Page 12 of Tempted
“Christ’s blood, I’ll skelp the skin off his arse when I get back from Kirkcudbright.”
David, elated with the successful destruction of the hayfields, moved on to the low cowsheds and haystacks against the very walls of the castle. The flames danced high, almost mesmerizing him, when suddenly the torch was dragged from his hand, brushing across his sleeve to set it afire. At the same time he was knocked from his saddle by something that felt like a thunderbolt.
The thunderbolt was a naked Gavin Douglas, who had been plucked from his bed and the soft arms of Jenna, his new wench. Davie Kennedy was lucky Gavin had no weapon to hand, or he would have been a corpse by now.
Gavin grabbed the raider by the scruff of the neck, rolled him in the dirt to extinguish his smoldering sleeve, and dragged him to his feet. His dark eyes widened as he saw the extreme youth of his culprit. He cursed that he’d only caught the runt of the litter, but as he peered about in frustrated fury, he saw none but his brother Cameron and other Douglas men whose first priority was to put out the fire before it destroyed the entire village of Douglas.
Gavin dragged his captive by the hair into the hall, which had suddenly come to life with men-at-arms and servants. As Colin Douglas limped into the hall, Gavin said, “I only caught one o’ the bastards. The bloody Hamiltons are using bairns now tae raid us.”
Colin saw the pallor of the fair-haired lad and said quietly, “I’ll get ma bandages and dress that burn.”
“Dress his burn?” Gavin shouted in disbelief. “I’ll truss him on a spit in yon fireplace and roast his other bloody arm!”
Colin said, “When yer temper cools, ye’ll realize Ram can likely ransom the bairn.”
Davie decided he’d been called bairn once too often. Gathering a full gob of spit in his mouth, he shot it in Colin’s face. Gavin backhanded him, bursting open his lip and felling him to the floor.
Gavin ran his hand through his tangle of black hair. “Christ’s blood, Ram will ha’ ma nuts fer this. Who was on guard?” he demanded, glaring at the men-at-arms. “Why wasna the alarm given at the first glimmer o’ fire?”
“We thought it a Beltane fire,” the mosstrooper said stupidly.
“Lazy lounging bastards—all ye are fit fer is drinkin’, fightin’, and fuckin’.” Then as he rubbed the back of his neck, he glanced down at his own naked body and recalled what he’d been doing while Douglas crops burned. “Get him out o’ ma sight. Lock him up downstairs.” He glowered at the Douglas men. “Ye’ve two minutes tae get mounted. We’ll catch them or see where the trail leads. When Ram gets back, one o’ ye will swing for this.” He rubbed his neck again, fervently hoping it wouldn’t be him.
Chapter 4
Tina Kennedy was very excited about venturing out on Beltane. The chance meeting with Patrick Hamilton had heightened the excitement for her. Let the arrogant young lord wonder what she was up to!
She and Heath joined in the merrymaking wholeheartedly, leaping through the flames while the fire was small enough, then joining in the frenzied dancing when the bonfire was piled with brush and young trees and finally thick logs from oaks that had been felled and dragged from the forest to feed the Beltane fires.
It was the ancient rite of spring that all cultures had celebrated in one form or another since pagan times, and Tina wouldn’t have missed the exhilaration of this night for anything. By midnight, however, men and women, young and old, were either falling-down drunk or sexually aroused to the point where they tore off their clothes and copulated with any willing stranger.
Tina was visibly shocked, and Heath was quick to drag her away from the abandoned writhings. “It’s time I got you back to Doon,” he said firmly. As he lifted her into her saddle, she looked down into his warm brown eyes. “Is it always like this?” she asked in a distressed voice.
“Aye. Animals! They fool you by walking upright, don’t they?”
She was subdued on the ride home, and Heath was thankful. He never forbade her nor read her a sermon about the things she wished to do. Rather, he let her experience everything and trusted to her own good sense whether she repeated the folly.
He stayed with her until she crossed the drawbridge of Doon, then turned his Thoroughbred and galloped south.
Tina stabled her mare in a rear stall, then quietly rubbed her down and covered her with a plaid. Suddenly the bailey was filled with horses, men, and herded animals. The cattle lowed, and about fifty sheep ran baaing into the stables, setting the dogs barking and the hens flapping.
Duncan’s voice came terse and harsh to his men. “Get these bloody sheep tae the far meadow an’ the cattle tae pasture by the river.”
Tina walked from the rear stall just as Duncan lit the lantern. Her eyes were like saucers. “God’s blood, you’ve been on a raid!”
“Fold yer tongue behind yer teeth. What the hell are ye doin’ out here at this ungodly hour? Get tae bed, and keep yer mouth shut!”
Hands on hips, she was about to defy him when he raised his fist to her, and she saw he was in no mood to argue with a woman. Shrugging one pretty shoulder, she lifted her skirt and picked her way through the bleating menagerie.
Tina’s blood was high, preventing sleep, so she arose at dawn and made her way to the kitchens, unwilling to wait until breakfast was served in the hall. Mr. Burque’s face was tinged with green as he supervised the food preparation for scores of mouths while trying to keep his gorge from rising.
“Too much Beltane,” Tina whispered knowingly.
“Too much whisky! It rots the gut as well as the brain No wonder the Scots are thick-tongued!”
Duncan kicked open the kitchen door. “Christ, mon, when do we eat? Where the hell’s the pot-boy wi’ the ale?” he demanded before slamming the door.
Mr. Burque rolled his eyes. “Something’s wrong— gravely wrong Duncan is the best natured of all the Kennedys.”
