Chapter 6 #5
His arms crushed her against him again, and finally his lips found hers as if sealing his words with a rough kiss that mirrored their knife play.
His engorged staff surged against her skirted thigh and sent a titillating thrill through her body.
His own need rivaled hers, and she slid her hand down between them to cup his turgid cock.
Now that they were done fighting, there was a more intimate type of dance they craved.
He rubbed his stubbly cheek against hers and whispered into her ear.
“Come. Now I’ll show you what a man needs after a battle.”
His voice was harsh as he rushed her back to the keep and into their chambers.
After another two days of celebrations, guests slowly departed Drumoak. In truth, Ailith was glad to see the pageantry of her wedding disappear. She breathed easier and found she could relax a bit.
William spent much of those two days either by her side or with Eoghan and Ailbert. The affection and friendship of the three of them attested to their closeness, even if Eoghan had been gone for a time.
It warmed Ailith’s heart to see William with a childhood friend, who intended to stay (along with Betris, ugh!) for a few more days.
He appeared almost boyish, a welcome respite after the harrowing weeks before her wedding, when he had to be the iron-hardened warrior, and only his time with her offered a reprieve from that hardness.
This softer William was outright adorable, with his blond waves falling across his forehead, his long limbs moving with confidence. Sometimes she stopped what she was doing to watch him, relishing his childish exuberance.
Now that Drumoak was approaching normalcy, it was time to refocus. She had to see about propagating more of the mushrooms, tracking them, and keeping an eye out for dangers. Hopefully, her dreams might give her guidance on what her next steps should be.
She decided to get back to her work with the mushrooms and on obtaining parchment and ink to keep notes.
“William? Might I ask ye a favor?” she asked that morning as they dressed in their chambers.
William curved around her back and wrapped his arms around her waist, then pressed a warm kiss against her neck.
“Any favor ye desire, I shall give.”
Don’t say that yet, she thought.
“I was thinking about the puddock stools.”
He lifted his head so his lips brushed her ear. “Of course ye were. What must we do with them now?”
That we. Och, it made her insides melt.
“More planting, as I’ve said. But I thought it might be useful if I had a way to keep track of where they are planted and when. Do ye have parchment and ink I may use to do this?”
He stiffened behind her.
Oh, feck. Is there a problem with that? How have I overstepped now?
“The only writing utensils are in Uncle Cormag’s study, and mayhap in Caitir’s salon. I dinna think ‘twould be wise to use those. If ye are none to weary and can wait a bit, we shall ride to the larger market at Stonehaven later today, and I’ll purchase your needed items.”
He will purchase. That told her everything she needed to know about the state of women's writing in the early Middle Ages.
Ailith nodded. “Thank ye. I’d love to go and ride with ye. We have no’ done so in a while.”
His lips pressed against her ear. “I would think we rode quite a bit last night, but if ye want another ride first …” He trailed off as his tongue traced her ear. She shivered.
“Save your energies for this eve. I’d rather return from Stonehaven before the rain catches us.”
He released her with a grin. “Ye promised me a ride tonight. I’ll hold ye to it, mo ruaidh.”
A smile crept across her face. His attention and affection were unwavering and undeniable.
“And I ye,” she teased back as they departed their chambers.
The ride to Stonehaven was easy. They were ahead of the rain, but dark clouds gathered on the horizon. William flicked his gaze west.
“We might have a damp day searching for your puddock-stools on the morrow.”
“I’ll wear my hood. Are ye worried the rain will melt ye?” she asked with a slight grin.
It was a movie reference he wouldn’t get, but Ailith couldn't help herself. It was a joke her father had often made about the rain, and since he’d been in her thoughts much since the wedding, the memory of Jack’s tease came to her now.
“Like a wad of dirt? Nay. I’m more hardy than that.”
“So am I,” she replied. “And I have urgency with this.”
She felt him nod behind her as they reached the edge of the village. “Aye. I can understand that.”
The village of Stonehaven was as bustling as it had been a few days prior, when she had purchased his Luckenbooth. Tying off the horse to a rail at the edge of the market, William took her hand and led her past several stalls.
“The scrivener is at the end of the stalls,” William said as they walked.
But Ailith’s attention was not on her husband. It was on the familiar, orange-haired woman at a vegetable stall. Not the herbalist this time.
William tugged Ailith’s arm to halt them as she stared at the woman, transfixed. Something about her struck Ailith, and as if she sensed Ailith staring, the woman turned around.
Her light green eyes widened a bit as she studied Ailith in return, her freckles standing out in stark relief on her pale skin – almost as pale as Betris’s.
Her strong forearms filled the fitted sleeves of her léine, and she was slender.
Pink cheeked and healthy slender, not underfed or undernourished slender as Ailith had seen of some of the people here.
And the way she held herself, full of confidence.
She was, well, peculiar.
The same thing people said about her.
The woman gave her a kind smile. “Can I help ye, lass?” she asked in a slight Irish lilt.
Typical Irish, a modern Irish. Ailith noticed that right away. Not what would pass for Gaelic Irish today.
“Do I know ye?” Ailith asked in a hushed voice.
How would she know this woman? She didn’t, of that Ailith was certain. But something about this woman was so shockingly familiar.
“Ailith, do ye need to speak with this woman?” William asked. His voice was level, but she heard the underlying worry in his question.
“I- I -” She did not know how to answer, but Ailith felt like she was compelled to speak to her.
“I’m Teagan O’Connor,” the woman said, leaving an opening for Ailith to give her name.
“I am Ailith Gordon MacDougal,” she said, glad she remembered to include her new last name. She gestured to William. “This is my husband, William MacDougal, of clan MacDougal.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Och, the wedding? Ye were just wed, aye?”
Ailith nodded. “Were ye at the wedding celebration and I did no’ see ye?”
Teagan shook her head. “Nay. I fear I keep away from things such as that. I keep to myself.”
“Do ye live nearby?” Ailith asked. She had to, or at least close enough to ride if she had been here twice in the past week.
“Close enough. ‘Tis an easy walk.”
A tightness pulled in Ailith’s chest. Teagan answered questions as she had and still did, with everyone but William. Vague, with only the merest impression of an answer.
Ailith only spoke differently with William because he knew she was a voyager through time. She had told him before they were married, and though he seemed to accept it, it was a difficult concept to grasp, traveling through time. How did he presume to be a husband to that?
Not now. Now ye have this woman before ye …
Eladon’s voice spoke in her head: I have done this many times.
Could this woman …?
Nay.
But, what if . . . ?
“I- I- saw ye in the market a few days past,” Ailith said, searching for a reason to have asked the question. “Ye were buying carline thistle and bod myrtle. Might I ask why? I have an interest in plants myself.”
Or rather, mushrooms.
“Aye. My wife has been planting puddock-stools,” William added, giving voice to her thoughts.
Her heart flipped at his calling her my wife. When would that stop? Never, she hoped.
Teagan raised a slender orange-brown eyebrow. “Carline? ‘Tis good for stomach upset, better for treating scars or cleansing wounds. Bog myrtle has …” She drifted off, flicked her gaze to William, then focused back on Ailith. “Several uses. It can help with breathing, stomach upset, or fever.”
Ailith nodded, focusing more on how the woman spoke than what she really said.
“Have ye a need for the herbalist?” William asked Ailith.
The poor man. He must be so confused by Ailith’s behavior. But then, he was probably getting used to it.
“Nay. I was just curious.” Then she had a flash of an idea. “Might I see how ye prepare it? I feel ‘twould be good for me to have this knowledge.”
William eyed her in much the same way as the stranger Teagan did. Then his cheek twitched in a movement Ailith had grown accustomed to seeing. She was trying to react appropriately and had to bite the inside of her cheek so she didn’t laugh aloud at him.
“A fine idea,” he answered, leveling his blue gaze at her.
A soft gaze. Och, she was most fortunate to have married a man who indulged that which he didn’t understand.
This all could have ended badly otherwise.
“Tomorrow we are planting.” His cheek twitched again.
“But perchance after the ides of July we might pay ye a visit so my wife might learn from ye? If ye are willing to teach?”
A dubious look crossed over Teagan’s face, and for a moment, Ailith feared the woman would say no. Then she nodded once, and her thin lips pressed into a slight smile.
“I live off the narrow path leading from Mowtie to the stone.” She glanced at William. “Ye ken the road?”
“I’m acquainted with it.”
“Two days hence. Bring your own herbs. I’ll teach ye what I can. And mayhap -” Teagan paused hard.
“Mayhap?” Ailith encouraged, her heart slamming in her chest.
“Mayhap ye can tell me about your mushrooms.”
Ailith froze for a moment, unable to gather her thoughts, then finally nodded. “I’ll bring some with me. Ye might care to plant them.”
Teagan glanced at William once more before turning her intense, seafoam gaze back to Ailith. Without another word, the stranger turned and left.
William immediately spun on her.
“What was that about, lass? Do ye truly need to know about these herbs? Or is this related to your puddock-stool interest?”
My puddock-stool interest! He means the reason I voyaged through time. She gave a huffed laugh under her breath.
“Aye, I do have an interest. It might be useful for me to see if I can use those herbs with the toadstools. ‘Tis good to learn, aye?”
He sighed heavily. “Aye. Must we stop at the herbalist, too?” He took her hand and led her through the crowd toward the scrivener’s stall.
“Only for the bog myrtle,” she said, lifting her skirts to keep up. “The herbalist does no’ have the carline and does no’ appear to care for it.”
He looked over his shoulder at her with a bemused expression. “At least I canna say life with ye is dull, mo ruaidh. Ye keep me on my toes.”
But Ailith’s mind was no longer on the herbalist or the scrivener, nor even on William’s handsome face. It was on the orange-haired Teagan.
When they spoke of the stools. Teagan had not said puddock-stools or toadstools.
Mushrooms. She had called them mushrooms. A contemporary phrasing. Not a word that anyone in 900 CE would say.
Then how did Teagan know it?
Eladon’s voice echoed in her head. I have done this many times.
Ailith’s skin prickled. Was Teagan one of those times?