Page 59 of A Knight To Call My Own
“Shut your mouth, you worthless cur,” Lachlan yelled irrationally. “The estate should have all been mine in the first place, since I was the eldest son! But no…my sire has to go and have a legitimate heir, and I then watched all his attention turn from me. I spent years bowing and scraping at Calum’s whim, and he never let me forget I was a bastard. I became an outcast from my own family and was only useful as a solider…nothing more. Just another faceless man, who if he were to die in battle, would be easily replaced with another.”
“’Tis hardly our fault for your circumstances that have shaped your life,” Ian said. “Surely, there are other women you could wed that will bring you the monies you need to replenish your clan’s needs.”
“Bah! Why should I bother looking for a woman, when this one will suit just as well as the next wench I come across. Besides, I have been to Berwyck, and the Devil’s Dragon will have more than enough coinage to spare with the return of a member of his family. Then, and only then, will I have my revenge.”
“Revenge? What revenge? What the bloody hell does any of this have to do with us?” Ian inquired with furrowed brow.
Lachlan stood, shaking off his cloak and drawing his sword. Ian pulled his forward as a precaution. He would take no chance with someone who appeared bent on killing him and his guards. “’Tis an oath I swore to my dying mother that I would one day avenge her when my sire cast us both aside for his wife and legitimate son. ’Twas only after her death that my father took me in, and his lady wife made my life miserable, never letting me forget where I really came from. The bitch called my mother a whore. My revenge will come when I am able to spit on their graves and claim leadership of the clan,” Lachlan’s smile was confident. “You stand in my way. Therefore, you must die, along with your men.”
Whatever bit of control Lachlan had been holding on to snapped as easily as a brittle dried twig. He lunged forward. Everything happened at once. Ian brought up his sword to defend himself, even whilst Angus and Connor flew to Lynet and began sawing through the ropes to free her. Ian heard her coughing and sputtering as the rag was taken from her mouth.
Ian saw his men usher Lynet a short distance away, even as she protested that she was more than safe. Lachlan dove at Ian, once more. With Lachlan’s arms wrapped firmly about Ian’s waist, the man’s anger drove his momentum, and afore Ian knew what was happening, they were falling into the lake.
Lachlan had no issue with attempting to hold Ian’s head beneath the water as the man’s fingers tightened around his neck. With no thought of wanting to die by drowning, Ian reacted out of sheer necessity to get air into his lungs. Jerking up his knee, Ian hit his mark as he made contact with Lachlan’s groin. A dirty ploy, but it did the trick, and Ian came up sputtering for air.
The wind was only momentarily knocked out of Lachlan, for he had years of anger that had built up in him blinding him to anything but, apparently, avenging his mother. He grabbed at a knife hidden in his belt and, with an evil leer, once more advanced towards his adversary in a rush. He was so focused on reaching Ian’s side, he did not see Ian reach for his sword beneath the water ’til ’twas too late.
Lachlan’s eyes widened in surprise as he all but met his own demise whilst he was skewered upon Ian’s blade. A moment of pity filled Ian’s face, causing Lachlan to scowl with hatred. “May your soul go to the Devil,” Lachlan gurgled in his last breath afore his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell dead into the water.
As Ian rose, he had no time to think on the dead man floating at his feet, for his arms were quickly filled with the sobbing form of his loving wife.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Great Hall was for the most part deserted, with the exception a few serf’s milling about finishing their chores. Lynet sat near the fire as Ian rubbed a small amount of a healing concoction she had hastily made on her neck wound. She had fussed that she was more than capable to see to such a tiny wound herself. Yet, Ian would hear nothing of her protest, especially not knowing if Lachlan had used a dirty blade. He had told her on numerous occasions to sit still so he could see to the injury so the wound would not fester. He had already spent a considerable amount of time massaging ointment into her battered feet.
“Do you suppose I shall live,” she teased him, with a soft smile.
He dipped his hands to clean them in a bowl of water afore drying them and handing everything to a serf, who then scurried away. He came to sit down next to her on a stool, but said not a word, and only continued to stare at her, as though she were some figment of his imagination.
Still, he did not answer her question, and she finally reached out to cup his face. He quickly took her hand, and she watched in fascination when his head dipped down to lovingly place a lingering kiss into her palm. She quivered inside at such a romantic gesture and wondered how she would ever live with the man if he knew what he could do to her with just the simplest of kisses.
Ian finally raised his face towards her and leaned forward ’til their foreheads touched. “I swear by all that is holy, no harm shall ever come to you again, my lady, even if I have to guard you behind our closed chamber door for the rest of our lives,” he vowed solemnly afore capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
Their lips broke apart, and she gave a girlish giggle. “’Tis an interesting proposition you propose, my laird. Mayhap, we should start now,” Lynet suggested as she traced his check with the tip of her finger.
“Not as yet, wife,” he declared, motioning to Lorna who waited near the entrance to the kitchen. “I will see you fed, if I must needs feed you myself. Surely, your stomach could use some nourishment, by now.”
“I am not hungry for food,” she pouted ’til her stomach betrayed her by letting out a very unladylike grumble that surely would be heard throughout all of Christendom. Ian tossed her an I-told-you-you-were hungry-and-so-you-shall-eat kind of a look. ’Twas hard to put up much of a protest once Lorna started laying out such a marvelous array of food to choose from. Surely, there was enough afore them to feed the entire clan. “Mayhap, I could eat just a little.”
Ian’s brow rose as he began filling a trencher of the choicest of meats. He did not stop there, but began to pile on all manner of breads and cheeses ’til Lynet was full just from looking at so much food. “You will eat ’til I am satisfied that you have a full belly. I will have no wife of mine going hungry. Then and only then, will we go to our chamber,” Ian began, but wagged a finger at her as if he knew her thoughts, “to rest,” he finished.
“That does not sound at all like what I had in mind,” Lynet declared in a huff. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she began running her toes up the leg of her husband underneath the table.
Ian chuckled and easily caught her foot and began holding it down firmly in his lap. “Behave, you saucy wench, and eat. We can play later, as long as I feel you are up to such an endeavor.”
“Oh, I shall be up to the task, Ian, the question is…will you be able to keep up with me?” Lynet looked up at him shyly, considering she just gave him such a bold, seductive invitation.
“I guess we shall see,” Ian declared with a hearty laugh. “Now eat afore I forget myself and take advantage of you right here in your hall.
Satisfied her husband would be making love to her sometime soon, Lynet gave in to breaking her fast, for it had been, in truth, a long while since she had last partaken of food. Since they were almost finished with their meal, she was about to ask Ian if he was ready to go upstairs when the door of the keep opened and hit the wall with a mighty slam. She almost jumped out of her very skin ’til her eyes widened in delighted surprise at who was walking through the portal.
“Sir Fletcher!” she cried out. Limping unsteadily across the hall, she threw herself into his arms.
“’Tis a most unusual welcome, my lady, but I am glad to see your knight was able to find you, after all,” Fletcher remarked with a roguish grin. “Any problems, Ian?”
“None that I could not handle,” Ian replied, coming to greet the new arrival and pulling Lynet closer to his side. “I am surprised to see you this far north from Berwyck. As captain of Dristan’s guard, I would expect you to be near its borders, not in the wilds of Scotland.”
“Bah! Dristan would trust no one else leading the men he sent with me in the off chance you did not come across his little sister,” Fletcher declared and opened the door again.
