In Bed With A Stranger by Mary Wine

Chapter Five

Brodick rose before the sun. He huffed as he got to his feet, his expression disgruntled. With one hooded-eye look, the earl walked away to rub the neck of his horse.

“That cloak is too bulky for riding.” Druce held out a hand for it.

Surrendering the garment took courage because the morning was chilly. But the Scotsman was correct. If she tried to sit side-saddle on the mare with the fabric beneath her hip, she’d likely land on the trail in a heap.

“Here, lass. You have thin blood.” Cullen draped a thick surcoat over her shoulders, pausing to wink at her. “We only left your trunk behind, nae your clothing. It’s all tied to the back of one of the mares.”

Anne fingered the surcoat, grateful for its warmth. With deep slits up the sides, it allowed for riding while wearing it. It was wool, edged in true velvet. The expensive fabric was neatly sewn around the openings to the arms and where the front closed. Carefully knotted silk cord frogs ran down the front of the loose gown. She noticed a loose thread and plucked it free. Staring at it, she looked down the front of the coat to see others sticking up. All were evenly spaced, denoting where pearls had been placed. Mary must have spent several hours removing the pearl beads from the clothing that had been sent with Anne. All of her court-loving sibling’s garments were embellished with pearls, gold, and even some gems.

Cullen had rejoined the men, their voices gaining volume as the sun rose. Clutching the surcoat close, she enjoyed its warmth. Even if the pearls had been removed, it was a fine garment, thick and sturdy.

The black steed was missing. Lifting her chin, she scanned the trail, searching for the earl. There was something very comforting in keeping the man in sight. She found him sitting much further up the slope, his eyes on the horizon.

“Will ye stop undressing the man with yer eyes, lass? I’m becoming jealous.”

Cullen led her mare to her, his voice full of mockery.

“I am not…” The idea of undressing Brodick got stuck in her throat.

“Nae what?” Cullen smirked at her.

“I simply am not.” Reaching for the saddle horn, she lifted her foot and lodged it in the stirrup. A hard hand pushed her up, square on her bottom, making her gasp.

Cullen wasn’t repentant a bit when she cast a disgruntled look at him from atop the horse. He tugged on the corner of his knitted hat.

“You’re welcome.”

He swatted her mare on the flank and she took to the trail. The mare eagerly climbed toward the earl, as the rest of his men mounted. They surrounded her, keeping her mare between them, Brodick watching from his position above them. As they drew closer, she thought she noticed a satisfied smile on his lips, but he turned, showing her his broad back before she decided.

“Sterling.” Brodick’s voice echoed in the early morning as his hand rose, the fingers clenched tight in a fist.

“Sterling,” his men answered, their cheer almost deafening. Even the horses appeared to catch on to the enthusiasm of their riders, picking up their hooves faster. A flicker of excitement surprised her, washing through her as she looked up at the back of the earl. His men followed him happily and without fear. It was a stark contrast to the years she’d served Lady Philipa. Every servant under her spoke against the lady when they were below floors. She hadn’t truly realized just how bleak Warwickshire was until she saw the opposite displayed by Brodick’s men. For a brief moment, Anne allowed herself to enjoy the tide of contentment. But she couldn’t take solace in it too long.

Her position was not going to improve once they arrived at Sterling. It was only going to become harder to avoid Brodick and his expectations. A little ripple of guilt hit her. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Shocked by her own emotions, Anne tried to resign herself to following her plans. Postponing the consummation was critical to her survival.

Yet a flicker of passion flared up as she considered Brodick’s back. His hair was slightly curled, and long enough to brush the top of his shoulders. His shirt was tied up at the shoulders, displaying the hard cut of muscle along his arms. Her memory offered up exactly how good that strength felt.

Pandora’s box…

Tension pooled in her belly as she recalled how his kiss had awakened her flesh. It made her bold, those kisses. The sort that sent good women down a road paved with disgrace. With a shake of her head, she chewed on her lower lip, trying to concoct some reason to delay the inspection.

There had to be a way…she just had yet to think of it.

Warwickshire

Ivy Copper hugged Bonnie tighter than normal.

“Mother, is something wrong?”

Cupping Bonnie’s fair cheeks in her hands, Ivy smiled. “No, sweet, I am just a mother and we always see our children as babes.”

Bonnie gave her another hug before dancing off across the chamber. “I must go or be late. We are weaving today. No more spinning or carding wool.”

Ivy waved her towards her duty, waiting until she heard Bonnie’s steps diminish before allowing her guard to drop and worry lines to appear on her face.

Anne was gone from the castle.

Worry filled her as she began to pace. None of her children had ever left Warwickshire. Perhaps she was foolish to let it unsettle her, for the young often traveled, but she could not stop her mind from turning and twisting. She feared that something was amiss even though her common sense told her that she was only enduring a mother’s grief.

She wished the earl were in residence.

At least that thought brought a measure of calm to her. She always wished that Henry was near. How could she not? She loved him too much. Yet she was not alone in that insanity. Henry adored her and had always treated her well, far better than most lemans. He had never strayed from her side even when her belly was swollen, even now that the years were passing too quickly.

Love…

It was their gift.

Everything would be well. Even if Philipa had taken Anne to town with her and Mary, there was nothing amiss. Henry’s wife might harbor meanness toward them but she would not risk the anger of her husband by doing anything that was truly evil.

Anne would return in the summer, and she would hug Bonnie tighter each day until her family was reunited.

That was a mother’s path.

Sterling

Sterling rose up from a hillside. Its towers were great polished round structures, each one six feet wide and three stories high. There were five of them, spaced out in a line. Behind them was a drop-off that protected the back of the castle from invaders. Thick walls connected the towers, the blue and gold standard of the McJames flying from it. The men sent out a cheer as the distant sound of bells drifted with the afternoon breeze. There were two gates set into the stone walls. That was a curiosity, since castles were constructed to withstand sieges. Having two gates meant you needed twice the men to protect the weakest spot.

Villagers began appearing from their homes. They called out to the men, cheerfully welcoming them home. The fields were still only carefully turned plots of earth, but the sun was warm on her face, hinting at springtime. The villagers’ homes dotted the land around the castle, telling her that Sterling was a productive land. In another few weeks there would be work aplenty for everyone as planting began. For now, the villagers emerged from their homes where they spent the winter months working with leather and cloth, producing goods that might be traded or sold.

Brodick headed for the north gate, his men close on his heels. But he did not ride through the huge opening. He turned and caught her in his sight. There was a chuckle from the men in front of her before he kneed his mount. The black beast surged toward her, a magnificent display of power. Brodick fit with the picture, every bit as strong—master and steed were well suited. He pulled the horse to a stop only inches from her, reaching out to grab the reins of her mare. He controlled the nervous sidesteps of her horse, keeping the bridle down until the mare stopped prancing.

A wicked gleam twinkled in his eyes as he released the reins. He stood up in the stirrups and leaned over. A hard hand hooked her around her waist before he pulled her across the space between the horses. She clutched at his hard shoulders, desperate to avoid falling. His men laughed, their voices hearty.

Brodick laughed as well, but his voice was deeper and right next to her ear as he settled her in front of him. His arm clasped her to his body, securing her tightly. Her body became alive with all sorts of tiny impulses. Each breath drew his scent into her head. She’d never noticed that men smelled different or that she might have a preference for one in particular. A little wave of enjoyment went through her as she drew in the warm scent of his male skin.

“What are you doing, my lord?”

He leaned down until she felt his breath against her ear. Gooseflesh spread down her neck and beneath her stays in response.

“Practicing a few of my own traditions. The McJames brings his wife into the castle for the first time.” His fingers spread wide, covering her belly. “Mind you, the situation hasnae always been this…civilized.”

She shivered. The kitchen at Warwickshire had often been alight with tales of Scotsmen and their raids on fellow clans. More than one marriage had come about due to the bride being carried off. A wedding after the bedding was often the case among the Celtic clans.

“I confess that there are some traditions I like more than others, lass. Riding off into the night with you is something I believe I’d enjoy. The negotiations with yer father were dull.”

“But dealing with my father ensured you the dowry you sought.”

The hand on her belly moved, rubbing over her torso. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the brush of his breath on her neck and the skin became abnormally sensitive, anticipating the touch of his lips.

“Ah, but having ye sitting on the front of my horse, pressed against me, is far more stimulating.” His lips grazed her neck and she started as sensation coursed through her. There was a soft chuckle beside her ear before he pressed a second kiss to her sensitive skin.

“It feels like ye agree with me, Wife.”

Brodick didn’t wait for her reply; he wrapped the reins tightly around his knuckles and dug his heels into the belly of his steed. He leaned forward as the powerful horse leapt forward, moving in fluid motion with the animal, his hips thrusting gently forward. The arm clamping her to him ensured that their bodies moved in unison. A blush burned across her face as her body instantly connected the motion with that of being intimate. Brodick would ride her as smoothly as he was riding the horse, his motions steady and strong.

She had never been one to believe completely in the Church’s teachings about keeping women ignorant to keep them from sinning. Since meeting Brodick, her mind was shifting to better understanding of why the Church believed that way. Just knowing that the man intended to take her maidenhead was giving rise to thoughts of lust. In sooth, she had difficulty banishing the heated ideas from her mind. All she seemed to do was linger in thoughts of how his kiss felt or how much she enjoyed the steady thrusting motion of his hips behind her now. Heat spread down her neck and across her body, the skin on her belly begging for contact with the hard hand lying on top of her doublet. The strange sensations didn’t stop there either; they flowed down lower, touching her sex.

She drew in a ragged breath as she felt her clitoris flicker with need. Never once had she felt so interested in entertaining a man.

“Welcome to Sterling, Wife.”

Brodick rode through the gates, keeping her tightly clasped against his body. She felt more like a captive than any sedately negotiated bride. People filled the lower courtyard, their voices raised in a cheer as Brodick galloped toward the steps that led up into one of the stone towers. He pulled the horse to a stop, a cloud of dust rising up around them.

“I bring ye yer new mistress.”

Brodick’s voice was full of command as he dismounted. She was suddenly the center of attention, every set of eyes on her. Unused to the attention, her chin began to lower, but she caught herself and held her head firmly in place.

She was not a coward and would not shame her father by acting as one.

Two hands encircled her waist, pulling her toward the lord of the manor. She reached for his shoulders, letting her hands grip him. The onlookers cheered as Brodick brought her to the ground. His gaze flickered with heat as he held her for a long moment.

“Welcome to my home.” His voice was gruff, and guilt assailed her. She was helping to steal the moment from him with her deception. The man deserved better.

Suspicion clouded his face as he watched her, but the crowd wasn’t in the mood to wait. They jostled Brodick in their quest to get closer to her.

“Later.” There was a warning contained in his voice, one that pierced her heart because although she might not know very much about him, she trusted that he was not a man who would allow anyone to dupe him without retribution. She suddenly dreaded the day he discovered the deception.

He turned around, keeping her hand in his grip. Striding forward, he took her up the stairs and into one of the round towers.

“Sterling is larger than Warwickshire. Mind that ye don’t get lost.” He turned his keen stare towards her. “Or wander off. The neighboring clans are not as welcoming.”

“Listen to you.” A dark-haired girl boldly interrupted Brodick, aiming a finger at his chest. “Ye’ll have her cowering beneath the covers of her bed, thinking Scotland is full of bloodthirsty savages.”

“And that’s what I love about it.” Cullen added his comment as he hooked the girl around the waist to pull her into a hug. She hissed at him, wiggling.

“Stop messing my hair, you oaf.”

Brodick squeezed Anne’s fingers, and returning her attention to his face, she stared at the unguarded expression. It reminded her so very much of her father when he was behind the closed door of her mother’s rooms. There was an enjoyment of the banter that hinted at family intimacy.

“This is my sister, Fiona. She’s vain concerning her hair.”

Fiona tossed her head, settling one hand on her hip. She looked formidable, much more so than any titled lady Anne had ever seen.

“I am only vain if you don’t have standards above those of the stable animals, Brother dearest.”

Brodick frowned, aiming a hard look at his sister. “I take pride in my horses. Best kept animals in Scotland.”

His stern reprimand made Anne laugh, a soft sound escaping her lips before she stilled it. Brodick’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t need the pair of ye uniting in an effort to annoy me.” His tone was stern but his eyes glittered with amusement.

“But I appreciate it full well. I’ve been the lone woman at this table for far too long.” Fiona offered her a bright smile that drew a groan from Brodick.

“’Tis a fine season for weddings.”

Fiona lost her teasing look. “When pigs smell nice.” She stood up enjoying the way all the men at the long table stopped talking to tug the corners of their bonnets in respect. The ease that the younger woman dealt with so much male attention was admirable. Fiona sent her a smile. “I’m too young to wed. Convince my oaf of a brother for me please?”

Anne couldn’t resist the teasing mood. With a sigh she shook her head. “Better to take yourself to the chapel for I am learning that your brother is as set in his ways as an old man.”

Cullen and Druce laughed. Fiona smiled. “Well that is a fact. I do hope for the best for yer union in spite of it.”

She strode away, her body a tightly leashed bundle of energy. Cullen clicked his tongue.

“You know, that sister of ours is going to drive some poor man insane.”

“She’s already doing it.” Brodick shook his head. “To me.”

Cullen smirked. His brother offered him a deadly look before his midnight eyes returned to Anne. His mood changed instantly, heat entering his gaze as his eyes settled on her lips for a moment.

“It seems we have some traditions to observe, my lady. I wouldnae want to keep you waiting.”

Yet I must keep you waiting…

Anne didn’t like her own thoughts, not a bit, but she held her chin steady. “I am not so old that you need to rush, my lord.”

A soft sound of amusement passed his lips but it wasn’t a cheerful one. He used his hold on her hand to pull her closer, watching her eyes as he did it. He lowered his voice so that it remained between them.

“And I am not so young as to be led about on a merry dance. I went to England to fetch a wife and that is what I intend to have in my bed this night.”

Brodick stood. Half the room did too. Men lifted tankards to down a last measure before leaving with their lord. He lingered for a long moment, almost as though he wanted her to see his power. Even if such was arrogant Anne could not discard how admirable it was.

“I’ll set off to fulfill yer request, madam.”

Anne rose to her feet. Something inside her demanded she meet his show of strength with steel in her spine. “A safe journey to you, my lord.”

With a slow curtsy she quit the room, conscious of how many eyes watched her. Anticipation drew her belly tight but the thing that made her walk fast was the pulsing tempo filling her blood.

It was excitement.

This night…

Anne paced the entire length of the chamber, turned and moved toward the opposite wall. She barely noticed the room, so intent on the coming battle with Brodick. She needed to find a solution, some way to push off his demands yet again.

A small bell attached to the door rang. Looking up, she stared at the tiny silver bell. It looked like something she’d seen in the church, used only to enhance the service. This one was hanging from an iron hook with a string tied to the top. That twine passed through a hold in the door.

Someone on the other side of the door pulled the string which tugged the bell to one side. When they released the tension, the bell swung allowing it to ring. The door opened slowly, a middle-aged woman peeked in.

“Ma’am, I’m Helen.” She pushed the door wide, hesitating as she stared at her.

“Good day.”

Helen nodded before looking over her shoulder. “This way.”

There was a scuff of boots before two lads entered with their arms full of clothing. They muttered greetings as they passed.

“I’ll see to getting yer things in order. I fear that tying them to the saddle has left most of yer skirts crushed. But it’s nothing that cannae be undone.”

“Traveling is always hard on clothing. Even with a trunk.” Anne followed the boys, reaching for a heavy skirt. Giving it a hard shake, she froze when she noticed the gaping looks being sent her way.

Another error. Lady Mary would have never seen to her own garments.

Her temper rose as she thought of her half-sister. She did not care. She could not change who she was, and she was not pampered nor lazy nor was she going to be able to start behaving as such.

“Thank you for bring my things to me.” Giving the skirt another shake, she turned and spread it over a chair. She reached for another item, smiling as she did it. Helen watched her, studying her for a long moment. With an approving nod, the middle-aged woman pointed at the young men.

“What’s the matter with ye? Do you think all English ladies are whining babes that don’t know a thing about running their own homes?”

Helen sent Anne a smile. “The lord sent me to maid ye, at least until ye decide who ye prefer among the staff. The cook has set some water to boil and the lads here will be bringing the bathing tub up for a bath afore the midwife arrives.”

“There’s no need to bring the tub up. I will bathe in the bath room.”

Helen looked stunned. She opened her mouth but shut it before speaking. Anne snapped another skirt to cover the awkward moment. She had to appear confident in her every motion, else no one would believe her.

“The lord told me to have ye bathe in this chamber as befits yer station, ma’am. It just wouldn’t be fitting for ye to join the staff in the bath house.”

“I am not accustomed to taking direction from your lord.” Anne froze for a moment, attempting to calm her temper. Brodick was the master of the house. A fact that she would be wise to remember. Maybe she wasn’t his true wife but there wasn’t anyone to stand between him and her should she raise his anger by being peckish in her words. Even Philipa minded her tongue when her noble husband was sharing the same roof with her.

“I am simply not one to waste time, Helen. Hauling water and tubs is wasteful when I’m very capable of walking myself to the bathing facilities. I’m sure that the staff has plenty of tasks and don’t need me adding one.”

Helen looked surprised, stunned into a moment of silence. She recovered, smiling.

“Now that’s a fine head ye have on those shoulders. Indeed, I’m pleasantly astounded.” Helen turned to address her helpers.

“Go down and tell Bythe to make sure the tub is ready for the mistress. You two can stand at the door to make sure no one interrupts her bath.”

Helen waved them both out the door, command sitting comfortably on her shoulders. She crossed the floor and scanned the piles of clothing.

“Well now, what we need is a clean chemise for ye and maybe that sturdy surcoat ye were wearing. No need to tie ye back up in yer stays if ye’re going to be inspected after yer bath.”

Anne turned around to hide her uncertainty. It wasn’t that she was overly modest, but she was unaccustomed to having her body seen bare.

“Is there a senior midwife at Sterling?”

“Nay. Not one that ye might consider very experienced. The earl and his brother set out for Perth to fetch Agnes. She’s been delivering babes for decades. Her wit is sharp as a pike and her eyes still keen.”

So he was taking no chance on her disapproving of the midwife. Anne felt the walls closing in on her, Philipa’s trap pressing in, making it harder to breathe.

Helen pulled a chemise free, smiling as she held it up. “This is so lovely. I believe the earl will find it quite fetching on ye. We’ll brush out yer hair, and won’t ye make a pretty bride when we put ye to bed with yer new husband.”

Helen pulled the door open, waiting for Anne to precede her toward the bath. Tension knotted Anne’s belly but she forced her feet to move.

“There now, no need to be so worried. The earl is a fine man. Yer wedding night willnae be anything to work yerself into knots over. By sunrise, ye’ll be lamenting having to leave his bed to see to the day’s chores.”

That was exactly what she did fear. Developing a taste for Brodick’s touch wasn’t wise. She was so tired of being caught in the middle. Her life had always been unfair and today she felt the weight of that more than ever before.

But that changed nothing. Placing a corset back on the bed, Anne turned to follow Helen to another bath that wasn’t meant for her.

The chamber was on the second floor, the stairs set into the rounded wall of the tower. There was a sturdy hand rail, placed on the open side to keep a missed step from turning to disaster. Looking up, she saw a ceiling that was also the floor of the chamber she’d been pacing across. There was another set of stairs that led to a third floor. With five of the large structures, an enemy would find it impossible to approach Sterling without being seen.

Helen led her to the bottom of the stairs. There was more noise here, the sounds of conversation and steps on the hard floor. She was slightly surprised to see carpets. Everything she knew of Scotland said the Celtic people were less advanced than their English neighbors. She had expected rushes to be covering the floor. The wool carpets were a pleasant discovery. Dry rushes turned musty during the long winter months, collecting mud and dirt as they were walked on. There was no way to clean them until spring when you had them completely hauled away and new ones set down.

Carpets could be taken out into the yard and beaten. At Warwickshire, she’d helped with the task and watched a great cloud of dust rising as a crop was applied. The hall smelled far better, without the stink of months of grime.

“We have a fine bath house. The lord has made sure it’s as modern as any in England.”

Helen moved past the kitchens, and the maids turned to cast curious looks their way.

“We don’t even have to haul the hot water by bucket anymore.” Helen preened as she entered the bath house behind the kitchen and pointed eagerly at a wooden trough.

“The lord had that added when he saw one at the house of one of yer English nobles. Ye ring the bell and the cook pours the water and….there ye are. Almost as modern as the Romans had.”

It was such a simple idea but one that would save a lot of sore fingers. Anne touched the wooden spillway, shaking her head at the simplicity of the idea. The trough extended over a large slipper tub. A peek inside showed her that it was clean, not sporting rust. As bath houses went, Sterling was no shame. But something near the bottom of the tub caught her attention. A round piece of expensive cork, pushed into the metal side.

“Is there a hole in the tub?”

Helen reached for an iron ring hanging from another hook. She pulled it several times before turning to answer.

“Yes, ma’am. The lord calls that a stopper. Look at the floor and ye’ll see another wooden track constructed to let the water carry itself away when ye’re done. That’s why the tub is set up on blocks, so that the water can flow.”

Anne hurried around and sure enough there was another pair of boards waiting to guide the water toward a missing stone in the floor. She couldn’t see where it went from there but the idea was immensely ideal. No hauling of water at all. Simply scrub out the tub and bathing was suddenly a simple matter.

Now that was modern thinking.

Water began splashing into the empty tub.

“There now, let’s get yer dress off before Bythe sends the hot water.”

Helen was already reaching for the buttons that held her doublet closed down the front of her body. She made quick work of it, moving behind her to gently tug the open garment down her arms. There were rows of pegs set into a long piece of wood that ran the length of the walls. Helen hung the doublet on one as Anne began unlacing her skirts. Her fingers were slow as she tried to think of a reason to avoid getting into the tub and thereby put off the coming inspection.

But she could think of nothing, so her skirts were lifted over her head and hung on another peg.

“’Tis glad I am to see that ye’re not padded. The lord didnae care for the court ladies he met. He said you couldnae even tell that they were women for all the steel and padded pieces they strapped to themselves beneath their dresses.”

“The queen does love her fashion.”

Anne watched Helen take her small hip roll away. It wasn’t any larger than her fist and considered modest by most. Worn around the hips, it helped carry the weight of the cartridge pleated skirts. There was the added bonus that it kept your hem away from your feet, making it far simpler to carry a heavy tray because you didn’t need a hand to pick up your skirt.

“I heard that the English queen padded her hips a full foot on either side of her body. As if anyone would believe a woman could be so broad.”

Helen shook her head on the way to a peg. Anne smiled because it was true that many women wore large hip rolls to give the illusion that they were good child bearers. Prenuptial inspections had become popular in the last decade due to the practice.

“’Tis glad I am to see that ye’re not suffering your monthly curse. That would have put the lord in a nasty humor indeed.”

Standing in only her stays and chemise, it was easy for Helen to notice the lack of stain on the cream cloth.

“But it would have been his own fault for not giving you any notice of when he was going to be arriving to fetch ye. I imagine that ye are a wee bit tender having to leave your family without time to truly prepare for the separation.”

Helen pulled on the lace securing Anne’s stays in place. She tugged and loosened each eye until the stiffly boned vest released its hold on Anne’s breasts. A little mutter of delight escaped her because she didn’t sleep in her corset normally. Freedom from the steel-stiffened garment was very welcome, her breasts rejoicing in it.

Helen tsked. “You need a better tailor. This corset has worn a hole clean through yer lovely chemise and skin. It’s too long on the side.” She shook her head as she frowned.

“I wasn’t thinking when I wore it.”

Helen clicked her tongue again. “I’m glad ye left yer maid behind. The girl obviously lacks a good eye for dressing her mistress.”

Yet another little error that proved she was not born to noble station. Mary would have blamed her servant for any discomfort caused by an ill-fitting corset. Such attitudes were the reason that the staff banded together. It took everyone to ensure that the nobles weren’t unhappy because if they were the staff would suffer for it. Every new piece of clothing that was delivered to Warwickshire was inspected by the housekeeper and measured to check for accuracy before it ever made it into the chamber of the mistress.

“Sit down, so I can get at yer boots.”

Anne made use of a stool. Her chemise billowed up as she sat down. A shiver shook her as the cool air rushed over her skin.

“Don’t ye worry, ye won’t be cold very long. The lord will tend to that.”

Her face burned as Helen pulled both boots off. The maid winked as only an experienced woman could, a saucy smile appearing on her lips.

“Well now, no need to be blushing. Ye’re a married woman now.”

“As everyone keeps telling me.” She leaned down to cover the disgruntled expression taking root on her face, reaching for one of the finely knit stockings and gently rolling it down her calf.

“Och now, you couldnae have been so surprised to hear of yer marriage. I wager yer governess has been telling ye to expect such news since ye grew enough to need a pair of stays to hold up those breasts.”

Anne crossed her hands over her chest. It was a fact that most women understood that they would marry and that they would not choose their groom. In that respect, she was the spoilt one. Lady Mary’s governess had often lectured her on the importance of being poised and ready to hear that her husband had been selected.

Helen propped both her hands on her hips. “Ye’re a bit of a shy one.” Her eyes studied the way Anne covered her nipples. “If I might be so bold as to instruct ye, that modesty will not please the lord.”

He’s got a mistress for sure.

Philipa’s words rose from her memory. “Does he bring many women to his bed?”

“Och well, there’s nothing for ye to worry about. What a man does afore he’s wed is only natural. Ye can’t be holding that against him.”

Helen’s tone turned guarded as she averted her eyes. She busied herself with placing the stockings carefully over pegs.

“No, ’tis only a woman who is expected to remain virgin.”

Helen’s posture stiffened. She turned, aiming a mature look at Anne.

“That’s only due to the fact that it’s important to be sure that children are born into the family that they were fathered from.”

She didn’t apologize for speaking so strongly, but Anne didn’t want her to.

“You enjoy serving in this house, don’t you, Helen?”

It wasn’t truly a question. Anne could see the loyalty, even hear it.

“Aye, that’s a fact. I suppose I’ve got a bit of passion in me due to knowing that I serve a good man.”

“Your lord is fortunate to have you among his staff.”

Helen glowed under the compliment. Clasping her hands together, she rubbed them, her eyes sparkling.

“Well now, listen to me chattering away when ye’ve got important things to be preparing for. Ye’ll be right as spring rain once the formalities are finished. Tomorrow morning ye’ll have forgotten all about being timid.”

Helen stopped and pulled the ring for water once again. This time steam rose from the water that spilt into the tub. Helen picked up a large wooden paddle and stirred the contents of the tub a few times. She stuck her hand in the water to test it.

“Ye’ll have to tell me how ye like your bath. For now, it’s warm enough to take the winter chill out of your toes.”

Anne forced her stiff fingers to release her chemise. Her hands had fisted in the fabric but Helen grasped the hem and lifted it away. Standing up, Anne tried to not dwell on the fact that she was bare. She really had no idea if she was built for bearing children or not. It was very possible that the midwife would find her lacking. Noble daughters were often inspected several times by their own family’s midwives before marriage negotiation progressed. It brought shame to great names when a bride was found by her husband to have deformities. Even Queen Elizabeth had been displayed to ambassadors when just a babe because it was rumored that she was misshapen. As the illegitimate child at Warwickshire Anne had never seen the midwife. It was quite possible that her body was not the same as other women. Anne snuck a peek at Helen, to see what the woman’s expression was. Helen was quietly studying her with a knowledgeable eye. The servant shook her head.

“Stop lingering and worrying. Ye’re well put together, nothing at all to fret over.” She motioned her forward.

The tub was inviting with its high sides. It was better than standing in the center of the room at least. The water was warm, delighting her stiff toes. Helen began pulling the pins from her hair.

“I dinnae ken the English. Men don’t care for a woman to tie her hair up. They like it soft and flowing.”

Did they? Anne bit her lower lip as she looked down at her breasts. Her nipples were hard from her anxiety. She studied the pink buttons, shivering as she considered seeing Brodick’s head leaning toward one to kiss it. Her nipple drew tighter with her thoughts, hardening into a pink berry.

He’d promised to do that.

“There. Much better. We’ll give this a rinse to make it perfect.”

Helen moved around, fetching a bar of soap and cloth. The woman was good at her job, bathing Anne with confident hands. She rang for more water, catching it in a pitcher before it poured into the tub.

“Beware yer eyes, lass.”

The water trickled over her head a moment later, drawing a gasp from her because it was cold. Helen clicked her tongue as she gathered up the wet mass and applied some soap to it. Using the cloth, Anne scrubbed at the marks two days of riding had left on her hands. Dirt had made its way beneath her fingernails and she worked diligently to clean it away.

“Beware.”

Anne squeezed her eyes shut as more water landed on her head. Tension knotted her belly as she felt like a pig being readied for roasting. Knowing the traditions surrounding marriage had somehow failed to impact her with just how it must feel to be taken through the steps. There really wasn’t so great a difference between what she was enduring and what a stable master did before presenting a mare to a stallion.

More precisely, before the mare was mounted.

Her face flamed but the heat didn’t remain in her cheeks. It traveled lower until her breasts were rosy and warm with anticipation. Lust coiled through her, spreading to every bit of her body. There was a portion of her that looked on her situation with happiness. At last she would understand what it was to be a woman.

She had enjoyed those kisses.

She lifted her eyelids and felt her clitoris flicker with excitement. Heated lust was curling up in her belly, drawing attention to her sex. There was a hypnotic feel to it, a mesmerizing need that hooked her attention. The water felt so smooth as it flowed across her skin, almost as if she’d never taken the time to really feel. All of her senses were heightened. She smelled the soap; this bar had rosemary oil in it. Her sense of smell was so keen, she even noticed what the water smelled like…fresh and full of life. Everything filled her, touching off a storm of longing. Her lips tingled, craving a kiss.

Brodick’s kiss.

His midnight eyes sprang to mind as Helen held out a length of toweling. Standing up, Anne stepped from the tub trying to banish Brodick from her thoughts. She still hadn’t thought of a way to keep him from her bed tonight. Dwelling on her lust would certainly be no help. More like a pixie leading her on to ruin.

Perth

Brodick stewed as he was forced to walk his horse in a zigzag pattern to allow for the cart to keep up. Agnes didn’t ride horses, claiming the beasts were noble and too fine for her. She was the matriarch of her village and had been present at his own birth, but only when she was still a young under-maid of Sterling. Now half of the lowlands snapped to attention when Agnes spoke.

“Why are ye doing this?” Cullen had lost his teasing tone. His brother kept his own horse under a tight rein near him.

Brodick muttered under his breath, his patience already strained. He didn’t have much left to deal with his own brother thinking him a brute.

“’Tis nae my idea.”

Cullen shot him a hard look that cut clean into his temper. Pointing a finger at his brother, he snarled softly. “Do yerself a favor, Brother, thank God that ye were nae born first.”

With a snort, Brodick turned and let his horse pace a wide circle in the dirt outside Agnes’s home. The stone cottage had dried bundles of herbs hanging from most of the rafters. Two men were working a sharpening stone under the eaves. They stood up as he and Cullen rode into view.

Making his bride suffer through an inspection had never crossed his mind even if it was the custom and in his best interest. Mary’s own mother had a stench attached to her name. One girl child wasn’t a very good reference for her daughter. Marriage was for union and dowry, but he would be stuck with Mary as his lawful wife. If she didn’t produce children, he’d never have any legitimate ones.

“I just never figured ye’d be so hard on a little lass.”

“This is her idea. Use that head of yers and remember that I was more than happy to take care of consummating our vows last night. It’s my bride who seems to be unwilling.”

Cullen frowned, his features darkening. Most people didn’t think he had a temper but Brodick knew better. Light hair aside, his brother was pure McJames—fierce and unrelenting.

“Now why would she be wanting an inspection?” Suspicion coated Cullen’s words. “Inspections are done for the groom’s family interests. She has nothing to gain from it and much more to lose.”

“Except time or the possibility that I’ll send her back after hearing what the midwife has to say.”

“Will ye?”

“No.” Firm and resolute, Brodick shot his brother a determined look. “She stays.”

“But at what cost? I’ll nae see ye stuck with a wife who isn’t going to honor yer union.”

“Suspicion’s an ugly thing, Cullen. Be wary of it.” Brodick kept his voice low to hide the uncertainty in it. He was unsure of his bride and her attempts to leave him, but he was also very intent on keeping her.

“Does she love another?” Cullen stroked his chin with one hand. “I hear that the English ladies are marrying for love with the queen too old to keep them from running amuck.”

“I dinnae know.” Yet he should have considered it. His bride had been at the English court for many years. “She wanted me to return her to her father at court.”

“Maybe you should.” Cullen sounded dangerous. “Ye dinnae need a discontented wife. She’ll turn against ye. Possibly be barren.”

Many men would agree with Cullen. A sullen wife often didn’t conceive just to spite her spouse. Everyone knew that a woman controlled her fertility. Still, the taste of her sweet kiss clung to his lips. He’d touched something inside of her that was beautiful. She hadn’t complained even once on the journey home, never muttered a cross word for sleeping on the ground.

“She’s nae a spoilt lass.”

Cullen nodded, some of his temper fading. “She was pleasant enough on the way home. I know a few Scottish lasses who would have quarreled with sleeping on the trail with a bunch of retainers.”

“Maybe she’s truly afeared that I’ll send her back to her father, disgraced, after bedding her. I hear that happens in England now that the queen is too old to care.”

“I’d have to thrash ye if ye even thought of it.”

Brodick grinned, showing his teeth to his sibling. “That’s providing ye could. I hate to remind ye of how ye fail to measure up to my strength.”

“But I make up for it in cunning.”

“Ye’ve got that confused with blustering.” The men who’d been working the stone tugged on their hats as they recognized the earl.

“I’ve a need to fetch Agnes to Sterling.”

A moment later the midwife appeared. She still walked straight, even if her pace was a bit slower these days. Her hair was silver but still hung in a thick braid down her back. The McJames’ plaid was pulled proudly over her right shoulder and secured with a silver brooch that had been a gift from his own mother.

“My lord.” Her voice was sharp and only a bit graveled by age. “How may I serve you?”

Brodick swung out of his saddle, showing the woman respect by speaking to her on an equal footing. She lowered her chin as he stepped closer, acknowledging his title. When he’d been a boy, she’d swatted his ears when he got into mischief.

“I’ve come to ask ye to return to Sterling with me.” He stopped, his next words sticking in his throat.

“I heard in the market that ye’d gone to the border land to claim a wife.” Agnes paused, choosing her words with care. “Do ye have a concern with her?”

“My bride has asked to have the custom of inspection carried out.”

The two men looked at one another as Agnes took to stroking the silver brooch.

“It is her wish, my lord?”

“Aye.”

She nodded, still fingering the broach. “I didnae know that the custom was so practiced in England these days.”

“Nor did I.”

Agnes lowered her chin. “Bring out my cloak, Johnny. I’m off to Sterling.”

Brodick frowned as he headed back to his horse. He didn’t like it. Not a bit. Agnes allowed one of his men to help her into the cart. She sat back in the straw as her son handed her cloak in to her. Cullen had a good point; it was possible that his bride loved another man. He didn’t like the idea of it. In fact, he was jealous. The surge of emotion was surprising. Never once had he been possessive of a woman. Not even with the mistresses he’d enjoyed so well and completely. He liked women, enjoyed the way they felt when there was nothing between them but skin and passion. Some of them had accused him of being a demanding man.

That was a fact.

A quick fuck wasn’t his idea of fun. He’d never placed a woman’s back against a tree because his cock was hard and time short. Well, maybe he’d been in a hurry a few times when he was a lad still trying to grow a full beard because he thought it would make him a man. He’d left that impatience behind along with his youthful whiskers. As long as his eyes were still sharp, he would be a clean-shaven man. He had no love for facial hair.

When he took a woman, he took the time to raise her passion. There was nothing more intimate than being lovers. Getting his cock inside a willing female wasn’t nearly as good as the experience of feeling his partner climaxing while he rode her. His memory offered up the way his bride had shivered in his embrace. Aye, that was what he was talking about. Reaching out to touch that passion was the thing that drew his attention to a woman. Spread thighs weren’t enough.

Wanting that from his marriage was risky. He should have expected Mary to want to be returned to her father. He was Scottish. In spite of the coming union between the two countries, the people still harbored many ill opinions of each other. On both sides. There were titled Scots who believed him daft for seeking the union.

Maybe he was.

Yet thinking that didn’t seem to be killing off his growing attraction to her. Perhaps hiding behind her veil had been a crafty ploy, but it had succeeded. Hooking his attention as completely as a well-turned ankle would have. That first day had been a long one as he hoped the wind might give him a peek at her face, or the heat might see her raising the fabric.

Beneath his kilt, his cock was hard, his thoughts having raised it. It wasn’t his last mistress’s face he saw in his mind, it was his bride’s. It was the sound of her sigh when he kissed her neck. Looking back at the cart, he saw that Agnes was well settled.

Raising a fist into the air, he commanded his men.

“Sterling.”

His wife would have her assurances and then she would learn that he kept what was his. By tonight, she would be installed in his bed so that he might begin teaching her exactly how much he wanted her. His erection kept him company as they rode back towards Sterling. He enjoyed the burn, savoring the need before he appeased it. He was a lucky man to harbor passion for his bride.

She would not be returning to her father.

Brodick McJames never surrendered. No, it would be his little English bride who cried quarter. That was going to be his personal pledge and his pleasure to see done.