He preferred his home.
Sitting down in the tub, he reached for the soap. It was a common bar, milled on his own land without any feminine perfume scents added. There was only a scent of beeswax. He applied it to his skin with brisk strokes, his thoughts centered on completing his task so he might get on with what he was truly craving.
His bed with his wife in it.
He was slightly disappointed that she had not come down to greet him, but shrugged it off. Her chamber was above floors and she was most likely still slumbering away, unaware that he’d returned. He suddenly understood why his father had the bells rung when he entered the courtyard.
It suddenly seemed like a fine tradition.
“Toweling, my lord.”
Ginny spoke from the doorway, her head looking at the floor. She kept her sight on the hem of her skirt as she entered and left the neat linen on a stool.
“If my wife awakes, send her to me.”
The maid swallowed roughly. Brodick froze, turning his attention to the girl, but she was scurrying out of the room as if he were Satan. He frowned, but dismissed the maid. The only woman he had to struggle to understand was his wife.
Now that was a task he was looking forward to.
His wife’s chamber was too cold. Brodick frowned, his wet hair feeling the chill when he entered it. There wasn’t a speck of light from anywhere inside the chamber. His suspicions rose as he cast a look at the fireplace. There was nothing there; even the scent of smoke was missing from the room telling him that a fire had not been burning for many days, possibly weeks. The curtains on the windows were open as well. They should have been drawn at night to keep the fire heat from seeping past the glass. But having them open allowed moonlight and light from the walls to penetrate into the dark room. He’d expect such if a room was unoccupied.
Icy fingers closed around his heart. It was the sort of feeling he’d only experienced a few times in his life. Dread choked him as he moved toward the bed, trying to see through the blackness. The bed curtains were drawn all the way around the bed, only a mere few inches open at the foot of the bed. Inside, there was naught but darkness.
Had she fled back to her father?
Jerking one curtain aside, he reached into the bed and found a small lump. His breath expelled from his lungs in a rush of relief. His knees actually wobbled and he sat down heavily on the foot of the bed. His wife moved, stirring as her bed was rocked.
“What does the mistress require?”
His wife looked at the bed curtains, confusion marring her face. Her words didn’t make sense.
“Don’t ye mean the queen? When I attended yer English court, I dinnae recall her ladies calling her mistress.”
“My lord?”
Anne stared at the large shape and trembled. Joy rushed through her. She reached out to touch him, needing the reassurance of feeling his warm skin. It felt as if it had been forever since he left.
“I believe I instructed ye to call me Brodick when in our bed.”
He moved before her fingers made contact with him. The bed rocked, sending the curtains swaying like they were on a ship at sea. His large form looked huge in the darkness but his voice had been tender and welcoming. She sighed when his arms wrapped around her, hauling her up against him in a solid embrace that made her shiver.
She had dreamed of his arms around her.
“Brodick.” She lightly stroked his shoulders, shaking with happiness. He groaned softly.
“Say that again.”
Tracing a path up his neck she toyed with the locks of his hair. It was wet and curling.
“Welcome home, Brodick”
His mouth sought hers, taking a firm kiss. She slid her hands back to his shoulders. His lips pressed hers open, lingering over her mouth like a fine whiskey. He didn’t rush but tasted her gently.
“What are you sleeping in?”
Her fingers tried to hold him close but he pulled away to look at her.
“Are ye wearing that surcoat in bed?” His hands ran over her shoulders, trying to discover exactly what she was covered in.
“It keeps me warm when you are away.”
His hands stopped investigating her clothing. He framed her face gently, leaning back close until she felt his breath on her moist lips.
“Ah lass, ye’ll turn my head with flattery like that.” He opened the surcoat, working the buttons quickly, even in the dark. He pushed the garment over her shoulders, lifting her up to get at the tail of her chemise.
“Ye’ve no need o’ it now. I promise to keep ye very warm.”
His kiss blocked out whatever she might have thought to reply. His large body pressed her back into the bed. Anne reached for him, frantic to be touched. The solitude of the last month felt like an eternity. Brodick was warm and solid. Everything she craved.