“He’s a good man, the lord.”
Anne sighed, unsure what to believe anymore. Had she truly only left Warwickshire three days ago? It felt so much longer.
“If yer mother were here, she’d explain how men can be suspicious when they are thinking about their wives.” Helen was silent for a long moment. “Ye really should not take it to heart. It only shows how much they value a good reputation. That’s nae something they feel is needed in a mistress. It’s a compliment, setting ye above the women in their past.”
“Should I risk him reproaching our first child? Wondering if I was carrying before he knew me?”
“The McJames would nae do such a thing.” There was an edge to her tone now. “Besides, Agnes would have known if ye were breeding.”
“He doubts my purity.”
Helen stopped. She walked in front of her, aiming a steady look that reminded her very much of her mother’s.
“Go to his bed and prove the matter. Pride is poor company once the bed curtains have been pulled.”
Anne bit back her longing to do exactly that. Helen saw it and sighed. She curtsied.
“Good night, then, mistress.”
“Thank you, Helen.”
She hesitated before leaving, looking back at Anne. With a nod, she left the room. The crackle from the dying fire was suddenly loud. Heat braised Anne’s cheeks as she felt her hair shifting softly around her shoulders. She felt so pretty, something she wasn’t accustomed to. Vanity was another one of those things she had never had time for. Her skin was creamy and smooth from her bath, practically glowing in the firelight.
As a noble bride should be…
Yet she had sent her groom away.
The bed curtains were drawn along the sides to catch the heat and hold it. Reaching out, she fingered one of the thick panels. It was a luxury that she had never thought to sample. The sheets were smooth and soft, too. Running her hand over them, she remained on her knees, ill at ease among such finery.
Her guilt robbed her of any enjoyment. She had not earned the place as mistress of the house.
“Do you really fear me so much?”
Anne jumped—Brodick’s voice came from the shadows. It was soft and silken as if he were speaking to a child.
“Or is it a game to prod me into doing what ye want and return ye to your father?”
Guilt slammed into her, making it hard to raise her head. The man deserved far better than the deception she was. But her pride demanded that she stop allowing him to think her a coward.
“I am not motivated by fear of your touch. Your insinuations angered me.”
There was a soft step on the stone floor. The shadows grew until the earl was standing in front of her. He studied her, his gaze lingering on the soft waves of her hair.
“I did that true enough.” He touched her hair, gently fingering a lock. A look of enjoyment passed over his face. It made her feel pretty, something she’d never experienced.
“For all yer demureness on the trail, there’s a flame hidden inside ye.” He sounded amused by her temper. Something she hadn’t expected from any man. Even the lowest stable hand considered himself master of his own family.
“You cannot be happy to discover that.”
He chuckled. “Ye think not?” She realized that the brooch holding his tartan was missing now, only his shirt covering his chest.
“Think once more. I told ye already that I have no taste for a coward.”
A tingle of awareness went through her, as though she was proud of showing him that she would not submit meekly.
“I didn’t take that to mean that you enjoy shrewish behavior.”
His lips twitched up, a look of satisfaction taking over his features.
“There’s a difference between passion and sourness.”
He approved of her. She heard it in his voice. Her teeth worried her lower lip because she just couldn’t help but bask in the glow of that praise. It meant even more because it came from a man she was growing to admire. Brodick wasn’t a puffed-up shell with a title. He was a man who worked as hard as his people did. His attention dropped to her chest, lingering on her breasts behind the thin chemise. She was suddenly self-conscious and keenly aware that they were alone.
In her bedroom.
“You should not be here, my lord.”
“Did yer father teach ye to tell everyone around ye what to do?” His voice was sharp, edged with impatience that thickened his brogue. “Ye do it often enough with me. I think it’s time ye heard what I’m wanting.”
“You want me in your bed. I have listened to you.” She spoke too quickly, her emotions bleeding through to her voice. Brodick frowned.
“And ye want me to return ye to yer father.” He placed a knee on the bed, judging her reaction. A ripple of sensation crossed her bare arms, raising gooseflesh along her limbs. His keen gaze followed it. “I notice ye don’t ask to return to yer mother but instead to court. Is it any wonder that I question who is waiting for ye there?”