“And you, Marjorie, are going to sit beside me and tend to my nipples. They are in desperate need of pinching. And sucking.”
He’d not thought this day could be improved. Yet above him, as he lapped at Lady Janet’s soaked cunt, Lady Marjorie attended to her guardian’s taut, pale-brown nipples with the same air of curiosity and eagerness that she’d displayed for his cock. Touching. Kissing. And at last, sucking.
Lady Janet moaned. “I’ve not had two lovers together before. This is heavenly. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop…”
Lachlan glanced at Lady Marjorie, who grinned and winked at him before sucking harder on Lady Janet’s nipple. Not to be outdone, he rasped his short beard across Lady Janet’s inner thighs, pushed two fingers inside her cunt, and fastened his lips around her pearl. Their cool, controlled lover writhed on the chaise, but they continued to pleasure her until she threw back her head and screamed in ecstasy, grinding her cunt against Lachlan’s face as release overcame her.
Licking his lips to retain the taste of Lady Janet in his mouth, Lachlan rested his head on her belly and draped his arm over her thighs. On the chaise, Lady Marjorie had pressed herself close, resting her head on her guardian’s shoulder. Now this, this was heavenly.
“I suppose we must…rise soon,” he mumbled. “Guests for supper.”
“Guests?” said Lady Marjorie. “What guests?”
“From the neighboring lands, those whom the king was friendly with,” said Lady Janet. “I have not met them as yet.”
“I have,” said Lachlan. “It’s the Sinclairs. Niall and Jean. And the Campbells. Hamish and Aileen.”
Lady Janet froze. “Aileen Campbell?” she choked out. “Let me up. Let me up.”
Stunned, he could only watch as she dislodged herself from them and darted over to her pile of discarded clothing to pull on her shift. She was tense and upset, looking as though she wished to flee not just the solar but the manor as well.
Why would Aileen Campbell coming to supper make her react so? Were they old enemies?
The back of his neck prickled. Perchance at supper he would find out.
…
She held onto peace of mind by the thinnest of threads.
Taking another gulp of wine, Janet counted to ten in Gaelic, French, and Latin in her head just to suppress the bloodcurdling shriek threatening to unleash at any moment.
For in this hall, sitting just a few feet away to her right, sat ebony-haired, violet-eyed Aileen, her first lover. Her first love.
And no one else at the table knew.
Janet forced a smile as conversation flowed around her and the men and women sampled the many sweet and savory dishes the kitchens had prepared. Next to Aileen sat her beefy red-haired husband, Hamish, then Jean Sinclair, a pretty blonde. At the other end of the table was Niall Sinclair, a silver-haired diplomat. To her left were Lachlan and Marjorie, and Hamish’s equally red-haired younger brother, Angus, a charming and extraordinarily well-dressed courtier she didn’t trust for a moment. But try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Aileen. Aileen couldn’t stop glancing at her either.
And she knew that Marjorie and Lachlan had noticed something amiss. They were whispering, their foreheads nearly touching, and sending her concerned glances.
This would not be something she could brazen her way through. Not after the blissful hours they’d spent together in the solar. But she needed to speak to Aileen privately, without any of the other guests growing suspicious. Or guessing their truth.
“What on earth are you two whispering about, Sir Lachlan? Do share it with the table,” said Jean Sinclair with a friendly smile.
Lachlan went rigid in his seat, his cheeks darkening a little. “Nothing of importance.”
The older blond woman laughed. “Nonsense. You both looked quite serious. Are you and Lady Marjorie sweethearts?”
Marjorie sent her an anxious glance. Lachlan’s expression settled into impassiveness, a sure sign that he did not wish to be questioned. In truth, this afternoon the three of them had become lovers. While in the past she would have paraded her latest lover about, she didn’t want to reveal that tidbit to these courtiers. It was too new. Too complex. Too precious.
Janet cleared her throat. “Lady Marjorie is my ward until the king selects a husband for her, and Sir Lachlan was appointed to protect us both. More wine, Jean?”
“You are fortunate, Lady Janet, to have so fair a maiden under your roof,” said Angus Campbell, raising his goblet to both her and Lady Marjorie. “We are starved of beauty and overrun with scholars and monks in St. Andrews.”
Aileen shook her head at her husband’s brother. “Starved of beauty? Jean and I are thrilled to learn we are gargoyles, Angus. But you are right. Beauty has arrived, and we should rejoice.”
As though a cord about her neck tugged at her, Janet met Aileen’s soft, yielding yet heated gaze. Saints alive, she played a dangerous game with her husband sitting next to her!
“Mistress Campbell,” said Lachlan abruptly. “You know Lady Janet?”
Oh no.
Hamish Campbell raised a bushy red eyebrow at his wife. “You did not say so, sweetheart.”
“Ah…from a very long time ago,” said Aileen, her smile strained. “One summer we—”
“Shared a French tutor,” said Lady Janet crisply before her former lover wilted under questioning and hurt those at the table. Only both sets of parents knew the real reason for Aileen’s swift marriage to Hamish and Janet being gifted to the king. “The worst in history. Half of every lesson, he grumbled about all Scotland’s faults compared to France. Too cold! Too rainy! And the food, mon dieu!”
Aileen laughed, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “I always wondered why he did not leave if it was all so terrible.”
“Maybe debts in France,” said Niall.
“A cellar full of dismembered limbs,” said Angus, his eyes glinting.
Hamish glared at his brother. “There are ladies present.”
“No ordinary ladies, brother! Most interesting ones.
