“You should send me back to my father. At court.” There was a plea in her voice that she could not disguise. “Please.” To return to Warwickshire was to risk being turned out along with her mother. Her father was her only hope.
His features drew tight, displeasure flickering in his eyes. He tugged her forward, back into the tower. Keeping her hand prisoner in his larger one, Brodick held her near. “Do you love another?” He spoke through clenched teeth, the grip on her hand tightening.
“No.”
“Explain yerself, Mary. No more of this game. What is it about our marriage that ye find unacceptable?”
Fear gripped her, squeezing her throat until she felt as though even a breath of air wouldn’t pass. She did not know him and could not place the safety of her family in his hands. If he discovered Philipa’s deception, he might simply leave her back at Warwickshire and wash his hands of the entire affair.
“It is not so simple a thing for a woman, my lord. With my queen so aged, many women find themselves returned to their fathers as unfit. Men rule this world, so I must be careful. You shall increase your land holdings while I have no hope for happiness.”
Pushing his hand off hers, she remained still so that he wouldn’t reach for her again. “You have not sought me out for any tender feelings; only a matter of making a good match. We know nothing of one another.”
“Tis normal enough, madam, for our station,” he said, his eyes full of suspicion. “Which is why I dinnae ken yer asking me to return ye to yer father. That smacks of cowardice, and yet ye stand up to me with steel in yer spine.”
The compliment stunned her. She couldn’t help but enjoy it. The man in front of her was not one who handed out praise lightly. It was something you had to earn from him.
He cupped her chin, his grip solid but unpainful. “Make yer choice, madam. Ye may join me in our bed with or without yer inspection, but be very sure that ye will be passing the night in my bed.”
He stepped away from her, his body tense. But he controlled his frustration, never hinting at physical chastisement. That only made her respect him, even like him. Many a man raised his hand to a female who challenged his will.
“Knowing each other takes time, madam. We’ve made a fine start on it but I didnae fetch ye here to court ye like some youth. I’ll nae be content with a few kisses. Ye’re past that age as well.”
“But we could spend a few months before celebrating our wedding. Your people would enjoy witnessing their lord taking marriage vows in the church. It would serve as good Christian example.”
“This is Scotland, madam. I’ll have to fend off the thieving attempts of half my neighbors if they hear ye are here and still a maiden.”
Shock held her silent for a moment. “That is barbaric.”
“It’s as Scottish as I am.”
And the man was proud too. Anne saw it shimmering in his eyes along with a lurking glimmer of amusement. The sight intrigued her because he was so large and strong that she would have thought there was no hint of boyish mischief left in him. That glimmer said there was a part of him that still enjoyed playing.
“I see.”
He pressed his lips into a hard line. “No ye don’t.”
Anne felt her patience grow thin. That was the problem with noble peers…they always believed that they knew everything. Well, she was her own person, her thoughts hers and none others.
“You can not know what is in my mind, sir.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “I’ve a fair idea of what is churning inside, behind that pretty face. Ye’ve a mind to run back to court where some whelp has turned yer head with his poetry.”
“I am not in love with anyone.”
His expression hardened. “Then ye are discontent because I am Scots.”
Anne shook her head before thinking. Rejection shot through her so quickly, she could not hold back her denial of his charge. It would have served her better to let him believe she detested his heritage, such attitudes were common.
Yet she could not do it. There was too much of him that she found admirable, too much that she found worthy of praise. It was the truth that she was beginning to like him.
Brodick made a low sound of frustration. He propped his hands on his hips, looking even larger. The sword hilt rising over his right shoulder added to the formidable picture he presented.
“Ye are making me daft,” he announced.
“I’m trying your patience because I don’t dislike you for being Scots?”
Brodick stepped closer, instantly drawing a response from her flesh. She backed away from him without consideration and he kept coming until her back hit the wall. He pressed his hands against the cool stone. There was a mere finger length between them now. Her heart began to race as she caught the faint scent of his skin. Never had she noticed that men smelled enticing. Behind her stays her nipples drew tight. His gaze centered on her lips and the tender skin tingled with longing. Time froze. She felt suspended in that moment, aware of nothing but Brodick and his body. Needs rose from every inch of her skin to be in contact with him, stroked by him.