He rode ahead of the litter. What to do with a wife I do not want—other than bed her as is my due as her husband? Merciful saints, she was beautiful. When those big brown eyes looked at him he’d felt an overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and crush her to him. He’d never felt such an immediate surge of wanting as when he turned to face her. Nay, he couldn’t keep her. He’d continue with the plan he’d made before going to London. He might have to wed her to keep his clan safe, regretted he’d have to take her maidenhood to seal the bargain, but not once had he agreed to stay with her. He’d leave as soon as he took her to his home.
He laughed at the smug expression she’d had on her face when she awaited him in her parlor. Aye, the lass had bested him at his own game. He credited her with not falling apart.
~ * ~
After a hard ride, an uninvited guest arrived at Brentwood, the celebration feast still going on. People were well on their way to becoming drunk. He’d waited for an opportunity like this over seven years. Ever since his bloody laird deprived him of the woman he wanted. Aye, Tory should have been his—as should all of Clan MacThomas.
Finally, this night Duncan MacThomas would die.
Joining the milling throng, Erwin overheard two men talking.
“Gillingham is not pleased the heathen took off after the ceremony. He has grumbled all night about the fête’s expense, but I misdoubt he will complain to the king.”
Erwin swore, slinking into the shadows. “I missed MacThomas again!” He surveyed the gathered crowd, reached down to adjust his dark brown over-tunic, and muttered, “For this I wore leggings? I feel like a bloody court jester. How can men wear these loathsome things?” Tomorrow he’d be back in chausses. He’d been embarrassed the last time.
The next time he searched out MacThomas, he’d plan better. The man would pay.
Erwin headed out the door to return to town. “Mayhap I should not be so quick to kill him, should make him suffer before I end his life. He deprived me of the woman I wanted—twice. Now that he is wed, mayhap I should strike where it will hurt the most.” He laughed mirthlessly. He needn’t rush, would take his time and plan MacThomas’ downfall carefully.
~ * ~
Catherine glanced around the inn, her eyes growing accustomed to the dim light. The large room, cluttered with wooden tables and chairs, appeared clean, free of vermin. Exhausted, every bone aching, she reached up to remove her mantle.
Beside her, Duncan informed the innkeeper, “We have traveled long this day. I require your best room and rooms for my men as well. Also, have a tub sent up to mine.” Turning, he gave Catherine a smile.
The first smile she’d seen upon his face, Catherine blinked surprise. She’d thought him handsome before. Without the perpetual grim lines bracketing his mouth, he was beautiful. Her heart pounded in her chest and she found it hard to see anything but Duncan.
His eyes roamed over the blue côtehardie, the long garment’s skirt girdled at her hips. “I am certain after the dusty day’s ride, my lady wife would relish a warm bath.”
Catherine’s hand shook as she situated the mantle around her body, her spirit almost breaking for the first time this day. He pretends to care. She closed her eyes against a wave of pain.
As if the brute had regard for her feelings. She’d thought he never planned to stop. Having been tossed from side to side in the litter, she’d be surprised if her entire body wasn’t bruised. At the very least, she should kick him a time or two to make him hurt.
She reached down to brush dust from her mantle, giving her time to regain her composure. Two could play whatever farce he engaged in. Catherine plastered on a come-hither smile, and faced her knave of a husband. “I appreciate your kindness, my lord.”
Before anyone could utter another word, or tears gave away the truth, she headed upstairs to the only room with an open door. She went inside and firmly closed it.
~ * ~
Leisurely soaking in the tub filled with buckets of warm water, Catherine peered around the room. It had a bed and a small table that looked like it would collapse if anything was placed atop it. Elsewise, the room was as stark as the common room downstairs. She stretched out an arm to lather it when the door opened and Duncan entered.
She squealed in shock realizing she’d not placed the wooden bar through the latch! What had she been thinking? Did this man make her forget all sense?
Outraged, she sank lower in the water. The bubbles thankfully covered her. Quickly she crossed her arms over her chest.
“What are you doing here? Get out!”
“We were wed this day,” Duncan answered. “I have every right to be in this room.”
“But...but I bathe,” she said as if he were an idiot.
His eyes lowered to take in the tub.
She wanted to wipe away the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he announced, “Och, aye, I see that.”
Seeing the gleam in the depths of his blue eyes, she slipped lower in the tub. “Get out!”
Ignoring her, Duncan closed the door. “To grant you a measure of privacy, I cleaned up with my men, but this is our room. And I plan to sleep here this night.” He unbelted his sporran and placed it atop the small wooden table beside the bed. Unfastening the brooch from his blue and green tunic, he folded it and set it on the floor. All he now wore were his white linen undershirt, leggings, and shoes.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him removing his clothes. “What are you doing?”
“Do your eyes not work? They told me not you were blind. No wonder they were so quick to wed you to a Scot.” He chuckled and relished teasing her. “Since you are sorely afflicted, shall I describe my actions?”
Catherine gulped. “Odious man! I can see what you are doing! You are ta...taking off your clothes.”
His eyes danced with mischievousness. “Och, the lass is not blind after all, and is perceptive. A fine quality in a lady wife. Have you other afflictions or deformities I have not been told about? You have been so silent, I feared you were addled.”
Flustered at the sight of his disrobing, Catherine ignored his jibe. “Why?”
“Why did I think you addled?”
“Why do you remove your clothes?” Her breathing quickened at the sight of him.
“I told you, my lady wife. I intend to spend the night here.” Duncan walked to the bed and sat, pushing on it to test its comfort. His eyes never leaving her, a hint of a smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
Catherine’s trepidation grew at the implied threat of his actions.
“Have the decency to turn your back while I don my n-nightrail.”
She wanted to scratch his handsome face when laughter appeared in his eyes. Rising from the bed, he placed his shoes and leggings beside his folded plaide. He looked around the room, then headed to the small bench. Muscles in his strong legs rippled when he bent to retrieve the green chemise. All he had on now was his linen shirt. Her mouth went dry.
He held the garment out to the light of the fire, appraising the thin material.
“This?” He arched his brows.
Catherine nodded.
“Fine material, almost transparent.” He wiggled his brows, mocking her.
She gulped.
“Turn my back? Why? You are my lady wife, are you not? Your family bought me as one might a blooded stallion.”
Ashamed and furious that he should make such a comment, heat flamed up Catherine’s cheeks.
“Aye they did, and considering your rudeness it appears I have gotten the worst of the bargain.”
Duncan shrugged, but she heard the edge to his voice. “I shall be more than happy to hand you the chemise.”
He extended his arm, held out the garment. She reached over the tub and tried to snag it without rising. “How dare you treat me thusly?”
Duncan’s lips curved upward at the fury on her face. He stepped back.
“Give me my nightrail!” Catherine shouted in frustration.
“Why
, I am, my lady wife.” His lips held a hint of a smile. Crooking a finger, he beckoned her over.
Catherine’s eyes widened in shock.
He tried to hold back his laughter when she grabbed for the garment one more time. Failing, she didn’t need to voice the unladylike thoughts swirling through her mind. Her smoldering eyes told him all.
His face impassive, he watched her every reaction. Och, she is a spitfire. Not the least cowed by my actions. For reasons he couldn’t explain, that pleased him. Nothing like he’d expected, she was beautiful and spirited.
His body tensed in surprise when she threw the bar of soap at him. He did laugh then.
He caught his breath and forced himself—really forced himself—to look at her face. He didn’t know what he’d expected when hearing of her, but it wasn’t this.
She was beautiful—and she was his. Only what was he going to do with the endearing woman? She’d already gotten under his skin.
Knowing the king would demand it, he’d planned only an obligatory mating, but now…
Duncan closed his eyes to stop his lustful thoughts. She’d drive him daft if he kept this up.
He wanted to stay with her forever. Love her forever. Feelings he hadn’t had in a long, long time.
Chapter Four
He rose and took her chemise over to her. The daft woman refused to get out of the tub until he left and turned his back. She would shrivel like an old fruit if she stayed in the tub’s water.
Catherine stepped gingerly from the tub.
As she picked the chemise up off the floor she pulled it over her head in a rush, heedless of the fact she was dripping wet. Twisting to ensure he wasn’t watching, she lost balance. Duncan—who’d been watching her in the looking glass—was there to catch her within a heartbeat. His arm caught her and drew her toward him to brace her fall.
She froze the instant his hands touched her.
He brushed his lips over her neck. Goosebumps instantly rose. He felt them as he skimmed her skin with his lips. Ordered to wed, there’d never been any question about consummating the marriage one time. He hadn’t planned on wanting to do so, yet her quiet strength intrigued him, drew him.
“Do not touch me,” she ordered.
Placing his thumb beneath her chin, he tilted up her face.
He lost himself in her whisky colored eyes. She had the longest, darkest lashes he’d ever seen. She tried not to meet his gaze, but her lips trembled. From fear? She’d done that at their wedding, too. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to taste those lips and stop that quiver.
Why did this woman so affect him?
The fragrance from her lavender soap clung to her like a breeze caressing a flower’s silky petals. Soft, yet tantalizing. He inhaled deeply. The heady scent aroused his senses.
Her body tensed at his touch.
Catherine spoke. “You may release me now. I should like to dry my hair and don my robe.” Her voice quavered.
When she moistened her lips with her tongue, the lips he couldn’t keep his eyes from, Duncan thought he’d perish from need.
He bent to brush a kiss over her lips. A feather of a touch, but all he needed to tell him they were soft as he imagined. Blessed Saint Ninian, he had to stop these thoughts!
She’d frozen at his touch.
“Och, more’s the pity,” he sighed in frustration, “but aye, you may don your robe.” He kept his tone light as he released her and walked away. He sat on the bed to place distance between them and forced himself to breathe slowly to gather his wits.
What spell did this woman cast that so affected him? She was naught but a rich, spoiled Sasunnach. The woman he wanted nothing to do with.
His body had other ideas. He desired her, no denying that. He shifted position, unwilling to let her think she had any effect on him.
Upset that he craved her when he didn’t want to be wed to her, he lashed out. “I wanted this wedding no more than you.” His words sounded mean even to himself.
Tying the belt around her robe, Catherine swung around to face him, eyes wide with shock. “B-but...”
“‘Tis our wedding night, lass.” He softened his tone, hoping his voice didn’t betray his mixed emotions.
“B-but I thought...”
She appeared terrified. Duncan wondered if all women were frightened their first time.
“I would not demand my marital rights?” he finished for her.
“Aye.” She pressed her lips together to stay the quiver.
“‘Twas a legal ceremony afore God,” he clarified, watching her mouth tremble, “and the only way to seal the union is for us to join together. I regret I must do so for a marriage neither of us desire, but I intend we do what our fathers and the king demand of me.” He couldn’t tear his eyes from her face, reached his hand up to move a stray lock from her forehead. “Actually, you might thank me lady wife.”
“Thank you? For what?”
“By whisking you away from your home, I saved you the humiliation of having the priest and half of London witness the bedding ceremony.”
Catherine’s face clouded. “Bedding ceremony?”
Duncan closed his eyes and sighed. Was she really that innocent? “Surely you knew we would be watched.”
“W-watched?” she squeaked.
Duncan groaned. He should have kept his mouth shut.
“Mother said I would be taken upstairs and undressed. She meant to help me into the new nightrail she had made for my wedding night.”
“Nay, she meant undressed,” Duncan clarified.
Catherine’s eyes widened. “But...”
“Lass, let me explain.” He motioned with his hand to the bed or a chair. “Best you sit to hear this, lest the shock be too much for you.” When she didn’t move, he continued, “I would have been expected to circle you, inspect your body.” He watched her eyes. She looked appalled. “Your priest would ask if I found you free of defects and accepted you as my lady wife. You would have been expected to do the same with me.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“My priest! Surely he would do no such—”
“If Edward hadn’t had previous obligations, he would have been there. He would have been one of the observers, would have insisted the priest, your father and mine stay in the room.” His voice held an edge of disgust as he continued. “While they would allow us to draw the bed curtains, they would not leave until I bedded you and presented them with proof of your innocence.”
When she said nothing, but clutched her robe like a cloak of armor, Duncan soothed, “‘Twill not be bad, lass.” A thought occurred and his eyes narrowed. “Or are you not a maiden?”
Furious at his insulting words, Catherine rushed toward him and raised her hand to slap him. He grabbed it and jerked her down atop him.
Catherine struggled to sit. She inhaled deeply in an apparent effort to calm herself.
Before she could scramble off his lap, he tumbled her to the bed, grabbed his shirt and yanked it over his head, throwing it heedlessly to the floor.
Catherine’s eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest. Duncan laughed when she frantically tried to stay his hands. “Stop it. You cannot touch me...like this.”
He caught her hands again and lifted them above her head, imprisoning both within one of his. “Och, but I can. As your lord husband, I may do whatever I wish. Your father saw to that. I hope he gained much wealth by selling you to me.”
“He did not sell me!”
Duncan arched a brow. “Did he not? Did he not amass a great fortune or gain many lands by giving you to me?”
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but closed it without saying a word. The odious man was correct.
Leaning down, Duncan kissed her forehead and slowly trailed his lips down the side of her jaw. His mouth slanted over hers.
Catherine gasped.
He pulled back and gazed into confused brown eyes. Had she never been properly kissed? He smiled at the possibiliti
es. How he would love teaching her.
“I mean no offense this time, lass,” he said truthfully, knowing no other way to ask the indelicate question. “I must know if you are indeed a maiden. Your answer shall determine the rest of the evening.”
Eyes wide, Catherine nodded.
Glancing down, he noticed bruises on her shoulder. A shard of guilt blasted through him. Had they been caused by the long journey? He eyed her other shoulder and grimaced, it bruised also. He’d not meant to wound her on the journey here, but truly she’d been bounced about within the litter.
Her skin felt soft and smooth as a butterfly’s wings.
He watched her pensively. He hadn’t planned to enjoy his new lady wife, but he found her enchanting. Certainly a far cry from the detested woman he envisioned when told of the marriage.
He felt amazed. He’d vowed to hate her, yet…
Duncan found himself unable to explain his emotions.
Pressed closely against his chest, her lashes fluttered, caressed his skin. They felt as light as a butterfly. A whimsical thought crossed his mind—a butterfly kiss.
The way her lashes fluttered was one of the most tantalizing things he’d ever experienced. It reminded him of a butterfly he’d seen in his sister’s garden. Aye, that was it. This beautiful woman was his butterfly, newly come to life.
One he would gently spend the night loving.
Chapter Five
Duncan awoke with a smile, no longer in a hurry to return home. He stretched his arm across the bed to pull her close.
She wasn’t there.
Springing from the bed in a fluid motion, he reached to the floor to grab his plaide. He wrapped the yards of cloth around himself with practiced hands.
“I knew I could not trust her. Did the woman already leave?” He stormed out the door only to meet Catherine halfway down the stairs. She carried a tray piled high with food. A smile crossed her face, but faded at his scowl.
His eyes took in her tousled appearance. What had the daft woman been thinking to leave the room looking so desirable? Her yellow and white day dress lightly hugged her curves. Her hair tied back loosely with a ribbon, the ever-present tendril once more escaped. Duncan reached forward to move it, but stopped himself.
Her Highland Destiny Page 3
