Amanda Scott (33 page)

“I don’t know why you didn’t.”

“I don’t either. Something happens, though, when I look at you or touch you. I don’t understand it, but I can be in a fury one moment, and then I look into your eyes or I touch you, and the fury vanishes. I’ve long thought your eyes bewitched men. I was right. You are a witch, sweetheart.”

“I’m not, either, and I’ll thank you not to say I am. Even our enemies never called me so.”

“I’m surprised no one has suggested that your gift might be a product of witchcraft,” he said more seriously than he had spoken yet.

“Highlanders understand the Sight for what it is. Sassenachs may sometimes fear it, but they soon learn from others that they need not fear me.”

“I should think that many a man would fear the woman who could see his death in her dreams,” he said thoughtfully.

“They are not dreams, Duncan. When it happens …” She shuddered.

He hugged her. “That is not what we are going to talk about now, in any case,” he said. “There is still one matter that we must get clear between us.”

“I am sorry if you think I made a fool of you,” she said, looking at him, “but no more than you liked that did I like being scolded in front of your men.”

“Is that what made you angry?”

“Aye, that and what you said about me being only a weak female. Think about what my life has been, sir. My father and brothers died when I was fourteen, my mother long before that, and the person who came to my rescue was my aunt, for my uncle had also died by then.”

“Your aunt is a formidable woman, true enough.”

“Aye, she is, and not weak, sir. I drew my strength from her. Neil is the only male with whom I have had close contact, apart from the herds and farmers who looked after things at Maclean House, but I never thought of him as protective.”

“He’s grown some and filled out since last I saw him,” Duncan said, “but from what I know of that lad before now, he was not much use to you at all.”

“He was younger then, sir, and resented his position. He is chieftain of the Craignure Macleans, after all, but the title is empty. He is a man without land of his own or the power bestowed by a host of loyal followers. Most of the Craignure men died with his father, fighting for the prince.”

“That is all the more reason to let me protect you, lass. It’s the reason you are here at Balcardane and the reason we married. If you insist on defying my commands, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“We have already plucked that crow, sir. You agreed, however, that if I bested you, you would treat my judgment with more respect, and even occasionally seek out my advice, or that of others, before making a decision.”

“I don’t remember anything about my decisions entering into it,” he said.

“Would you quibble, sir, or will you keep your word?”

He looked steadily at her for a long moment, then shook his head and said with a sigh, “I cannot believe that I have to affirm it, but I will keep my word.”

She smiled. “I never doubted that you would try to keep it.”

“You won’t win against me the same way twice, lass.”

“I know that,” she said, “but it served you right to lose. You have never accused me of being stupid, but you’ve never believed in my intelligence either. Perhaps you will think twice now before assuming I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Perhaps I will,” he agreed, “but don’t read too much into that. You are still not to leave the castle alone. I don’t care if you are going only ten feet from the gate. You will tell me or Jock or Bannatyne, and—”

“Tell? Not ask?”

“Tell,” he said, smiling again. “I’ll grant that I’ve been a bit dictatorial in that respect; however, you still must promise that you won’t go beyond the walls alone.”

“You are being generous, sir, so I will confess that I knew the moment Ewan appeared that I had acted stupidly. My hood was up, so none of the men saw my face before I got outside. Then, of course, they saw only my cloak, and although they clearly kept an eye on it, since they responded to Chuff’s whistle so quickly, they did not try to stop me. I did not think they would.” She paused, then took the plunge. “You see, I came to realize that you took no one to task yesterday when someone in my cloak left the castle. You cannot blame them for allowing it today.”

“For that alone you should be skelped.”

“Aye, perhaps.”

Suddenly, she could not seem to take her eyes from him, and the way he looked back felt like he had touched her. She felt vulnerable, alone yet not alone. She had told him that he was not the center of the universe, and he was not, but presently he seemed to fill her immediate world, at least.

He stood for a long moment in silence, watching her. Then, without a word, he went to the door and opened it slightly. She heard a click; then he shut it again.

Turning back, he said, “No one will disturb us.”

She swallowed. “N-no one?”

“No one.”

“Do you have the only key?”

“Even a key would not help anyone trying to enter from the corridor. This room, my mother’s and father’s bedchambers, her drawing room, and the library are all fitted with such locks. They ensure privacy when privacy is wanted.”

“I … I see.” A tremor of anticipation shot up her spine. “I am wholly at your mercy then. Is that what you are telling me?”

“It is. Are you cold?”

“N-not anymore.”

He reached for her again, but to her surprise it was only to lay his palm against her cheek. His hand felt very warm.

“Your skin is chilled,” he said. “I’ll build up the fire.”

Nothing remained of it but embers, so the task took him a few moments, but she liked watching him. His movements were deft and efficient. Clearly, he did not depend upon servants to tend all his needs. He showed patience, too, waiting until the smaller bits caught before he added larger sticks and logs.

When at last the flames began licking at the logs, he straightened and said, “Come here, lass, and warm yourself.”

She hesitated only a moment, then went to stand beside him, holding her hands out to the fire.

A moment later, he said, “Look at me.”

Slowly, she turned toward him. “Yes, sir?”

“It is time, Mary.”

“Time, sir?” She understood him though, and heat that had nothing to do with the crackling fire raced through her body. “We need not, sir, truly. Ewan knows that we are married. He told me so. And since you are here, you must have learned that all is well in Fort William.”

“Aye, I met my lad returning.”

“That should be enough then.”

“Did MacCrichton say he’s willing to forget about you?”

“N-no, he said …” She looked away, unwilling to repeat Ewan’s words.

“Just so,” Duncan said. Putting a hand beneath her chin, he made her look at him, adding in a husky voice, “We are not doing this just to protect you from him.”

“No?”

“No. We are doing it because I want you, lass. Would you deny me?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head. A fleeting thought of Ian sped through her mind, a hint that she was being disloyal to his memory. He had been thoughtful, gentle, kind, and considerate, a charming boy who—had his life not been cut short so unfairly—would have grown into a charming man. But she knew that as much as she had loved Ian, she had never felt physical passion for him, and she knew, too, that knowing his family would never allow a marriage between them had kept her from questioning or testing her feelings for him.

A suspicion stirred, that Duncan had been right all along in saying that Ian had attached himself to her simply to defy Duncan’s orders. Not that it mattered, for in any event, Ian would not blame her now. He had always assumed that she was capable of taking care of herself.

The man before her was rarely gentle, thoughtful, kind, or considerate. He made no attempt to charm, and he was more likely than not to insist that she was wholly incapable of looking after herself. But just the thought of his touching her, and of being able to touch him back, awakened a delicious fascination within her.

These few thoughts flashed through her mind in the seconds that his hand cupped her chin, but when it moved to stroke her cheek again, she could think only of his touch. His palm still felt warm, although not so warm as it had before he built up the fire. Then she had been conscious only of warmth. Now she felt its roughness. It was not a gentle hand, but it moved gently. One finger traced her left cheekbone, moved to the wispy curl in front of her ear, then to the ear itself, tracing a line up and along its curve, down to the lobe.

“You should have ear bobs, lass. I’ll buy you some.”

She licked her lips, aware of sensations in her body that she had never felt before, a stirring in its center, a warm melting feeling that spread all through her.

His finger moved to her neck, and she felt two more fingers now, touching just below her hairline.

She moaned low in her throat, leaning back almost involuntarily, arching her neck and pressing against his fingers until she felt his whole hand cradle the back of her neck.

He pulled her to him then, his other hand slipping around her waist, his lips hungrily claiming hers.

She could not doubt his desire for her, but she sensed, too, that he was holding himself back, as if again he feared he might hurt her. His hands moved over her body possessively, touching her as no man had touched her before. All the while, his lips explored hers, tasting, nibbling, licking them. He kissed her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her forehead. Then he kissed her hard on the mouth again.

His hands kept moving, and beneath them her body surged to life. One cupped her right breast, a thumb moving over the nipple in a teasing caress that stopped the breath in her throat. A finger tickled bare skin at the edge of her bodice.

When she gasped, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the high bed. Heavy blue velvet curtains hung from a full tester overhead. The matching coverlet felt soft to her touch.

“I’m going to unbutton your dress,” he said.

“What about your clothes?”

“We’ll worry about them later.” His hands were at her bodice, his fingers nimbly undoing the buttons that marched in a line from the straight, square-cut edge of her stiff bodice to the point at her waist. She watched his eyes, but her emotions riveted themselves to the sensations his fingers awakened within her.

The room was growing darker. Firelight played on the walls. The windows, like the ones in her room, were tall, set deep in the thick wall, and very narrow. Little light came through them now.

“Won’t it be time to dress for dinner soon?” she asked.

“Shhhh.” He placed a finger against her lips.

Resisting an urge to kiss it, she kept silent.

Opening her bodice, he paused for a moment, looking down at her.

She could feel heat in her cheeks, but she did not mind his looking, for it seemed to give him pleasure, and it stirred more delightful sensations inside her. When his gaze flashed up to meet hers, she smiled.

He smiled back. “Don’t move,” he said.

She had no wish to move. She felt languorous, as if she had been sipping wine. She watched him carry the candlestick from the bed table to the hearth, where he knelt to light it, taking time to put another log on the fire. With that candle he lit others, two in a wall sconce, a branch of three on a writing table, yet another on the dressing table. The walls seemed to dance in a golden glow.

“That’s better,” he said. “I want to look at you. Are you still warm enough?”

“Aye.”

For once he took her at her word. Reaching for her, he helped her sit up, then pushed her dress off her shoulders.

“It’s easier if I stand up,” she murmured, “even easier if I do it myself.”

“I want to do it.” Nevertheless he helped her to her feet, watching while she pushed the dress down over her hips.

She turned around. “My petticoat ties in the back,” she said.

He untied it, and the knot of her stay laces as well, but when she began to turn back, he stopped her with his hands at her waist and she felt his lips touch the nape of her neck.

Slowly, his hands moved around and up, cupping both breasts above her stays, teasing their nipples with his thumbs through the thin material of her chemise.

She leaned against him, savoring the warmth of his body.

A rattle at the door startled them both, but when Mary jumped and would have snatched up her clothing, Duncan stopped her. “Relax,” he murmured near her ear, “it’s Hardwick. He didn’t know we were here, and he’s just come to set out my clothes for dinner. He’ll go away, and he won’t come back until I ring for him.”

“Does he know what we’re doing?” The thought dismayed her.

“He won’t concern himself with that. Hardwick knows better than to waste his time trying to imagine my activities from one moment to the next.” He loosened her stay laces as he talked. “How can you stand to be so tightly laced?”

She chuckled. “They are not so tight, sir. I’d rather breathe than boast of a fashionable half-yard waist.”

“I can almost span yours with my two hands,” he said. “It cannot be much more than that.”

Grateful for the release, she drew a deep breath, then pushed stays and petticoat down to join the dress that lay crumpled on the floor.

He said curiously, “Are you just going to leave them there?”

“I am not going to play maidservant just so that you can watch me walk around in my chemise, if that is what you mean,” Mary retorted.

He chuckled. “Such a disobedient wife. You do need a lesson, sweetheart. I think you will go without your dinner tonight.”

Since she had already deduced that she was going to forfeit her dinner, the news did not come as much of a surprise. She held out one foot. “Are you going to unfasten my shoes?”

He chuckled again, and instead of reaching for her shoe, as she expected, he reached up under her chemise for her garter. His hand felt cold against her thigh, making her squeal and jump away. Duncan caught her and pulled her back, kissing her, then picking her up and laying her on the bed again.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she lay still while he untied her garters and removed shoes and stockings, leaving her clad only in the thin chemise.