The Highlander's Time (7 page)

Chapter Five

When you are in the jungle, play by its rules
.

“Why are you making that racket?” The door to Lila's room slammed against the wall. She wasn't a stumbling drunk when she appeared. Hell no, she was in all her glory and out for someone's hide. “What the fuck do you think you're doing? Jenny, put that brat down and come here. I want a drink.”

Jenny tilted her eyes to the balcony and cringed at the sight of her boss walking around buck naked. Lila had the audacity to shake her boobs at the refugees before she spun around to wiggle her liposuction-perfected ass. Mortified, Jenny rejected the instinctive urge to shade the children's eyes. “Don't pay her any attention, Mary. She hasn't been herself lately.” The baby cradled in her arms cooed before suckling on her fist.

Lila wasn't stupid by half, and for two days, she'd gone out of her way to show she wasn't about to cry surrender when it came to her drinking. Once she figured out nobody understood her ranting, she'd shifted to another attention getting mechanism—a visual one. She'd thrown a pitcher of water in Malcolm's face. The guard showed no outward reaction. Jenny wasn't as cool with it. Her angry response was nothing short of shrewish.

The war of wills escalated in direct proportion to the outrageousness of Lila's next stunt.

It wasn't past time for the antics to stop. It was necessary. Ignoring Lila hadn't helped, if anything, it made her more determined to make a fool of herself.

The Clan had started to whisper that Lila was touched by the Devil. Father Thomas was doing his best to squelch the flow of gossip, but Jenny had the sinking suspicion they weren't going to take much more. Fueling the Clan's concerns were the refugees’ reports from the Keep.

Part of her couldn't blame them for talking about Lila. It wasn't anything less than she deserved. The problem was Lila couldn't comprehend the danger she coveted. In her private world, she believed she was untouchable, the diva who did what she wanted when she wanted. Lila didn't realize most of her perception was brought on by Jenny and Charlzie sheltering and protecting her.

Jenny watched Patricia Kincaid bow her head in shame, then mumble something to the woman beside her. Racking her brain for the woman's name, Jenny shook her head when it wouldn't come to her. Her heart thudded as they both signed the cross. Heaving a disparaged sigh, Jenny didn't want to have to order them to stop gossiping, thinking that putting a proverbial gag order on rumor mongering would make them appear guilty, but it had to stop before a crowd of fear-inspired clansmen broke down the Great Doors with the intent of burning Lila at the stake.

Uncertain how to proceed, Jenny wished Iaen would hurry home or at least stop in to see how she was doing. It was totally selfish of her, but she could really use a hug and a bit of advice. He couldn't come home. His duty to one of his father's oldest friends had taken him to the northern corner of Kincaid land. She hadn't gotten the specifics except his unplanned trip was necessary.
Step up to the plate. Be strong and figure this out. It can't be that hard or complicated. These are smart people who are just as stuck with Lila as you are. They're scared, and so are you.

“Milady, 'tis time for Mary's nap.”

Jenny slid the baby into Patricia's waiting arms. “Sleep well, sweet bairn.” The simple phrases she was picking up had helped to gain her favor with the refugees. And the numerous times she'd made a flub they were quick to help her correct her mistake.

“Milady, you seemed a hundred leagues away this afternoon. Is aught the matter?” Patricia asked as she laid Mary on her shoulder.

Nibbling on her lip, Jenny noticed how her hands shook. She opened her mouth to ask Patricia to leave her alone with her funk when Lila made her next move to get a drink. The bang of something hitting against the door echoed over and over because of the crazy acoustics in the Great Hall.

“I fear she is spoiled beyond redemption, milady.” Patricia settled her hand over Mary's ear to muffle the shrieks of rage coming from Lila's room. “She needs a spanking.”

Jenny took in Patricia's well-behaved children.
How many times had she thought the same thing when her boss got out of control? Too many.
“Spare the rod and spoil the child.” She held her hands out to Patricia, palms up. “I don't know what to do.”

“You arenae her mother, milady. You're her lady. Until you set her down and put the rules before her, she will act out.”

Easier said than done
. “What do I do when she doesn't listen?”
Which is a guarantee considering her last few days
.

“You punish her.” Patricia called Father Thomas to join them. In quick words and between crashes of things being toppled in Lila's room, she talked to the priest.

“What?” Jenny asked when Patricia finally turned to her, bobbed a curtsy and walked away. She snapped her gaze to Father Thomas. “Tell me.”

“Patricia is one of the strongest mamas I've ever met, milady. Many of her children are, 'struth, orphans who had nay family to go to. She's taken them in and in many instances taken them on. Rules are a part of helping them cope with the loss of their parents. She always has rules, even for Laird Iaen when he comes to her cottage. I say this so you know she wants to bring peace back to the Keep.”

“All right, I'm following you so far.”

“Patricia suggests you take everything away from Lila. Her bed. Her clothes save a simple, homespun frock. All her creature comforts but a blanket, pillow, and a mat on the floor. She'll eat gruel or bread and cheese only.”

“Excuse me?” Lila might not have been suicidal before, but take away everything? She'd pitch herself off the balcony.
Dear God, help me
.

“Every time Lila behaves, she gets something back. A reward, shall we say, which will show her the error of her ways. At first you start with the basic necessities such as her bed. In time, she may gain the privilege of joining the table and even going for walks through the village. 'Twill be a long process, milady.”

“Talk about tough love,” Jenny muttered under her breath. “It makes so much sense it's ridiculous, but I don't know how Lila is going to deal with this.”

Father Thomas sat beside her on the bench. He patted her hand in what she suspected was his way of cushioning of the truth. “Milady, it has to be done. Milord cannae have his household in chaos. The Clan will view him a weak leader if he cannae control one woman.”

Weakness, what the Highlanders determined was a huge character flaw, especially in their leaders. “I see.”

“The Clan is giving you the benefit of the doubt for you are newly married and a stranger to our ways, but they willnae give him the same benefit.” A pause stretched between them. “He is Laird.”

Hoisting herself off the bench, Jenny wiped her hands down her gown. A chill raced up her arms. She sent a quick prayer to heaven for courage and another for the plan's success. “Fine.” She squared her shoulders. “I'll need help moving her furniture.”

“Would you prefer I spoke to her, milady?”

“No, I have to do it.”

***

Iaen stretched out the aching muscles in his neck. Due to the continued foul weather, he was late—very late in returning to Castle Kincaid. Still, he'd seen Graham's body home to the border. There he met with the Laird of Clan Wulfson. The Norse clan who'd settled Scotland's western coast, were affable at times but warring most others.

He'd been welcomed with a frown, which he expected, and a clasping of arms. The new Laird, his cousin, kept a wary eye on him, but agreed to see Graham on the final leg of his long journey to hallowed ground. Out of respect and shared blood, Iaen accepted the invitation to spend the night in the closest village.

The trip home turned hazardous as the snows blew in on a stiff breeze off the coast. Squalls slowed the journey to a crawl. Finally, a senight and three days since he'd left, he relinquished the reins to his stable master. Worn to the bone from the long trip, he hungered for the warmth of a fire in his hearth and a cup of mulled wine. “How goes it, Kevin?”

“Well, milord. Per you orders, the dike has been shored up as best it can. We've found cottages for all but Patricia's family and a few stragglers. Milady has made them welcome in your stead.”

“Milady is well?”

“Aye,” Kevin answered as he escorted Iaen into the Keep. “She's missed you mightily, but she's taken to her duties with zeal. The Clan is pleased with her for she's taken on the great responsibility of taming Lila. She's also kind to a fault to our displaced clansmen.”

“And your blushing bride?”

“We suit,” Kevin informed him, his tone bland, noncommittal. “Charlzie, despite her advanced age, is more a maid than a matriarch. It hasnae been easy for her, but she's coming around. If 'twasnae for milady's example, Charlzie would have collapsed the first day.”

“You're displeased?”

“Nay, milord. I am disappointed in Charlzie's resolve.” He hesitated as he opened the Great Doors. “Not only is she like to laze about half the day if I let her, she also explained to me that she is infertile for the next season. She went on to tell me that in the future they have surgical procedures that keep women from conceiving. Can you imagine such a thing? I cannae believe she'd willingly deny her husband bairns. I think her wild story is more her way to keep me out of our bed.”

Iaen frowned at his second-in-command. Kevin's tone warned him all was not going fit or fine in his cottage. For a moment, he considered ordering Kevin and Charlzie to move into the Keep where he would watch over them, then denied the urge. If the mood between the couple grew dire, he'd do so, but he had to give them a chance to come to a compromise. “Give her time, Kevin. Charlzie is still learning her way. You cannae dismiss the lass for that which is beyond her control.”

“I'm trying, milord. 'Tis difficult when she cannae make a palatable stew or a loaf of bread. Milady has asked Elspeth to put her to work in the kitchen where she might learn to cook. I pity Elspeth, for Charlzie is hopeless.”

“You give up too soon, Kevin.”

“Begging you pardon, milord, but if you had been here to see how she acts, you'd understand she's knows nothing of being a wife. 'Tis an embarrassment to me and my family. ”

“Have you brought this up with milady?” Iaen clenched his fist at his side. Taking in the refugees asleep on pallets filling the floor, he quietly made his way to the stairs.

“Nay, milord. She's had enough responsibility leveled on her shoulders. If Charlzie has made an issue of it, she didnae discuss it with me.”

Iaen heard condemnation ring in Kevin's words. “If you fall into more disharmony come to me.”

“She's my wife. I'd not have you interfere in our affairs, milord.”

“She's a member of
my
clan.” 'Twas the last word he'd speak on the subject tonight. Anxious to see Jenny, Iaen forced himself to measure his steps. “Go home and take some time with your bride. With reassurance, she'll grow into her position.”

“As you wish, milord.”

Iaen turned his attention to his chamber and Jenny. Desire infused his system as he finished the climb up the stairs. He regretted having to leave Jenny alone for so long, but there was nay help for it. His father’s promise to Graham was a priority over all others once he was sure the worst of the flooding had passed. He'd stopped into the Keep that night, but Jenny was already fast asleep.

Recalling the few moments he'd spent gazing at her before he'd headed north, his manhood hardened. She was the image of innocence and a temptation. Her climax was a moment of open abandon and he yearned to feel it, see it, and experience it, again. Her dutiful nature now stood above approach.

He'd made the right choice when initially confronted with taking one of the women for his wife. Jenny had met a bar set high by the clan and overcome many obstacles in a short period of time.

Pushing open the door to his chamber, a small smile lifted the corners of his lips. She sat in the chair by the fire, her eyes closed. Mary, the youngest orphan in the clan, lay against Jenny's chest, her downy-haired head tucked beneath his lady's chin. A sense of contentment swelled in his chest.

Iaen heard a door open at the far end of the balcony. “I'll take Mary to her cradle,” Patricia said once she'd joined him. “Milady has taken a fancy to her. Lady Jenny has been very kind to take on the additional responsibility of caring for Mary during the wee hours especially since Mary started teething. I swear, milord, she's paced afore the hearth so many a night that she's carried the bairn the length of the world and back.”

“Thank you, Patricia.” Iaen watched Jenny stir slightly when Patricia took Mary from her arms. “Is this an appropriate way for a lady to welcome her husband home?” he teased once Jenny woke.

He offered her his hand when she moved to rise to her diminutive height. Letting her call the tune, he held his impatience in check through sheer force of will. His chauces grew tight as she pressed her body to his, and molded her soft curves to his strong, tense one. Pleasantly surprised when she wrapped her arm around his waist, he watched her tip her face to his. He caressed a path up her back to cup her skull. She reached up at the same time he dipped his head.

Kissing her deeply, he licked the corner of her lips, begging entry. She relented on a sigh. He plundered her mouth until they were both gasping with need. Searching her face with his gaze, he saw a few signs of weariness, but she appeared to have faired his lengthy absence with little damage. “I've missed you, lass.”

“I know.” She brushed her unbound hair away from her face. “I've missed you, too.”

He laughed at her response. He took her lips in another deep kiss leaving her with nay doubt of what was going to happen in their bed tonight. Lusting for her, he longed for her sweet body wrapped around his. “Undress for me.”

Iaen sat in the chair and stretched out his legs. Propping one ankle on the other, he folded his arms across his chest. He waited for her compliance and couldnae help but grin when she winked. “What are you up to?” he asked as she undid the bow at the throat of his tunic. His eyelids closed when she kissed the throbbing pulse beating a rapid tattoo at the base of his throat.