Chieftain by Arnette Lamb Read Free Book Online Page B

reverently.
    “You mean a kiss of peace.”
    “No.” He shook his head. “Heckley, the fletcher, says the best thing a girl can give a lad is a piece.”
    At Alasdair’s age Drummond had understood adult innuendo; he’d also witnessed his father and his older kinsmen taking their manly pleasure of the wenches that were always about. Infidelity had been an accepted practice, and Drummond had given it little thought. Until his wife had lain with another man.
    When his wounded pride stirred, Drummond tamped it back. “You should listen to me, not this Heckley fellow.”
    Alasdair scrambled to face Drummond. “I could listen better standing up. Why won’t you let me?”
    Longfellow picked up the pace; he was eager to reach the water, which had been the reason for the long ride. “Hold on.”
    Disdaining the rope handles woven into the carpet, Alasdair kept his hands at his sides. “Mother says an adult should always answer a child’s—a young man’s—questions.”
    “Your father says a child should always obey. Now take hold of that handle.”
    He did. “Now may I stand up?”
    “Absolutely and irrevocably, nay. Never. And if you ask me again I’ll punish you.”
    The lad’s mouth fell open. “Me?”
    Now that he’d made an impression, Drummond relaxed. “Aye, and severely.”
    “How?” Alasdair leaned close, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Will you put me in a cage and let the women of the village poke me with their broom handles?”
    “Where did you hear of such a ridiculous punishment?”
    “Do you not remember? That’s the justice you meted out to the evil black knight who stole all of the children’s sweets.”
    Oh, Lord, in fable Drummond had progressed from rescuing damsels to sparing children the pain of losing their tarts. Was there no end to his wife’s imagination? “Does your mother tell you stories about anyone else?”
    He nodded. “She said an angel left me on her doorstep. There’s also a funny story about the sheriff. He drank too much ale and on his way home to Drumfries, he fell asleep on his horse. He awoke in Carlisle.”
    “Do you like the sheriff?”
    Alasdair smiled. “He taught me how to piss off of the curtain wall and not splatter my hose and boots.” Solemnly, he added, “’Tis manly business.”
    Drummond felt a stab of jealousy toward a sheriff he’d never met and the time the man had spent with Alasdair. The future, however, belonged to Drummond. “Who else teaches you manly things?”
    “Brother Julian and Sween, the huntsman. And Bertie takes me fishing.”
    Drummond would come to know all of those men, and henceforth he would dictate Alasdair’s studies. “I saw Evelyn scaling the trout you caught today.”
    His lip curled in distaste. “If she leaves the heads on, I’m not eating any.”
    The lad was as strong willed as his mother. Drummond scratched his nose to hide a smile. “Why have you not learned to clean your own fish?”
    He looked absolutely insulted, his mouth pursed, one eyebrow cocked. “A man provides the meal,” he said sagely. “The women prepare it.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Sheriff Hay.”
    Again, Drummond felt the sting of envy. “What if the women are ill or too busy with other things?”
    “Mother is never ill, and everyone always hurries to do her bidding.”
    Just as she would rush to do as Drummond commanded her.
    “Look!” Alasdair pointed behind them. “’Tis her.”
    Tightening his hold on the lad, Drummond twisted in the saddle. A single rider raced toward them, leaving a trail of dust in the road. Drummond commanded the elephant to halt, then waited.
    She rode astride a lathered gelding, her fingers clutching the animal’s mane. She’d lost her coif and her combs, and her braid had begun to unravel. Moving abreast of Longfellow, she managed to stop the horse. Although her chest heaved from the breakneck ride, she calmly said, “Alasdair, come down from there.”
    Alasdair turned around, his back again