“No doubt my father sent word to his new wife,” she politely replied. “However, I was not informed.” She set her jaw. “Nor was I informed you had left, other than a quick word by Duff.”
Her husbands shared a glance. She’d heard about twins being able to understand each other without speaking. Whatever they said to each other it was not something they chose to share with her. So be it. She had a few things she wasn’t going to tell them, either.
“We’d hoped to find ye welcoming us,” said Duff.
“So did I.”
Of course her baby tears fought to escape. She dropped her eyes to hide them as well as her quivering chin. She was not used to these womanly upsets. It was Duff’s babe inside her that caused tears to form so often. At least her stomach no longer revolted each morning. Even better, she still had a need for what a pair of MacDougal brothers brought to their marriage bed, as in screaming orgasms. Just seeing them, frowns and all, made her breasts fill and her pussy throb. But it was midday and the returning men filled the hall with boasts and roars of laughter. Malcolm and Duff would join them, of course. Perhaps she’d see them at the evening meal.
Kiera’s shoulders slumped. She looked a mess, but it no longer mattered. They would judge her as they chose. She might as well ride out and clear her head. She would not show weakness by crying or complaining in front of anyone but Chester. As her dog had also deserted her, her mare would have to do.
“If you’ll excuse me, I shall let you return to your manly duties.” She made to descend past them.
“Where do ye think ye’re going?” demanded Malcolm.
Two pairs of blue eyes frowned at her from under dark brows. Malcolm had gained a commanding tone. He held himself differently as well. Was it something he’d picked up now he was a laird by virtue of her extensive dowry?
“I am going to ride,” she said.
“We’ve just spent days in the saddle,” said Duff. “We have no wish to get on the back of a horse.”
“Of course not. I’m sure you wish to drink ale with the rest of the men. I shall leave you to it.” She waved for them to part and let her past. Duff shifted to block her.
“Nay,” said Malcolm.
Her temper rose. She hauled it back. She smiled through clenched teeth. “Excuse me?”
“Ye’ll not ride.”
She rubbed her forehead, staring at the stone floor. She was not used to explaining herself to anyone, including a husband. But she would be a perfect wife. That meant agreeable, helpful, considerate, and all manner of other things she’d done now and then over the years.
“I find myself out of sorts,” she said pleasantly. “My loom is dismantled and my spindles packed so I canna use them to soothe myself. Riding will help me be pleasant for you this eve.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Ye’ll not ride without one of us with ye. And since we’re not leaving, ye’ll remain here.”
“Husband, I am in a foul temper. Keeping me indoors will not improve my efforts to be a good wife to you.”
“A good wife would have met her new husbands on their arrival.”
His growled words stung like a slap to the face. She stared back just as intently.
“Servants of a good laird would have told her of her husbands’ approach, so she could clean up and meet them. Instead, I was sent to seek something in the far attics, so I not only failed to greet you, I am a mess!” She ducked her head, shaking out her skirts as an excuse.
She fought to breathe in the quiet. All her plans had just exploded thanks to whoever hated her enough to destroy her budding relationship with her husbands.
“Ye wish to ride?” Surprisingly, it was Malcolm who spoke, and almost kindly.
Expecting anger, his soft words hit her heart. Confused, she clenched her teeth, holding onto her temper and her tears.
“Is that not what I just said?”
Duff chuckled, breaking the tension. “Yer wife has a temper, my laird.” He scratched at his scruffy beard. “Mine was pleasant when we were together.”
“Of course I was pleasant when we met,” she replied, speaking only to Duff. “There was just the two of us. We talked, laughed, and played chess, as two good friends. ’Tis your lordly older brother who causes me to become vexed.”
“I say we let her ride,” said Duff. He gave Malcolm a sideways glance.
“See! Duff agrees with me! My horse is—”
“’Tis not a horse ye’ll be riding.” Duff’s lip twitched. He slid half-closed eyes over her. “I’ve been thinking of little but yer body since I left ye hot and wet. Ye’d best not have used yer wee fingers to make yerself come.”