An English Bride In Scotland (10 page)

“And we . . . er . . . picnicked,” she finished lamely, not willing to say what else they’d done. That being the case, she glossed over the next bit quickly. “Ross fell asleep.”

“Men often do after a picnic.”

Annabel was quite sure there was amusement in the woman’s voice as she said the word
picnic
, and suspected the maid knew that more than picnicking had gone on, but continued, “And I went for a swim in the river.”

“In the river?” Seonag squawked with alarm. “Bloody hell. Yer lucky the currents did no’ carry ye away. Don’t be doing that again, lass.”

“I will not,” Annabel assured her and knew it was true, but it wasn’t Seonag’s warning that would prevent it. It was how cold the water had been, and what she was now recalling had happened after her dip in the river that would prevent her doing that again. “I tried to don my gown, but I was wet and got tangled up in it.”

“Ah,” Seonag said as if that explanation clarified something she hadn’t understood.

“And then I heard snapping branches and rustling as if someone was approaching,” Annabel continued slowly as the recollection flowed over her. “I could just see out of the neck of the gown if I tipped my head back and looked through it, so I bent in the direction the sound was coming from.”

“Did ye see him?” Seonag asked.

“Just enough to know someone was approaching,” Annabel said with a grimace. In her memory all she’d glimpsed was a band of plaid moving toward her.

“And was it an Englishman or someone in a plaid?” Seonag asked with a frown.

“A plaid,” Annabel answered.

“Ah.” Seonag paused briefly and Annabel guessed she was nodding when she added, “Aye, ’tis what the laird said. A man in a plaid.”

“He saw him?” Annabel asked with surprise, blinking her eyes open briefly, only to close them again as pain once more stabbed through them into her head along with the light.

“Aye. He said he saw you first.” There was a brief pause and then she said tentatively, “He said ye were racing about the clearing like a chicken with its head cut off, yer gown around yer head and blind from it.”

“Oh.” Annabel breathed the word out on a sigh. The picture Seonag’s words painted was not a grand one. No doubt she had looked a complete fool.

“He said as how ye ran into a tree like that?” Seonag prompted, obviously wondering if she recalled that part of her adventure.

“Was it a tree?” Annabel asked weakly. “All I remember is hitting something hard and pain exploding in my head.”

“Hmmm. Yer memory’s still all there then,” Seonag said, sounding relieved.

Annabel didn’t comment, but merely asked, “Did my husband catch the man?”

“Nay,” Seonag answered. “The laird didn’t give chase. He was more concerned with getting ye home to tend yer wound. He’s out there now with the men though, beating the bushes and searching for him.”

“Oh,” Annabel murmured, oddly disappointed that he’d simply dumped her there in Seonag’s care and rushed off rather than stay to see her wake up and reassure himself that she was all right. She supposed it was silly, but after what they’d done in the woods she’d thought—

“He wanted to stay,” Seonag added. “But he was driving me wild pacing about like a caged animal and hovering over me shoulder while I tried to clean yer wound, so I ordered him from the room. Told him did he no’ leave and go find the man responsible, I’d stop what I was doing and leave Cook to tend ye. Cook is no’ very good with wounds, so he left,” she added.

“Oh,” Annabel murmured, feeling a little better about being abandoned. Although, she would have felt better still to hear that he’d left the room only to hover anxiously in the hall, haunting the door like a ghost in his worry. That, she supposed, was silly too, but she couldn’t help what she wished for.

“Can ye open yer eyes now?” Seonag asked suddenly.

Annabel hesitated, but then eased her eyes open, and again closed them. “Nay.”

“Try more slowly,” Seonag suggested. “Open them just a wee bit, then a bit more.”

She grimaced, but cracked her eyes open just a sliver. It caused pain, but wasn’t as bad as when she’d opened them wide, so Annabel eased them open just a crack more. It took a couple of moments, but in the end she was able to open her eyes all the way without too much discomfort.

“Good,” Seonag praised her, and then picked up a goblet on the bedside table and asked, “Do ye think ye can drink this?”

“What is it?” Annabel asked.

“A white-willow-bark tincture,” Seonag said. “ ’Twill help with the pain.”

“Aye,” Annabel murmured. She knew about white willow bark from her work with Sister Clara. The good sister had often used it to ease pain or reduce a fever.

Seonag helped her sit up and Annabel drank the liquid when she pressed the goblet to her lips.

“There,” Seonag said, easing her back onto the bed when she was done. “Why do ye no’ rest a bit now until that takes affect?”

“Aye,” Annabel murmured. Her head hurt enough that sleep sounded like a good escape, but she doubted she’d manage it with her head pounding as it was. Still, she closed her eyes and tried to relax.

“
N
OTHING?”
R
OSS ASKED
with a frown when Gilly rode into the clearing and dismounted. He had returned only moments ago himself after searching the area. He had found several trails, but hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the man who had been chasing his wife.

Gilly shook his head, his expression grim. “I found the remains o’ a campsite though. It was probably someone just passing through. He spotted yer pretty little wife, thought she was alone and—” He shrugged, and then suggested, “Or mayhap he was trying to help her with her dress. Ye did say she was in a might tangle with it.”

Ross frowned at both suggestions and shook his head. “Either option is possible, I suppose,” he admitted reluctantly, and then added dryly, “The first option is more likely than the second.”

“Aye.” Gilly nodded, and then raised his eyebrows and asked, “But?”

Ross hesitated, but then admitted, “That was the decision I came to when we couldn’t find the man who came upon Annabel that first night on the journey here.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Gilly admitted with a frown.

“I hadn’t,” Ross said quietly and then added, “A fellow traveler stumbling upon her by accident once was one thing, but twice?”

“Hmmm.” Gilly considered that, but then pointed out, “Still, ye said the first man was wearin’ English garb.”

“I didn’t see him—just his trail. It was Annabel who later said he was in braies,” Ross reminded him. He’d questioned her further on what she’d seen as they’d sat around the fire that night and Annabel had been quite clear that the man she’d seen had been dressed in English garb, a dirty white shirt and braies.

“Oh, aye.” Gilly nodded. “And ye say this one was wearing the plaid?”

“Aye,” Ross agreed, and reluctantly admitted, “I suppose they have to be two unrelated occurrences.”

“Probably,” Gilly agreed, but
he
now sounded doubtful.

Ross stared at him briefly, but then shook his head and headed for his horse. They were not going to find anything out here and he wanted to check on Annabel. He had only left because Seonag wouldn’t allow him to stay in the room while she was tending her and he had felt useless pacing the great hall. Searching for the man who had chased his wife into the tree had seemed a better expenditure of time than pacing about wringing his hands like an old man. But he’d searched, found nothing, and now wanted to see his wife . . . whether Seonag liked it or not.

Chapter 7

A
nnabel sighed sleepily and opened her eyes before she was awake enough to remember the pain that action had caused her the first time she’d woken. Fortunately, it did not cause pain now. In fact, other than a dull throb in her head, like a far-away voice barely heard, she felt fine.

“How do ye feel?”

She glanced to the side with surprise when she heard that question in a deep rumbling voice and stared blankly at her husband. Ross was leaning forward anxiously in a chair beside the bed, eyeing her with concern.

“Good, my lord,” Annabel admitted, and then grimaced and added, “And a little foolish.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why?”

“Well, I knocked myself out,” she pointed out dryly, and recalling Seonag’s recital of his description of her ordeal, added, “And in a most undignified fashion.”

Ross sat completely still for a moment, his lips twitching, and then he turned and coughed into his hand.

The action made Annabel’s eyes narrow. The cough had sounded suspiciously like an attempt to cover a laugh. Surely he wasn’t laughing at her suffering? She scowled at the idea, but then shook her head and closed her eyes, amusement curving her own lips as she imagined the picture she must have made running blindly about with the gown over her head. It had not seemed funny when she was fleeing the unknown figure in the clearing, but Annabel had to admit that it now might be . . . a little.

“We searched fer yer attacker,” Ross said after a moment, which she supposed he needed to compose himself.

Her eyes flickered open and she turned to peer at him again, this time frowning. “I was attacked? I thought I just ran into a tree.”

“Aye, ye did,” he acknowledged. “But when yer squawking woke me up, someone was chasing ye.”

“Squawking?” she asked with affront. “I do not squawk, husband.”

His mouth worked briefly and he turned away for another pseudo cough, but then nodded solemnly. “I meant scream. When yer screaming woke me up.”

“Hmmm,” Annabel said, only slightly mollified, and then asked curiously, “Who was he and what was he doing there?”

All traces of amusement fled from his face then and Ross looked grim when he admitted, “I don’t ken. It looked like he was chasing ye, but he might ha’e been trying to stop ye from running into the tree. Whatever the case, he got away,” he admitted unhappily, and then added, “We searched the area after I brought ye back to the keep fer Seonag to tend, but found only his campsite. He’d fled the area.”

“Oh,” she murmured, and then asked, “But he
did
give chase?”

“Aye.” Ross tilted his head, and asked. “What happened ere I awoke? Did he attack ye? Is that why ye were running from him?”

“Nay,” Annabel assured him quickly, lest he think something untoward had happened. She wouldn’t have him thinking she’d been sullied by his touch. “I took a dip in the river after ye fell asleep and—”

“The river?” Ross interrupted sharply, and then said firmly, “Never swim in the river, Annabel. I should ha’e warned ye of that. ’Tis no’ safe.”

“Aye, Seonag told me,” she said soothingly. “I will not do so again. And I did not go in far. I did notice the current was strong.”

Sighing, he rubbed one hand over his face and sat back with a nod for her to continue.

“At any rate, I should have waited to be dry before trying to don my dress. However, I did not and it got caught and all bunched up around my head and shoulders.” She noted the amusement on his face and suspected he was recalling her in that state, but ignored it and continued, “I heard branches snapping and thought mayhap you’d awakened and were approaching, but you did not answer my call, so I bent over to look out the top of the dress and caught a glimpse of a large, plaided figure and—” She grimaced. “Well, I just panicked. I shrieked and started to run away.”

He knew what had happened after that so she didn’t bother to continue.

Ross was silent for a moment and then asked, “So ye did no’ see who it was?”

“Nay. Just that he was big and wore a plaid.”

Ross nodded and asked, “And he did no’ touch ye?”

Annabel shook her head solemnly and realized it was true. She’d heard a sound, seen a figure and run away in a panic, knocking herself out. Whoever it was hadn’t harmed her at all . . . and may not have meant to, she acknowledged. It didn’t seem very bright to attack her with Ross lying but feet away. If his intentions had been nefarious, surely the man would have approached Ross first and knocked him out or even killed him. She wouldn’t have known, as blind as she’d been at that point.

“ ’Twas probably nothing,” Annabel said on a sigh. “I was half dressed, in a tangle, and blind and may have overreacted. I probably scared the poor man as much as he scared me.”

Ross was frowning now, not looking convinced, but frankly, Annabel simply wanted to forget the whole matter. She’d made a fool of herself. That image of her running around with her gown tangled around her head would no doubt reside in her husband’s head for the rest of his days. It was not the image she wanted there when he thought of her.

Annabel started to toss the linens and furs aside, and then quickly dragged them back up as she saw she was naked. Sighing, she asked, “Where is my gown?”

“I had to cut it off ye,” Ross admitted apologetically.

“Oh,” Annabel said weakly, and then asked, “I do not suppose Seonag set aside something for me to wear when I woke, did she? I should like to go below.”

“Why?” he asked rather than answer her question.

“I wish to get up,” she said simply, and then added, “My head no longer hurts and I feel fine. Besides everyone is probably gathering at the trestle tables for the sup by now.”

“Nay,” Ross said with a shake of the head. “ ’They’ll no’ be gathering at the tables. ’Tis no’ time for sup.”

“Is it not?” Annabel asked with disappointment. She was hungry, although she supposed she shouldn’t be. It seemed like all she’d done that day was eat. She’d broken her fast with pastries before her bath, helped the merchant, picnicked in the clearing with Ross, been tupped there by him, and then knocked herself out. And now she wanted to eat again. She couldn’t help it. She was hungry. Although her husband probably thought her as gluttonous as the abbess had always accused her of being.

“Nay, ’tis well past that time,” Ross announced interrupting her thoughts. “Everyone ate hours ago.”

“Oh.” Annabel was so relieved to know she had a reason to be hungry that she beamed at him. “Well then I should like to go below and find something to eat. But I need to find a gown first and—”

“No need,” Ross announced, and then scooped her up out of the bed, linens, furs and all.

While her front was covered by the linens and furs, Annabel was very aware that his hands were on her bare back and bottom. Biting her lip and trying not to blush, she clutched at his shoulders as he carried her toward the table and chairs in the corner to the right of the fireplace.

“Seonag thought ye might be hungry when ye woke and brought up some food fer ye,” Ross announced as he set her in a chair at the table. When he straightened from putting her down, she was able to see that there was a trencher of stew, crusty rolls, cheese and a goblet of cider there, awaiting her.

“Oh,” Annabel breathed, surveying the food. It looked delicious and she was hungry, but she glanced up to Ross with a frown when he continued to stand at her side. “There is plenty here. Are you hungry?”

“No’ fer food,” he said wryly, and then added, “I’ll quench me thirst after yer done.”

Annabel supposed that meant he would be leaving her to go below and join the men in drinking once she’d finished eating and was safely back in bed. The thought depressed her for some reason. It was not that she expected him to spend all his time with her, and really, perhaps his preferring his men’s company to her own was normal—she had no idea. Perhaps all husbands spent their evenings laughing and talking over an ale with the men rather than sitting by the fire with their wives, but she would have liked to spend time with him.

With those thoughts marching around inside her head, Annabel found her appetite quickly waning. It did not help that the stew was cold, and the cheese hard from sitting in the open air so long. She’d barely touched her food before she was pushing it away and letting the fur slip to the floor so that she could draw the linen around herself in the roman style and stand.

“I thought ye were hungry?” Ross said, stepping closer and scooping her up when she stepped from between the table and chair.

“So did I,” Annabel admitted quietly, slipping her arms around his neck as he carried her back across the room.

Her words made him stop at the foot of the bed and he eyed her with concern. “Is yer head aching again? Seonag said it was pounding something fierce when ye woke up the first time, but that she’d given ye something fer it.”

“She did, and ’tis fine. I am just not hungry anymore,” Annabel said with a shrug.

“But ye feel all right?” he persisted.

“Aye. You may go quench your thirst without worrying about me,” she assured him.

Ross grunted with satisfaction at this news and promptly set her to sit on the foot of the bed. That startled her a bit. He could have at least carried her to her side of the bed, she thought with irritation. But it seemed now she’d given him leave to go play with the men, he couldn’t be bothered . . .

The thought trailed off with confusion when Annabel realized he wasn’t heading for the door, but had removed the pin from his plaid and was letting it drop to the floor. She stared at him wide-eyed, but when he then kicked off his boots and tugged off his shirt to let it fall to the floor too, leaving him completely naked before her, Annabel murmured, “Er . . . husband . . . what—?”

The question died when he knelt on the plaid before her and leaned forward to cover her mouth with his.

Annabel quickly realized that the hunger he’d been speaking of hadn’t been for ale, and he had no intention of leaving her alone to join his men. The idea made her smile against his mouth, until she recalled that it was Wednesday and there was most definitely a bed present this time so he couldn’t argue it wasn’t bedding.

It took some effort, but Annabel managed to tear her mouth from his to murmur, “Husband?”

“Hmm?” Ross mumbled, his mouth trailing down her throat and toward her breasts even as his hands tugged the soft linen from her fingers to bare them.

“ ’Tis—Oh!” she gasped as his mouth closed over one nipple, and then desperate to stop him while she still had the strength to do so, Annabel blurted, “ ’Tis Wednesday!”

Pausing, Ross raised his head and thoroughly confused her by grinning. Cupping her face in his hands, he said, “Nay. ’Tis well past midnight. ’Tis Thursday now.”

“Oh,” Annabel breathed just before his mouth covered hers again. This time she couldn’t have broken the kiss had she wished. Ross held the back of her head firmly with one hand as he devoured her with his lips and tongue.

Annabel was breathing heavily and released a long, disappointed moan when he broke the kiss. She opened her eyes, surprised to find she was now lying on her back on the end of the bed. Lifting her head, Annabel peered at the top of Ross’s head as his lips glided over her chest, pausing to suckle briefly at first one nipple and then the other, before continuing down across her stomach. She gasped and released a small giggle when he paused at her belly button, his tongue tickling her there briefly before his head shifted to the side to find and nibble at her hip bone. The sensation
that
caused killed any amusement and Annabel sucked in a breath and held it at the tingling running through her as Ross followed the bone toward the apex of her thighs.

When his head ducked between her legs and Annabel felt the first lash of his tongue there, she cried out and half sat up in shock, her hands instinctively reaching for his head to push him away. It was like trying to move a castle. The man had planted himself there and was not moving. When she tried to squeeze her legs closed around him, Ross forced them open again with his hands and continued his efforts with an enthusiasm that tore her breath from her.

Annabel was now tugging at his hair rather than trying to push his head away. Suddenly aware of that and afraid she’d hurt him, she forced herself to release her hold on the long, dark strands and grabbed for the linen beneath her instead as he did things Annabel was sure she would be doing unending penance for when she confessed them to the priest. She didn’t care though; if one could be killed by pleasure, Ross was dangerously close to murdering her . . . and she never wanted it to end. Not that she was disappointed when it did. When Annabel found herself teetering on the edge of that point of exploding, she cried out and threw herself over the cliff with wholehearted enthusiasm, embracing the convulsions and shudders that accompanied it as her body was racked with pleasure.

She was still humming with it when her husband straightened, caught her by the knees and drew her bottom to the edge of the bed so that he could thrust his hardness into her. Her body welcomed him, stretching to make way and then clasping at him when he almost immediately withdrew partway.

Wrapping her legs around him, Annabel sat up and then wrapped her arms around him as a new excitement grew to replace the one that had just passed. This time when the tension Ross was stirring exploded within her, he joined her, thrusting into her one last time with a triumphant shout and holding her tight as he poured his seed into her . . . and all Annabel could think was, “Thank God it is Thursday.”

A
NNABEL SHIFTED RESTLESSLY
and peered at the man asleep beside her. He was snoring fit to raise the roof, while she was lying there wide awake . . . not because of his snoring. That didn’t bother her. She quite simply wasn’t tired. She’d been sleeping all afternoon and evening thanks to the tincture Seonag had given her and now she couldn’t sleep . . . and was hungry.

Imagining the abbess’s disapproval at the admission, Annabel wrinkled her nose. That good woman would probably lecture her on gluttony about now, she supposed. She also supposed she’d deserve every word of it, for there was no other word for what she was feeling, but gluttonous . . . and not just for food. She would bypass food in favor of waking Ross for another tupping. However, he hadn’t slept all day and was tired.