He was so generous, Aislinn couldn’t believe it. A trip and a new wardrobe! Surely that meant that he felt something for her – a Scotsman and his money were rarely parted without a very good reason. Maybe he liked her, just a little bit.
Her other hint that he might just feel something for her was that he had filled up her dance card before she’d even put it on. He’d saved two dances – one for each of his brothers, but all of the others were claimed by him.
Actually, they were each somewhat obligated to dance with others, but he let her know in no uncertain terms that he didn’t like that idea, and gave her up only reluctantly to the other gentlemen, who were all sweethearts and took very good care of her. He reclaimed her from them after every dance, even if someone else was determined to take her away from him for the next dance. At one point, he declared that she looked famished, and he sat her on his lap and fed her from his own plate, which just wasn’t done in polite company. Married couples could be cordial to each other, but they did not indulge in public displays of affection. But Kell didn’t seem to worry much about that particular convention. He fed her and kissed her, then fed her a little more and kissed her a little more . . .
Until Priscilla Douglas came over to greet them, having arrived late as usual. Kell stood, putting his wife down in the process, and making Priscilla laugh heartily behind her fan. “Well, I had come over to beg a dance from you, but I can see that you’re much more pleasantly occupied . . .”
Priscilla was an old friend, and couldn’t be refused. With an apologetic look back at Aislinn, he allowed himself to be led onto the floor. Apparently that broke the ice, and from then on he could barely come up for air.
Aislinn sat by herself for a while, nodding politely at anyone who met her eyes. Suddenly, there was an occupant in the chair beside her who wasn’t her husband, it was some woman she recognized as having been introduced to during the wedding reception – Charlotte something.
“Hello, Aislinn dear,” she greeted the younger woman as if they were the best of friends, when she should have been addressing her as milady.
“Charlotte,” Aislinn said politely, wondering what the woman wanted.
“I was so surprised to get the invitation to this ball. Like everyone else, I had heard that things weren’t going so well between you and your husband . . . although I can’t say that I’m surprised. Kell is . . . well, let’s just say that he’s not everyone’s kind of man. I’ve heard, though, that if anyone could handle him, it would be you . . .”
Aislinn couldn’t believe the not so subtle attack she was facing in her own home! She stood, her hand drawn back to slap the woman silly. But someone had grabbed her wrist from behind, and it was Kell. “Whoa there, lass. Please try to restrain yourself from beating up on our guests,” he hissed into her ear.
Leave him to take her side, Aislinn thought, livid with the both of them. Regardless of how it looked to anyone else, she took a step back from them and gathered her skirts, practically running for the stairs. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but it didn’t matter to her in the least. She ran right to their room and threw herself on the bed. If that was what Charlotte thought, then she was sure that everyone else knew and thought exactly the same thing – that she and Kell were having problems, and that she was a loose woman.
Aislinn was mortified. She buried her head in her pillow and sobbed as if someone was ripping her heart out.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder and lifted her onto his lap. Kell. “What’s the matter, lass? What happened between you and Charlotte?”
Aislinn could barely get the words out. She was too embarrassed, and didn’t even want to repeat them to him. But he dragged it out of her, and was looking none to happy at Charlotte himself. Aislinn expected him to continue to pat her back and soothe her, then maybe let her go to sleep.
But instead, he stood her up next to the bed and rearranged her clothing so that it looked less like she’d slept in it. “Come on, Mrs. MacNaughton, we’re going back down there.”
She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he had too tight a hold of it. “No, we’re not. I don’t want to go back down there with people who think I’m a whore and that I can’t keep you happy and that we’re having trouble and we’ve only been married for less than a month . . . “ She started to sob again with the retelling of it.
Kell shook her slightly, then looked into her eyes. “You are not going to let them drive you away from your own celebration party. You’re not. You are made of much sterner stuff. They can think anything they like, but when you ran away, you confirmed their thoughts. It looks like we’re having problems if you’re up in your bedroom crying. So you’re going to come down with me, and we’re going to have a wonderful time, and give them all something to puzzle over.”
Aislinn looked down, fiddling with her lace handkerchief. “Maybe you’d be happier with Charlotte, Kell,” she whispered. “I’m young and inexperienced and – “
Before she could finish the sentence, he had her bloomers around her ankles and her hips over his knee. It was a short spanking, but he had her bucking and wiggling within a matter of about three slaps. “I don’t want to hear anything like that coming out of your mouth ever again, or I’ll take my tawse to you.”
Aislinn didn’t know what a tawse was, but she was fairly sure she didn’t want to find out – his hand was quite bad enough. “Stop – Kell – please!”
“Do you understand me?” Nothing she was saying was making him stop or even ease off the tremendous swats he was distributing all over her poor bottom.
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssss!” She was sobbing again, but this time it wasn’t because of Charlotte.
Kell gave her another ten very hard smacks, mostly at the very bottom of her bottom, where butt met thigh for the first time. She would be remembering this spanking vividly every time she sat down for the rest of the evening.
When he’d finished, he set her down on her feet and turned her to him, hugging her fiercely while she continued to sob. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say anything like that again, Aislinn MacNaughton. You’re my wife, and I – I love you.” He was a ruddy red when he said it, but he meant every word. “Everyone around here loves you – the staff, my brothers, the villagers. If I got rid of you they’d slit my throat in my sleep and follow you without a thought.” He cupped her cheek. “And I love you, too. How could I not, stubborn wench that you are.”
Aislinn was still crying, but this time because of what he’d said. She couldn’t believe that he loved her, and that he’d admitted it to her. She was sorry that it had taken that hateful woman to drag it out of him, but it was wonderful to know. Shyly, she looked up at him. “I love you, too, you stubborn, autocratic man.” She reached back to rub her rear. “And you have a hand like an oar! I knew your head was solid wood, but your hand???”
Kell frowned at her, patting her bottom through her skirt, which made her jump away from him. “Come on, milady. We need to rejoin the party and give them all something to talk about for years to come.”
And they did. The dance went on through the night, and Lord and Lady MacNaughton were never out of each other’s sight, and rarely out of each other’s arms. It was quite the scandal. It just wasn’t done. They were so frightfully, obviously in love that the gossips of the day simply simmered with indignation at the idea that the young couple didn’t seem to have any propriety when they were together. They sat next to each other at dinner – even though they weren’t seated together, as a matter of course – she rarely occupied a chair when they weren’t dancing, because she was sitting on his lap, sipping wine from his goblet . . . he fed her from his plate and they kissed with positively disgusting abandon.
And although the bets were that this abnormal infatuation would ease off after a couple of months, they were still at it – to nearly everyone’s amusement – years later, after she’d presented him with three sons and two daughters, and they had left nearly every ball they’d attended
early, escaping at a frightfully impolite early hour to get home and happily spend their night working on a sixth child.
Gossips be damned, they were monumentally happy, and each considered themselves incredibly lucky to have found the other. Their home was their sanctuary, their heaven on earth, and they celebrated their love every evening in each other’s arms.
The MacNaughton Bride Page 14
