“Uncle Ryder and Uncle Douglas,” Colin mused aloud. “I’ll tell you what, Philip. I’ll fight dirty with your uncle Ryder and whoever wins will teach you, all right?”
Philip, no fool, said, “Perhaps it would be best if both you and Uncle Ryder taught me how to fight.”
“He should be in the diplomatic service,” Colin said to his wife, hugged his son to him, and continued. “The two uncles and I will discuss all this. You rest, Joan. I will see you later.”
“Oh, Papa, Sinjun is teaching me how to shoot a bow and arrow. But there’s still fencing. MacDuff gave us some beginning lessons, but then he had to leave. You can do that, can’t you?”
“Joan was learning with you?”
“Yes, and I must continue. I can’t let Philip get ahead of me.”
“I didn’t know you were so accomplished.”
He sounded a bit miffed. She cocked her head to one side and grinned. “You sound just like Ryder and Douglas when I happen to outdo them at something. They taught me to shoot, to be an excellent archer, to ride like a veritable Diana, to swim like an—well, never mind. My point is they taught me all the manly sorts of things, but when I prove proficient, they act scandalized.”
“They’re unreasonable, naturally. A man enjoys having his wife don his britches and ride off to do battle with his enemies, leaving him to flounder about with nothing to say, nothing to do.”
“I’ve decided it’s not just a matter of wives. I think it’s just that men must always feel that they are the ones in control.”
“For all your daring, Joan, for all your bravery, for all your passion for my welfare, and your terrifyingly creative mind, you are still weaker than I. Any man, be he brilliant or a half-wit, could hurt you. That’s why you have men. We really are useful creatures. It’s our responsibility to protect our wives and our children.”
“Ha! You know that’s nonsense, Colin. This is no longer medieval times, when robbers roamed the land.”
“Why are you arguing?” Philip asked, looking from her to his father. “Both of you are right. Boys, too, can prove worthwhile in a fight. Didn’t I ride to fetch you, Papa, from Edinburgh? Without me, Joan would have been really ill.”
They looked at each other over Philip’s head. Sinjun grinned. Colin said, “You believe every family member should contribute his bit, eh? Everyone should have the chance to be a hero once in a while?”
“That would mean even Dahling would get her chance,” Philip said, frowning. “What do you think, Sinjun?”
“I think your father has finally grasped the right straw.”
“Now, Philip, if you will accept Joan’s apology—”
“Her name is Sinjun, Papa. I accept, Sinjun. You’d do anything for Papa, so I suppose I shouldn’t hold it against you.”
“Thank you,” she said humbly. She watched Colin’s left eyebrow go up a good inch; she watched father and son leave the Laird’s Inbetween Room, Colin leaning down to hear what Philip was saying.
She loved him so much it hurt.
Who the devil had told Robert MacPherson that Colin had murdered his wife?
The late afternoon was cool. The sky was clear—Sherbrooke blue, Sophie had remarked to her husband, then kissed him.
Colin had wanted to be alone, for just a little while. He frowned now at the water stain on the book he held in his hand. He could tell that the book had been carefully cleaned, its binding oiled, but the stain had been there a long time and would remain there. She’d cleaned it, of course. And all the other books as well. He’d known that she had, only he hadn’t realized until now that she’d treated each book as a treasure in itself, carefully and with respect. He laid the book down and walked back to his desk. He sat back in his chair, his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes.
He was in his north tower room. He could smell the fresh heather and roses. And the lemon and beeswax. It smelled of his mother, and now he didn’t feel anger at his wife, he felt profound gratitude. He fancied that before long when he smelled lemon and beeswax, it would be his wife he thought of, not his mother.
I love you.
Colin supposed he’d always known she loved him, though the notion of that sort of emotion upon meeting another person he couldn’t easily credit. On the other hand, she’d taken his side from the very beginning. She’d never wavered in her belief in him. Even when they’d argued, he’d known that she’d die for him if it came to it.
It was humbling.
He was so damned lucky he couldn’t believe it. He’d gotten his heiress. He’d also gotten a lady who was a wonderful mother to his children, a lady who was an excellent wife. Albeit stubborn; albeit much too impulsive.
Just when everything seemed at last to be coming out from behind that awful black cloud, there was an enemy still hidden. He wondered if he should have simply beat the name out of MacPherson. Probably. Joan wouldn’t have held him back at the croft. She probably would have argued with him to hit MacPherson herself.
That made him grin. She was bloodthirsty when it came to his safety. He thought of Aunt Arleth, a woman who’d lost her grip on things, only he hadn’t recognized it in time. Because of his blindness, Joan could have died. He clenched his teeth at the thought. It was quite true, Aunt Arleth had even admitted that the little slut would be better off dead. Then things would return to normal; then she would be in charge again.
But she hadn’t told MacPherson anything. Colin sighed and opened his eyes when he heard footsteps coming up the tower stairs. He recognized the light step and leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on the iron-studded door.
It was Joan, pink with exertion, her forehead damp with perspiration.
He rose immediately and went to her. “You’re still not back to your Amazon self. Come and sit down for a moment and regain your breath.”
She did as she was bid. “It’s lowering to be puffing about over some simple stairs. Hello, Colin. I haven’t seen you. Are you all right? I wanted to get away from everyone for a while. Did you, as well?”
“Yes, but I’m glad you’re here.”
She drew a deep breath. “I came for a reason.”
“You want to know about Aunt Arleth.”
“Perhaps, but not really. That is, there’s something else, but I don’t think it was Aunt Arleth or you would have hunted me out immediately. No, it’s about something else entirely, but it can wait. I see you’re holding a book.”
He cocked one of those black eyebrows of his, then handed the book to her. “Thank you for trying to mend this book. It was my grandfather’s. He used to read to me from it. It’s Chesterfield’s Letters to His Son. I was thinking it was time for me to read the letters on mythology and history to Philip, and I was right.”
“Chesterfield’s son was named Philip also. Isn’t that curious? Douglas didn’t introduce me to Chesterfield, but I found him very quickly. He was miserable with his wife and thus has a very low opinion of women, but Douglas said he’d never met me so he’d been deprived, thus I wasn’t to pay him any attention. Ah, this is one of my favorites: ‘Wear your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket . . . . Above all things, avoid speaking of yourself, if it be possible.’ ”
He could but stare at her. He wondered if she would continue to surprise him for the rest of their lives.
“My books from home are still in crates. There’s been no time to unpack them.” She looked at him then, and her expression was tentative. “Also I don’t know where you would like me to put them.”
Colin felt like a self-centered ass. If she hadn’t been the kind of person she was, he would have completely terrorized her, ground her under. Even now she wasn’t at all certain of his reception. About her damned books, for God’s sake.
“You know,” he said slowly, smiling at her, “there are dozens of rooms in the castle. You can use any of them you wish to. However, if you would like, I should be delighted to share this chamber with you.”
She gave him a dazzling smile and
jumped to her feet. “Oh, Colin, I love you so much.” She leaped into his arms.
He held her, laughing and kissing her ear and her nose and smoothing her eyebrows with his fingertips. He whirled her about. “All this just for the offer of this benighted room and a few bookshelves?”
It was part of himself he was offering, something he’d held dear and very close so it wouldn’t be taken from him, but she didn’t point that out. He was offering it to her because he trusted her; he knew she would never take from him. “I came to see you for a specific reason,” she said, her eyes brilliant. She kissed his chin.
“Yes, but you didn’t tell me what it was.”
“I came to make love to you, Colin.”
“You mean you want me to make you scream with more pleasure?”
“No, I want to do it to you.”
He was nonplussed. He was the man, dammit, he was the husband. It had been his plan to seduce her slowly, so when he finally came into her she wouldn’t realize what had happened. Now here she was . . . No, he couldn’t be certain what she meant.
“I think it’s foolish to continue as we have. I have forced you to it and you have been very kind, very giving, too giving. I have been selfish. But now, I want to do everything with you.”
“As in everything?”
“Oh yes.”
CHAPTER
19
“BUT THIS ISN’T the way it’s supposed to be done,” Colin said slowly, staring down at his wife, all visions of his future very gentle and tender seductions taking flight toward the window.
She just stroked his face with her fingertips, hugged him close, kissed his mouth a dozen times, his chin, his nose, tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. She said between kisses and bites, “I’ve been selfish and quite childish. I’ve been a coward. You’re a man. You expected a woman when you married me. That’s what you will have, right now. I don’t care about any pain. It’s not important. I want to give you what it is you must have. I will give myself to you as often as you wish, with no moaning or plaints.”
“Ah, Joan, but the pain. I know you remember the pain. I have no wish to torture you. I don’t wish to make you weep.”
“I won’t weep. I’ll be strong. I was raised to be stoic by Douglas and Ryder. Ryder used to box my ears when he thought I was acting like a girl. I won’t disappoint you, Colin, ever again.” She drew a deep breath. “I swear it.”
He gripped her forearms in his hands, slowly pulling her arms from about his neck. “I can’t allow this sacrifice. It’s too much to ask of you. Perhaps once a year you will allow me to come inside you—to create a child, nothing more.” He sighed deeply and assumed the expression of a martyr. “I don’t mind, truly. To give you pleasure night after night will suffice me. It must. I’m no monster to make you scream with pain.”
“Oh, Colin, you’re so noble, so very kind, but I have made up my mind. I’ve decided that I will do it right now. That way I should be fully recovered by dinner. Also, if I happen to cry out from the pain, there’s no one near here to hear me. Now, I wish to undress you.”
He could only stare at her, utterly amused, trying to keep the laughter well under hatches. “To believe you love me so much to offer yourself to me like this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Despite what you know will happen, you are still willing to open yourself to me. It moves me, Joan. It makes me realize how very strong and giving you are. It humbles me.”
She was fumbling with the string on his shirt, tugging at the buttons on his britches. He laughed, slapping her hands away. “We’ll do it together, all right?”
She nodded, not looking at him now, and proceeded to strip off her clothes.
She wanted to seduce him on the carpet? She wanted to ravish him right here? Upon brief reflection, he thought it was a grand idea.
Colin was tugging off his left boot when she was naked, standing in front of him, her hands at her sides. She was trying to give him a siren’s smile, but failing woefully at it. She looked scared but determined. She looked like her namesake Joan of Arc on her way to martyrdom, elated that she was guarding her dignity even whilst she contemplated the flames. The foolish little twit.
When he was naked, he knew her eyes were on his belly and nowhere else. He wasn’t fully aroused, so she shouldn’t yet scream with fright.
He started to resume his role of the tender seducer, to end this damnable charade, when she jumped at him. His quick reflexes saved both of them. She was holding him in a strangle lock about his throat and kissing him until he was laughing.
Let her do it, he thought. He stroked his hands over her buttocks and hefted her legs around his waist.
“Oh,” she said and kissed him until she had to stop for a breath.
“What do you want me to do now, Joan?”
“I want you flat on your back so I can kiss you. I don’t want you to move, Colin.”
He obliged her, easing both of them onto the Aubusson carpet. Late afternoon sunlight sent silver beams through the narrow windows into the chamber. The air was soft and warm. She was lying on top of him, her legs between his, his sex hard against her belly.
He saw the fear in her eyes when he moved inadvertently against her, but then she smiled at him and leaned back. “You’re very beautiful, Colin. I’m the luckiest of wives.”
“Er, thank you,” he said, aware that his sex was responding to her more quickly than he’d thought possible. He was big and hard as a stone against her now. Still, she didn’t hesitate. He heard her draw a deep breath.
“I don’t want you to move, Colin. I want you to lie very still. I’m going to kiss you just like you kissed me. Is that all right?”
He choked, nearly swallowing his tongue. This was madness. He managed to nod.
She kissed his throat, his shoulders, his chest, her fingers soft and busy in the mouth’s wake. She covered him with kisses. He thought he’d burst. He twitched. He raised his arms to pull her down.
“No, don’t move, you promised.”
He hadn’t promised anything, he thought wildly. But he forced himself to stillness. He fisted his hands at his sides. This was what she wanted. She would learn, oh yes, she would soon learn.
When her warm mouth touched his belly, he heaved and shuddered.
“Joan,” he said. This was pain, he thought, this was truly very real pain.
She looked up at him and grinned. “Do you feel like you made me feel? Urgent? As if there’s a fire building up inside you, but you’d kill to make it even hotter?”
“Close enough.”
She touched his sex with her hand. She stroked him. She was looking intently at him, then at her hand holding him. He was oddly embarrassed. He felt strange. Then she frowned slightly. “No,” she said more to herself than to him. “I want more and I want to see how you taste.” She took him in her mouth and he jerked and moaned and his chest heaved. He thought, quite simply, that he was going to die.
“Ah,” she said, feeling his wonderful response to her, and set out to make him scream with pleasure.
He nearly did, so close did he come to his release. “Joan, no, sweetheart, you’ve got to stop. I’m different from you. I’ll spill my seed if you continue. Then your sacrifice will have been in vain.”
“Oh,” she said, and drew back. “You must spill your seed inside me. That’s the way of things. You’re a man and that’s what you want, I know. This you enjoy as well, but the other . . . that’s what it must be. Very well.”
Before he knew what she intended, she came up over him and straddled his hips.
“Oh no,” he said as she tried to bring him into her. If he weren’t hurting so much for her, he would have laughed. She wasn’t near to ready to take him into her and yet, here she was, trying to impale herself.
She looked at him as he spoke, and he saw she was paler than a moment before; she was afraid of the coming pain.
He smiled, stroking his hands up and down her arms. “Not yet, Joan. Don’t try to force me in
side of you just yet. I’m not ready for you. Not even close. No, no, it’s true. I must have more so that I will enjoy myself. I can’t reach my full potential unless—” He stopped at her gasp.
She looked at his sex and then back at his face. She looked at him as if he were mad. “You mean to say there’ll be even more of you? But you were moaning, Colin, and twitching. You’re sweating. Surely there can’t be that much more.”
“But there is,” he said, desperate now. “I’m a man and I’ve got to have more. Believe me. You must trust me in this. I’m the one with the experience. I must have more, else my pleasure won’t be anything beyond the ordinary. It won’t be worth the passage of moments it will take to bring me to it. You do want me to have more pleasure rather than less, don’t you?”
“Of course. I promised you that I wouldn’t be selfish about it. If you wish to increase in your size even more, if that’s what makes you scream with pleasure, then so be it.” She drew a deep breath. “What do you wish me to do now?”
He smiled painfully. “Roll over onto your back. No, no, I’m not taking charge, nothing like that. I just must show you what’s necessary for you to do to make me scream with pleasure like I made you do last night.”
She nodded, looking dubious, but did what he’d asked. She lay on her back, and she was looking at him coming over her and he saw that damned fear in her eyes again, but he couldn’t blame her, his sex was hard as a stone, fully aroused. And she thought he’d get bigger?
He calmed himself. He wasn’t about to let this wonderful surprise turn into another fiasco.
The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 Page 98
