They hadn't passed an occupied home since the start of the bad weather and only one rider had overtaken them. She hadn't even met the man's eyes much less asked assistance. His muttered, sing-song cursing had reached her long before his mule had drawn even.
Clouds parted above her for a bare moment of palest moonlight. The sliver of moon would provide little light even on a clear night, but during this snow . . . It wasn't nearly bright enough to warn her of the ice that sent her feet skidding.
Her own scream scared her more than the fall. She was so cold that she barely felt the pain in her knees, but frustration overwhelmed her and she knelt in the cold and wept.
Another mistake, this flight. Another misstep in her life. My God, she was only twenty. How many bad decisions were still ahead of her? When she got to Somerhart—if she got to Somerhart—she would do best to avoid the outside world entirely. She would hide in her room during parties to avoid lecherous men. Visit convents for holiday to keep her body cool. And perhaps if Hart married, she would simply retire to her cottage and transform herself into a crazy spinster.
A memory danced behind her closed eyes, of Collin standing above her, face fierce with pleasure.
No, not her cottage. Never her cottage. One of Hart's lesser holdings then. One that employed no men. She would be the crone with wild hair and wilder eyes, the woman who trailed a path of half-feral cats and the smell of pipe smoke.
Pressing her hands to wet eyes, she pictured herself old and alone, something she'd never done when she'd been so determined not to marry. But now she understood what that would mean . . . to be alone. To never feel a reverent touch. To never stroke her belly and wonder if it quickened with life. And it never would. No, she had bled not a week ago and now there would not be a chance of holding a tiny babe to her breast.
Her bones shivered, a deep rumbling of cold that vibrated weakly at first, then strengthened to something more . . . a pulsing. Stronger then, and Alex wondered weakly if she were dying there in the snow. Her heart stuttered over the rumble of her bones. Metal clinked.
A rider. Someone on the road behind her.
A whine of fear escaped her throat. It can't be St. Claire, she told herself. Not in this weather. He wouldn't dare breaking his precious neck for her. Her fear didn't ease.
She tried to push herself off the ground, but her legs felt thick and stiff as trees. How long had she knelt here?
Brinn blew a hot breath against her neck, her teeth closed around a snarl of Alex's curls.
"No, Brinn. Come on, we have to move. Please." She batted the damp warmth away and rocked to her knees. Still no word from her legs, and the trotting horse was nearly upon them. "Move!" she whispered and crawled toward the ditch. She pulled Brinn's reins with her and felt her follow.
Five feet of road scraped beneath her knees in a space of seconds, and Alex felt the dirt give way to crunchy grass just as the air stirred with a rider's passing. He didn't slow, didn't see her in the black night and, luckily, did not careen into Brinn's hindquarters. Relief slid over her, spiced with the terror that she had lost a chance for help, but her first instinct had been to hide and she could not change that now.
Just as she relaxed, a jerk on the reins pulled her off balance. Brinn strained forward and her sharp neigh pierced Alex's ears just after the mare's intent cleared the fog of her owner's muzzy brain.
"Shh. Quiet!"
Brinn whinnied again, happy and eager, calling after the disappearing horse. Alex heard a snort of a call from far ahead and squeezed her eyes shut in denial, even as her heart gave a pitiful leap. Saved!
The rumbling slowed, stopped altogether. Vacillating wildly between relief and horror, she listened to the muffled clop of hooves.
Another hard snort from the horse ahead, a joyous reply from Brinn. It was then that a paralyzing thought crept into Alex's mind. No. It couldn't be. Even with the setback of Brinn's injury he could not possibly have come after her yet. No.
The silhouette of a huge centaur loomed out of the black. The silver moon peeked out and flitted its light off a buckle.
"Who's there?"
Her soul fluttered at the sound of that voice and a weight pressed against her tongue. Brinn's reins slipped from her fingers and the mare pushed away to nudge her favorite stallion. Alex refused to do the same. She only tucked her arms close and wondered if Collin might miss her in the dark.
"Alex?" The word conveyed a dozen things, the strongest of which was fear. "Alex, where are you?" He slid from the saddle and his boots crunched closer on the ice. "Alexandra!"
This was not how she'd planned to meet him again, curled up and freezing wet. She'd woven a scene of sorts, but the confrontation had taken place in the elegant drawing room of Somerhart. beneath the painting of her beautiful mother. She had planned to injure him with her scorn, to send him back to Scotland with the knowledge that she neither wanted nor needed him. She had definitely not planned on hiding in the grass at his feet, hoping he might just stumble past her.
Her paralysis ended when his knuckles brushed against her hair, and only her pride kept her from falling to her face and weeping. She fell, instead, to her backside, a grunt of shock rushing from her mouth even as his fingers reached to cup her chin.
"Alex?"
"Keep your hands to yourself." "Alex, love, are you hurt?"
"No!" she protested, denying so many things at once.
"What are you doing here then?" Collin hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her up onto numb legs. Oh, she tried her best to stand, wanted so badly to press him back and stand away from him, but her legs did not respond to her wishes. They simply folded until her body lurched into his.
"Caitein" Collin gasped, catching her, pressing her into his chest. "What have you done to yourself?"
Those damned steady arms of his wrapped around her, held her like something precious, and stole her hatred away. Tears warmed her cheeks as she fell into the scent of him.
"You're wet through." Lilting her, he set her down near Thor. still taking all her weight as his own. She didn't protest the treatment until she felt her cloak fall away and the freezing wind against her damp dress.
"My cloak!"
"Shh." His hands unwound her scarf and set to the buttons of the riding habit.
"Don't." She meant to curse him, but her jaw occupied itself with chattering teeth together.
"You can't keep these things on. Just a minute and we'll have you warm again."
Her skin burned cold, then colder still, until only her shift and boots still covered her icy flesh. She felt something dry fall over her, then a heavier warmth that settled on her shoulders with delicious weight. Collin scooped her up and curled her body into his, hands chafing over her back until her shivering gentled.
"Is Brinn lame?"
"Yes."
"Thor's worn out. We'll have to go slowly." Scooting her up to perch on the front of the saddle, he mounted behind her and draped her over his lap, pulling another blanket tight to her legs. She was so warm by then that she noticed the twinkle of lights ahead, just over the push of a hill. She was just thawed enough to prickle with anger.
"The inn?"
"It's just there. A mile or so."
They hadn't ridden a minute when a break in the trees revealed the warm glow of a nearby cottage. She was back in civilization. She hadn't needed his help at all. "Let me down."
"What?"
"I don't want your help. Let me down."
"You haven't any clothes on, Alex."
"The better to negotiate a fair price for the room."
His laughter spurred her anger and she straggled to free her fist from the blankets and pummel him. "I've been an ass."
"Yes."
"A terrible husband."
"It seems we've had this conversation before." That silenced him for a few seconds. Her legs began to ache as her blood warmed them.
"So we have."
"I am going home, Collin. We
will both be happier."
"I will not. But if you would hear me out, if you'll talk with me this night, I will let you go in the morning. If you still wish to."
"Really?" She couldn't keep the shock from her voice, though she managed to disguise the sharp hurt. She had never imagined he'd give his blessing, no matter that he did not want her as a wife. But he sounded resigned to it, as if he too had realized that he couldn't stand her.
"We'll speak then," she forced herself to say. "Tonight." More than her legs ached now. Her jaw hurt, her throat and her heart. She could not want him and yet she did. Could not bear the thought of loving him, yet there was no stopping it.
The wind died a little as Thor walked them toward the inn. An owl hooted above their heads. Alex turned her face toward Collin and smelled sweat and horse, wood smoke and wet. And she smelled him, her lover and husband. His scent made her weak and heavy and her heart swelled with pain.
Why could he not love her?
"What happened to Brinn? The ice?"
"Yes. She slipped and started limping right off."
"How long have you been walking then?"
Her shrug shifted his arm. When he resettled it, he pulled her closer and she let him. Just this last time, she told herself. She had missed this so much.
The sound of his heart lulled her, gentling the strain in her throat until she caught herself rubbing her cheek against him. The arm that supported her back tightened and snugged her firmly into his embrace. When he leaned down to press a kiss to her hair, she found herself cocooned by his body.
Bastard.
I am only chilled, she told herself in pitiful defense. I must be kept close.
And you have always been weak for him, the broken part of her heart replied. Always.
A full minute passed before she could gather the strength to push up, to straighten her spine to a semblance of independence. One of his arms fell away, and then they crested the hill and there was the inn, lights and raucous laughter a clear beacon in the cold.
It seemed to take a damned eternity to arrange for food and hot tea, to see to Thor and wrap Brinn's knee. By the time he got back to the room, Collin had begun to fear he'd find himself alone, abandoned again. But his wife was there, bundled into bed, her beautiful face lit by a glowing hearth. She was warm again, he could see, even beginning to sweat a little so that tiny curls stuck to her temples in black rings. He wanted to set his mouth there and taste her. He did not.
Instead he stood, back to the door, and watched her sleep. Just this was a relief—to be in the same room with her. This was what always frightened him, that her mere presence felt like a blessing. How could he live easy with her when she might leave at any moment? When she might grow tired of him or take ill and die? How could he turn to her for his happiness when he could not control her?
Well, he had no choice. He needed her. It calmed him just to admit it.
Knuckles rapped hard on the door behind him and stirred her from her doze. She watched with wide eyes as he let the serving girl in, and they stared at each other over the girl's busy work.
"If you would bring my bag," Alex said as soon as the door closed again. "I have a spare dress."
"Of course."
She juggled the blankets around a little until he realized she wanted privacy and turned away. It stung to see her hide her body from him. She was not a modest woman. Had he given her that shame?
When she rose from the bed, he followed her lead and sat at the square table to eat roast duck and pudding. They both passed up tea for ale and drank in silence till the mugs were empty.
"Rebecca is gone," he finally spit out and could not tell by her frown if he'd begun well or not.
"Run off, you mean?"
"No, I turned her out. I came to see what you tried to tell me."
"Where will she go?"
"Somewhere she'll cause less trouble, I'd hope." The awful silence descended again. She did not appear moved by his gesture. "Let me be honest—"
"Please."
"I came to find you today, to apologize, to explain myself. I wanted to tell you that I understood, finally, why I'd been acting so . . . so . . ."
"Jealous?"
"No. More than that. I've been a brute and a coward. I've hidden my fears behind a mistrust of you. And I wanted to explain why."
Her eyes watched, giving nothing away. "Why?"
"Because I love you and it scares me to death."
Her mouth opened, closed. She breathed in. "Do not—"
"Wait. There is more. And I'll tell you the whole of it before I ask your forgiveness.
"I came to find you, to make amends. And when Danielle told me you'd gone, my first instinct was to suspect the worst."
"The worst?" Her words were thick now, and harsh. "You mean Fergus?"
"Yes." Collin wanted to look away from the hate darkening her eyes. "I came to offer a promise of trust, but given the first opportunity, I turned back to jealousy."
She tensed as if to leap up, so he rushed on. "I did not really believe I'd find you there, Alex. I didn't. It was more a terror that it could be so. It always has been."
"Of course you believed it." She stood and stalked to the window. Though he followed, he gave her the space she wanted.
"No. I have never truly thought you unfaithful or untrustworthy. I've just hidden behind that. I know this, because when I went to his home, when I saw him there in bed with a woman, I felt such disbelief that I could not even hate you. All I felt was shock and pain and the sureness that I was dying."
"But why, Collin? Why do you always suspect the worst of me? Only because of my past? Because I welcomed you to my bed?"
"No, Alex. God, no. Your past. . . If that were true then your maidenhead should have cured it. It's not you. I just. . ." You are better than me, he wanted to say. You will realize it someday. But his throat closed the words off and he could not force them out. His silence spun her around.
"What? What is it, if it's not my nature that gives you such fear of me?"
"It's . . . You did not choose me, Alexandra."
"What do you mean?"
Collin could feel his fingers shake as he shoved them through his hair. "This marriage was simply the least, of two evils for you. Me or another scandal. You would not have chosen me as a mate."
"Collin . . ." Her lips curved in a fierce frown. "That's ridiculous. I chose you. I lured you to that cottage—"
His sharp gesture cut her off. "You chose me to lie with, not to marry."
"But—"
"Sleeping with a common bastard is one thing, but even you said you wouldn't deign to marry one."
"I. . . I didn't!"
"You did. When I accused you of trapping me into marriage."
"Oh, for God's sake, you were yelling at me."
"So?"
"So, I was mad! And speaking of mad, your explanation is completely ridiculous. All those suppositions apply to you more so than me. You had absolutely no choice at all."
"Of course I did."
"Oh, how so? Marry me or take a bullet to the head? Live with shame the rest of your life? What kind of choice is that? But I wanted you, Collin. I wanted you so much that I married you knowing you didn't want that."
He stared, jaw sore with tension, and began to feel the smallest stirrings of hope. "But you are a lady, the daughter of a—" He blocked the little fist she threw at his chest. "What?"
"I love you, you idiot. I love you."
"But. . . But why have you never said so?"
"Why have you never said so?" Tears glittered in her eyes, magnifying the blue hurt.
"You had too much power over me already."
"What power?"
His bark of laughter cleared the thickness from his throat. "You rule my body, my soul."
"You barely even speak to me!"
He dared a step closer to her, dared to reach out and take her clenched hand. "I'm sorry, wife. Truly I am. I never meant to treat y
ou so badly. I just. . .
"Nothing in my life excited me anymore until I brought it to you. A mare pregnant, a sale—the magic was all in the anticipation of telling you about it, and I thought. . . I thought you must leave me some day. Go back to your real life and leave me with nothing. I meant to keep my pride, at least, since you had my heart."
Collin was sure he'd seen nothing more beautiful in his life than her face then, at that moment, softening into tenderness for him. Her fingers reached to smooth a curve over his brow.
"I love you, Collin. I only left because you pushed me so far away. I'd thought I could make you love me, but I couldn't seem to manage it."
He caught her hand and pressed it hard to his mouth, felt her fingers curl to cup his jaw. "Come home, caitein" he whispered into her skin. "Come home with me, wife. Please." She did not answer his plea.
"I want your help. I want your help with the money and with the manor house. You and Fergus can share an office even, in the new home. I won't blink an eye, I swear."
"Truly?" She laughed at his nod. "And you won't let me be lonely anymore?"
"Never," he moaned, and kissed her, breathing all his fears and needs into her mouth. "Please forgive me."
"You'll take meals with me? Every day?"
"Yes." A kiss.
"And you'll let me work in the stables?" "Aye." Another.
"And I may wear my breeches?" He froze at that, lifted his head. "Ah . . ." Her soft giggle nearly brought tears of relief to his eyes. "Maith me duit" she murmured, her hands urging his head closer again.
"What?"
"Maith me duit. I forgive you. Didn't I say it right?"
"Christ help me, I'll never keep a secret now." Her hands pulled him down and he opened his lips to her stroking tongue before he pulled away again. "Mmm. That was easy. I'd no idea you were such a soft heart."
Distracted by the feel of her round bottom in his hand, Collin neglected to block this punch, and her fist, small as it was, turned out to be much sturdier than his left ear. His soft-hearted wife seemed quite satisfied with his howl.
Chapter 22
Alexandra had never felt so buoyant, so happy. Even when she'd handed over Damien's letter to Collin. . . Even as she'd watched him curse and scowl and mutter vile threats of retribution. . . she'd had to work hard at seriousness. His foul mood did not make her cringe or pout. She was happy.
To Tempt a Scotsman Page 25
