"I've come to ask ye to return to Sterling with me." He stopped, his next words sticking in his throat.
"I heard in the market that ye'd gone to the border land to claim a wife." Agnes paused, choosing her words with care. "Do ye have a concern with her?"
"My bride has asked to have the custom of inspection carried out."
The two men looked at one another as Agnes took to stroking the silver brooch.
"It is her wish, my lord?"
"Aye."
She nodded, still fingering the broach. "I didnae know that the custom was so practiced in England these days."
"Nor did I."
Agnes lowered her chin. "Bring out my cloak, Johnny. I'm off to Sterling."
Brodick frowned as he headed back to his horse. He didn't like it. Not a bit. Agnes allowed one of his men to help her into the cart. She sat back in the straw as her son handed her cloak in to her. Cullen had a good point; it was possible that his bride loved another man. He didn't like the idea of it. In fact, he was jealous. The surge of emotion was surprising. Never once had he been possessive of a woman. Not even with the mistresses he'd enjoyed so well and completely. He liked women, enjoyed the way they felt when there was nothing between them but skin and passion. Some of them had accused him of being a demanding man.
That was a fact.
A quick fuck wasn't his idea of fun. He'd never placed a woman's back against a tree because his cock was hard and time short. Well, maybe he'd been in a hurry a few times when he was a lad still trying to grow a full beard because he thought it would make him a man. He'd left that impatience behind along with his youthful whiskers. As long as his eyes were still sharp, he would be a clean-shaven man. He had no love for facial hair.
When he took a woman, he took the time to raise her passion. There was nothing more intimate than being lovers. Getting his cock inside a willing female wasn't nearly as good as the experience of feeling his partner climaxing while he rode her. His memory offered up the way his bride had shivered in his embrace. Aye, that was what he was talking about. Reaching out to touch that passion was the thing that drew his attention to a woman. Spread thighs weren't enough.
Wanting that from his marriage was risky. He should have expected Mary to want to be returned to her father. He was Scottish. In spite of the coming union between the two countries, the people still harbored many ill opinions of each other. On both sides. There were titled Scots who believed him daft for seeking the union .
Maybe he was.
Yet thinking that didn't seem to be killing off his growing attraction to her. Perhaps hiding behind her veil had been a crafty ploy, but it had succeeded. Hooking his attention as completely as a well-turned ankle would have. That first day had been a long one as he hoped the wind might give him a peek at her face, or the heat might see her raising the fabric.
Beneath his kilt, his cock was hard, his thoughts having raised it. It wasn't his last mistress's face he saw in his mind, it was his bride's. It was the sound of her sigh when he kissed her neck. Looking back at the cart, he saw that Agnes was well settled.
Raising a fist into the air, he commanded his men.
"Sterling."
His wife would have her assurances and then she would learn that he kept what was his. By tonight, she would be installed in his bed so that he might begin teaching her exactly how much he wanted her. His erection kept him company as they rode back towards Sterling. He enjoyed the burn, savoring the need before he appeased it. He was a lucky man to harbor passion for his bride.
She would not be returning to her father.
Brodick McJames never surrendered. No, it would be his little English bride who cried quarter. That was going to be his personal pledge and his pleasure to see done.
Chapter Six
Sterling
The saints had truly deserted her.
Brodick returned as the sun set. Helen pulled her down the stairs and into the double doorway to watch a cart being pulled into the yard by an ox team. McJames retainers flanked it, their plaids proudly pulled over the right shoulder of each man. There was an air of celebration among them. Each one tugging the corner of his knitted cap when she looked at him.
Helen pointed at the wagon. "There. The lord has brought Agnes. She's delivered more babies than anyone could keep track of. She's more skill in one hand than I have in both of my own. Everything shall proceed smoothly now."
The midwife Brodick brought her was formidable. Agnes was helped from the cart by two burly Scotsmen but she walked towards Anne on steady steps. She walked right up the steps without a quiver, pausing for a moment to consider Anne.
"Good day to ye, mistress."
There was no possibility that she might challenge the experience of the woman in front of her. Agnes radiated confidence and mastery of her skill. Her eyes were the sort that looked straight into a person's soul. Anne found herself shifting slightly as she feared that the veteran female might just see through the entire façade.
Such a thing was impossible, of course, but the emotion welled up inside her anyway.
Brodick stepped up, catching her attention. He was in his commanding element, not a hint of weakness on his face. He captured her hand, keeping her close so that their words remained between them.
"I've done what ye wanted, Mary. But I want to make it plain that I am not demanding this inspection. It makes no difference to me if this custom is carried through or not. I'll honor our proxy marriage without it."
That was very generous. Far more so than most women, even high born ones, might expect.
He stared at her, waiting for her reaction. Part of her wanted to melt at his feet. She'd rarely ever had such kindness offered to her. It was certainly something that she'd never expected from a man.
It reminded her of the way her father was with her mother.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought of the way her parents looked at each other. Loneliness made her heart ache. But guilt weighed down on her shoulders so greatly, her knees wanted to buckle. Brodick could love, she saw it in his eyes. She didn't want to be the cause of him being shackled to her sister.
"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."