The Highlander's Accidental Bride (14 page)

Eaden closed the bedroom door, weary and troubled by more than the burning of the stable. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension across his shoulders. A hot bath and a warm woman would be high on his list of priorities right now, but a moment of peace would have to do while he sorted out the rest.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Mary cross the room to the puppy’s basket. He took refuge in the cushioned chair near the window, angling himself so he could see his wife and still prop his feet on the edge of the bed.

She rested a finger on the lip of the basket, tilting it slightly toward her as she peered inside. Her shoulders tensed and she let out a cry of distress. Bounding from his chair, Eaden strode quickly to her side. Looking over her shoulder into the basket, he saw the unnaturally stiff body of the puppy and needed no explanation.

He laid a hand on her shoulder in mute sympathy. She turned to him, leaning her face against his chest as she sobbed out her broken heart.

“There, there, lass.” Helplessly, he patted her shoulder. The puppy had apparently meant more to her than he’d realized, more than it should have, considering its tenuous hold on life. He smoothed her hair, trying to ignore the stirrings of passion deep inside him at the feel of her body against his. He meant only to comfort her; instead he wished he could take her to bed and make her forget the damn thing ever existed.

He didn’t want to be impatient, either, but he despaired of crying women, especially when they sounded as completely heartbroken as his wife did. He’d much rather have her railing at him.

Soothing her wasn’t helping. Perhaps a little challenge would dry her tears. “Wheesht, now, lass,” he chided her gently. “What’s happened to my Mairi? Where’s the brave Mairi I know? She is a strong lass and wouldnae haver so.”

With a snarl Mary pushed away from him, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand. “Your ‘Mairi,’” she flung the name at him, “wants to go home!” She took two steps backward as he raised a hand in protest. “Your ‘Mairi’ is tired of not belonging here. Your ‘Mairi’ is finished pretending everything is fine.”

She stared at the still form in the basket on the hearth, tears streaming down her face. Shoving a fist into her mouth, she choked back a sob.

He gaped at her. He’d certainly stopped her tears
and
provoked her to anger, though he hadn’t expected her to change so quickly. Realizing he was holding his breath against her unexpected tirade, he let it out in a whoosh, startling her into looking at him. He wanted her to be happy. But he was not willing to let her go.

“This is yer home, Mairi,” he reminded her in a firm, quiet voice. “I willnae let ye go back to Bellecourt.” He moved toward her as her face crumpled, threatening tears again.

She scuttled away from him. “I cannot do this any longer, Eaden.”

“‘Tis more than the puppy, aye?”

She hugged herself, as though to ward off his touch, and irritation surged through his veins. Reaching for her, he held out his arms. “Ye told me ye wanted to make a marriage with me. We cannae, an’ ye no’ tell me what is troubling ye.” He motioned for her to come to him with a slight wave of a hand.

The way she eyed him, so warily, turned his frustration to bitterness. “Why do ye still turn from me? I’ve felt ye tremble in my arms, yet ye take no pleasure in being my wife. Why?”

She looked away, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands. “I will do whatever you ask.” Weary resignation muted her voice. “I am tired and the puppy upset me, is all.” She turned to him, her head bowed. “What do you want of me?”

Eaden shot a hand through his hair, provoked beyond reason. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and spread his hands in supplication, searching for better words to bring him the answers he sought.

“I dinnae want to
ask
ye to let me hold ye. I want ye to walk into my arms, to smile when I touch ye.” He gave her a pleading look. “Why can ye no’ do that? Am I that repulsive to ye?”

Her eyes wide, Mary protested, “Nay, m’laird. You are not repulsive to me. It’s just . . .” She frowned and turned away.

“Then tell me, Mairi,” he begged her. “Tell me what is lacking between us.”

“I cannot.”

“Be damned, but ye can!” He roared. His face flamed with the sudden heat of anger but he could do nothing to stop it. Mary stiffened at his outburst, but continued to stare stoically ahead.

Weary of dancing around her feelings, of wishing he’d acted differently on their wedding night, he realized he’d rather take a hard beating than continue living like this. He closed the distance between them and grasped her shoulders, shaking her once as he turned her about. Her face was a mask of defiance and resolution, trying vainly to cover the fear and pleading in her eyes.

Trying not to curse aloud, he urged, “Ye like my kisses well enough, aye?”

Mary nodded slowly.

“Then ye will tell me why ye hold yerself from me.”

Mary stiffened in his hands, and they stood at an impasse for a moment before her shoulders slumped in defeat. He brought her gently to him, folding her into his arms, taking heart when she didn’t pull away. “Come, lass, and talk to me.” He led her to the big chair by the window, turning it away from the sight of the basket.

Sinking into its thick cushions, he settled her on his lap and cradled her head against his shoulder. “Whatever needs be said, it may be easier if ye dinnae have to look at me.”

Mary nodded, shifting slightly in his lap. Eaden gritted his teeth at the gentle movement of her bottom against his groin and wished he’d chosen a different way to be sure she didn’t run from him this time.

He marshaled his thoughts. “Tell me.”

At first, she said nothing. He heard her breath catch as she tried several times to speak, and he did not scold her further. With firm resolution, he waited.

“It’s not that I don’t
want
you to touch me anymore,” she finally said, hesitation hitching her voice. Eaden held his tongue, vowing to hear her through.

“I’m afraid.”

He battled down the first words that leapt to his mouth and instead chose a more diplomatic way. “I’ve told ye I willnae hurt ye again.”

“I know.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I know. And you’ve kept your promise.” She touched the spikes of his hair and smoothed a few against his head.

Eaden struggled to keep his mind off the soft motion of her hand against his scalp sending streaks of fire racing beneath his skin, and on the question at hand. “Then, what are ye afraid of, lass?”

Mary frowned suddenly. “I’d rather have married a peasant!”

Eaden drew his head back in surprise. “What?”

“There wouldn’t be this, this wall between us if I didn’t . . . if you didn’t . . .”

“For the love of Saint Andrew!” he exploded. “What are ye talkin’ aboot?”

Mary jumped from his lap, clasping her hands over and over in agitation as she paced. Eaden scraped a hand through his abused hair, undoing what repair her soft fingers had accomplished.

“I know you want an heir,” she finally said, stopping before him. “And I promise you will never have cause to doubt the child is yours.”

Eaden’s eyes popped open wide. “Are ye thinkin’ of takin’ a lover?” The edge to his voice caused Mary’s mouth to round in surprise.

“No!” she stammered. “But I know if you think I enjoy . . .” she spread her hands helplessly toward the rumpled bed, her cheeks flaming as she sought the words, “. . . then you will worry I will seek others.”

He rose menacingly to his feet. She hastened to reassure, “I would never do that!”

“`Twould be best if ye remember it so.” He stood before her, his stance predatory and possessive.

Mary stomped her foot. “See why it’s so hard to be married to an earl?”

“Can ye explain this to me? For I cannae see a peasant would be any happier to have his wife sharing her bed with others.”

“No. But ‘tis only the nobility who so wish to be assured of their lineage. A lady must not let herself be thought of as . . . as a whore.” Her voice choked and dropped, but Eaden heard her.

“A whore!” he shouted. “Who has told ye such drivel?”

Mary flushed. “Well, you see, I did not know how to respond to you, and you are so large . . .”

It was Eaden’s turn to flame with sudden heat. He glanced down at the front of his breeches.

Mary gasped out a laugh. “No! Though that, too. I only meant I felt trapped and frightened whenever you were near me. There was little hope I could return to Bellecourt, and I finally resolved to make myself such a life as I could here, with you.”

Eaden eyed her narrowly. “Ye still havnae told me where ye got such an outlandish idea.”

“Is it? You seem to be willing to shout at me for telling you what I thought to be true.”

“I shouted because ye are driving me to madness.” Eaden drew in a breath against impending insanity. “Tell me, now.”

Mary frowned. “I don’t like your demands.”

“And ye no answer me straight away, ye’ll like what happens next a lot less.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I am promising ye. And I dinnae mean to say it again.”

“Does it matter who told me you would not like me too eager in your bed?”

“Aye! It does!”

Mary stared past him, her breath quickening. With a raised eyebrow, Eaden watched her agitation increase. Her eyes flashed and her lips thinned. His tension mounted, and he was unprepared for Mary’s next words as her eyes suddenly snapped to his.

“Your mistress!”

It took Eaden a moment to recover his wits. “My mistress?” he roared. “What game are ye playing, now?”

“No game, m’laird. But there is a woman who seems to like you overmuch who has gone to great lengths to keep us at odds.”

“Who are ye talking about?”

“Who? Are there so many, then?” she flung at him, her temper and color high. “Do you have time to pick and choose between them?”

“Be damned, woman! I have no time to spend hopping from bed to bed! I spend too much time trying to get into yers!”

Mary threw her hands up in response and whirled around, her skirts billowing.

“By St. Andrew’s teeth, Mairi. I have no desire to lay claim to any woman but ye. And ye are the most difficult woman I’ve ever tried to bed.”

“Do you swear you’ve not encouraged her?” Mary’s hands clenched and Eaden saw the taut line of her shoulders.

With a silent prayer for patience sent heavenward, he forced the anger from his voice. “I have neither encouraged nor brought a woman to my bed except you since our marriage. Tell me her name, Mairi. Dinnae let there be any more uncertainty between us.”

It took every ounce of willpower Eaden possessed to keep still and not grab his trembling wife. He would not play guessing games with her. She must tell him of her own accord, but he could sense the admission cost her dearly.

Finally, she took a ragged breath and bowed her head. “Isobel.”

Eaden settled his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “I thought perhaps ‘twas her. I couldnae think of another I’d known in the past who cared enough to hurt ye. It bothered me when I returned from Edinburgh and found her here in the castle. But ye seemed happy and she acted differently. She even helped make ye a dress I could see pleased ye.”

He moved even closer, feeling the warmth of her against him. Resting his cheek against the top of her head, he breathed deeply of her fragrance. “I wanted to challenge her. I should have at least warned her should she hurt ye in any way. But I wanted ye to be happy. And if it meant seeing Isobel in the castle as yer friend, then so be it.”

“She was so nice to me,” Mary whispered brokenly.

“She used ye to get to me. I see it now.” Eaden sighed. He ran his hands slowly down her arms. “Did she really tell ye I’d think ye a whore if ye liked me loving ye?”

Mary nodded wordlessly.

He kissed her cheek, his lips against the soft skin, drinking in the scent of her. His thumbs traced gently against the warmth of her neck beneath her heavy hair.

“I’d be more than happy to prove her wrong.”

Shivering beneath Eaden’s touch, Mary turned to him. His face and chest still bore the stains of the fire and his hair stood out from his head in a most ridiculous manner. He looked like a man sorely beset by his trials and she hid a slight smile as she drew a forefinger through a patch of soot on his chest, lifting the finger to inspect the blackened tip.

Leaning up on her toes, Mary placed her lips against his, tasting the smoke, heavy on his skin. “There are many ways to show love, m’laird,” she whispered, the words an echo of his own promise to her hours, or perhaps a lifetime before. Glancing at the tub still beside the hearth, she canted her head in invitation.

Silently, Eaden loosened his breeches and let them fall to the floor as she turned toward the hearth. She picked up a pail of steaming water and added it to the tub. Eaden eased over the edge of the tub and this time Mary did not avert her eyes from the golden ember-glow playing gently across the muscled planes of his body. Her breath caught and her skin warmed as she noted what she’d instigated.

“The water is not yet warm, m’laird,” she warned him.

Eaden met her gaze evenly, the slight upturn of his lips attesting to his humor. “‘Tis warm enough, Mairi,” he avowed as he sank into the tub. “Warm enough.”

She picked up the bar of fragrant soap and a square of coarse linen, approaching the tub and halting behind Eaden’s shoulder. Dipping the cloth in the water, she worked the soap into a thick lather, then squeezed the linen, dribbling soapy water across Eaden’s broad shoulders. A smile creased her face to see his muscles bunch and smooth as the tepid water made contact with his skin.

A sense of daring empowered her, and she boldly splayed her hands over his skin, warm and tight beneath her palms. She massaged the thick muscles, remembering, with a delicious shiver, the heat of his hands on her own aching limbs.

Eaden groaned in contentment and slumped forward as Mary rubbed the soap into the soot and grime on his body, sliding her hands up and down his back. Each time she plunged a little deeper in the tub, scooping handfuls of water to pour over his skin. Her hands slipped around his sides, bumping over the hard line of his ribs to meet on the taut muscles of his stomach. And gasped as Eaden’s hands caught her wrists, keeping them from dipping lower.

“No’ yet, Mairi.” His voice was rough with checked passion. She cut her gaze into the water below their hands and her cheeks flamed hotly as she realized what she had almost done. She pulled gently from his grip, careful to slide her hands up his chest, rubbing in a circular motion as she loosened the soot and grime from his skin.

Rinsing the piece of linen in the water, she leaned over his shoulder and wiped his face clean. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling lather through the night-dark strands. A moan of pleasure escaped his lips and Mary felt a peculiar tug deep inside. Unfamiliar warmth spread through her belly and legs, tingling in her breasts grown suddenly tight against the fabric of her robe.

“Tilt your head back,” she whispered. Eaden obliged and Mary used the bucket to dip into the tub, rinsing the suds from his hair. She leaned forward, running her fingers through the wet strands, feeling for lingering evidence of soap.

Eaden reached back and caught her hands, pulling her around beside the tub. As she stared at him, her breathing now rapid and deep, he tugged at the cuff of her soft, green velvet sleeve. “Loose your robe, Mairi.”

Mary untied the belt and let it fall to the floor. She shrugged out of the robe and it joined the belt at her feet, leaving her clad only in her thin night shift. A grin slashed across Eaden’s face as he grabbed her arm and turned her around, her back to the tub. With a quick jerk, he pulled her into the tub with him, sending water sloshing noisily over the edge onto the wooden floor.

“No!” Mary shrieked in surprise as she tumbled into the water, the tub barely large enough for her bottom to fit between his feet. A glance at him confirmed the merriment in his eyes.

It suddenly occurred to her this time things were very different between them. Theirs was no longer a relationship of duty and distrust. A new, intriguing element had arisen. It was not Eaden’s fault she’d sought information on how to please him from a completely unreliable source, though the thought of Isobel’s audacity and deception still galled her sorely.

There was a way, however, to beat Isobel’s treachery. Mary’s body flushed with anticipation, suddenly longing to discover what Isobel sought to hide from her.

Without warning, Mary heaved a handful of water into Eaden’s grinning face.

“Ye imp!” he sputtered as he grabbed Mary’s bottom, jerking her toward him. Off balance, she slid through the water, hands flailing wildly for the edge of the tub. Eaden roared with laughter, and to her surprise, she didn’t want to throttle him for nearly drowning her. Instead, she grinned back at him, pushing away so she could stand.

His smile faded as she rose over him, water dripping from every part of her. For a moment she paused, nonplussed. This new game they played had much to teach her. She studied the way his eyes darkened as he stared at her and she looked down, following his gaze, trying not to be self-conscious of how the wet, filmy fabric molded itself to her, as intimate as a caress.

Mary bent forward and grasped her shift, slowly pulling it over her head as she straightened and let it fall carelessly to the floor beside the tub. With the rasp of Eaden’s breath, her heart, already racing with her daring, sped up a notch.

“Come to me, Mairi.” Eaden pulled her back into the water. He stretched his legs as far as he could, making room for her knees on either side of his hips. She straddled his pelvis, the heat of him, full and tight, against her skin. He slid one hand between them, his fingers finding the swollen, hot core of her. Mary closed her eyes, savoring the strange, new sensation streaking through her.

He shifted beneath her and sat straighter, leaning forward to kiss one breast, his lips nibbling her sensitive skin, his tongue drawing her nipple into his mouth. She grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, her muscles relaxing to the consistency of porridge beneath the onslaught of his caresses.

He moved his attention to her other breast and Mary gasped as her entire body clenched and eased with the tempo of his suckling. Tightness built within her and she panted in a struggle to meet her body’s demand for air.

Eaden slid his hand from her and she uttered a keening cry of regret. He lifted her hips and her eyes flew open as the swollen head of his penis probed her opening.

“I want to pleasure ye.”

Mary shuddered at his husky voice promising her something new and exciting. And previously forbidden. She gasped at the slightly burning, stretching sensation as he slowly lowered her onto his shaft. He rocked her against him and she caught the rhythm instantly, needing no further encouragement. With the tips of his fingers, he stroked her again. A cry of surprise escaped her as she shook against him. Eaden gave a shout and stiffened suddenly beneath her, his head thrown back against the edge of the tub as his own release claimed him.

Time stood still. Mary didn’t know if she’d been lying against Eaden’s chest for minutes or hours, his arms wrapped tight around her, but her heartbeat had slowed and the water cooled around her. She sat up slowly and he slipped from her body. Mary placed a hand on his chest and he shifted so she could rise. The muscles in her legs quivered.

“Wait, lass.” Eaden rose to his feet and heaved himself out of the tub, then held her arm as she joined him. He pulled a thick linen from a stack on the hearth and Mary leaned gratefully into the warm folds. He dried her gently, making sure he missed no spot, and Mary’s skin heated from more than the cloth by the time he finished.

Eaden grinned at her and quickly wiped himself down, giving no more than cursory attention to his own damp limbs. Ignoring the water puddled on the floor, he scooped Mary into his arms and carried her to the bed. He yanked the covers back and laid her on the cool sheets.

Mary sucked in a breath against the chill, but he covered her with his body, reaching behind him to drag the coverlet over them. She felt him warm and hard against her thigh, and knew he wanted her again. To her surprise, she wanted him, too. She curled her arms around his neck, arching her body into the curve of his. Eaden nibbled her ear.

“Are ye sure, Mairi?” he murmured. “I can wait if ye want to.” He drew back his head, letting her see the grimace on his face as he laughed at himself for such a blatant lie.

She tightened her hold on him and kissed the rough line of his jaw. “Nay, Eaden. I believe you’ve proven Isobel wrong. But you could try again just to make sure.”