“I assure ye I know a great deal about the gentle sex.”
A flame of jealousy touched her as she listened to the mocking tone of his voice.
He has a mistress for sure…
Philipa’s words rose from her memory as she raised her chin stubbornly, determined to not allow herself to be used without a struggle.
“Lust has no bearing on a woman’s fertility. Inspection of a bride is done by a senior midwife and sometimes the groom’s mother, but it is not something to be mocked, sir. I might spend tonight as your leman and find myself on my way back to my father at sunrise with no one to defend me.”
She moved a few paces up the hillside, toward the camp and its many pairs of eyes to offer her sanctuary.
“Yer mother should have seen to having ye inspected.”
“It is customary for the groom’s family to choose the midwife. Everyone knows that. You could easily refute my mother’s midwife.” It was a tradition that went back for centuries. She should have recalled it sooner. When a woman was married by proxy, her dowry was legally in the hands of her husband’s family. If he sent her back to her father, it might take years to fight through the legal system to regain the monies and lands. By the time the battle was over, the discarded bride was often too old to marry and ended her days a pauper, dependent upon her relatives for everything.
The tradition of inspection protected a woman because if a senior midwife pronounced her fertile and strong, there was no court that might annul the marriage. In a world run by men, it was a woman’s saving grace when fate took babes to death early or worse still, a bride failed to conceive. Some midwives even boldly suggested that some men might be sterile. Such a charge was rejected among men of course but midwives still maintained their authority on the subject of whether or not a woman’s hips and womb were correct for bearing children.
“Inspection before consummation is custom in both our countries.”
Brodick’s expression darkened. Clearly the man was not accustomed to having someone else upset his plans. Anne stood tall, facing his displeasure. It was something she was going to have to become familiar with. Becoming compliant would land her on her back in his bed.
“Now I know I like her.” Cullen sounded gleeful, exactly like a younger brother teasing his older sibling. The only thing missing was a governess chasing after him, to tug on his ear.
“With family like ye, I dinnae need enemies.”
Cullen didn’t flinch under the force of Brodick’s words, instead he grinned. But the earl stared at her, trying to buckle her under his fierce displeasure.
Oh, he was angry. Even if she was a virgin, she instinctively understood what was flickering in his eyes. It was as old as time and part of her in a way she didn’t truly understand yet. But she felt her belly tighten and her nipples draw into hard points. Something inside her was awakening.
“Leave us, Cullen.” There was an edge of undeniable authority in his voice. The playful expression melted off Cullen’s face before he nodded his head in acknowledgment. The younger brother turned and left them, moving up the hill and into the darkness. The sun was completely gone now, leaving her alone in the night with Brodick. The sound of the river would mask their words as well.
“What game are ye playing?”
He spoke quietly but she wasn’t lured into thinking that he was relaxed. She’d heard her father use that tone before and nothing good had ever come from it. There was a hardened nobleman in Brodick who managed his people with an iron hand.
“Answer me, lady. Why are you avoiding our union ?”
“I’m not.”
He snorted. “Are ye a coward?”
She held her denial behind clenched teeth. “I have displeased you. You should send me to my father.”
A soft male chuckle was her response. He was half in shadow in the moonlight, his frame lit with silver light. For a moment, it felt as if they were in some fairy ring. She watched his hand move, fascinated by the play of night shadows.
“Clearly that is what ye want.”
His hand landed on her waist, the fingers hooking into the thick cartridge pleats that formed the skirt. With a jerk, she tumbled into his embrace. He locked an arm across her back, securing her as he captured the back of her head in one hand.
“But I would never have survived very long as the Earl of Alcaon if I gave up so easily. Fortune favors the bold.”
He kissed her again. This time it was a demanding press of lips. The hand on the back of her head held her in place as he took a deeper taste, his kiss pushing past her protesting lips until her mouth opened to allow his tongue to delve inside. She twisted in his arms, unable to sort out all the impulses racing through her. His scent filled her senses, unlocking desires she’d never encountered before. She wanted to touch him. Her fingertips felt sensitive and longed to discover what his bare skin felt like. She sought out the opening of his shirt where she’d glimpsed his flesh. His tongue invaded her mouth, seeking out hers. He teased her, stroking along her tongue until she allowed hers to tangle with his. It was a wicked dance that sent pleasure through her, the sweet intoxication sweeping aside all thoughts of what she needed to do. All that remained was what she wanted to do.