Medieval 01 - Untamed

good knights,” she said. “Sir Duncan will be with you soon.”
    As the men filed past Meg to the great hall, she bent once more and began prodding Duncan’s throat with careful fingertips. Duncan had cast aside his battle clothing and was wearing little more than short leather breeches. Meg’s hair, as usual, had come undone. When a thick lock slithered forward and threatened to get in her way, Duncan caught it, tugged it lightly, and tucked it behind Meg’s ear. The casual gesture spoke of long familiarity between the Scots Hammer and the lady of Blackthorne Keep.
    With hooded eyes, Dominic watched Duncan and Meg from the doorway. Each time Dominic drew a breath, he told himself there was no cause for the jealousy that was lying like molten lead in his gut. Yet seeing his wife’s hands smoothing over the muscular width of Duncan’s neck in search of injuries made vivid every bit of gossip he had heard both before and after coming to Blackthorne Keep.
    Duncan’s betrothed .
    Duncan’s leman .
    The witch waits, smiling and biding her time .
    â€œYou came very close to seeing God,” Meg muttered.
    â€œAye.” Duncan tugged on another stray lock of her hair and smiled whimsically. “Would you have missed me, Meggie?”
    â€œThe way a cat misses a dog.”
    Duncan laughed and tucked the fiery lock away beneath Meg’s head cloth. Bells chimed when he accidently pulled the cloth askew. He removed and refitted the circlet on her, setting bells to singing with every motion. If she objected to the intimacy, she didn’t show it with word or action.
    Affection between them .
    Pretending to be satisfied with her cold Norman lord .
    Smiling and biding her time .
    â€œOuch! God blind me, are you trying to finish what your husband started?”
    â€œAre you sure you have no trouble swallowing?” Meg asked.
    â€œI’m certain.”
    â€œWell, ’tis a lucky scoundrel you are, Duncan of Maxwell.”
    â€œAye,” he agreed. “But I’ll never have a wife like you, Meggie.”
    â€œFor that you should thank the lord,” she retorted. “Ask Dominic. I’m such a trial to him that he makes me go belled like a cat or a falcon.”
    â€œIs Dominic unkind to you?” Duncan asked, his voice no longer teasing.
    â€œTo his Glendruid wife? To his sole hope of legal heirs? Does my husband strike you as a stupid man?” Meg asked curtly.
    â€œGod’s blood, no. The man is as cunning as a wolf.”
    â€œHe’s as cunning as a pack of wolves. And he isn’t unkind to me. My jesses, after all, are almost the equal of his fine peregrine’s.”
    Duncan shouted with laughter.
    Smiling even as she scolded Duncan to sit still, Meg rubbed a salve into the various bruises that showed on Duncan’s broad chest.
    Biding her time .
    For the Scots Reever she has always loved .
    She waits .
    â€œIf you should have any trouble swallowing, come directly to me,” Meg said as she rubbed salve into a bruise on Duncan’s shoulder.
    â€œI always do, Meggie. Your touch alone would heal a man, much less your magic Glendruid potions.”
    Dominic pulled off his helm and dumped it onto a nearby table with enough force to make ale leap in the bowl Simon had left for the knights to drink.
    Meg looked up swiftly. Her green eyes went over Dominic like intangible hands, searching for hidden wounds. What she saw was an icy anger that made her realize she was standing between Duncan’s muscular thighs. A flush tinted her cheeks. Hastily she stepped back.
    Duncan turned and looked at Dominic. The expression on the liege’s face made it clear that he wasn’t happy to find his wife alone with a half-naked Duncan of Maxwell. Duncan smiled rather sardonically.
    â€œNow I know why you gave me an estate three days’ ride from here,” he said.
    â€œSee that you get to it quickly,” Dominic said in a cold voice.
    â€œAye, lord. I’ll do that. I like my head just where it is.”
    Duncan stood and strode quickly from the solar, snagging his mantle on the way out. Dominic’s coldgray eyes bored into him every step of the way.
    â€œI had Eadith prepare a bath,” Meg said. “It should be ready by now. Shall I call Simon to tend you?”
    â€œNay. I think I will sample the joys of your ‘healing touch’ for myself.”
    The words were like a whip. Meg