“She’ll scream my name when she comes first,” dared Duff.
Malcolm accepted the challenge with a nod. “And I’ll make her scream the loudest, for the longest time.”
Chapter Eight
Duff slipped in front of Malcolm in the narrow first-floor corridor that led to the wide tower stairs. He figured it was time to cut his brother down to size. He looked over his shoulder.
“Race ye!”
He bounded up the circular stairs, keeping his toes on the widest part of the wedge. Six steps and his twin was out of sight. A deep roar echoed off the stone walls. Duff sped up, laughing. He was still ahead when they got to the second floor but Malcolm grabbed his plaid halfway to the third. Figuring they were alone Duff undid his belt. He broke free in just his shirt and boots, laughing even louder. Malcolm caught up with him in the anteroom on their third level. He covered Duff’s head with the plaid, dumped him sideways, and dropped him like a log. He then used the toe of his boot on his arse and thighs.
“Drop yer new plaid, will ye,” roared Malcolm, still kicking, though not too hard. “Did ye nay think of the poor women who spun the thread, dyed it, and then weaved it for ye! Ye ought to be whipped and tossed down the hatch of that pit!”
Duff rolled, managing to free his face and one arm. He grabbed Malcolm’s ankle and yanked. His brother fell, landing on top of him. They both yelped.
“Hush, ye fools! Ye’ll wake Lady Kiera!”
Duff froze at the feminine voice. He gasped as Malcolm got in one last elbow while climbing off.
“Pardon, Bessie,” said Malcolm. “My brother can be a fool.”
Duff got to his knees. Bessie, fists on plump hips, rolled her eyes and shook her head at the two of them.
“’Tis glad I am to see ye can laugh, Laird Kinrowan, but yer lady is sleeping.” She glowered at Duff. “Or she was.”
He rolled to his feet, holding the plaid in front of him. It was no use putting it on when he expected to join their wife in their bed.
“I add my pardon, Bessie,” he said as humbly as possible after being caught behaving like a lad needing a whipping.
“Aye, well, then, no harm done.” She clutched her hands in front of her. “I hope ye are gentlemen.”
“Aye,” replied Malcolm, motioning for her to continue.
“’Tis just that I’ve not seen my lady so…”
“Tired? Sore? Fashed?”
“That, and more.” She shuffled her feet. “I ken ye have the right as her husbands to do as ye wish, but what my lady needs is to be held. It’s all a bit much for her, aye?” She bobbed again. “’Tisn’t my place, but—”
“But Kinrowan is far bigger than Castle Leod, and ’twill take us all a wee bit to settle,” said Malcolm. “How long have ye been with my lady wife?”
“I were but a tweeny when I came with her mother, Lady Elizabeth Stewart.”
“We care for Kiera but know little of women. Speak up if it would help my lady. But dinna lie, stretch the truth, or speak of only part of it.”
She looked at Malcolm and then transferred her shrewd eyes to Duff.
“Laird Kinrowan, may I show my face?” asked Duff.
Malcolm cocked his head in question. Realizing what Duff meant, he nodded. Duff reached behind his head, undid the strap, and removed his mask. Bessie gasped. She looked from one to the other. Neither of them spoke.
“Aye,” she said, “ye are right to hide and speak of scars. If aught happens ye must be laird for yer twin.”
“Ye ken it.” Malcolm nodded with respect.
“None will hear of it from me. Thank ye, laird, for yer trust.”
“And thank ye for caring for our lady.”
“She is my life. ’Tis why I rode that wagon for more days than I wish to count.” She rubbed her bottom as if it was still sore. “I didna do it for ye, laird or no!”
Duff was pleased to see Malcolm share a laugh with her. He joined in with a chuckle.
“Kiera as well, though?” asked Malcolm. “The journey wasna too much for her?”
“’Twas hard, I’m sure, and ’tis partly the babe what makes her tired. But the worst is she fears Kinrowan people learning of how she was at Castle Leod.”
“It may happen,” replied Malcolm. “But if she shows the woman Duff met at her sheiling they will care for her and believe in the woman she will be here. I canna blame her for being bitter. She was alone. ’Twas a surprise to learn what that meant when Laird MacKenzie sent Duff from me. I canna think on being alone all yer life.”
“’Tis no more. She has the both of ye now,” said Bessie.