Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) by K.E. Saxon Page A

“Does
that please you, m’lady?”
    Morgana looked back at the servant and
nodded, giving her a warm smile as well. ‘Twould be a comfort to
have another woman with whom she was familiar to travel with, to
aid her as she got settled in as mistress of the keep. Mistress
of the keep! Oh, dear Lord. How was she e’er to dispense such
duties when she had no voice with which to command? Morgana bit
down so hard on her lip, she tasted blood.
    The maid’s gaze dropped to Morgana’s abused
mouth and she cleared her throat. “When I was young and before my
husband’s death, before I lost all to that greedy Norman King
Richard’s proxy, Guillaume le Maréchal, I was mistress of my own
holding in Cambria. If...if it please you, m’lady, I could dispense
your bidding to your staff each day?”
    Morgana felt a wave of relief crash o’er
her. She gratefully nodded her head. Something about the older
woman’s voice brought a long-forgot warmth, a sense of safety and
comfort to her, calmed her.
    Modron smiled. “Well then, ‘tis
settled.”
    Morgana had only just completed dressing a
few minutes later when the door to the chamber was flung wide and
her husband strode in. “Good. You’re ready.” He stepped aside and
allowed several male servants to enter who quickly heaved the
chests filled with clothing and other personal belongings onto
their shoulders and walked back out.
    “Your things have already been loaded on the
cart,” Robert said to Modron. “My lady and I will meet you down in
the courtyard in a short time.” With that, he swung the door open a
bit wider and watched as Modron dipped a courtesy and scurried out
of the chamber.
    * * *
    The alewife’s cot in the stews of Perth was
already teaming with men and women that morn. In a shadowed corner,
through the haze of hearthfire smoke, two men sat across from each
other at the end of a trestle table, both disguised in the rougher
apparel of the lower classes.
    “Did you get a good spy of her?” the man
said.
    The other man shrugged, nodded. “Aye. Good
enough.”
    “We’re to follow her to her new husband’s
holding; somehow, get behind the gates. ‘Twill take a bit of time
to arrange it so that there is no suspicion of our purpose.”
    “Aye,” the other man said with a nod.
    “And then we will devise another test, to
see if her memory of us, of what we did, is truly lost.”
    The other man scrubbed his fingers across
his well-trimmed red beard as he thought o’er the man’s words. He
nodded at last, saying, “Aye, ‘tis a good plan.”
    The man did a quick scan of the smoky,
raucous chamber, dipped a glance to his half-empty cup, took a long
pull, almost in afterthought, then leaned across the table closer
to his partner and said just above a whisper, “She has a dread of
the song, this I know for sure, but no recollection of why ‘tis
so... and no recollection of me, either, ‘tis clear, and no
doubt because the disease I took from the whore two years past has
left me with little meat on my bones and pocks on my face. But the
earl is right to worry that a scheme is in place to rout us as the
culprits of the ambush, so we will watch and wait, and scheme
ourselves, and above all else: Not get caught!”
    * * *
    Robert shut the door and walked over to
stand in front of Morgana. Before he’d completed his last step, he
hauled her into his arms and kissed her. He tried to keep his
embrace light, but when she slid up his body, pressing those lush
breasts of hers against him as she went and opened her lips to him,
he tightened his hold. He drilled his tongue into the soft,
succulent orifice she’d proffered so sweetly and mimicked, in crude
detail, exactly how fast, how deep, and how hard he wanted to
plunge into her other delectable cavern. With first his tongue and
then his cock.
    He was still a bit stunned by how quickly
and easily she was able to give him a second release each time they
swived. And this past night’s had surprised him, for