He kissed the tip of her nose. “I don’t mind in the least. I simply want you to be happy and enjoy yourself.”
“But I want you to be happy, too.”
“I am happy, Ainsley. With you in my arms, I could wish for nothing more.”
Again, she lifted a brow. “Really?”
“Well, obviously I could wish for something more, but I’m willing to wait.”
“I’m not. I want us to be happy together.”
He lowered his head to study her face. “I’m assuming that happy together is not some vague euphemism?”
“You really are a bit dense at times. I’m talking about sex.”
When he continued to regard her with a degree of skepticism, Ainsley decided it was time for a little challenge—and before her nerves did get the better of her. “If, that is, you’re up to it.”
He laughed. “Is that a dare? Because it’s one I’m perfectly capable of meeting.”
“Good, because—oh, drat. Would that hurt your leg? Maybe we’d better not. You might strain it.”
“Wife, I’m more than capable of having sex with you without using my leg.”
“Truly?”
“Let me show you.”
Without any further ado, he wrapped his hands around her waist and picked her up, depositing her with easy strength onto his lap.
“Goodness,” she said, feeling a little breathless.
“There, see?” he said with a wicked smile as he arranged her to fully straddle his hips. “I think this will be the perfect position for both of us.” His questing fingers went to her stays, which were twisted sideways, half exposing her. “This doesn’t look very comfortable—”
When a thunderous knock sounded against the door, Ainsley squawked and almost tumbled backward.
Royal grabbed her arms and steadied her. “Easy, lass.”
She pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “Who is that?” she gasped.
“Likely just one of the servants checking on me. I’ll—”
“Laddie boy, are ye all right in there?” yelled Angus.
“Dammit to hell,” Royal muttered. Then he raised his voice. “I’m fine. Go away.”
“I’ll no be doin’ that until I check on that leg of yers. I’m comin’ in whether ye will it or no.”
Ainsley yelped and rolled sideways, trying to clear the bed before the old man charged into the room. When her knee connected with some part of Royal’s body, he let out a strangled cry as she scrambled down to the floor. Desperately, she yanked her stays over her breasts and pulled her bodice back into place. Then she popped up to look at her husband, terrified that she’d hurt him.
He was curled forward in a ball, his face a rictus of agony.
“Oh, my God, did I hurt your leg?” she blurted out. “Royal, I’m so sorry.”
Angus barreled up to the bed. “What the hell is goin’ on in here?” He scowled at Ainsley. “What did ye do to him, ye daft girl?”
Still in a crouch, Ainsley struggled to pull her tangled skirts over her legs. “I . . . I don’t know. I think I might have done something to his leg when I, um, got off the bed.”
Angus looked blank for a moment before peering down at his grandson. A slight smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. “I dinna think it’s his leg ye hurt.”
Her terror abated a jot.
“Are you sure?”
Cautiously getting up, she got a good look at Royal. He’d uncurled a bit, but his face had gone a ghostly white and his hands were down between his legs, covering . . .
“Oh, dear,” she said, mortified.
“Aye, now that’s a sad end to the evenin’,” Angus said, clearly trying not to laugh.
Ainsley glared at him. “It’s your fault.” She reached across the bed to pull the sheets up over her poor husband. “Here, Royal, let me help you.”
“That’s not the kind of help he needs, lass,” Angus said.
“I would be exceedingly grateful if you would both just get the hell out of here,” Royal said from between clenched teeth.
Ainsley’s stomach took a miserable twist. “Royal, I—”
“Please, Ainsley, just go ,” he snapped.
Feeling like an utter fool, she resisted blurting out yet another apology and fled the room.
Chapter Twenty
Royal ducked his head against a gust of wind as he crossed the garden square. The weather in Glasgow had finally turned, the lingering warmth of summer fading into the cool mists of autumn. Soon enough snow would fall in the Highlands, enveloping Kinglas in the wintery blanket that cut it off from the outside world for days at a time. Royal had never found it isolating, due to his boisterous family and the small but vibrant community that made up life on the large estate.
But his wife was not designed for life in a remote Scottish glen, as their disastrous wedding trip had starkly illustrated. Better that they establish themselves in town, with only occasional visits to Kinglas. Glasgow was not the cheeriest of cities in the colder months, but there would be parties and assemblies over the holiday season, and visits with the Gilbrides and other friends to cheer up his long-suffering bride.
Not that she’d complained about her time at Kinglas, at least not lately. But if Ainsley had to spend any more time rattling around that drafty old pile, he feared she might succumb to her pent-up frustration and toss him into the frigid waters of the loch. It was a punishment he’d surely earned by making a cock-up of everything, including his wife’s sweetly awkward attempts to seduce him.
His blood still ran hot every time he thought about that episode. Royal had never seen anything more beautiful as his wife’s lush body, or felt more alive than when he’d brought her to a shivering climax in his arms. Ainsley in ecstasy was glorious, and he’d made a silent vow to spend the rest of his life repeating the experience.
Unfortunately, with a little help from his demented grandfather, life had decided to throw a spanner in the works. Getting thoroughly kneed in the bollocks had sent everything sliding sideways. Royal wasn’t proud of himself for losing his temper, but he was only human. For the second time that day, he’d been injured and humiliated by his wife, however inadvertently. The direct shot to the family jewels had finally tipped him over the edge.
Now, he and his wife were right back where they’d started—unable to have a sensible conversation that didn’t involve at least one misunderstanding, and still struggling to make their cobbled-together family work.
He slowed to a halt in the middle of the path, gazing absently at Kendrick House on the opposite side of the square. This marriage business was proving to be trickier than he’d expected, and he’d never expected easy.
When two little boys pelted by him on the path, shrieking at the top of their lungs, Royal jerked so hard that his hat toppled off. As always when startled by loud noises, his heart leapt forward like a frightened stag. It was a lingering effect from the battlefield that he loathed with a passion. Some days, he wondered if he would ever be the man he used to be—a whole man, not one with a mangled leg or a moody temperament that disconcerted even those who loved him most.
“Sorry, sir,” yelled one of the boys over his shoulder. “Our dog slipped her lead.”
Royal gave a wave and watched them race after a little black terrier in fast pursuit of an even faster squirrel. He couldn’t help smiling at their innocent glee. They reminded him of the twins at that age, miniature hellions constantly in trouble and yet as good-natured as any lad one could hope to meet.
Despite the family’s later travails, Royal had enjoyed a happy childhood. Roaming the hills around Castle Kinglas with his brothers, protected by loving, intelligent parents, had been close to idyllic. That is, until all the terrible deaths had started, battering them like a bloody great ram. For a time, the future had seemed poisoned.
But change had finally come to Kinglas, as change always must. It had brought them Victoria, who’d swept away sorrow like a housewife cleans out a musty closet, bringing ligh
t and air where they were needed most.
And then Ainsley had exploded into his life, dragging him up and out of the oubliette he’d built in his mind. She’d given him hope, she’d given him a daughter, and she’d given him a chance at a happy, normal life. He’d almost forgotten what such a life was like. But he remembered it now, and he was going to fight for it—for Ainsley, for Tira, and for himself.
Retrieving his hat from the dirt, he brushed it off and clapped it back on. Striding out of the square, he mentally ticked off his blessings. He had a family who loved him, a daughter he cherished, and a wife he adored. And if his wife didn’t adore him back, well, he was working on that part of the plan.
He limped up the steps of Kendrick House and knocked on the door rather than searching for his key.
“Good day, sir,” Will said as he opened the door. He took Royal’s hat. “Did ye have a good visit with Dr. Baker?”
Thanks to Angus, it was common knowledge in the Glasgow household that Royal had taken a bad fall. Nick, alarmed as always by any sign of physical ailment in his siblings, had insisted on a specialist, as had Ainsley. Royal had resisted for several days until Victoria finally begged him to put the rest of them out of their misery.
“Nicholas and Ainsley will simply pester you until you agree,” she’d said at breakfast yesterday.
Logan, reading the local gazette, had lowered the paper to eye him. “Better do it, old man. If you don’t, I’ll have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you there myself.”
“Try it and see what happens,” Royal had snorted.
“I know we’re fussbudgets,” Victoria had said with a placating smile. “But it’s because we care about you, my dear. We can’t help but worry.”
“Not me,” Logan had said, winking at him. “I’m just sick of hearing Nick and Ainsley whinge about it. It’s ‘Royal this’ and ‘Royal that.’ You’d think you were on your damn deathbed, instead of just limping about like some Byronic idiot in order to gain our sympathy.”
Since he couldn’t deny their logic, Royal had finally submitted to a lengthy and painful examination by Dr. Baker this morning. The truth was, the effects of his tumble had lingered, although he’d cut out his tongue before admitting it.
Stripping off his gloves, he handed them to the footman. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”
“Grand news, sir. Her ladyship and Mr. MacDonald will be that relieved to hear it, I ken.”
“No doubt.”
In fact, his wife and his grandfather would be receiving a heavily censored report. Although Baker had detected no lasting damage, he’d delivered a stern lecture on the need to rest and to ease back on his leg exercises. Royal had piously agreed while crossing his fingers behind his back. He had no intention of giving up on the exercises, since they were all that had ever helped to rebuild his strength. He now needed his strength more than ever.
“I take it that my brother and his wife got off in good order this morning?” he asked.
“Aye, sir. Lord and Lady Arnprior set off soon after ye left for the doctor’s.”
Nick and Victoria, along with Kade, had decided to return to Kinglas. As much as the family enjoyed one another’s company, Kendrick House was a little too crowded with most of them in residence, and the twins were expected home to Glasgow in a few days. Fortunately, both Nick and Victoria preferred Kinglas, and Kade went wherever they went. Royal would miss his little brother, but the lad was best left under their watchful and loving care.
“Is Lady Ainsley at home?” he asked Will.
“Yes, sir. Her ladyship is in the study.”
His brother’s study was Ainsley’s preferred retreat at Kendrick House, but Royal intended to change that. With a little luck and with as much courting as was required, he planned to make his bedroom her favorite spot from now on.
Of course, the ideal venue for seduction was not a house with his brothers and grandfather knocking about. So Royal hoped to have an appropriate town house rented for his little family within the next few weeks. In her own establishment, Ainsley could relax, and he could give her the privacy she needed to feel comfortable again.
When he opened the study door, he found Ainsley tucked into one of the needlepointed armchairs by the fireplace. She glanced up from her book with a relieved smile.
“I was getting worried,” she said, rising to greet him. “You were gone for rather a long time.”
He limped over and took her hands, bending slightly to press a lingering kiss on her soft lips. She hesitated, as if surprised, then gently returned his pressure. When he tried to deepen the kiss, she gave an embarrassed little chuckle and pulled away.
“Goodness,” she said. “Whatever was that for?”
“I missed you. I wanted you to know that.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Then mission accomplished, although you’ve only been away for a few hours. Certainly not long enough to miss me.”
“You just said you were worried by my absence. That certainly sounds long enough for us to miss each other.” He gently tugged on a silky tendril of hair curving down her neck, enjoying the light scent of her perfume.
“I was worried about your leg, silly.” She adroitly sidled away to the drinks trolley to fetch a glass. “And anxious about what the doctor had to say.”
He noted her reluctance to meet his gaze. Ainsley had never been shy with him until that shattering encounter when she’d climaxed in his arms—before kneeing him in the balls. Since then, she’d swung between fussing over him as much as she did Tira, and skittering away at the first sign of romance on his part. Clearly, their initial sexual encounter had rattled her more deeply than he’d thought.
Or maybe she’d started to regret marrying him. He couldn’t blame her for that, since the road to domestic bliss had so far been fraught with peril.
At least she’s stuck with you, old son. It’s not like she can divorce you or seek an annulment.
Not surprisingly, that fact was hardly one to lift the spirits. He wanted Ainsley to love him as much as he loved her, even if that made him sound like a pompous fool.
“Is that for me?” he asked as she poured whisky into a crystal tumbler.
“Just a small one to take off the chill. Now, why don’t you sit down by that cozy fire and tell me about your visit with the doctor.”
She obviously felt the need to coddle him a bit. If that made her happy, then coddling it would be.
“Do you need a lap blanket?” she asked, handing him the glass.
Not that much coddling. “Sweetheart, I’m not in my dotage yet.”
She gave him a soothing smile that suggested she would soon be conjuring up warm glasses of milk.
He hated milk.
“Of course not,” she said. “But we don’t want you getting chilled. Your muscles will seize up.”
“If they do, you can always massage them.”
She blushed and shook her head. Still, he couldn’t help noticing the little grin that lifted the corners of her mouth.
Progress.
Ainsley settled into the opposite armchair. “Well, what did Dr. Baker have to say about your leg? Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Just the opposite. I’m in fine trim. No need to worry about anything.”
“Royal Kendrick, that is a load of old bollocks, and you know it.”
The whisky went down the wrong pipe, bringing on a fit of coughs. When he recovered, Royal eyed his wife’s indignant expression. “Is that your expert opinion, my lady?”
“I refuse to believe that any doctor would say you were in fine trim . Your limp is still quite bad, and the bruises are only now beginning to fade.”
“How do you know about my bruises? Have you been spying on me when I was getting undressed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I never spy.”
“That’s too bad,” he said with genuine regret.
“I have people spy for me, of course.”
He had to laugh. “Angus.”
“Muc
h to my surprise, he’s turned into an excellent coconspirator.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Although grateful that Angus and Ainsley had sworn a truce, that welcome state of affairs was mostly dictated by their worries about his health. It meant they fashed themselves to a ridiculous degree, consulting in loud whispers when they thought he wasn’t listening. Mostly he ignored them, but a few times he’d been forced to speak sternly when they’d tried to push some ghastly potion on him or smear him with yet another foul-smelling ointment from the local chemist.
“I know you hate it when we fuss,” she said, “but someone has to take care of you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You and Angus can confine your impulses to play nurse to Tira.”
“We do, in fact, argue about Tira on a regular basis. But Angus and I are in complete agreement that you need to take better care of yourself. Most importantly, you need to get more rest.”
He rubbed his chin. “I can think of one thing that would help with that.”
“Splendid.”
“If my wife were to join me in bed, I’d be sure to get plenty of rest. More rest than you could shake a stick at. So to speak,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.
Ainsley cast an exasperated glance to the heavens. “I refuse to dignify that wretched joke with so much as an embarrassed chuckle. Besides, such an arrangement would not be restful. Quite the opposite, I believe. And you could hurt yourself again.”
“Well, to be fair, I didn’t actually hurt myself.”
Her shoulders went up around her ears.
“But most of that episode was exceedingly pleasant, as I recall,” he hastily added. “For both of us.”
“I hurt you, Royal. Have you forgotten that?”
So that was the reason for her skittishness—at least part of it. She was still upset that she’d injured him.
“Love, you must stop worrying so much. Dr. Baker was quite clear that there would be no lasting damage at all.”
“Did he prescribe any treatment?”
“He simply said I was not to overtax myself for a week or so.”
“Thank goodness,” she said with a relieved smile. “You took a hackney home from the doctor’s office, I presume? It’s much too long a walk.”
The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1) Page 31
