In Bed With A Stranger(23)

"We are ill matched-" She gasped behind Brodick's hand as it slapped over her mouth.

"Dinnae say it! I'll be taking ye to my bed and no other place." He  lowered his voice as his arms tightened, holding her prisoner when she  squirmed. "Tell me true, Mary," he said, removing his hand, "have ye  been with another? Let us begin our marriage with honesty."

"You've already made up your mind about me. Nothing I say will make any difference."

"It will. I can trust. But it disnae come for free. Ye have to be honest with me first."

His hand moved up her back until he threaded it through her hair. His  grasp tightened and she was forced to stare into his eyes. Suspicion  stared back at her and hunger so fierce it stunned her. Her words melted  away as she forgot what she was fighting with him about. His attention  dropped to her mouth and her lips tingled, anticipating his kiss.

It never came. With a growl, he released her. His shoulders shook as he stepped back.

"I'll nae be distracted. Ye'll answer me before yer kisses drive thought from my mind."

Her body shook with the loss of his support. A dull ache ran through  every inch of her flesh. Clasping her arms around herself, she tried to  remove the feeling of his hands by rubbing her arms.

"You doubt me. That will never change. Even after my innocence is proven  you will continue to doubt my word." She shivered. "This is why I ask  you to send me back to my father."

"And I have told ye that I willnae do so." He spat his words at her,  pointing that finger toward her once more. "Have ye known another man?"

"No, and that won't be changing tonight." She had no way to enforce her  words but they flew out of her mouth born from the flames of her temper.  How she wished she were enduring her woman's flow. Her eyes widened.

Her monthly flow …

"Since you doubt my innocence, it is only prudent to wait until my  monthly curse happens before consummating this marriage. Only by doing  that will you never doubt the parentage of any babe I may conceive."

His expression darkened but she didn't wait for him to demand compliance from her again.

"Yes. That is the way to end this quarrel." Taking a deep breath into  her lungs, she curtsied, dismissing him with the gesture. "Good night,  my lord."

She turned her back on him, the hairs on her nape rising as she did so.  Her shoulders were tense as she began walking away, expecting to feel  his hands on her at any moment. She made it the length of the hallway  without any interference. Disappointment slammed into her, making her  aware of how much she enjoyed his touch. Tears clouded her vision as she  climbed the stairs and she wasn't even sure why she was sniffling.

She had gained what she wanted. There was no reason for her to despair.  Her monthly curse would not come for another fortnight at least. It was a  much better plan than asking for an inspection.

So why did she not feel relief?





Chapter Seven


Helen was cross with her.

The maid hid it well but Anne knew from personal experience what the  tight set of her lips meant. How many times had she done the same while  tending to Philipa?

The maid was holding back the words that she wanted to lecture Anne  with. She performed her duties efficiently but without the friendly  banter she'd added this afternoon. There was little to do after Anne's  dress was removed and hung up. Helen returned with a silver brush. Anne  heard her pull in a stiff breath as she drew it through Anne's hair.

"The lord will adore yer hair."

The brush slid along the waist-length strands. Anne rarely let it hang  loose. That was something girls did and she'd passed such a stage when  it came time to begin earning her keep in the kitchen. Tight braids were  far more practical. Warwickshire servants wore linen caps, too. The  required head covering kept flour out of her hair. Pinning her braids up  kept the ends from frizzing when she leaned over to poke up the fire.         

     



 

"He's a good man, the lord."

Anne sighed, unsure what to believe anymore. Had she truly only left Warwickshire three days ago? It felt so much longer.

"If yer mother were here, she'd explain how men can be suspicious when  they are thinking about their wives." Helen was silent for a long  moment. "Ye really should not take it to heart. It only shows how much  they value a good reputation. That's nae something they feel is needed  in a mistress. It's a compliment, setting ye above the women in their  past."

"Should I risk him reproaching our first child? Wondering if I was carrying before he knew me?"

"The McJames would nae do such a thing." There was an edge to her tone  now. "Besides, Agnes would have known if ye were breeding."

"He doubts my purity."

Helen stopped. She walked in front of her, aiming a steady look that reminded her very much of her mother's.

"Go to his bed and prove the matter. Pride is poor company once the bed curtains have been pulled."

Anne bit back her longing to do exactly that. Helen saw it and sighed. She curtsied.

"Good night, then, mistress."

"Thank you, Helen."

She hesitated before leaving, looking back at Anne. With a nod, she left  the room. The crackle from the dying fire was suddenly loud. Heat  braised Anne's cheeks as she felt her hair shifting softly around her  shoulders. She felt so pretty, something she wasn't accustomed to.  Vanity was another one of those things she had never had time for. Her  skin was creamy and smooth from her bath, practically glowing in the  firelight.

As a noble bride should be …

Yet she had sent her groom away.

The bed curtains were drawn along the sides to catch the heat and hold  it. Reaching out, she fingered one of the thick panels. It was a luxury  that she had never thought to sample. The sheets were smooth and soft,  too. Running her hand over them, she remained on her knees, ill at ease  among such finery.

Her guilt robbed her of any enjoyment. She had not earned the place as mistress of the house.

"Do you really fear me so much?"

Anne jumped-Brodick's voice came from the shadows. It was soft and silken as if he were speaking to a child.

"Or is it a game to prod me into doing what ye want and return ye to your father?"

Guilt slammed into her, making it hard to raise her head. The man  deserved far better than the deception she was. But her pride demanded  that she stop allowing him to think her a coward.

"I am not motivated by fear of your touch. Your insinuations angered me."

There was a soft step on the stone floor. The shadows grew until the  earl was standing in front of her. He studied her, his gaze lingering on  the soft waves of her hair.

"I did that true enough." He touched her hair, gently fingering a lock. A  look of enjoyment passed over his face. It made her feel pretty,  something she'd never experienced.

"For all yer demureness on the trail, there's a flame hidden inside ye."  He sounded amused by her temper. Something she hadn't expected from any  man. Even the lowest stable hand considered himself master of his own  family.

"You cannot be happy to discover that."

He chuckled. "Ye think not?" She realized that the brooch holding his tartan was missing now, only his shirt covering his chest.

"Think once more. I told ye already that I have no taste for a coward."

A tingle of awareness went through her, as though she was proud of showing him that she would not submit meekly.

"I didn't take that to mean that you enjoy shrewish behavior."

His lips twitched up, a look of satisfaction taking over his features.

"There's a difference between passion and sourness."

He approved of her. She heard it in his voice. Her teeth worried her  lower lip because she just couldn't help but bask in the glow of that  praise. It meant even more because it came from a man she was growing to  admire. Brodick wasn't a puffed-up shell with a title. He was a man who  worked as hard as his people did. His attention dropped to her chest,  lingering on her breasts behind the thin chemise. She was suddenly  self-conscious and keenly aware that they were alone.         

     



 

In her bedroom.

"You should not be here, my lord."

"Did yer father teach ye to tell everyone around ye what to do?" His  voice was sharp, edged with impatience that thickened his brogue. "Ye do  it often enough with me. I think it's time ye heard what I'm wanting."

"You want me in your bed. I have listened to you." She spoke too  quickly, her emotions bleeding through to her voice. Brodick frowned.

"And ye want me to return ye to yer father." He placed a knee on the  bed, judging her reaction. A ripple of sensation crossed her bare arms,  raising gooseflesh along her limbs. His keen gaze followed it. "I notice  ye don't ask to return to yer mother but instead to court. Is it any  wonder that I question who is waiting for ye there?"

The collar of his shirt was open, displaying a deep vee of skin and  brawn. He leaned in closer, joining her on the bed. The frame creaked as  it took his weight. But he moved slowly as though he were attempting to  lull her into a sense of submission. She did admit that it was  mesmerizing having his large body invade her bed. It was something she'd  heard about for so many years. Been warned to avoid, it had taken on  almost a magical feeling. As if it could never truly happen except in  her imagination. Excitement rippled through her when she smelled his  skin. He was very real and so different from the few boys who had  attempted to flirt with her at Warwickshire. Those boys had professed  bravery in the face of Philipa's dictates but Brodick embodied that  idea. She believed that he would never tremble with fear … never.