Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Keane spent the entirety of the next few days in council with the king—a welcome distraction despite the matters to be discussed.
In Aidan’s absence, he was asked to represent the dún Scoti clan—a fact that he might have told them was entirely pointless.
Aidan would never agree to aught that was discussed here.
His brother would not acknowledge Scotia as his sovereign nation, nor would he kneel before David as his king.
And yet, the more Keane heard, the more he found wisdom in David mac Maíl Chaluim’s words, and he was becoming conflicted—a dilemma that did not bode well for his relationship with his brother.
Little by little he was beginning to understand why Lael had embraced the man, and although he himself struggled to honor his vows, one day in witness to the king’s counsel and he could no longer view the man as a raging madman.
He was civil, fair minded and held the wellbeing of his people in every word he spoke.
Even the sentence he’d given Keane—a seat in Moray and a bride—was far more generous than he might have deserved were Lianae’s accusations even remotely true.
Alas, but it was her word against Keane’s, and Keane counted himself fortunate that he had witnesses enough to vouch for his character.
Elsewise, his head might now be adorning a pike, and Lianae would be…
With William fitz Duncan… who, by the by, was suspiciously absent from the king’s council.
But he was not the only one yet to come.
Broc Ceannfhionn remained at Chreagach Mhor, along with MacKinnon.
But although Broc would join David without question by virtue of his sworn vows, MacKinnon had sent word that he would support David’s campaign in Northumbria, only so long as David acknowledged his son as Aldridge’s rightful heir.
It was agreed. And by the end of the day, despite the last failed attempt by King Duncan to take Northumbria, David had garnered support from all the barons present, with assurances that he had more allies in the north.
Along with Carlisle, they now intended to secure Wark, Alnwick and Norham as well, and they would engage within the fortnight—as swiftly as they could gather the necessary troops and make the journey south.
Stephen would be too pre-occupied with securing his throne.
It would be months before he could turn his attentions to the North.
By then, David would have secured the entirety of Northumbria.
By the time they were finished detailing the entire campaign, Keane was more than ready for respite.
And yet, the tensions awaiting him in his chamber were far greater than in the place he left—if one could believe it.
He climbed the tower steps, hoping Lianae was otherwise occupied, for he sorely longed to stretch in the bed.
Even as comfortable as it was, the chair was a poor substitute.
Kenna and Lael had kept his wife pre-occupied, and he was grateful to them both, and still, he longed to see her—if only for an instant. Why he had no clue. She was a cunning little vixen who had wormed her way into his thoughts. He rued the day he ever met her.
To his surprise, he found the room cozy and warm, with a brazier burning and a steaming, herb-filled bath in the center of the room.
Lianae met him at the door, with a sweating flagon in her hands. “Ale?” she asked, raising the tin. “Or would ye prefer warm spiced mead?” She waved a hand toward the small table by his chair, the look in her eyes filled with apprehension.
Keane would have liked to say neither, but at the moment, a cup of ale was precisely what he needed. And the bath was more than he could have hoped for.
“Ale will be fine,” he said, peeling off his gloves and setting them down upon the table, his eyes scanning the treats she had gathered: crispels, tiny pastries basted in honey, along with herbs and spices.
Without a word, Lianae poured him a cup of ale. She handed it to him. Keane took the cup, his shoulders tense, and his body aching with repressed desire.
She was as beautiful as she was treacherous, he decided. Simply because he shouldn’t want her didn’t mean he didn’t…
“Would that I bathe you?” Lianae asked sweetly as though she would serve him with a willing heart, and he had to remind himself that she was a very, very good liar.
If she would woo him, it was because she wanted something from him.
What it was, he couldn’t fathom and didn’t care. He would not play her fool.
“Nay,” he said, but there was less resolve in his tone than he would have hoped.
She came forward anyway, stubborn as she was. “I would aid you if you’d but let me, Keane.”
She was dressed today in plainer clothes—a soft green wool that clung to her curves, outlining the high rise of her ample breasts. His eyes hungrily devoured her, famished for the sight of her after two days of coming and going, in the dark, whilst she slept.
Keane struggled to deny her. He took a final sip of his ale and set the cup down in silence, stripping himself before the brazier.
He shrugged out of his gambeson and tunic and then began unlacing his trews, not daring to acknowledge the other occupant of the room.
Without the barrier of clothes between them, it would be his undoing, because even now, he found himself stirring at the thought of them together in this room…
their room… in which he had been expected to bed the woman he’d taken to be his wife.
The warmth he felt now as he undressed had little to do with the fire burning in the brazier, and he could almost imagine that his skin was steaming not unlike what emanated from that tub.
Without a word, he climbed into the large wooden tub, turned his back to his wife, and sank down into the water, grateful for the cleansing warmth. But no sooner had he settled his head against the rim, did he suddenly felt Lianae’s fingers in his hair.
“I will help you,” she offered stubbornly.
Closing his eyes, swallowing his protests, Keane laid his head back and prayed for strength. When he said nothing, she took it as an invitation to continue, and Keane felt the blood begin to simmer through his veins. He pulled the washcloth over his lap.
Without a word, she took an empty cup from the table and dipped it into the water, bidding him to close his eyes so she could lave his hair.
But they were already closed, and she knew they were, so he adjusted himself a little so she could wet his head without soaking the entire room.
If she was so determined to help, he might as well allow it.
But his heart beat a little faster as she worked her fingers through the long strands of his hair, wetting it fully, before lifting up the soap and lathering his hair.
The feel of her fingers massaging his scalp felt heavenly.
He could hear her breathing behind him—panting softly and he monitored his own breath, trying not to think of her lovely breasts rising and falling with each and every breath...
He was beautiful.
His body was firm, his belly tight. And his bare arms—they were nearly as wide as his thighs. God save her, Lianae had no thought but to stare.
She wanted so desperately to make Keane understand.
She had never meant to bring him any harm.
He, more than anyone had been kind to her and she wanted desperately to prove she could be a loving wife—if only he would allow it.
She wanted to tell him she was still untouched, but the words simply wouldn’t emerge on her tongue.
Instead of feeling joyful over the truth, would he consider it more of her lies? For that, in truth, was what it was. She had lied about nearly everything from the moment she’d met him, and now the truth came more difficult than her lies.
Spilling through her hands, his long hair was… soft, like ebony silk. She had visions of him turning to see her—truly see her. As she was. Merely a wife, wanting her husband to love and forgive her, though for now, his silence was enough.
Resting in the tub, he appeared for the instant as though he hadn’t a care in the world and Lianae wanted to forever smooth his worried brow and brush her fingers against his shadowed jaw.
Lathering the soap in his hair, she poured her heart into the task, wanting him to feel her remorse with every caress of her fingers.
And once she was done with his hair, and still he hadn’t protested, she moved to his shoulders, working the soap into his flesh.
His skin was dark, a color achieved through a lifetime that could scarce be faded by the passing of months.
Realizing that he had pulled the washcloth down to drape over his lap, she reached over to grab it and Keane stilled her hand.
“Nay,” he said.
“But…”
“I will finish on my own.”
Her cheeks burning with chagrin, Lianae released the cloth and stood, moving away from the tub. “I-I am sorry,” she said, and swallowing her tears, she hurried out of the room.
Keane heard the door close and only once Lianae was gone, he removed the cloth from his lap, snarling at his traitorous cock. He was prepared to raise her child as his own, but he would not allow himself to mingle his seed with that of William fitz Duncan.
However, the last thing he needed was to leave his old chap unattended. The tension was insufferable. As hard as he was, as long as he’d been denied, he didn’t need much coaxing to find his release… and in the moment when he did, it was Lianae’s face he saw.
Nothing she did seemed to please him.