Border Fire(32)

"Well, I do not," she said evenly. "Jenny sounds like a little girl."

"Nay, then. Jenny sounds like … like a soft and gentle lassie, one who wants above all things to please her husband." As he talked, he touched her shoulder lightly. Then, slightly frowning again, he paused to take off his gloves.

Stepping away while he was thus occupied, she turned to face him. "I know that it is my duty to please my husband, sir, but you should know that I have not been raised like other girls. I have run a household that is perhaps even larger than this one, and although I have lived with a temperamental man-"

"I said that I don't want to talk about your brother," he said. He unfastened his cloak, flinging it aside and moving toward her again.

Janet stepped back, saying firmly, "This is not about Hugh, Sir Quinton. This is about me. You must not enter this marriage thinking that I will be like other women, for I am not. I am sorry if that disappoints you, but I cannot alter the fact."

His smile vanished and a stern look took its place. "From what I know about Sir Hugh Graham, you did not run everything at Brackengill, Jenny, my lass. For that matter, I doubt that you won many battles with him. Did you not tell me once that he affords rough treatment to anyone who displeases him?"

"Aye, and so he does," she admitted, "but he rarely paid heed to what I did with regard to the household. It was only when I interfered in realms that he considered his own that we crossed swords."

"Crossed swords?"

"'Tis purely a figure of speech," she said, adding with a sigh, "Not that I shouldn't like to learn how to wield one. It is most unfair that only men can have weapons. I nearly always carry my-"

"Females are not suited to bearing weapons," he said. "Not that lasses don't wield certain weapons of their own, mind you. Some of those are harmless enough, like a smile or the twitch of a fine pair of hips, but I have seen fingernails long enough and sharp enough to claw a man's eyes out. Come to think of it, I have not examined yours to see if they require trimming. Mayhap I should."

She put her hands behind her. "Please, sir, I do not jest."

"Let me see your hands, little wife."

Keeping them safely behind her back, she retreated another step, saying with frustration, "Why do men never listen?"

Gently he said, "Jenny, lass, if one of my men ignored a command the way you are ignoring mine now, I would swiftly teach him never to do so again."

Cocking her head, she said, "What would you do to him?"

He grimaced. "The point has not arisen in years, but I would do whatever I thought best. In any event, what I would do to a man who owes me allegiance and what I'll do to a wife who owes me obedience are scarcely one and the same."

"Are you threatening to beat me if I refuse to show you my hands?"

"Jenny, this is our wedding day. I do not want to quarrel with you. Why do you keep backing away from me?"

"Because I do not know you," she said. "Because I want to know you better, and I do not want you to believe that by changing the name you call me, you can change my nature. If you do not want me as I am, you ought to have said so from the start. If you enter upon our marriage believing that you can mold me to suit some image you've got of a Jenny, I would remind you, sir, that she is as like to be a jenny-ass as to be a jenny-wren."   





 

"Very pretty speaking," he said. "Do you mean to defy me at every turn?"

"I do not want to defy you at all," she said. "I want only to make matters clear between us. I want to know what you expect of me, and I want you to know that I am not likely to change my nature merely because you want me to."

A thumping noise diverted both of them, and they turned to see Jemmy Whiskers' head sticking out from under the lid at one end of the basket. A moment later, the little cat emerged altogether and immediately sat down to groom itself.

With a wry smile, Sir Quinton said, "Now there's a lad that knows how to look after what's important. I shall take a lesson from him just to show you that I am not set upon always getting my way. Do you intend to stand against that wall all night, little wife?"

Glancing over her shoulder, Janet saw that she had nearly backed into the wall near a window embrasure. Outside it was nearly dark, but looking out, she saw that the view encompassed acres of upper-Teviotdale woodland. The Teviot joined Broadhaugh Water far below, and she could hear its merry chuckling.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" he said, moving to stand beside her. Pride and the love he felt for his home colored every word.

"Aye," she said, "though I'll see it better by daylight. What town is nearest?"

"The only real one for miles is Hawick," he said. "'Tis where I bought your gown." He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. "'Tis a soft gown, and gey lovely, but 'tis time to take it off, lass. I would look upon you without it."

Rivers of heat washed through her, making it difficult to breathe. She did not know what to do with her hands, or what to say. Surely, she should say something intelligent, something wifely, but her imagination failed her. She had no experience upon which to draw. Her lips felt dry, and her breath rasped in her throat. She could feel her heartbeat. Indeed, she could hear it, like a dull thudding in her ears.

Sir Quinton's palm cupped the side of her face. "I promise that you have no need to fear me, Jenny. I have never beaten a woman in my life."

"It is not that," she murmured.

"Then what?"

"I do not know what I am supposed to do."

"You need do nothing yet. First, I shall act as your handmaiden. Just imagine me, if you can, in a maidservant's cap and apron."

The absurdity of the suggestion made her smile.

"That's better. If I had been thinking clearly at the time, I would have asked Francis Tailor to reveal the fastenings on this gown. Where the devil are they?"

"I thought you were the one with experience, sir," she said demurely.

"My experience is not so vast as to include all manner of buttons and laces, madam. Will you show me, or must I devise my own way into this dress?"

"No, don't! You will tear it, and then I shall have nothing to wear."

"Then show me."

Reluctantly, she showed him Lady Gaudilands' clever fastenings. He proved an apt student, and when he reached her corset, she stepped away from the window, unable to believe that no one could see them standing there. He chuckled at her modesty but took the opportunity to close the shutters against the night's chill. Next he lit candles at the fire and set them in their holders; then he removed his doublet and shirt before returning his full attention to her.

"Next time I will show you how my clothing must be removed," he said, slipping her gown from her shoulders. It fell, a velvet puddle at her feet.

Although she knew she was blushing, she felt more comfortable with him. She had feared that a husband might simply demand that she undress herself and let him do what needed to be done to get a child upon her, but clearly that would not be the case. He seemed to want her to enjoy their coupling.

His touch continued to stir new and exciting feelings in her body, fascinating and delighting her, and making her wonder what caused them. Could she stir similar feelings in him? Was it wanton to wonder such things?

Her corset, petticoat, and underpinnings came off next, and she shivered in her thin smock.

"Jump into bed, lass," he said. "I'll stir up the fire."

A knock at the door startled her and sent her flying for the bed. He laughed when she snatched back the blue counterpane and dove beneath it.

Still chuckling, he said, "Shall I let them in?"

"No! Oh, pray, sir, do not!"

He was still chuckling when he went to open the door.

Wondering if she could pull the bed curtain closed from where she lay, she decided in favor of yanking the counterpane to her chin instead.   





 

"I'll take that," Sir Quinton said at the doorway. "You can take yourself off to bed now, Tip. I won't require anything more tonight."

She heard a murmured response, and then her husband's contagious chuckle. When he kicked the door shut and turned, he was holding a large, well-laden tray.

"Now here's a dilemma," he said, grinning. "Shall we satisfy the hunger in our stomachs first, or that of our lust?"

Her stomach growled in reply. "I believe I am famished, sir," she said.

"Tip did not bring us anything as grand as what Margaret provided at Branxholme," he said. "Just bread and meat, and I think that pot has soup in it." He bent his head and sniffed. "Beef broth with bits of something floating in it, and mugs to drink it from, but they forgot to send a ladle."

"We can dip it out with the mugs," she said. "Put the pot near the fire to keep it warm, and we can have the soup later if we want it. All I want now is a slice of bread and beef. Did your Tip bring us aught else to drink besides the soup?"

"Aye, ale and wine both. Which would you like?"

"Wine, please."

He poured some from the jug into a pewter goblet and handed it to her.

She sipped, feeling the warmth of it seep through her as she watched him dispose of the soup pot by putting it almost into the embers at the edge of the fire. Then he set the jug of wine within arm's reach on a side table near the bed. She liked watching the play of muscles in his arms and back as he moved. He was a well-built man.