Justin gasped as Lindsay fell upon him, her mouth devouring his enthusiastically. For but a moment, he gave into the feeling. The lips that he had once dreamt of were pressed against his. But he now realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was no longer his dream. Now...another had become his ideal. Lindsay's arms suddenly tightened around his neck and he quickly regained his senses.

His wounds, however minor they may be, began to burn and bleed anew. He pushed her away and she looked at him in surprise. "Justin...?"

"What the Hell are you doing Lindsay?" he asked, still recovering from the shock of her actions.

"That would be my question," Brian's voice boomed over the small room. He stood in the doorway, feet splayed and his hands fisted at his sides. His expression remained impassive, but he was visibly shaking with the intensity of his fury.

Lindsay noted this too and smiled nervously. "B-Brian. What are you doing here?"

"My lady wife...you are in no position to ask me such a thing. I might ask you the same question but no doubt I would receive only feeble lies in return." He shook his head at her. "Go back to your chamber and wait for me."

"Back to my chamber?" Lindsay's feathers were now ruffled and the scowl on her face matched her husband's perfectly. Justin bit his lip. He knew the command would do nothing but provoke the woman. And he could do nothing but sit there watching the two, wishing that he might melt into the floor. "How dare you? You are not my father and I am no child. You will not order me around like some common servant, my dear husband," she spat venomously.

Brian moved to stand in front of her, towering over her enough so that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. "We will speak of this later, Lindsay. Now go." His words were spoken more softly, but they were still full of the intense anger that Brian was working hard to hold in check.

Lindsay, knowing that she would get no better deal than to be sent away unscathed for the moment, hurried around her husband and out the door without a backwards glance. When she was gone, Justin turned to see Brian staring down at him, an unreadable expression upon his face.

"Milord...I have no idea...why..." He began, not quite sure what he should be saying.

Brian stared at him for another minute before breaking eye contact. The man pulled a chair from the corner of the room and positioned it beside Justin. Sitting heavily upon the small round stool, he sighed, rubbed his hands over his face and turned his attention back to Justin. "I've come to ask you a few questions, Justin."

"Alright," he said hesitantly. He wasn't sure what this was all about, but in the pit of his stomach he had the feeling that nothing good was going to come of it.

"I have spoken with Garrick," he began, watching Justin's face closely for his reaction. But Justin only nodded. "As far as the fight is concerned, he has admitted to being at fault."

"But...I did provoke him somewhat, sir," Justin admitted, claiming his own part in what had transpired earlier in the day.

Brian shook his head. "That's of no importance now. He is shouldering the blame for the happening. What I am concerned about are his recent accusations."

"Accusations?" Justin was confused and to add to this, he wanted nothing more than to take Brian's hand into his and to lean up and receive one of the man's soft, lingering kisses that he had been aching for since...well since the last time they had been joined in such a way. He shifted subtly so that he could be a bit further away from the other man. Hoping that perhaps a little more distance would restore his focus on the matter at hand.

McKinnon cleared his throat and nodded. "Accusations about your involvement in the death of Lindsay's father, Lord Rushworth."

Justin's pulse jumped and his face immediately went pale. Luckily the dim lighting hid this slight.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

No. They couldn't possibly know. How could they?

But what could he tell him? He couldn't tell Brian what had happened. He would be disgusted should he know the truth of it all. And Justin couldn't allow that. No, McKinnon couldn't know of his dishonor.

"What has Garrick said against me?" Perhaps he was upsetting himself over nothing, he thought rationally.

Brian looked away, seeming uncomfortable for the first time since Justin had known him. "He has claimed that it was you who killed the man."

"He said that I..." Justin closed his eyes partly in relief and partly in shock. "That I...killed Lord Rushworth?"

"That was his claim." Brian moved from the stool, down onto his knees and gently took hold of Justin's shoulders. "I need you to deny this, Justin."

Justin stared up at the man in surprise. McKinnon wanted...needed to hear him say that he hadn't done it. He was telling him that all he had to do was say that he hadn't killed Lindsay's father, his lord, and he would ask no more questions. Brian would believe him and he would protect him against any person that might not.

Shaking him slightly, Brian insisted. "Tell me. Did you kill him?"

How could he possibly answer such a question? It seemed so simple, yet...nothing was ever so simple as that. Indeed, his sword had been the man's finally undoing. He flinched as he remembered the scene. His lord reaching for him, gasping for help.

His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed the lump that had formed there. "I...No. I did not kill him." He looked up at Brian, his chin stuck out a bit defensively.

Brian didn't even bother to hide his relief. He let out the breath he had been holding and smiled, running his fingers though Justin's short, silky blonde hair. "Thank you," He whispered happily.

He had no idea why his lord was thanking him, but none of it seemed to matter because soon Brian had Justin nestled safely in his arms and was pressing soft kisses to his neck and throat. Justin barely managed to smother a moan as his teeth lightly scraped over his shoulder. He allowed Brian to push him back onto his bedroll and the man's tall, lean body stretched out over his own.

Brian propped himself up on his forearms so that he was putting no pressure on Justin's wounds and so that he might look into the somber blue eyes of his lover. As much as Justin wanted to be taken by the beautiful man, there was still a shadow cast over them. "Brian," he began, having to repeat himself as Brian was busy kissing away the pain of each scratch upon his chest. "Brian...about Lindsay..."

Deep hazel eyes found his own and he could see McKinnon's face darken with the mention of his wife. "I witnessed what happened with my own eyes Justin. Do you wish to tell me that you forced your attentions upon her and not the other way round?"

"No...I...I just wanted to know what you were going to do to her." Though he realized that he no longer truly knew the woman as well as he had thought, she was still his friend and had been for as long as he could remember. He had no wish to see her hurt in any way.

"Do not fret over my wife, Justin. I've been needing to straighten her out for quite a while. I was merely hoping she would come around on her own."

"Yes but -" his words were cut off prematurely as Brian once again began to travel down his chest, his warm tongue sneaking out and soothing the battered skin. Lost in the rapturous effects of the gentle caresses, Justin was aware of nothing except the feel of the other man, seemingly surrounding him on all sides.

Soon, he felt his thin breeches being tugged down his legs. Brian's eyes found his and they shared a smile. With a nod of encouragement from Justin, the older man ran his hands up along the tops of Justin's bare legs. Next, his lips followed the same path as his hands. The blonde shivered at the sweet contact and immediately his body responded to the actions. Brian took notice and grinned to himself.

Without looking to Justin for affirmation, McKinnon instantly took him into his mouth. "Brian," Justin whispered hotly, his fingers digging through the deep chestnut strands of his lord's hair. "Yes."

As the delightfully plump lips moved slowly, sensuously up and down his stiff throbbing shaft, Justin wondered how he had lived without such passion before. Without the sensations that Brian created within him. He had to admit that perhaps he had never been alive. He had merely existed until the first time Brian McKinnon touched him. Then and only then was he truly alive.

Just as Brian's tongue began to circle the head of Justin's hardened shaft, they both froze, startled as his grandmother cleared her throat noisily. Justin opened his eyes to see her facing the doorway, quickly drawing the drape closed between the rooms. "Milord, Sir Benjamin is just outside," she said curtly, keeping her back to the pair.

Brian hastily sat back upon his heels, touching the younger man's hand in reassurance. Justin, still horrify by the intrusion, pulled his breeches back up and with a leery eye on his grandmother's back, leaned in to steal one last kiss from his lover's lips. It was simple and brief, but Brian pulled back and smiled as though it had been the sweetest kiss he had ever earned. "Good day young Winterberry," he said gruffly, cupping his lover's arousal slyly before standing. "Madam," he said casually as he moved past Deborah.

Then with a final backwards glance, Brian's eyes held Justin's and spoke of promises for a continuation of their meeting at a later time.

Once Brian was gone, Justin's eyes slid closed as he waited for his grandmother's scorn. It never came. Only worry for her grandson pulled at her features. "You knew?" he finally asked.

Deborah sighed deeply, as though she was being put out by such an absurd question. "Of course I knew. I always know. And you would do well to remember that, my boy."

"Grandmother..." He sat up and carefully pulled his knees up to his chest to hide the heavy bulge that still called out for his lover. "Do you really know everything?" He asked, sounding like the innocently curious child that Deborah had once known him to be.

The woman thought for several minutes before looking down at him, confident that she understood what he was speaking of. "I know of the things that matter."

"Do you...Do you know of what happened whilst I was away?"

She smiled at him with a grandmother's love shining in her eyes. "As I said, I know of the things that matter."

"Grandmother," he glowered. "That's not an answer."

"No. But it's the only one you're getting on the subject. Now lay back down and rest."

Justin did as she said, but now that the thoughts had resurfaced, he couldn't get the day out of his mind. The memory of Lord Rushworth dying at his side. The look in his eyes. The sound of his last breath.

It was true enough that he didn't take the man's life. But he had brought about the demise of his leader and it would seem that in the end he was still his father's son.

***

"Why must you always argue over such small things?"

"This is no small thing. I don't know how you do things in Scotland, but here-"

"Leda!"

Leda and Melanie looked up from the settings upon the long table and watched Lindsay descend upon them like a whirlwind of vibrating anger. The women bowed slightly and Leda gave her mistress a bright smile. "Yes milady?"

Melanie had to bite her lips to keep from groaning. Leda was an utter terror until Lindsay was in her presence. Then, and only then, did she shine. It was such a gross farce, Melanie could scarcely bear to watch it for fear of being sick.

"Leda, I want you to go upstairs and make ready my chamber."

"Are you expecting guests, milady?" Leda questioned boldly.

Lindsay forced a tight smile for the woman. "No Leda. I believe I shall be making good use of the extra suite. I am going to be sleeping there until further notice." With a nod, Leda rushed off to do Lindsay's bidding, while Melanie remained behind, staring at her lady.

"Shall I help her?"

"No." Melanie tilted her head a bit so that she might be able to look into Lindsay's face, but the other woman turned away, obviously in an effort to keep their eyes from meeting. "But you might go and pack my things in trunks. Then have some of the men move them to my new room."

Melanie watched her intently now, noting how a flush of color was quickly coloring Lindsay's fair skin, and immediately grew suspicious. What could have happened in the short time that Lindsay was gone from her sight? Something had changed. Before Lindsay had been a bit cold towards her. Ill-tempered even. But now she held back, her anger seemingly focused on another. If the change of sleeping arrangements were any indication, Brian was now her target.

Yet she could do little about comforting someone that obviously wanted nothing more than to be left for the time being, so Melanie went to work, packing Lindsay's dresses and personal items as she had been instructed.

It wasn't very long after she had finished with the first trunk and had started on the second, that the door was thrown open and Lindsay was pushed inside, Brian a mere step behind her.

"I told you to wait for me here," the man growled.

Lindsay moved to stand in front of the blazing fire and turned to stare her husband down, neither of them paying attention to the woman that was still silently kneeling in the corner. "No. You said my chamber. That room, as propriety would dictate, is supposed to be MY room."

"To Hell with propriety," Brian shot back hotly. "Are you going to explain your actions, woman?"

"Explain my actions! How dare you presume that you can treat me like some insolent child! Or worse yet, one of your...soldiers," she said mockingly. "Your grand warriors that can do no better than fighting amongst themselves! What's the matter Brian? Can't you control them either?"

Brian's eyes flashed violently and Melanie prayed that he would control the temper that she knew every single man in their family possessed. To his credit, the man stood his ground and crossed his arms, probably in an attempt to keep his hands from snaking around Lindsay's throat.

"You will not speak to me in such a way. I am your husband but I am also your lord and you will treat me as such." Lindsay said nothing. "Now explain yourself!"

"What would you like me to explain...milord?" Melanie couldn't be sure but she detected a bit of anguish seeping into Lindsay's voice and she was pained for the woman. Whatever she had done couldn't have been so bad for her to deserve the censure she is now receiving.

"To start, you can tell me why you were kissing your...friend."

Lindsay actually laughed at that. "Surely you jest." She received a glare for that comment, which made her look to the floor in resentful submission.

"You will not make a fool of me. I am your husband. You will not seek another outside of our union."

"Do not act as though I was doing something vile. Something so completely unheard of. You are so worried that I will make you play the fool, yet you have repeatedly sought comfort in various beds throughout the village. Do not mistake my silence for stupidity, dear husband. I am quite aware of your flings." Brian made no attempt to refute the claims, but did look away from his wife, unsure of how to proceed. "You cannot possibly ask something of me that you yourself cannot promise."

"Lindsay, you are naive. I realize you are new to marriage -"

"As are you!"

"-BUT you must know that this is the way of things."

Melanie wanted nothing more to be deaf and blind at that time. She knew that, as a servant, they would ignore her presence and she in turn would not actually see or hear any of this. But as a one time friend and confidant to Lindsay, and as a member of Brian's family and clan, she heard every bitter word and cringed, fearing the backlash that might come of such an argument.

"The way of things," Lindsay spat. "Yes. The way of things. A man gets to take his pleasure anywhere he may, while his wife is damned should she dare to look at another man."

Brian nodded. It was a one-sided arrangement, but it had been so between Lindsay's father and mother. It was the example his own parents had bestowed upon him. Who were they to ask for more? Or less? All that was expected of either of them was to carry on, to have children, and to remain a united front in the eyes of their people.

Just when she was sure it was over, a light shone in Brian's eyes and he smiled ruefully at his bride. "We are a right pair, aren't we?"

Lindsay smiled back. "Yes. That we are." She approached the man and took his hands into hers. "Brian. All I ask is that you allow me the same freedom that you enjoy. I shall not take advantage. I will be discreet. No one would have to know."

Brian shook his head, obviously amazed that he was even considering her request. "Lindsay...I cannot say that I like it. But, I cannot deny you this either."

"Thank you, Brian." Lindsay leaned up and brushed a kiss across the man's cheek.

"I do ask one thing of you, though."

"Anything," she promised blindly.

"Stay away from my men," he warned. "That includes Justin."

At the mention of Justin's name, Melanie straightened. Lindsay? And Justin? It...couldn't be. But... Brian had mentioned that Lindsay had kissed her friend. Lindsay had been on her way to visit Justin that afternoon. It all made sense. And yet...it made no sense at all. Why would Lindsay do this to her?

"But..." Lindsay stopped short. She had won the battle, if not the war, and that would have to be enough for now. She nodded and Brian dropped her hands. He stepped aside and allowed her to leave and return to her own chamber, which by silent agreement, she would use as she willed.

When she was gone, Brian began to stoke the dwindling flames in the fireplace. "Melanie, when you are finished with those things, could you possibly ask someone to bring in more logs for the fire?"

"Y-Yes, milord," she answered, brushing the wetness from her cheeks with her fists, thankful that her tears were hidden in the shadows of the room.

***

The day had been a harsh one. Their men had been seriously outnumbered but after a long, hard battle, the valley was littered with bodies and their enemies were ready to turn and run. Justin had been at the front the entire time, to the chagrin of his father. Joseph wanted his son safe and away from the heavy fighting, but Justin wasn't interested in hanging back. He would succeed, not just exist, in the life chosen for him.

"Justin," his father called out as he bent to check on a fallen man. Justin checked on the other men and when he was satisfied that none of them needed his help, he went to his father's side. "Justin, I want you to go back to the camp. Get any of the men that stayed behind this morning. We'll need them to help carry the wounded."

"But father..."

"Do as I say, Justin."

Justin bristled at the order as he sheathed his sword. There were perhaps two men that had not joined them that morning and both were suffering from their own injuries. What would be the purpose of asking for their assistance? Yet, he was still simply another man under the Rushworth banner and it wouldn't do to question the second in command, even if he was his father.

Before he could make it off of the field, he was brought up short as he saw a burly Scotsman bearing down on his friend, sword drawn and teeth bared. "Ethan!" Justin shouted out in warning. Ethan turned just in time to catch the man's sword with his own, only inches away from his head. He pushed the bigger man off and fell backwards with the effort. The Scot ran towards him screaming and Ethan put a foot up to catch the man in his chest and at the same time drove his sword through the lunging man's stomach. The entire mass fell upon him and he cried out in pain.

"Ethan! Are you okay?" Justin asked as he rolled the attacker off of the younger man.

Ethan looked up at him in a daze. "Justin? Dear God. Justin..." He seemed amazed that he was still alive. Justin held out a hand to his friend to help him up, but with the slightest movement, Ethan grimaced in agony.

"What's wrong?" Justin studied his friend closely for signs of the problem and prayed that it was something that would heal.

"My...leg," Ethan gasped, pointing at the leg which looked a bit crooked even beneath the layers of his clothing.

Justin sighed. This would hinder the man considerably. "I do not think you will be joining in the fight much longer."

Ethan stood with Justin's help and they began to make their way slowly towards the camp. Just as they started up the last slope, Justin felt a prickling sensation in the back of his neck and cautiously looked over his shoulder. His eyes instantly found his father, who was speaking to Lord Rushworth, his arms flailing and his head shaking. It seemed quite an animated discussion. But something seemed off, even from so far away. "Can you make it from here?" He asked of Ethan.

"Yes, of course. Go," he tilted his head, motioning back towards the field. He probably thought that Justin wanted to fend off the last few Scots.

Justin ran back towards his father, unsure of what was driving him, but sure that whatever it was, would not take "no" for an answer.

He was close enough to see that his father and Lord Rushworth were fighting. Sword to sword. Dagger to dagger. Words forgotten, their weapons spoke for them now. "Father!" he called out, not liking the scene before him in the slightest. "Father, what are you doing?"

"Justin, GO! Go back to camp. This doesn't concern you."

"Like Hell it doesn't concern me! What has happened?"

"Tell him Joseph," Lord Rushworth taunted his opponent as they circled one another. "Tell him what you've done. I'm sure he'll be so proud. Ah...but perhaps he was all part of the plan. Did you let him in on this? Is he to follow in his father's footsteps?"

"Father...what is he talking about?"

"Justin," his father warned, as steel clashed. In the blink of an eye, Rushworth had caught Joseph off his guard and knocked the weapon from his hand.

"Joseph Winterberry, you have committed treason against your lord and country. Now...prepare to die for your sins!" Rushworth screamed and lunged forward.

"NO! Father!" Reflexively, Justin had withdrawn his sword at the sight of the ongoing fight, and instinctively wanting to help his father, he tossed the man his sword just as Rushworth was bearing down upon him. In the blink of an eye, Justin's sword was embedded in the man's side and the wide, pleading eyes of his leader were burned into his mind until the day he would die.

***

Justin awoke from the dream with a start.

Dammit. Those eyes. Rushworth's muffled screams. The sound of his father's sickening laughter. He could feel his stomach rebelling at the memories.

Being quiet so as not to wake his grandmother, Justin rose and made his way outside. He needed air. He needed...to not remember.

In the still of the night, he walked towards one of the communal fires and warmed his bare arms. Suddenly, he felt a tingling sensation in the back of his neck and he tensed in preparation. He looked around but saw nothing. His father wouldn't dare come anywhere near their land. Not with McKinnon here. But he felt the sickening feeling all the same. The sense of danger. He looked all around him, staring into the darkness, but saw nothing. Perhaps...it was simply the memories bringing back old ghosts.

That had to be it.

When he looked back at the fire, he caught sight of a familiar pair of hazel eyes across the way. Though startled, he smiled at the figure then watched as the man returned his smile and walked away.

Taking it for the signal it was meant to be, Justin followed Brian as he made his way towards the pond.

A late night...swim was just what he needed.

***

As the two men made their way towards the edge of the trees, two riders backed away into the shadows.

"Hmm...quite a development."

"I should say so. The master is not going to like this."

When the path was clear and the two men had disappeared into the forest, the riders headed towards home, holding to the shadows as they went.

To Be Continued...