My Cursed Highlander (20 page)

Chapter 15

For three days Taveon had been tormented by Viviana's threat, tormented by what she might do when at last they were given a moment of privacy. Tormented in a way that excited him like a virgin laddie in a bawdy house.

He led their steed into the first warm valley they'd seen in days. A brook ran through its center and spilled into a lake wrapping around the base of yet another mountain. A doe and two fawns eyed them as they strode past.

"They are beautiful, are they not?" Viviana's fingers laced tighter with his own, her back arched and her backside pressed a little firmer to his groin.

His bollocks thickened.

"Aye. They are." The lassie could probably seduce the Pope with the flutter of her thick lashes. Of course, her actions were unintentional. Viviana had no idea how her citrus scent affected him, how her soft curves settled so nicely in his embrace.

Shite!
All his wife would have to do is tease him with one enticing wiggle, and he'd most likely spend himself inside his braies. But she had not teased him, nor had she kissed him. She'd befriended him. They talked of war, of foreign policies between Scotland, and of the much hated English. He educated her on the ways of his clan, the ways of his king, and she talked endlessly about the great artists and how their modern theories were sure to be the pinnacle of a cultural revival. Her suggestion to introduce these ideals in the form of art and poetry to his kinsfolk was ludicrous, yet she held firm, stating, "An educated nation is a peaceful nation."

Viviana was far more intelligent than he'd given her credit. If he wasn't careful, she would have his kinsmen sheathing paintbrushes instead of swords.

She sat up straighter. "What is that?"

Only briefly did he wonder how she saw the huge castle before he did. "Chillion Castle. 'Tis the home of the counts of Savoy and our destination."

A mountainous landscape surrounded the stronghold and only emphasized its strength. "Remi, go to the gatehouse and give the porter Lorenzo's missive."

"Aye, m'laird." Remi spurred ahead.

Viviana turned her face to him, her brows slanted at harsh angles. "Are we safe here?"

"Fear not. Lorenzo has assured me the Duke of Savoy is an old acquaintance. We will be treated as honored guests. We will eat, drink, and make merry." His shameless grin was most likely wasted. 'Twas difficult to woo the blind.

"What do you mean 'make merry'?" Her question came out in a high-pitched tone.

"'Tis day three, m'lady. I do believe ye threatened to seduce me. Tonight ye will have the opportunity to do so." He kissed her worried brow, splayed a wide hand around her waist, and kicked his mount into a gallop, eager to settle into a chamber and make love to his wife.

Anticipation built as they made the final jog alongside Lake Geneva to a lowered drawbridge. For two years, he'd condemned Keegan for not being strong enough to fight his feelings for Cora-Rose. Taveon now faced a similar battle. Fortunately, 'twas not exactly the same. He had two reasons not to fash over the situation; one, Noreen would break the curse when they returned with the amulet, and two, Viviana was barren. At least, these were the reasons he'd concocted to justify the onslaught of feelings he had for his wife. Feelings that made him weak of mind, feelings that made the hairs stand up on his legs, feelings that were becoming more difficult to deny.

"Laird Kraig, I—"

The portcullis rose with a series of clanks from the chain hoisting the iron gate and cut off Viviana's words. They rode across the bridge and into a courtyard surrounded by stone buildings.

An entourage of servants flocked toward them. "
Bonjour, monsieur. Bienvenue à Château de Chillion
."

"
Bonjour,
" Taveon returned their greeting, dismounted, then helped Viviana to her feet. He traded niceties with the porter until the Duke of Savoy's steward arrived.

"
Madame
Medici, it is an honor. I am
Monsieur
Vincent." A lanky man with a hooked nose bowed over Viviana's knuckles. His light blue doublet trimmed in gold spoke of the nobility he served.

"
Bonjour
, it is wonderful to be here. I thank you in advance for your hospitality. " Viviana lifted the sides of her dark green skirt and dipped a curtsy, displaying the persona of nobility. "Forgive my appearance,
Monsieur
Vincent. There is a great deal of dust between Firenze and Montreux, and I fear I'm wearing half of it."

"Agnès, escort
Madame
Medici to a privy chamber so she might prepare for sup."

It seemed his new bride had not yet accepted her name. Taveon thought to correct Vincent, but in truth, the Medici name would gain them more respect at Chillion Castle than his own. As the elderly matron approached, Taveon caught Viviana's arm and bent low to her ear. "Do prepare yourself well,
Lady Kraig
. After we sup, I intend to let ye seduce me."

"M'laird!" A sweet blush colored her cheeks as she tucked her chin and followed the matron through an archway. She stumbled, making him frown. He did hope she informed the matron she was blind, else his wee wife was liable to walk into any number of stone walls.

A slap on his back pushed the air from his lungs. "I trust your mood will greatly improve come the morrow." Remi might have winked, but 'twas hard to differentiate between his blinking habit and a gesture of wickedness.

"Aye. The morrow will be better. If my wife holds true to her cause, I shall be in rare form indeed," Taveon jested. "Dinnae overindulge yourselves on the drink. We leave after we break our fast."

"Aye, m'laird."

Taveon parted ways with Remi and Monroe, leaving their horses and Miocchi in the capable hands of four stable boys.

"Follow me,
monsieur
." Vincent led Taveon through an active courtyard, filling his ear with a recent scandal surrounding the Savoy dynasty.

Taveon traded words with the man, but in truth, thought the steward would do well to mind his tongue. As they walked through a series of elaborately decorated corridors alight with pitch-pine torches, Taveon wondered where the Counts of Savoy had acquired their wealth. An open doorway stilled his steps and the contents of a chamber caught his curiosity. Only a single chair sat in the middle of the room, but the walls were covered with an odd sort of looking glass. "May I?" Taveon gestured toward the interior of the chamber.

"As you wish,
monsieur
." Vincent dipped his head, granting him entry.

Taveon's balance faltered as he entered a room surrounded by himself. Vincent lit a single wall sconce, but the looking glass reflected the flame an infinite number of times. He stepped closer and might have thought Keegan stared back at him so defined was his reflection. He scratched the dark beard covering his chin and tilted his head this way and that, studying the fine lines at his temples. "'Tis remarkable."

"
Oui,
" Vincent agreed. "The gifts the Duke of Savoy receives are oftentimes unique and come in plentitude. The looking glass came from Venice and is backed with tin and mercury. It is why the reflection is so sharp."

In Taveon's head, he'd already placed Viviana in the center of the chamber where he might see her multiple times. Of course, she was naked, which only added to the sweetness of his vision. "This chamber will suit me."

"
Monsieur,
" Vincent grimaced, "this is no bedchamber. As you can plainly see there is no bed."

Taveon hoped he could argue his point without exposing his indecent thoughts. "My wife and I are newly wed, and I—"

"Enough said," Vincent interrupted and clasped his hands behind his back. "I will have the staff furnish the chamber while you sup with your wife in the Great Hall. If you will wait here, a maid will be about shortly to escort you to the bathhouse while I make the arrangements."

"
Merci.
" Taveon thanked him and basked in the possibilities this night would offer. He would fill Viviana's head with new memories so she might once and for all bury her dead husbands.

Ye will see me tonight, Venus.

* * *

"
Uffa!
" Viviana clutched the seams of a soft bath robe as Agnès ripped the last piece of resin from her most private parts.

"Breathe,
madame
. It is done," the matron said in a soft voice.

Having lost her modesty on the first strip of wax the matron tore from her legs, Viviana settled and allowed Agnès to work a sweet almond oil into her tortured skin.

Prepare yourself.

It was the same thing Radolfo said early on in their marriage, but she rarely heeded her first husband's instructions. She'd never wanted to, but she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't want to prepare for Taveon, to at least portray the persona of an innocent virgin on the eve of their first union. She was attracted to her husband in ways that made her skin tingle, and it had nothing to do with the process of depilation she'd just undergone.

Agnès assisted her to her feet, then the splashing of water filled the hollow of the private bath chamber. "It is bearable,
madame
."

Viviana dropped her robe into Agnès's waiting hands and lowered herself into a pool of hot water scented with oats and orange. She inhaled the fragrance coating her throat with steam, and let the bath water soothe her tender skin. Beneath the water, she brushed her fingertips over her thighs and then inspected her hairless nether region. It was perfect. She smiled, hoping Taveon would be pleased with her efforts.

"Are you comfortable,
madame
?" Agnès tilted Viviana's head back and poured water over her hair.

"
Sì, merci
. I would have twisted myself in knots had I been forced to remove the resin on my own."

"Like a dog chasing its tail." Agnès laughed and worked a fragrant lather into Viviana's long mane. "I did that once, but my husband assists me now."

Viviana hoped the heat from her bath would hide her embarrassment. "I couldn't dare ask my husband to assist me with such a private matter. We only recently exchanged nuptials."

The matron's massaging fingertips stilled on Viviana's scalp. "How recent?"

"Little more than a sennight."

"A sennight! Why you are still a young bride."

"I suppose." Viviana only wished she could go to Taveon's bed unsoiled.

"Have you need for instruction?"

Viviana laughed. Had someone as kind and considerate as Agnès taken the time to instruct her prior to her wedding night with Radolfo, she might have been less terrified. "This is my third marriage."

"Gunthar is my second husband. My first husband—may he rot in Hell—was an onion-eyed maggot."

Sympathizing with the matron, Viviana listened to her woeful story while Agnès rinsed her hair and toweled it dry.

"Is your new husband good to you?" Agnès pulled a brush through Viviana's tangled locks, pampering her the way no maid had at the Medici Palace.

"
Sì
."

"Is he gentle?"

"
Sì
."

"Considerate?"

"
Sì
."

"Respectful?"

"He is all that and more." Viviana thought she sounded like a love-sick maiden.

"Then why do you look as though you are about to go to the gallows?" Agnès assisted her out of the water and back into the soft robe.

"I threatened to seduce him a few days back, and I fear it was all pomp. I do not even know what to wear."

Agnès pat her hand. "I might jest with you and suggest nothing, but I'm wiser than that. You must make your new husband work for the privilege of seeing your skin. Reveal yourself slowly. Bit by delicious bit. Let him savor you, cherish you."

Cherish you.
Viviana wanted to be cherished.

Dare she say it?

She wanted to be loved.

* * *

Taveon twirled his wife in a full circle, duplicating the actions of the other dancers in the Great Hall. Music floated down from a balcony overhead where a troubadour sang a romantic ballad of sentimental love. With each stanza, Viviana's face became more and more serene.

He flanked himself against her generous curves, damning the layers of velvet between them. Of course, she looked ravishing in her plum gown, but he was bursting at the laces to see her out of it. There would be little seduction necessary, as he was ready, willing, and able to bask in the splendors of the marriage bed. "I trust ye are enjoying yourself?"

One delicate winged brow lifted. "I'm enjoying myself immensely." She smiled at him with those plush, silken lips and nigh stole his senses. "What is not to enjoy? We are honored guests of the Duke of Savoy. The quail was succulent, the blackberry wine stimulating, and the strawberries dipped in sweet sauce were positively decadent." The tip of her pink tongue darted out to gloss her lips.

He didn't know if her word choices were part of her seduction, but he was aroused just the same. "Then the victuals have ye smiling?"

"The victuals, the music... you."

Taveon's smile was instantaneous and wide. Following the movements of the dance, he turned her so her back was to his front and willed himself not to taste the exposed curve of her neck. Raven hair piled in curls atop her head, bound loosely with jewel-tipped pins. The few tendrils that kissed her slender neck only added to her regal appearance. Someone had taken great care to assist her with her attire this eve as the laces of her bodice were tied in a dozen bows up her back.