“I would prefer not to.”
“Undoubtedly, but do so anyway. There’s another man in this bed and the only way I may rid us of him is to know him as you do.”
She wanted to look away. A part of her wanted to get out of the bed, don her habit, fetch Grendel and ride back to London, to her father.
He wouldn’t have it. “Stay just there, Jane. Look at me and speak.”
Clearing her throat, she rested her hand against his upper arm and began tentatively. “Castle MacDougal is a lovely place, with many outbuildings, most of them fallen into disuse in modern times. Cousin Elizabeth altered an old fish hatchery, set beside the loch, into a summer pavilion of sorts, a place to rest and view the lake in comfort. I’d gone there to read my letter from home. I was distressed and thought to have a moment alone.”
“Was your distress due to news within the letter?”
“I have told you so. You’d taken a third bride.”
“Did you expect I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know what I expected. I only know the news was terribly depressing. MacDougal came up at a bad moment and offered comfort.”
“A bad moment?”
She frowned at him. “You have the singular distinction as the only man with the ability to make me weep, even hundreds of miles away and our friendship some three years lost.”
“My apologies, ma’am. Unintentional, most certainly.” He lifted his hand and brushed her hair away from her temple. “Go on. You were weeping in the pavilion beside the loch and MacDougal offered comfort.”
“I allowed it, and he kissed me. He proposed, yet again, even went on bended knee, so sincere, so convincing that I would waste my life pining after something that was never meant to be. A gust of wind tossed the letter into the loch and I confess I saw it as a sign. I impulsively said yes and he became quite amorous. I allowed liberties, I suppose because we had just become betrothed. He was my dear cousin, my friend, a man I trusted.” She stopped, remembering, feeling a fool.
“Go on, Jane. Tell me all of it. Don’t be embarrassed.”
Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “I didn’t see or comprehend what was happening, not until it was entirely too late. My gown was suddenly above my hips, his breeches were undone and I
said . . . no.” She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed violently. Please, God, do not allow me to cry. Grant me a shred of dignity.
God, it appeared, was busy elsewhere. As the memory descended, she felt one hot tear creep from beneath her lid. “Perhaps he didn’t hear, or perhaps he ignored me. I was frightened, and said so. He assured me it was natural to be afraid, that the first time is generally painful, but I should be still and accept it, that the next time would be pleasurable.” More tears followed the first. “I do so hate to weep, Blixford. This is dreadful! And our wedding day! You think me horrid, do you not?”
“Shh, no, I do not. I want to hear all of it, Jane. Please continue.”
She opened her eyes again and saw that he was concentrating fiercely, his gaze steady on hers. “It was much worse than merely painful. I thought I might die of it, and I do not exaggerate. He finished with me and stood to adjust his breeches. My most vivid memory is the expression on his face as he stood there, looking down at me. He was displeased and insisted I get up quickly, that I was bleeding on his mama’s divan. Naturally, I did, quite horrified. We walked back to the castle, and he went off for a ride without even a goodbye. I thought surely I’d reached the depths of despair. How could I live my entire life with such a cruel and thoughtless man, but how could I not, having given him what belongs to a husband?”
Her eyes moved from his and focused on the canopy above. “That night, when his father announced his betrothal to Mary Anna MacGruder, he smiled at me, as if to say he’d had me and I was a fool. He made a comment about fine Scottish lasses making better brides, for they have strength of character lacking in the English. I realized then he resented me and my family, my father’s position and wealth. Inasmuch as he violated me, he did so to my entire family. We had all been disparaged by an arrogant Scot. I didn’t consider my actions, nor did I think of the consequences. I excused myself from table, fetched my pistol, returned to the dining room and shot him, with all of his family and the MacGruders looking on. Cousin Elizabeth’s husband wanted to call the constable and have me arrested. I informed him, if he did so, my father and brothers would learn of his son’s perfidy and he would be dead, instead of merely wounded. I was gone from Castle MacDougal at first light.”