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Authors: Joanna Maitland

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

Bride of the Solway (36 page)

BOOK: Bride of the Solway
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'Where did you come from? I—'

He whirled her round. 'I slipped in when you were not looking. You were so busy dancing and singing that a man-eating lion could have crept up on you.
Grrr
!' He bared his teeth at her.

'Humph! You make a very poor lion, sir!' She freed one hand from his embrace and ran her fingers through his thick red hair. 'Not much of a mane, I'd say. And quite the wrong
colour
, too!'

indeed? What impertinence! I'll teach you to say such things to your husband,
Mrs
Graham. Just you wait.' He whirled her round and round until she was so dizzy she had to cling to him. Then, at last, he fell on to the sofa with her still in his arms. 'Have you learned your lesson now, ma'am?' He pulled her close. 'Or must I play the
dominie
again?' He grinned wickedly at her.

Cassie knew exactly how to deal with that. She wrapped her arms round his neck and touched her lips to his. In a heartbeat, passion had flared between them. He was no longer grinning, but groaning.

She, too, was rapidly losing control. She felt a desperate urge to rip off his clothes. Again.

'No, Cassie,' he moaned, tearing his lips from hers. 'Oh, my darling witch, we must not. Especially not here. Not now.' He sat up and set her on her feet in front of him, though his hands lingered on her waist. 'There will be plenty of time for loving, once we are properly wed.'

A voice in Cassie's head protested. They were already properly wed. But there was no point in telling him so. Later, she would find a way. Later.

it is time for us to leave. And we shall travel to London with the utmost propriety, like any other married couple.' He raised his eyebrows warningly and shook his head at her. 'No tricks, mind,
Mrs
Graham.'

Cassie adopted as demure an expression as she could.

'Remember that post-boys have eyes. And ears.'

She nodded slowly, I hope that Fraser and Morag are aware of that.'

'What do you mean?'

Cassie took Ross's hand and pulled him over to the window. 'See?' She pointed at the riding horses. 'Fraser will be riding in the chaise. With Morag. As far as
Penrith
, he says.'

Ross did not look in the least surprised. And he was smiling down at her in a very superior way.

'You knew!'

'Of course I did. I am only surprised that you did not, Cassie. I can see that I shall have to revise my opinion of you. I had thought you were such a downy one.'

'Oh, you wretch! I had.. .er.. .other things on my mind. As you know very well. I—'

The door opened again to admit Fraser. He seemed to have recovered his composure for he said, in his normal voice, 'The baggage is stowed and the chaises are waiting, sir.'

Ross and Cassie exchanged knowing glances. Fraser ignored them.

With a smile, Ross offered Cassie his arm. 'If you are ready,
Mrs
Graham?'

Cassie took it without a word and allowed him to lead her down the stairs and out to the waiting chaise.

Fraser followed, carrying a heavy rug and the case containing Ross's pistols. He was humming as he arranged the rug over Cassie's knees.

At first, Cassie did not
recognise
the tune. Then, as Fraser went round to check the fastenings of the luggage, the humming got louder. She fancied that Morag, standing by the second chaise, was humming, too. Why, it was—! Cassie clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.

'Cassie? What is it?' Ross was looking puzzled. Then he shook his head. 'Strange, very strange. In all the years Fraser has been with me, I don't think I have ever heard him singing. I can't imagine what's come over him. Do you think he has found himself a secret store of whisky while we've been in Scotland?'

Cassie pressed her lips tight together. She didn't dare say a word. But behind her, the humming was getting louder. She felt an overwhelming desire to join in. She shouldn't.

But, in the end, she could not resist. Soon, three voices were humming loudly.

'Cassie? Is the world going mad? Confound it! What on earth is going on?' He started to climb down from the chaise.

At that moment, Fraser, and then Morag, began to sing properly. With words.

Cassie collapsed in whoops of laughter.

And Ross, standing beside the chaise, understood at last. For the ballad that his faithful valet was singing—and that his helplessly laughing wife had encouraged—was Sir Walter Scott's Young
Lochinvar
.

'So light to the
croupe
the fair lady he swung,' Fraser
carolled
, his voice getting ever louder. 'So light to the saddle before her he sprung! She is won! We are gone, over—'

'Fraser,' Ross said ominously, 'would you prefer to walk to
Penrith
?'

Too late. Fraser grinned impudently and continued to sing to the last verse. 'So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e 'er heard of gallant like young
Lochinvar
?'

Ross turned over yet again in his solitary bed. After such a day, his body should be exhausted. So why could he not sleep?

Stupid question. Was it not obvious? This morning he had married the most amazing woman in the world, a woman he would adore until his very last breath, and yet—for
honour's
sake—he had insisted she sleep alone. They were legally man and wife, but he knew that Cassie would never feel in her heart that they were truly wed until they had been joined in church So he had no choice. In spite of what had happened between them, in that mist-shrouded barn, and again this morning, he had no choice.

But it was damnably difficult when she was lying in a chamber only yards away!

He groaned aloud at the thought of her delectable body, warm and fuzzy with sleep, with only a wisp of silk between her lender skin and the fine linen sheets. If only... He reached out a hand, stroking the cool linen where she would have lain, if only she had been here. Beside him

It was not difficult! It was impossible!

He threw back the bedclothes, strode across to the window and flung it open. The cool night area flooded in, chilling his naked body. But it did nothing to cool the desire that was burning in him. Was he to suffer like this every night of this journey? If so, he would be a sorry excuse for a man by the time they reached London, for he would have had no sleep at all.

He put his elbows on the window sill and leant out, craning his neck to look up at the stars. Perhaps he should count them? Perhaps, like sheep, they would help him to sleep? Or at least to take his mind off Cassie. He tried to concentrate on identifying the constellations. He had done it often enough in Spain, after all. The plough, for example. That was always easy to spot. It should be-Somewhere close by a floorboard squeaked. 'Who's there?' Ross quickly ducked his head back into the room and turned to face the door. Had he not locked it? He was almost sure he had. Perhaps the noise had come from outside, in the corridor?

Perhaps, in his frustration, he was imagining things? He stood absolutely still for a long time, straining his eyes and ears. Nothing.

Eventually, he decided that he was still alone. He should go back to bed. He must at least try to sleep. 'Oh, Cassie,' he sighed. 'If only you knew what you are doing to me.'

'I do know,' whispered a voice from the direction of the bed. 'And I feel it too.'

'Cassie!' He flung himself at the bed and found himself struggling in the dark with a tangle of sheets and coverlets. 'Cassie!' His questing hand found an edge of lace. He clung on and pulled. 'Now I have you.'

But he did not. For she rolled away from him. There was a sound of tearing, loud in the darkness, and he was left with only a fistful of silk and lace.

'Cassie, where are you?' He reached out blindly across the bed. Nothing.

Then, in the darkness, a low laugh. She was no longer on the bed. She was somewhere on the far side of the room. She was truly here. With him.

He padded swiftly to the door. This time, he made absolutely sure it was locked. She was here. His Cassie. And she was going to stay.

Grinning broadly into the darkness, he made his way back to the bed and smoothed the torn silk across it. Then he lay down beside it. And wailed He could hear her rapid breathing.

'I fear 'tis still not the best velvet,' he said softly. 'Only silk. Would it please you lie on it again, my lady?'

With something between a gasp and a sob, she was beside him. ' Ross' Oh, my darling, please do not send me away. I need you so much.

'Hush,' he said, pulling her close. Somehow, he was not surprised that she was as naked as he. He ran a hand down her flank. 'You are chilled my love. Come, let me warm you again.'

With a low murmur, she fitted her body against his, sighing deeply when he lifted the coverlet over them both. 'I love you, Ross,' she whispered, raising her lips to his.

'My love,' he groaned. 'My life.'

They traded kiss for kiss and touch for touch, giving and receiving pleasure, stoking the fire that burned between them until there was no knowing where was woman and where was man. Until they were one joyous flesh, joined together in lasting love.

BOOK: Bride of the Solway
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