The Maclean Groom

The Maclean Groom by Kathleen Harrington Page B

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Authors: Kathleen Harrington
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Chapter 3
    T he men sent to Mingarry Castle returned the next day to report that Ewen Macdonald wasn’t there. Lady Joanna’s cousin and clan commander had left before they arrived, apparently with the intention of riding to Stalcaire to request an audience with the king.
    Rory received the news without comment. Ewen’s appeal to James Stewart would be in vain. The political reasons behind the alliance uniting a MacLean and a Macdonald would prove to be uppermost in their sovereign’s mind. Rory would soon wed the Maid of Glencoe, despite all pleas to the contrary.
    The image of Joanna, standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed in his bedchamber, had been seared into his brain. Her innocent gaze had roamed over his near-naked frame, bringing a reaction so fierce and sudden, he’d been rendered all but speechless. ’Twas nigh unbelievable. Why had his body responded to that slip of a girl dressed in boy’s garb? She’d gaped at him as if he were some rude barbarian. Dammit, the lass was as insignificant as a gnat and just as irritating.
    Feeling restless and impatient, he decided to take Fraoch for a gallop. Remaining cooped up within the walls of a castle had lacerated Rory’s nerves; he was used to the open sea. A moving deck beneath his feet, the sound of the wind whistling around the masts, and the soothing slap of thewaves against the prow easily eclipsed the raucous hurly-burly of Kinlochleven’s lower bailey.
    Intending to harness and saddle his mount himself, Rory didn’t bother to call out as he entered the cool, dim stables. The gentle nickers of the horses welcomed him as he strode past the stalls, his steps muffled by the loose straw on the dirt floor.
    He stopped short at the sight of Joanna, crouched on a bundle of hay and peeking through the slats of one crib into another, her chores forgotten.
    From his superior height, Rory could see easily over the top of the farther stall. Tam MacLean, his plaid shoved up out of his way, had one of the comely dairymaids nearly buried beneath him in a mound of straw. The lass’s skirts had been lifted to her hips, and her plump white thighs cradled Tam’s naked flanks as the soldier pumped rhythmically. The buxom girl buried her fingers in Tam’s yellow hair and pressed his mouth to her exposed bosom, all the while emitting breathy whimpers of encouragement.
    Grinning, Rory reached down and grabbed Joanna by the collar. Her surprised yelp alerted the two lovers, who quickly disengaged and repaired their disheveled clothing. With one meaningful look, he sent Tam and the scarlet-faced dairymaid hustling out of the stable.
    Rory set his future bride on her feet. “Don’t you know better than to spy on the grown-ups?” Rory asked with a feigned scowl.
    â€œI wasn’t spying,” Joanna said defensively. “I heard Mary’s sobs and thought that blackhearted devil was hurting her. I grabbed a pitchfork to stab him, but then she started moaning for him not to stop, so I waited to see what was going to happen next.”
    From the shock in the lassie’s enormous eyes, Rory realized she was telling the truth. Apparently no one had ever bothered to explain the facts of procreation to the virtuous little maid.
    He tried not to laugh at the comical look of stupefactionon her face. “And when did you finally realize he wasn’t hurting her?”
    Joanna lowered her head and hunched her shoulders at the question. “I got a fair idea of what they were doing soon enough,” she admitted to the toes of her scuffed boots, a blush of mortification spreading over her face. “Only they’re supposed to wait till they’re married.”
    Rory smiled at the indignation in the husky voice. “That’s true,” he replied, “but people don’t always wait.”
    Joanna’s russet brows drew together as she tugged her knit cap further down over her ears. “I

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