Gybbon held her still on him as he felt her release seize her and let his own loose. She slumped into his arms when she was done and he worked up enough strength to pat her on the back. When she slid off he kept his arm around her.
It was several moments before Mora found the strength and breath to speak. “I think we should only do that on special occasions,” she said, and could hear the lingering breathlessness in her voice.
“Good idea,” he answered, and was not surprised at the hint of hoarseness in his voice because he knew he had held back a lot of shouts. “My Saint’s Day, your Saint’s Day, Andrew’s Saint’s Day . . .” He paused. “Michaelmas, Twelfth Night, New Year’s Day, New Year’s Eve . . .” He felt her start to laugh and grinned. “Lammas, All Saint’s Day . . .”
“Hush,” she choked out. “I think some of those might require a hefty penance if we celebrated them that way.”
“I will pay it.”
She snuggled up to his side and wondered if he would be there in the morning. “Hush. I am tired now.”
“Oh, I see. Ye have had your use of me and now ye mean to just rest.”
“Aye.” She patted his chest. “I believe ye have had your use of me as weel, so ye probably need rest, too,” she said as she closed her eyes.
He looked down at her and grinned. She had fallen asleep already. It was pleasant to think he had worn her out with pleasure, he decided, and closed his eyes. He would just have a short rest, he thought, then get dressed and go to his own room.
*
The light of the sun shone right into his eyes and Gybbon woke with a groan. He had forgotten to close the curtains. Suddenly realizing he was still in bed with Mora, he groaned again. It was nice to wake up with her, but it was not a particularly smart idea. While he suspected a lot of people had undoubtedly guessed he had taken her as his lover, he did not think she would be comfortable with them seeing the proof of it.
As quietly as he could, he washed and dressed, then crept out of the room. It did not surprise him to find Harcourt waiting for him in the hall. His brother looked amused, not angry, so he relaxed. He knew he could relax more if he did not have the suspicion that Harcourt knew something he did not.
“Ye are up early,” he said, as they started to make their way down to the hall.
“Young ones. They have no understanding of the joys of lying about in bed with one’s wife,” Harcourt bemoaned.
“And by the time they reach your age, ye will probably be too old and bent to have that enjoyment anyway.”
“Nay, I intend to remain strong and virile right up to the last day.”
Gybbon laughed. If anyone could, it would be Harcourt. He would do it just out of stubbornness. “So, what is to be done today?”
“I thought we might go have a look at that bit of land ye said ye would want if ye came to live here.”
With the thrill of the pleasure he had enjoyed last night still humming in his veins, Gybbon did not shy away from any talk of settling in one place as he might have done a week ago. “Sounds like a good idea.”
*
Mora was surprised when she woke up to a bedchamber filled with sunlight. She could not see any sign of Gybbon; she looked over the side of the bed and saw his clothes were gone. No surprise, she thought, as it was late in the morning. Mary must have stopped in, as well, for her clothes were tidily laid out over the back of a chair.
Slipping out of bed, Mora ran to the chair and pulled on her shift. It felt odd to wake up without him, which she found strange. She had only been in bed with him twice. Perhaps that was what lovers did, she thought, then blushed when Mary peeked in and immediately hurried over to help her dress and do her hair.
As she worked with Mary, Mora tried to recall all her mother had told her about the matter of men and women. Rona had spoken of honor but only briefly. Her mother had spoken more about feelings, about love, and how it was wrong to waste such a gift on a man with no honor. At the time she had wondered if her mother had suffered at the hands of such a man. She knew Gybbon was not unworthy even though she had no idea if he cared for her in any way.
She shook away such thoughts. It was too much thinking. She would make herself dizzy. She and Gybbon were lovers and that alone made her happy. Mora promised herself she would not ruin the good of that by thinking it to death or worrying needlessly about something she could not change.
Settled in her mind for the moment, she thanked Mary for her help and headed down to the hall. She realized that she was very hungry. When she walked into the hall and saw little Freya next to Gybbon helping herself to bits of meat, she smiled. Things were fine right now and she would not disturb the harmony with deep or dark thoughts. There was enough in her life to make her sad, so for now she would hold tight to what made her happy.
*
“Are they gone?” asked Niall as he pulled on his boots.
“Aye, just riding off now,” said David as he watched Robert lead the others away. “If I judge it correct they are riding back to the Ogilvy keep. Surprised they are up and about so early.”
“So, we will be able to go and see what may have happened to Aunt Maggie.”
“Aye, after we eat,” David said when there was a rap at their door.
The maid brought in full plates of food, and both brothers made quick work of it. After clearing his plate, David sat back in his chair and sipped at his ale. He finally felt some pleasure at being back in Scotland, but it was dimmed with the news he believed they would soon be given.
When the meal was done and cleared away and the maid given a coin, he went down and took care of their bill. Niall joined him just as he gave the call for their horses to be brought round. When they went outside, David looked down the road and sighed.
“Dinnae need to ride there,” David said, and caught up his mount’s reins.
“Nay, and it might be good to walk a bit after such a large meal.”
“It cannae hurt.”
He walked toward the burnt hulk that was all that was left of Aunt Maggie’s home. David could think of no one who would want to hurt the woman. If it was Robert there was a reason he had gone hunting for Aunt Maggie and all David could think of was that young Andrew or Mora had been here with her.
For a while they stood in front of her house and just stared. Neither of them felt inclined to go poking around in the charred mess left behind. He heard a door open and glanced around until he spotted Morag Sinclair on her step, wearing only her night shift and a large shawl, gaping at them. Just as he was about to greet her and apologize for waking her so early, she ran up to him and hugged him, then hugged Niall.
“Take your horses round the back and I will let ye in that way. There is a lot I have to tell ye. But get out of sight. The sheriff occasionally takes a verra early morning walk to make himself look as if he is doing important business.”
When they were seated and she had served them some cool cider, Morag began to tell them everything that she knew as gently as possible. She comforted them when she gave them the hard news about their parents, promising to show them the graves as soon as it was safe again.
“Go see Laird Sigimor. He will lay it all out better than I can. He and that Murray lad were dealing with getting Mora and Andrew someplace safe. If naught else, he will ken where they are.”
They went to their horses and started toward Sigimor’s keep, but a mile or two down the road, David stopped. He looked and saw Niall right beside him, his head down. “I am sad that my bad feelings proved all too true.”
“Nay sadder than I am. We shouldnae have left. If we had been here . . .”
“We would have been the first ones killed. We could fight, so it would have made us the first target. What we can do,” he said, and his voice hardened, “is kill Robert. Mayhap his brothers.”
“Why only mayhap?”
“I am nay sure, but something tells me they have been dragged into this mess, and while they dinnae dare stop him, they have nay helped him.”
“Then they shouldnae die. But Robert . . .”