In Bed With A Stranger(33)

The tub was inviting with its high sides. It was better than standing in the center of the room at least. The water was warm, delighting her stiff toes. Helen began pulling the pins from her hair.

“I dinnae ken the English. Men don’t care for a woman to tie her hair up. They like it soft and flowing.”

Did they? Anne bit her lower lip as she looked down at her breasts. Her nipples were hard from her anxiety. She studied the pink buttons, shivering as she considered seeing Brodick’s head leaning toward one to kiss it. Her nipple drew tighter with her thoughts, hardening into a pink berry.

He’d promised to do that.

“There. Much better. We’ll give this a rinse to make it perfect.”

Helen moved around, fetching a bar of soap and cloth. The woman was good at her job, bathing Anne with confident hands. She rang for more water, catching it in a pitcher before it poured into the tub.

“Beware yer eyes, lass.”

The water trickled over her head a moment later, drawing a gasp from her because it was cold. Helen clicked her tongue as she gathered up the wet mass and applied some soap to it. Using the cloth, Anne scrubbed at the marks two days of riding had left on her hands. Dirt had made its way beneath her fingernails and she worked diligently to clean it away.

“Beware.”

Anne squeezed her eyes shut as more water landed on her head. Tension knotted her belly as she felt like a pig being readied for roasting. Knowing the traditions surrounding marriage had somehow failed to impact her with just how it must feel to be taken through the steps. There really wasn’t so great a difference between what she was enduring and what a stable master did before presenting a mare to a stallion.

More precisely, before the mare was mounted.

Her face flamed but the heat didn’t remain in her cheeks. It traveled lower until her breasts were rosy and warm with anticipation. Lust coiled through her, spreading to every bit of her body. There was a portion of her that looked on her situation with happiness. At last she would understand what it was to be a woman.

She had enjoyed those kisses.

She lifted her eyelids and felt her clitoris flicker with excitement. Heated lust was curling up in her belly, drawing attention to her sex. There was a hypnotic feel to it, a mesmerizing need that hooked her attention. The water felt so smooth as it flowed across her skin, almost as if she’d never taken the time to really feel. All of her senses were heightened. She smelled the soap; this bar had rosemary oil in it. Her sense of smell was so keen, she even noticed what the water smelled like…fresh and full of life. Everything filled her, touching off a storm of longing. Her lips tingled, craving a kiss.

Brodick’s kiss.

His midnight eyes sprang to mind as Helen held out a length of toweling. Standing up, Anne stepped from the tub trying to banish Brodick from her thoughts. She still hadn’t thought of a way to keep him from her bed tonight. Dwelling on her lust would certainly be no help. More like a pixie leading her on to ruin.

Perth

Brodick stewed as he was forced to walk his horse in a zigzag pattern to allow for the cart to keep up. Agnes didn’t ride horses, claiming the beasts were noble and too fine for her. She was the matriarch of her village and had been present at his own birth, but only when she was still a young under-maid of Sterling. Now half of the lowlands snapped to attention when Agnes spoke.

“Why are ye doing this?” Cullen had lost his teasing tone. His brother kept his own horse under a tight rein near him.

Brodick muttered under his breath, his patience already strained. He didn’t have much left to deal with his own brother thinking him a brute.

“’Tis nae my idea.”

Cullen shot him a hard look that cut clean into his temper. Pointing a finger at his brother, he snarled softly. “Do yerself a favor, Brother, thank God that ye were nae born first.”

With a snort, Brodick turned and let his horse pace a wide circle in the dirt outside Agnes’s home. The stone cottage had dried bundles of herbs hanging from most of the rafters. Two men were working a sharpening stone under the eaves. They stood up as he and Cullen rode into view.

Making his bride suffer through an inspection had never crossed his mind even if it was the custom and in his best interest. Mary’s own mother had a stench attached to her name. One girl child wasn’t a very good reference for her daughter. Marriage was for union   and dowry, but he would be stuck with Mary as his lawful wife. If she didn’t produce children, he’d never have any legitimate ones.

“I just never figured ye’d be so hard on a little lass.”

“This is her idea. Use that head of yers and remember that I was more than happy to take care of consummating our vows last night. It’s my bride who seems to be unwilling.”