A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) (12 page)

He started to thank her, but then scowled at the kilt she was offering him. 
“
Is that the Cameron tartan?
”
he sneered.

“
I
’
m sorry!
”
she gasped.  She
did
look flushed, Lachlan decided, daring to lean just a little closer to judge the effect it had.  She babbled some hardly coherent apology and Lachlan had to turn away to hide a smile.

“
I
’
ll just change then,
”
he murmured softly, retreating back into the little washroom.

..ooOOoo..

Muira sat down on the trunk that she had just been to collect.  Hard.  In fact, her legs practically gave way.  Oh Lord, he had looked- had looked- Muira didn
’
t that think there
was
a word to describe how Lachlan had looked!  Or if there was, then she certainly didn
’
t know it! 

He had been all hard lines and sculpted sinew, bulging muscle and raw power.  She should have been appalled, terrified even, but she hadn
’
t been, and she couldn
’
t understand why not.  He had seemed, to her most feminine core, to be
…
male perfection personified?  It hadn
’
t mattered that his poor skin had been bruised and broken; he
’
d still looked magnificent. 

Muira shivered, and found that she was remembering how the beads of water that had dripped from his head to his shoulders had then run down into the dark spattering of hair on his chest. 

She had been shocked by her desire to reach out and touch him, and then, Muira burned scarlet as she remembered what else she
’
d thought of doing
–
of pressing her lips to his skin and lapping up every droplet of water with her tongue.  She couldn
’
t imagine where she
’
d got such a wicked idea!  She couldn
’
t imagine what the heavy, aching throb in the pit of her stomach meant either.

Muira felt restless- compelled to move, but she didn
’
t know how.  So she stood up, trying her hardest to forget what she
’
d just seen, and determined to begin packing for her new life as a MacRae.  Her aunt had offered her the use of one of the maids to help, but Muira wanted to pack everything herself.  It felt right somehow.

She was sorting through her winter wardrobe when she felt the prickly sensation of someone watching her.  Lachlan.  Did she dare turn around and look at him?  She was humiliated to feel the heat already rising to her face.

“
I
’
m sorry about that,
”
he said from where he was standing across the room. 

He didn
’
t sound sorry, Muira noted, he sounded thoughtful, but not sorry. 

And that was when a belated tick of fear kicked in.  She didn
’
t know if it was naivety or denial that had kept her from thinking about her wedding night up until this point, but now she was thinking about it, and with a definite surge of panic.

Lachlan
’
s body suddenly became threatening.  Muira remembered with breathless panic how it had felt to be pinned beneath Tavish, and this time there could be no hope of escaping, they was no hope of
ever
escaping the new cage that she
’
d crafted for herself.

“
Muira?
”
Lachlan pressed when she didn
’
t speak.

“
It
’
s fine,
”
she whispered quickly.

“
I assume the Laird will allow us a carriage?
”
Lachlan asked, after a brief pause.  He glanced around at everything that Muira was packing.

“
I assume so,
”
she murmured, trying to keep her distance.  If Lachlan noticed then he didn
’
t comment on the fact.

“
I should go and speak to him
”
he frowned. 
“
I am permitted to do so?
”
he sneered.

Muira finally turned around to face her husband.  She glanced up at him timidly, and almost thought that a tiny fraction of his aggressive demeanour softened.

“
You
’
re permitted to do as you choose now I
’
m sure,
”
she whispered nervously.

Lachlan looked at her oddly, but if he found the statement strange then he didn
’
t comment on it. 
“
I
’
m be back later,
”
he murmured, walking across the room and leaving his wife to her own devices.

Muira hadn
’
t anticipated how much later
‘
later
’
would be.  She
’
d finished her packing, and had her trunks sent down to be loaded onto one of her uncle
’
s carriages, and there had still been no sign of Lachlan.  She
’
d waited for as long as she could, and then rung for a light supper, which she ate, miserable and alone, in front of the fireplace.

Maybe he had already abandoned her, and really who could blame him?  She had been such a na
ï
ve fool to think that she could trick and trap Lachlan MacRae into marriage!  Muira sighed deeply, and stared into the flickering fire, trying to find
something
to be positive about- she supposed, if he had really gone, that she would escape the duty of her wedding night at least.

She was still sitting there, watching the flames, when the bedroom door opened late that night.  It had just past ten, Muira had heard one of the clocks in the hall chime the hour.

“
You came back?
”
she blurted without thinking, staring in surprise at her husband, she had all but given him up for lost at this point.

“
Aye, I came back to my bonnie wee wife,
”
he said, his voice unreadable as he reached for an apple from the fruit bowl.  His
‘
bonnie wee wife
’
blushed crimson.

“
Where did you go?
”
Muira asked without thinking.  She bit her lip- worried that Lachlan would be angry with her for prying.  He took a bite of his apple and regarded her careful.

“
I needed some time to think, and I thought you might like some privacy,
”
he said with a careless shrug.

“
Oh,
”
Muira breathed, thoughtful now herself. 
“
And what did you-
”

“
You should get some rest, we
’
ve got a long road to travel tomorrow,
”
Lachlan interrupted firmly. 
“
Go to bed, Muira,
”
he instructed.

Bed?
  Muira felt her heat trip, her stomach flutter.  This was it then, she
’
d finally know what it was to
know
a man.  She wouldn
’
t cry, she told herself, she would be strong
…
except- Lachlan had just sat down in the chair opposite her.  She tried not to look as though she was surprised by this development, and evidently failed.

“
I
’
ll join you in a moment,
”
he said gently.

“
Oh,
”
Muira squeaked. 
“
Of course.
”
  She jumped up from her chair and dashed behind her dressing screen, snatching up her nightgown as she went. 

Without a maid
’
s help, it took a lot longer than usual for Muira to change.  She didn
’
t know if she was allowed to summon one for help however, and she was too embarrassed to ask.  She felt so hopelessly out of her depth!

When she crept out from behind the screen, finally finished, Muira wasn
’
t surprised to see Lachlan
’
s head turn to regard her.  She was surprised by the way his eyebrows raised, by the way he unashamedly stared however.  A part of her had expected him to pounce on her, in much the same way as Tavish.  It was even more unnerving therefore for him to keep his distance, and undress her with his eyes.

She might be an innocent, but Lachlan
’
s regard was so obvious that Muira
knew
what he was doing.  She didn
’
t understand her sudden need to know what he was
thinking
though
…
did she please him, did he like what he saw or was she a disappointment? 
Her reaction to his gaze was equally alarming.  The ache in her stomach had returned, and a tingling in her breasts, neither of which lessened when Lachlan finally dragged his eyes away.