"It's cold," she murmured, and hurried past him toward the relative warmth of the keep. She felt him follow her through the door.
"Will you sit with me upstairs a moment?"
Her gut tumbled. She had no idea what to say to him, whether to rail or cry or hold her tongue. What could she say?
When he moved past her, disappearing up the stairs, she followed him up and into the circle of her sitting room.
"I accused you of something vile last night."
"Yes."
He stared at her, waiting for a confession, she guessed. She was tempted to give it to him just to see his eyes flare with whatever pain she could administer.
"I did not come to this lightly, Alexandra."
Oh, she was Alexandra now. Perhaps a "Lady West-more" was coming.
"One of the servants said that you and Fergus disappear often together."
"One of the—? Who? Rebecca?"
"That doesn't matter."
"It most certainly does. That woman is a bitch. A bitch in heat where you are concerned."
"Don't insult her simply because she came to me with this."
"Oh, I can assure you I've insulted her many times in my mind before this."
"So she lied to me?"
"Yes . . . No. I don't know! What does she mean by disappear? We often go to the stables together. We sit in the hall and talk. Why do I even need to say this to you? I am your wife."
"As long as you can remember that, then we need never speak of this again."
"Collin . . ." Hurt clawed at the walls of her chest, tried to crawl out her throat as a sob. She felt stupid and angry and so confused. Should she be mad? Did he have a right to worry?
She wondered suddenly if one of the Kirkland men had mentioned that she'd followed Fergus out. Wondered if they had raised eyebrows at her departure. Her face burned at the thought. "I'm sorry." She nearly choked on the words. "I didn't think how it would look to our guests."
"That's all?"
"I did nothing wrong, Collin. Nothing." She thought of what Jeannie had said to comfort her the night before. Tell him the truth. Make him feel a fool and he'll come to his senses. The truth then. "Collin, it was Jeannie I spoke of to Fergus, why I searched him out."
"What about Jeannie?"
"There is an . . . an attraction."
"That's ridiculous. Fergus has known her since she was hardly more than a child."
"She's only two years younger than I, Collin. The girl knows what she wants, and Fergus refuses to acknowledge it."
"Then leave the man alone. And if you're speaking the truth . . . then I apologize, Alex. I'm sorry that I lost my temper."
She nodded, feeling like a stranger to herself, but a tiny ray of righteous anger shone through her muddled thoughts. "I want that woman gone."
"Rebecca?"
"She's been disrespectful to me since that first day. And to think that she has spied on me . . ." She could see by the razor line of his mouth that she should have waited to speak. Waited a week or two till this had passed.
"You want me to turn her out?"
"Yes."
"I have known her nearly twenty years. Her mother was a friend to mine."
"She does not treat me as she should, Collin."
"And where should I send her? Out to the cold to freeze? Her mother is dead and she has no family. Could I give her a reference at least, so she would not starve?"
"I don't care where she goes. She wants you, Collin! She watches you like a dog watches for scraps at the table. And she wishes me gone. That should be obvious now."
"What is obvious is her concern for me, as a friend. And what kind of friend would I be if I let you dismiss her? You have never lived as she has, Alex. You have never been hungry or cold or worried over anything more than which dress would flatter your figure most." He paused, and she thought he was done with his tirade, but he only drew a breath for the next attack.
"Rebecca is an excellent housekeeper. She works hard and she does her job and if she is shocked at your boldness, well then, I shall send away everyone who knows you, for who isn't?"
Collin slammed from the room, not caring that he left her heart bleeding in her straining chest.
A long day passed in heavy silence, and Alexandra was sure she would not sleep. But she had lain awake the night before, after all, and the world spun into oblivion as soon as she lay down.
A warm touch woke her to pitch black.
"I'm sorry, Alex." His lips moved against her back, his breath spreading hot over her shoulder blade.
She blinked her eyes open, but the dark soothed her back to sleep within seconds. A heavy weight curled over her waist, Collin's hand curving to the shape of her body, and she sighed with pleasure. "Shh," he whispered. "Sleep."
His mouth trailed kisses, his hand smoothed over her hip. Alex melted into the bed, liquid and warm, as his fingers stroked down to her thighs.
"You're so beautiful. Soft and wild as summer."
The length of his body pressed to her back, a world of heat against her skin. She couldn't help but stretch and sigh and burrow closer to him.
His hand slid over her thigh, he cupped her sex. "Caitein? he breathed.
She was dreaming, she thought, and sank further into the pleasure. She arched against him, pressing back until the hot brand of his cock burned her skin. He rewarded her by slipping one finger into her folds and stroking there.
"Ah!"
Collin's mouth whispered over her ear. "Shh," he said, even as he tortured her with pleasure. Her nerves slowly woke to a hum. His fingers slicked over and over her, teasing and circling until Alex whimpered.
It was lovely and too gentle, and she longed for more. She pressed her hand to his, trying to push him harder, but his fingers refused to obey, refused to stop the torment. She raised her leg and slipped it back, over his thighs. "Collin, please."
"Mmm." His chest rumbled with the sound. He ground his hips against hers. Alex arched and reached behind her to grip the back of his neck. Gaelic tumbled from his lips and he finally slid a finger deep into her body.
"Oh, God," she sobbed into the dark.
"So hot," he whispered on a harsh sigh. "So slick for me, Alex."
"Yes." She angled her knee higher on his leg, spreading herself for him, and Collin shifted his hips and pressed his hard length between her legs. "Yes," she moaned, mad with the feel of him sliding over her folds.
His hand cupped her again, holding her as he slipped back and forth against her. Alex fought back a scream of frustration. She wanted him deep and hard and ruthless, but he seemed bent on torture, merciless in his patience.
The darkness of the room pressed against her skin. Alex waited for the moment when he moved forward, then she tilted her hips and felt him slide into her body. Just an inch, just the head of his cock.
"More," Alex panted. "More." He slid a little deeper, stretching her flesh. She dug her fingernails into his hip, trying to pull him in. She wanted him to fill her until the pleasure grew to pain, wanted to burn with it.
"You consume me, Alex." Collin's words floated like a ghost in the dark. His fingers curled hard, almost hurting, and then he sank himself deep.
"Oh."
He slid out, then pushed harder in. Again and again, each thrust more brutal than the one before. Alex's body hovered on the edge of that sharp pleasure. Every stroke pushed a high moan past her lips. She dug her nails deep, urging, commanding him to be ruthless.
Collin obliged, finally. He wrapped his hand hard around her thigh and pulled her leg up and open. He drove into her. Alex threw her head back and pressed her own fingers between her legs. She'd barely touched herself when her spiraling pleasure broke open like a hot coal. Fire burned through her, sizzling over her nerves as she screamed and strained against him.
Collin thrust hard one last time, his cry echoing hers, sounds twisting together until they floated into the night.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. His breath cooled the sweat at her temple. "I'm sorry for what I said."
Alex didn't want to wake from her dream, so she only nodded and let the pillow catch her tears.
Chapter 19
"It is so lovely to meet such a beautiful new bride. Welcome to Scotland, Lady Westmore."
"Thank you, Mr. Nash."
New bride. Was she still a new bride? She did not feel like one. To think they had been married but two months. Was it supposed to get worse before it could get better? Lucy hadn't gone into specifics, but things were certainly not falling into place.
Her husband stood at her side amongst the bright gaiety, speaking comfortably, if not tersely, to those he knew. The Kirklands were more important socially than Alex had realized. Jeannie's father was not a lord, but his brother was an earl and the lot of them were rolling in money. The brother was not the only earl in attendance. The party would have been considered high ton even in London, for it was winter, after all, and not a time for idle travel.
The dancing had begun, but Alex did not move to join it. When she'd received the invitation, she'd thought of Collin's promise to learn to waltz but hadn't brought it up. She'd been afraid of his answer. If he'd said no, her feelings would be hurt and then she might lash out and break the fragile truce between them. So it had been for weeks—few words, uncomfortable silences. Whatever speech they exchanged was crouched in careful, polite phrasing. She felt they were circling each other and, when they finally drew close, she didn't know if they would embrace or strike.
Always aware of his presence, Alex felt his eyes on her and glanced up with a quick smile. He'd been lovely tonight, actually. His eyes had glowed at the sight of her in the dress she'd chosen so carefully. He'd swept the silver crepe with an appreciative look and had even come near to whisper compliments and kiss her neck. Alex shivered at the memory.
His lovemaking had not changed anyway. He still worshipped her with his hands and his mouth and all the rest of his wonderful body. But always in the dead of night. Always so late that she wondered if he slept at all. He would wake her with tenderness and need and speak Gaelic melodies into her ear as he slid his body into hers.
She had no idea what words he spoke, but they never failed to bring tears to her eyes. She'd asked Jeannie once, about one thing he whispered over and over again, though she'd blushed in horror of what it might be. Maith dhomh, he always murmured.
"Forgive me," Jeannie had translated for her, with a telling look, but Alex had said no more.
Forgive me, he offered her, in a language he knew she couldn't understand. What did it mean? She wanted to ask him, prayed that he wanted to try again at loving her. She had worked up her courage over the past few days, to talk to him during the long, private carriage ride to the Kirk-lands', but all that had changed this morning.
A youth she didn't know had come sneaking out of the trees to hand her a note as she walked Brinn along the edge of a forest. He'd handed her a slip of paper and, ignoring her questions, had slunk back into the firs.
Her stomach still clenched at the thought of it, and she glanced around as if she would see Damien St. Claire watching her from the edges of the crowd.
My Dear, he had written, You are sleeping with the enemy. How could you marry the very man who hunts your lover? I demand restitution for your inconstancy.
She would have scoffed at such a grievance a year ago, even a few weeks ago. If he had tried to blackmail her when she'd first come to Scotland, she would have gladly set him up again, participated in whatever trap her husband set to catch him. But not now. Oh God, not now. For he'd known exactly how to threaten her.
The word in the Lowlands is that your husband is a jealous man, a man who in no way trusts you. How would he respond to a few stories about your past? How would he feel if I set the neighbors abuzz with tales of your talented lips? Could I adequately describe the slick heat of your quim ? I would dearly love the chance.
Fortunately for you, my silence comes cheaply. £20,000. Do not deny me this or I will give your husband something to be jealous of. You have two days. Leave it in the place you received this note. Jewels will do nicely if gold is not at hand.
He had not signed it. Why bother? There was no question of who had penned it.
So now she could not enjoy her husband's compliments. She could not enjoy the party. She could not even enjoy the way Collin had cradled her hand in his on the ride toward Kirkland Hall. Instead, her stomach lurched each time she looked in his direction, for she had finally betrayed him. She had betrayed him the moment she'd received the note and hidden it beneath her linens. She had betrayed him when she'd spread her jewels out on the dresser and tried to calculate the value of each piece.
She had lost all the certainty she'd carried with her through life. She no longer knew who she was or how to behave.
Fergus was her husband's best friend and so she'd thought of him as a brother and treated him as such. It must have been wrong to do so. It must have been improper, for even Fergus avoided her now.
