Her breath came in shallow pants, but her blue eyes sparked fire at him. A different kind of fire.
She was angry with him now. Inflamed with desire, but angry nonetheless.
Perhaps he should have saved his admission for after he'd bedded her.
He watched as his intent lighted in her mind, and anger spread across the delicate features of her face.
"You blackguard, Hugh!" she shouted, indeed squirming to get free now. The apex of her legs ground over the bulge in his trews causing them both a moment of torment. She stifled a sound of pleasure her eyes did not quite conceal so well. She grabbed the high back of the chair to pull free. "I can'na believe you allowed me to—"
"—to kiss your husband? To feel the barest hint of passion?" Hugh's hands ran up her sides to her breasts again, the fullness filling his palms. He gave her a squeeze, and a new set of emotions flashed across her face.
"Barest?" she cried.
He chuckled. "You've no idea what I could make you feel. A glimpse at what is to come is all I've given you thus far. Let me," he beseeched.
Desire. Hard, raw desire was evident there in the way she looked at him, but Catriona slapped his hands away despite her wanting.
Hugh suddenly set forward, bracing her so she did not fall, but her knees bent back and she practically hung from his lap, her legs caught, her hair pooling to the floor. Her arms closed around his neck for support.
"Let me go," she screeched angrily, now unable to move at all.
Hugh chuckled again at having trapped her. He sensed her animosity, but along with it her resistance to leave him just yet.
"Nay."
Her blue eyes sparked.
And in that moment, he knew he would not have his wife this night. Not yet. But he was in no rush. Why rush when he could savor these moments with Catriona that were equally delightful? He'd not had a woman rile his blood the way she did in… He thought back, unsure if any of them ever truly had.
"Let me take you to my bed and love you," he coaxed. His words may be in vain, but he still enjoyed seeing the look in her eyes when he said them. "Let me show you how a highland warrior treats his woman in bed. I promise to be gentle the first time, sweet lass. I'll no hurt you, as I promised before."
"You've tricked me yet again, in a different way, but a trick nonetheless! Now let me up, Hugh."
Hugh rose with her so she was yet again straddling him, sitting upright, his arms locked behind her back. "Aye, I tricked you. But remember, if you had no tricked me in the verra first place we would'na be sitting here right now."
Catriona began righting the clothing he had pulled askew and flounced from his lap. She gave him a furious glare, but behind the façade, Hugh saw the wave of passion she tried to hide from him. The disheveled look about her undid something in him he was afraid wouldn’t be done back up until he'd had her.
"You'll come back," he said. "You are mine for the taking, Catriona. Remember that."
She looked back at the door, as though she were going to say something. But she didn’t. She stomped from the chamber feigning anger.
Hugh leaned against the chair-back and growled. His head fell to the fur lining, his heart thudding like a hammer to steel.
He intended to bring her to the point of begging, to the point of submission. Instead, she had left him knocked to his knees and in the grips of Eros.
Somehow, he had to find release.
Chapter Fifteen
"Let me take you to my bed and love you. Let me show you how a highland warrior treats his woman in bed. I promise to be gentle the first time, sweet lass. I'll no hurt you..." Hugh's amorous, provocative words filtered back through Catriona's mind the next morning as she worked by herself in her garden.
Yes, her garden.
No one save Bess and Claude had stepped foot into her place of respite and tranquility, not that she could tell anyway, not since the one time Gillie graced her with his presence here yesterday. So thus, as lady of the keep, she claimed the garden as her own.
Since their quarrel, she had not seen the lad. Perhaps she should find him and apologize. Gillie had the tendency to overthink things, to blurt out whatever came into his head. Yes, her situation with Hugh was not preferable, but as her husband had said, he offered her protection, not a fairytale.
The night before proved just that. Every time she thought she could loosen her resolve to abhor the man—every time her attraction to him overshadowed her instinct to distrust him—he did something only to make her angry with him again. He could have told her that he'd done exactly as she requested, he could have said aye in the hall yesterday after McAlison's visit if only to ease her fears. Instead, he'd gone behind her back to rile her. Did he think her anxiety over Tamsin's position was humorous? The very thought had her yanking out a dead stalk of tansy and tossing it as far as she could.
Hadn't he seen her efforts to lessen the friction between them when she'd come to him that second night in the keep? And even afterward, she'd excused the incident only to find another in his arms.
She blushed hot and gave a huff, sending a cloud of breath into the cold air.
Again, she was in unknown waters when it came to Hugh. The life she'd led before this gave her very little knowledge of how to proceed.
Their relationship, if they were to have one—and she knew very well that just because they were wed did not mean they would ever love one another—needed time. Gillie was only an inexperienced young man and couldn't be expected to understand this.
Catriona straightened, the early sun beating down on her shoulders. Her back ached from the toil, but in a few months’ time her efforts here would be well worth the trouble. The garden would supply the keep with all kinds of herbs for cooking and healing as well as vegetables, though she supposed those were grown elsewhere, too. They had to be. Perhaps in the village she had yet to see.
She looked out over the empty raised beds, now clean from vines and dead growth. She beamed with pride at the new sight. She and Bess had made much progress together, and the only reason her maid was not with her this morning was because Bess had laundry to see to.
The poor lass. Catriona shook her head at the thought of Bess and her happy spirit.
Claude was at the far end of the garden, her constant companion since she had arrived early in the morning and followed her in under the arch. The fat gander went straightaway to pecking the ground and even hopped into a bed to tuft at the dirt she had disturbed.
She stopped and watched him for a time, then pulled out a crust of bread she had tucked into a pouch she had tied to her waist. She pinched off little pieces and threw them as far as she could. Claude turned from his pecking to the sound of the bread-crusts hitting the ground.
He waddled closer, took one in his beak and nibbled the crust, quickly following the trail until he was near her.
Slowly, Catriona bent low, holding out a hand to her feathered friend and stretched her arm for him to take the bait.
Several long moments passed where Claude looked between her and the crust of bread resting on her palm.
He took languid waddling steps and stretched his neck as far as it would go, then quickly snatched the final crumb, tossing his neck up to gobble the bread down. He went in a wide circle, honking, and Catriona laughed delightedly.
"I'll get you used to me yet, you'll see." She signed. "I have more chance in taming you than I do my own husband." She gave a light och. "Would you believe—never mind, Claude. Another time," she said as he waddled further away.
She dusted her hands on her skirts and started to turn for the next bed, but stopped still. Hugh stood there at the curved entrance to the garden, his over-large body filling the space so fully his head was bent to the side. The encounter from the night before came flooding back in full force.
He watched her intently. How long had he been there? Had he heard her discussing their marriage with a gander?
Heat rushed into her cheeks.
"Aye, I tricke
d you. But remember, if you had no tricked me in the verra first place we would'na be sitting here right now." The rumbling brogue that came to mind incited a shiver that ran from her toes to the tips of her breasts. Catriona steeled herself, for more of his arduous attempts were sure to come. After the night before she would be hard-pressed to deny her attraction to him any longer.
"You'll come back," he had said. "You are mine for the taking, Catriona. Remember that."
Mine.
She swallowed a lump of uncertainty under his stare, but then remembered why she had gotten angry and left his chambers. He had tricked her with his passion again.
"What are you doing here?" she called to him.
He lifted a brow over his lusty stare and started for her, closing the fair space between them.
"What am I doing here?" He repeated her question as though it were silly.
The smile in his voice carried to her ears even across the space of garden separating them. The turn of his sensual lips was evocative in itself.
"'Tis my keep, I believe I can go wherever I please," he said. When he stopped before her, his stare traveled over her back to the garden behind her and at last rested on Claude. "Were you talking to the gander?" he asked, barely keeping his lips from turning into a full smile, his eyes glittered with humor.
Catriona feigned a glower. "He is no merely a gander. He has a name." She tilted her chin and crossed her arms. "Claude."
Hugh laughed then. "Is it now?" His chuckle tapered off. He gave an appreciative nod to her work. "Is this something you enjoy?" He asked as though he could not interpret where her joy might come from in such a task.
"Weel, I'm no standing oot in the cold blistering my hands from pulling at dead vines for nothing. 'Tis hard work, but rewarding."
He frowned at her then, but the stubborn look she gave him quelled any argument. Hugh smiled at her suddenly, a wolfish kind of smile that heightened her senses and made her feel like a morsel he might eat up.
He flicked a finger to the beds before resting his hand on the hilt of the sword stuck into his belt. "What would you desire for this garden if you could have anything you asked?"
She blanched at him, but her eyes quickly narrowed. She had a feeling she knew where this conversation headed. "I shall need plants."
"Och, and what would you do for these wee plantlings?"
She dropped her hands to her hips and her fists curled into balls at her sides. "Hugh—"
"I only tease you, lass. You only need ask and you shall have whatever you like." He stepped around her then to inspect her work. "I've no even told Alaric this, but I intend to stay here more often now. These are my lands, and 'tis high time I begin acting like a laird." When she didn’t respond, Hugh turned to look at her, and Catriona merely raised a delicate brow at him. "I believe I feel the heat of your censure, why?"
"What kind of laird leaves his people in the first place?" She looked around them. "'Tis apparent you were no here much for the entire keep is falling apart. Your people do'na seem pleased either."
He scowled. "Aye." He flashed her a smile. "But now I have a lady to run my keep and fill our home with heirs." His stare dropped to her belly.
Catriona's senses jumped, her insides tightened sharply, and a low burn grew warmer as he looked at her.
"Sons," he said lightly, almost as though his breath had been taken from him for the moment.
Mayhap he felt the same feelings she did at present. And thinking that only made her belly flip again, her breath to seize in her lungs, her legs to liquefy under her. Catriona bit her lip to try to regain some small amount of focus.
When Hugh closed in on her, she remained rooted to the spot as steadfastly as the vines she had yet to tear from the ground. When he reached out and took her cold fingers in his hand, closing his fingers over hers to warm them, she trembled. It was then she recalled how weak those dead vines had been, thinking she might topple from her feet at any moment.
"I ken you've no had much of a place to call home, lass. And, truth be told, I've no had much of one either. We're alike in that regard, aye?"
She studied him, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes as she wondered what he was about. "I suppose, though I found much solace at the abbey."
"Och, but there you had no clan, no family. 'Twas a group of old women and one friend."
Catriona shot him a look, for there had been much more than that. They had been a family of sorts.
"These are your people now, too. This is our clan. Will you help me here?" he asked.
She tossed her head and rolled her eyes playfully. "And what do you think I'm doing oot here in the cold?" She pulled her hand from his and tossed up dirty fingers for his inspection.
Hugh laughed.
The sparkle in his blue eyes caught her off guard. Hugh was a handsome devil to be sure.
"Come inside and warm yourself. No need to be oot this early." He tsk'd and looked upward at the bright early sky. "Bring a few of the other women with you when you return."
Catriona glanced about at all the work still to be done. "Nay, I'll toil a bit more." At his reproachful look, she smiled and rolled her eyes heavenward. "I enjoy being in the garden, Hugh." Catriona started to push past him, but he caught her and pulled her into him before she could stop him.
Without letting her go, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and he frowned as he dusted away what she guessed to be dirt, too. He shook his head at her with a hint of laughter.
"What do I have to do to get you to kiss me as you did last eve?" he asked.
Her belly dropped to her toes and her eyes to his mouth. Heat infused her, muddling her brain. She studied his lips a moment longer than a smart lass should have.
Hugh took advantage of her distraction and stole the kiss he desired, and almost as soon as his lips touched hers, Catriona's eyes fluttered shut and she allowed the strong embrace of his warm body to pull her in tighter. Her fingers found their way to his shoulders, and she stopped herself short of wrapping her arms around his neck and molding her body completely to his.
"Come to my bed tonight," he said between broken, insistent kisses.
Catriona pulled back, wide-eyed, her eyes searching his. She no longer found the man she had begun the journey with from Atholl. No, this man was not angry or brash or the barbarian she had once thought him to be. The look in his eyes was nothing but sincerity and kindness … and heat. An unfathomable heat, reckless and all devouring. Hugh looked on her like a man on the verge of losing all control if he did not get what he wanted.
She moistened at his request.
"If that is your wish," she demurred.
His hands tightened on handfuls of the material of her gown, and the passionate intensity building in his eyes was almost frightening. "I wish it verra much."
He pulled her in again, brushed her hair back over her shoulder and kissed her neck. His lips trailed down to the mounds of flesh pushed above her gown. "I do'na think I can wait for tonight, lass. Come back to my chamber with me now."
His desire bombarded her senses. Catriona blushed, and a giggle escaped.
Hugh's hands ran down her arms, but his fingers stilled on her wrist and he took a step back, turning her arm over for inspection.
Inwardly, Catriona blanched. She had not wished him to discover the blemish. The scar was small but hideous.
She pulled her arm from his grasp and locked her hands behind her back.
Hugh frowned at her. "Where did you get such a scar?" he asked lightly.
Catriona studied the ground. "In a fire when I was a child."
Warm fingers slipped under her chin and turned her eyes to meet his. Hugh smiled lopsidedly at her. "If you're ashamed, lass, you've no need to be. I've many a scar, too." He pulled up his sleeve to show her a wound running the length of his forearm.
"But I'm a woman," she said with a light scoff.
He laughed at her. "Women bear scars, too."
Catriona's eyes
widened on the sight of the old wound. She had not noticed his scars before, but then the one time she had seen him partially disrobed she had not been in a mindset for any examination of his body. Not closely anyway.
"What happened?" she asked, looking on the healed slash. There were actually several scars there, some overlapping.
"Och, this one was my favorite scar," he said, running a finger along the longest one. Hugh tsk'd. "'Twas from my first battle. Then the other nasty ones—" he stopped to point them out, "came from a wee hunting accident."
Her eyes widened again. "Wee?"
"My point is," Hugh said, rolling down his sleeve, "that you do'na need be ashamed of anything with me, lass. We've both imperfections all our own." He pulled her back to him.
Catriona's fingers slipped up his chest, almost around his neck, and she tilted her head back so he could kiss her.
"Hugh," a voice called from the opening to the garden. The pair stilled for a moment, and then turned in their embrace to see one of Hugh's men standing there with a grin of sorts on his face. "The steward would have a word," the man said, trying to look everywhere but at them.
Hugh muttered a string of curses under his breath, and Catriona turned her head to give him a look.
"Forgive me, lass."
She lifted a brow. "When you fetch my plants for the garden, perhaps you might fetch a priest for the lonely kirk on yonder hill." She tilted her head toward the back of the keep, to the forgotten place of worship that Hugh was in a strong need of.
Hugh sighed, hardly looking at the spot she indicated. "Do'na stay oot of doors too verra long. I can'na have you taking ill."
"I won't."
Catriona watched the men depart. Hugh's presence had left her balmy inside, and the morning swelled with new warmth and fresh Highland air.
She didn’t go inside, nor did she fetch any others. Catriona enjoyed her work in the garden and the respite of solitude. She had tended the garden at the abbey and was used to such labor.
The sun had reached the apex of the bright blue sky before Catriona decided it was time to stop for the day and to go in and clean herself up. She had skipped the morning meal and was feeling the effects.
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