“Enough, Brodick, do I look that large to you?”
He stopped, turning his gaze toward her. “’Tis the first time ye have used my name.”
Anne bit into a piece of bread to avoid answering him. He was pushing close to her, overwhelming her personal space. The intimacy was bold and there was a part of her that enjoyed it. Somehow, it made him seem more powerful, that determination. Her pride was ruffled, too, but that did not stop the tingle of anticipation that flowed down to her breasts. Laced up once more, the tender globes protested their imprisonment. Behind the steel stays, her nipples drew taut.
Fiona sighed dramatically. Brodick turned to look at his sister. She only wiggled her eyebrows at his temper. Fiona shrugged before smiling at Anne.
“Men are thick-headed. They canae disengage their minds from their lust.”
“Mind yer mouth, Fiona.” Brodick reached for a tankard. “At least give the lass a few days to become accustomed to yer brashness.”
“More like ye’re thinking to get her settled into yer bed and stuck as yer wife before she learns too much about Celts.”
“We’re soon to be one nation, sister. I, for one, do not long to hold onto the wars that have taken so much blood.” There was a solid reprimand in his voice, but not anger.
Anne held her breath. Warwickshire had always been such a formal house, she wasn’t sure what Brodick would make of his sister’s words. He shook his head, his expression turning jovial again.
“And aye, I’d like to show the pleasant part of living at Sterling afore she hears what a bold female I have for a sister.”
They both laughed, enjoying the jest. She was drawn to the family camaraderie. Hidden from Philipa’s eyes, her own family enjoyed the same ease. Teasing was the one thing that truly said she was among family, because every other aspect of her life was governed by rules and her station.
Sterling was a welcoming house, indeed. The maids were not standing with their platters, attempting to be unnoticed. There was no lowering of heads before the food was presented. Conversation flowed freely instead of each word being measured before it was uttered for fear of those higher than yourself becoming offended. Her appetite returned with full vigor as she watched the supper tables, enthralled by the contentment displayed. It radiated from everyone around her, warming up that spot in her chest that had turned so cold when she was separated from her family. She still longed for them but happily enjoyed her meal with such company.
It would be simple to slip into the role she’d been thrust into. She was tempted, sorely so. Her eyes strayed to Brodick. His jaw was newly scraped clean of whiskers. His face was firm and hard, like the rest of his body. The doublet he’d worn on the trail was missing. He wore only his shirt and kilt. The tartan was flipped up along his thigh, displaying the thick muscle of his leg. She should have ignored it, but her eyes were drawn to it.
So intent was she on him she missed the fact that one of his hands was beneath the table. He gently squeezed her knee through her skirts and she jumped, knocking the table.
“Thick, cloddish, with only one thing on their minds.” Fiona waggled a finger from side to side with each insult she tossed at her brother.
Heat crept into Anne’s cheeks as Brodick turned his gaze onto her. Suspicion was clouding his expression again. He gripped her knee once more, keeping his hand there. “Maybe ye are as innocent as ye say. Ye certainly are not used to being touched.”
He had lowered his voice but it still lit her temper. Pushing her foot off the floor, she drove her knee and his hand into the top of the table. The thump covered the swift intake of his breath.
“And you wonder,” she gritted out, keeping her voice low, “why I am intent on following traditions that protect my good name.”
Several men had stopped talking and were silently chewing as they tried to listen. Rising, she bobbed a quick reverence before striding across the hall. She didn’t care if it was unwise to be angry, she was out of patience with performing to everyone’s expectations. She had no more tolerance for charges against her chastity.
A hard hand caught her elbow once she entered the hallway. Brodick spun her around to face his displeasure.
“Ye’re right, Mary, I dinnae ken why ye’re avoiding my bed.”
“Your bed…all I hear is your bed.” She raised her chin and let him see the flames in her eyes. “Yet it is my virtue you question. I am not the one who speaks of lust so often. Attending court does not make any lady a strumpet.”
“I’ve been to your English court, madam, and it was full of titled ladies who held no reservations about anything.” He pointed a finger at her. “They fucked in the hallways outside the Queen’s own chamber. I won’t have it in my wife.”