had acted as Lady for her father she was a threat. Her shame at her past behavior to her kin, and uncertainty as to why she’d been shunned, had kept her in her chambers, allowing the woman to gain power.

She was the reason Kiera was not there to welcome her husbands home! Sudden fury hit.

“Put me down!” She struggled until Malcolm set her feet on the floor. He kept one arm around her waist as she faced him.

“I spent the first three days you were gone finishing my weaving,” she told him. “The next day was sunny, so I went out to the garden. When I came in my bed, chairs, and table were gone. No one would say why. I thought they were being packed until other things happened as well. I thought
’
twas MacKenzies gaining revenge. I’ve said some things over the years for which I am ashamed.”

“Nay, my lady! We kenned why ye were fashed after Bertie’s kin tossed ye away, and why the laird’s new wife vexed ye. Ye did well after Lady Elizabeth passed, and Lady Silean hasna taken the same care.” Bessie hesitated. “Aye, there was a few what wished to give a bit back at ye, but naught like this!”

Kiera was glad for Malcolm’s strong arm holding her to his warm chest. She’d blamed her weakness on the babe she carried, but her frustration, lack of sleep, and worry about what her father was likely telling her husbands had taken its toll as well.

“Do I speak to Laird MacKenzie?” murmured Malcolm in her ear. “We had no women at Duncladach and shared what little we had. Jealousy is not something I ken well.”

“When are we leaving?” she asked, pleased he’d looked to her for an answer. “I willna make Bessie take apart the bed and bring it here for a night or two.”

“Ah, but they need to take it apart anyway,” said Duff. He winked. “It is going to Kinrowan for us to share.”

Bessie blanched, then bobbed a curtsy. “My pardon, laird, I was told—”

“
’
Tis not yer fault, Bessie,” said Malcolm. “Silean’s harpy will soon discover she doesna rule Castle Leod.” He tightened his hold on Kiera. “I am sure Laird MacKenzie will tell her so.”

“He’s hankering for a battle as we saw no Rosses to fight,” added Duff with a chuckle.

Bessie bobbed again. This time she was smiling. “I will gladly take yer orders, Laird Malcolm and Master Duff.”

“Good. Laird MacKenzie said my wife is to take whatever she wishes.” Malcolm tilted his face to Kiera. “Yer father said ye’d like some of yer mother’s things. He’s also gifting ye with a chess set. There was none at Kinrowan, and he kens how ye enjoy losing.”

“Losing? I beat Duff—”

Malcolm’s quirked eyebrow stopped her response. She cleared her throat and looked away. She trembled in relief that her kin had not thought so badly of her as to attack once they knew she was leaving.

“I want a thick pallet, big enough for the three of us, brought immediately,” ordered Malcolm. “Three chairs and a table, food, and a fire lit. We will need more hot water and a screen to keep in the heat from the fire. Tomorrow is soon enough for Kiera’s bed to be prepared for moving. Unless ye wish to take it from this Chisholm dragon now.”

“
’
Twill be taken down during supper, Laird Malcolm. And glad I am of it!” Bessie scurried out, beaming.

Malcolm kissed the top of Kiera’s head. He’d done it without thinking, as if she was now a part of his life. That, more than anything, warmed her heart.