In Bed With A Stranger by Mary Wine

Chapter Six

Sterling

The saints had truly deserted her.

Brodick returned as the sun set. Helen pulled her down the stairs and into the double doorway to watch a cart being pulled into the yard by an ox team. McJames retainers flanked it, their plaids proudly pulled over the right shoulder of each man. There was an air of celebration among them. Each one tugging the corner of his knitted cap when she looked at him.

Helen pointed at the wagon. “There. The lord has brought Agnes. She’s delivered more babies than anyone could keep track of. She’s more skill in one hand than I have in both of my own. Everything shall proceed smoothly now.”

The midwife Brodick brought her was formidable. Agnes was helped from the cart by two burly Scotsmen but she walked towards Anne on steady steps. She walked right up the steps without a quiver, pausing for a moment to consider Anne.

“Good day to ye, mistress.”

There was no possibility that she might challenge the experience of the woman in front of her. Agnes radiated confidence and mastery of her skill. Her eyes were the sort that looked straight into a person’s soul. Anne found herself shifting slightly as she feared that the veteran female might just see through the entire façade.

Such a thing was impossible, of course, but the emotion welled up inside her anyway.

Brodick stepped up, catching her attention. He was in his commanding element, not a hint of weakness on his face. He captured her hand, keeping her close so that their words remained between them.

“I’ve done what ye wanted, Mary. But I want to make it plain that I am not demanding this inspection. It makes no difference to me if this custom is carried through or not. I’ll honor our proxy marriage without it.”

That was very generous. Far more so than most women, even high born ones, might expect.

He stared at her, waiting for her reaction. Part of her wanted to melt at his feet. She’d rarely ever had such kindness offered to her. It was certainly something that she’d never expected from a man.

It reminded her of the way her father was with her mother.

Tears stung her eyes as she thought of the way her parents looked at each other. Loneliness made her heart ache. But guilt weighed down on her shoulders so greatly, her knees wanted to buckle. Brodick could love, she saw it in his eyes. She didn’t want to be the cause of him being shackled to her sister.

“You should send me back to my father. At court.” There was a plea in her voice that she could not disguise. “Please.” To return to Warwickshire was to risk being turned out along with her mother. Her father was her only hope.

His features drew tight, displeasure flickering in his eyes. He tugged her forward, back into the tower. Keeping her hand prisoner in his larger one, Brodick held her near. “Do you love another?” He spoke through clenched teeth, the grip on her hand tightening.

“No.”

“Explain yerself, Mary. No more of this game. What is it about our marriage that ye find unacceptable?”

Fear gripped her, squeezing her throat until she felt as though even a breath of air wouldn’t pass. She did not know him and could not place the safety of her family in his hands. If he discovered Philipa’s deception, he might simply leave her back at Warwickshire and wash his hands of the entire affair.

“It is not so simple a thing for a woman, my lord. With my queen so aged, many women find themselves returned to their fathers as unfit. Men rule this world, so I must be careful. You shall increase your land holdings while I have no hope for happiness.”

Pushing his hand off hers, she remained still so that he wouldn’t reach for her again. “You have not sought me out for any tender feelings; only a matter of making a good match. We know nothing of one another.”

“Tis normal enough, madam, for our station,” he said, his eyes full of suspicion. “Which is why I dinnae ken yer asking me to return ye to yer father. That smacks of cowardice, and yet ye stand up to me with steel in yer spine.”

The compliment stunned her. She couldn’t help but enjoy it. The man in front of her was not one who handed out praise lightly. It was something you had to earn from him.

He cupped her chin, his grip solid but unpainful. “Make yer choice, madam. Ye may join me in our bed with or without yer inspection, but be very sure that ye will be passing the night in my bed.”

He stepped away from her, his body tense. But he controlled his frustration, never hinting at physical chastisement. That only made her respect him, even like him. Many a man raised his hand to a female who challenged his will.

“Knowing each other takes time, madam. We’ve made a fine start on it but I didnae fetch ye here to court ye like some youth. I’ll nae be content with a few kisses. Ye’re past that age as well.”

“But we could spend a few months before celebrating our wedding. Your people would enjoy witnessing their lord taking marriage vows in the church. It would serve as good Christian example.”

“This is Scotland, madam. I’ll have to fend off the thieving attempts of half my neighbors if they hear ye are here and still a maiden.”

Shock held her silent for a moment. “That is barbaric.”

“It’s as Scottish as I am.”

And the man was proud too. Anne saw it shimmering in his eyes along with a lurking glimmer of amusement. The sight intrigued her because he was so large and strong that she would have thought there was no hint of boyish mischief left in him. That glimmer said there was a part of him that still enjoyed playing.

“I see.”

He pressed his lips into a hard line. “No ye don’t.”

Anne felt her patience grow thin. That was the problem with noble peers…they always believed that they knew everything. Well, she was her own person, her thoughts hers and none others.

“You can not know what is in my mind, sir.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “I’ve a fair idea of what is churning inside, behind that pretty face. Ye’ve a mind to run back to court where some whelp has turned yer head with his poetry.”

“I am not in love with anyone.”

His expression hardened. “Then ye are discontent because I am Scots.”

Anne shook her head before thinking. Rejection shot through her so quickly, she could not hold back her denial of his charge. It would have served her better to let him believe she detested his heritage, such attitudes were common.

Yet she could not do it. There was too much of him that she found admirable, too much that she found worthy of praise. It was the truth that she was beginning to like him.

Brodick made a low sound of frustration. He propped his hands on his hips, looking even larger. The sword hilt rising over his right shoulder added to the formidable picture he presented.

“Ye are making me daft,” he announced.

“I’m trying your patience because I don’t dislike you for being Scots?”

Brodick stepped closer, instantly drawing a response from her flesh. She backed away from him without consideration and he kept coming until her back hit the wall. He pressed his hands against the cool stone. There was a mere finger length between them now. Her heart began to race as she caught the faint scent of his skin. Never had she noticed that men smelled enticing. Behind her stays her nipples drew tight. His gaze centered on her lips and the tender skin tingled with longing. Time froze. She felt suspended in that moment, aware of nothing but Brodick and his body. Needs rose from every inch of her skin to be in contact with him, stroked by him.

It was insanity.

“I’ll be waiting for Agnes to let me know what ye decide.” His voice was thick with hunger. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips. It was over almost before it began but the sensation burned all the way to her toes.

“Make no mistake about what I have decided, madam. I will have ye tonight.”

He pushed away from her and strode across the main floor of the tower. The castle folk were watching from the yard, their necks stretching out to see into the tower. The confused looks on their faces told her that no one could tell what was happening inside the wall. Brodick stopped to have words with Agnes. The midwife nodded her head, casting her attention toward Anne.

The earl left on long strides, clearing the front entrance as their audience looked between his wide back and her set face. The curious crowd watched the midwife as she made her way to stand in front of Anne, her face pensive. She said nothing for a long time, inspecting Anne from head to toe with her keen stare. She fingered the silver brooch that held her tartan securely on one shoulder.

“Do you have need of me, my lady?” She spoke softly, each word carefully delivered. “Or may I return home?”

Temptation needled Anne. She was caught so completely in Philipa’s scheme that even the smallest possibility that she might be found lacking was something she could not cast aside. Preserving her modesty could not take precedence.

“I would be grateful for your opinion.”

Agnes frowned but Anne held her head level. “A marriage such as this should never proceed forward if there is any doubt. An earl cannot be so lax in his choice of bride. He needs an heir. If I cannot provide that, it would be best to dissolve our union now before there is disappointment.”

The midwife lost her disgruntled expression. She nodded in agreement.

“Ye’re a fair woman, to be sure.”

Fair…hah!

Agnes began walking toward the stairs that led to the upper floor, clearly knowing the castle.

“Come along, mistress. Let us attend to this matter. I see yer thinking. More noblewomen should be as astute.” Agnes swept her from head to toe again. “Indeed it would make for a happier world. The lord’s mother was inspected before her wedding night as well. Yer mother was wise to teach ye to respect the tradition. It has its place.”

Anne forced her feet to move. Each step was an effort and she was suddenly very aware of how little clothing she had on. Her surcoat was closed up over a chemise. The only other thing she wore was a pair of slippers. The tapestry footwear was meant for her dressing chamber and felt very thin. Walking allowed the air to brush all the way up her exposed skin.

She was convinced that the flight of stairs took longer to climb than any other she had ever mounted. Helen had built a fire in the chamber and fed it far more wood than normal. It blazed high, filling the chamber with heat. Helen came forward, intent on removing the surcoat.

Anne stood still and straight, refusing to allow her modesty to buckle her resolve. It took mere seconds to bare her body, once the surcoat was removed, yet it felt like hours. There was only her chemise and shoes. Each second swelled into time that felt as though it were standing still.

Agnes was still for a long time, her eyes moving over her body in slow motion. She circled around Anne, lingering behind her. When Agnes returned to stand in front of her, the midwife reached out to cup a breast. She handled it with a knowing hand as Anne bit into her lip to still her protest. Her grip was firm, judging the weight and texture. She finished by pinching the nipple and leaning closer to look at it.

Agnes didn’t make a sound as she left off and moved her hand to the opposite breast. After pinching the nipple, she withdrew her hand.

“Lie down on the bed. I need to see if yer womb is sitting correctly in yer belly.”

“Of…course.” Anne snapped her mouth closed as her voice cracked. What Brodick wanted from her was far more intrusive. She had better adjust to allowing the midwife to make a detailed inspection. That would provide her with all the more opportunity to gain the woman’s disapproval. Getting to her father was the key. He would deal with Philipa.

Agnes pressed her hands against Anne’s belly, moving in an arch from one hip to the other. Anne watched the woman’s practiced manner, the knowledgeable touch something only experience taught. There was something she might admire at least. Agnes continued until she’d felt every inch of Anne’s abdomen with careful hands.

“Ye may dress yer mistress,” Agnes instructed Helen.

The midwife stood back and Helen brought Anne’s chemise forward. Anne held her tongue because Agnes was still contemplating her. Standing up, she helped pull her surcoat on, shivering as it warmed her. The midwife stepped close again.

“Let me see yer teeth.”

Agnes didn’t miss any part of her. She even made Anne cover her eyes so that she might test her hearing by snapping her finger near one ear and having Anne raise the hand on the same side of her body.

“Ye are more than fit, mistress.”

She gasped, but Helen clapped her hands together with glee.

“I’m going to fetch ye some supper. Ye’ll need all your strength tonight.” The maid hurried from the room, excitement making her steps lively.

“Oh, but—” Helen was gone before Anne decided what she might say to stop her.

“Marriage is always a time of uncertainty for a woman. Ye’ll settle in, mistress, as we all do.”

There was a firm parental expectation in Agnes’s tone. One that made Anne close her lips. For a small moment she felt like a child caught snatching a piece of sweet bread from the kitchen between meals.

“I do not want to disappoint the earl.”

The midwife slowly shook her head. “Ye willnae. I’ve seen many a girl less built for bearing babes than ye, push children into this world. Save yer worrying for things that have already gone bad.”

The trap was closing tighter around her again, crushing the breath from her. Agnes was watching her, observing the play of emotions that crossed her face. Anne turned, pacing toward the far side of the chamber.

“Did yer mother tell ye some tale of painful duty associated with consummating your marriage?”

Agnes was trying hard to understand her dilemma. More guilt piled on top of her for putting the woman to the trouble of trying to help her. She dare not trust anyone but she wanted to. The desire to blurt out everything was growing stronger with each kind person she met. But just because a person wanted to help you didn’t mean that they could. Brodick might shelter her at Sterling but Philipa was still mistress of Warwickshire. Even an earl did not have the right to remove servants from another holding.

“No, I understand the way of a man and a woman.”

“Yet ye clearly dread it.” Agnes followed her. “Are ye truly so feared of not producing a son? I hear yer mother never did.”

She was more worried about conceiving but Agnes had hit upon a perfect excuse for her to hide behind.

“Of course I am. Doubts fill my heart. Surely given my family background you can understand why I believe it would be best if you informed the lord of our mismatching. He could offer for a woman that has many brothers. A far better situation for him.”

Agnes didn’t look convinced. She pressed her lips together, aiming her keen stare at her.

“I disagree, mistress. Ye are healthy and large enough to bear the lord’s children without concern.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Ye are simply nervous. If I send ye home, ye’ll never face yer fears. No one should live life that way. Ye English need to ken the value of boldness in a girl. That also has its place.”

The midwife nodded firmly, clearly settled in her decision. “Daughters do gain things from their fathers as well. Do not dwell so much on what yer mother didn’t do.”

Agnes lowered herself in a stately manner before she turned and left. Anne sighed, feeling her strength bleeding away.

Philipa’s plan was proceeding and she had no idea how to stop it.

None.

Brodick was tense.

Far more worried than he’d been in a long time. He hadnae wanted to let Agnes near Mary. The surge of emotion worried him because it was so strong. It was the sort of thing he’d heard tales about but always considered it nothing that could really happen to him.

“I’ve never seen ye pace.”

“Go away, Cullen. I’m nae in the mood for jesting.”

His brother didn’t leave but his mocking grin melted as he moved closer. “Nor am I. This marriage business is more complicated than I figured.”

“There is a great deal riding on what Agnes says.” And Brodick wasn’t just thinking about the dowry. He wanted Mary in his bed. Knowing that she was bare up in that chamber right now was slowly burning a hole in his discipline.

“Ye don’t have to send her away even if Agnes says she’s nae strong.”

Brodick nodded but returned to pacing. “By tradition I should.”

“Ye’re the McJames, no one will take her anywhere without yer word.”

“True enough,” Brodick said. “But it would be unkind. I’ve no wish to see the lass suffer.”

Cullen snorted. “It’s clear to one and all where ye wish the lass to be. In yer bed and right quickly, too.”

Brodick froze. “Is it that obvious?”

“To one that knows ye, aye.” He returned to smirking. “Ye’re so pathetic I can’t even find the heart to tease ye anymore. I never thought the day would come when I’d watch ye beg for a taste of honey.”

“What I crave is a family, Brother. It’s something that comes with manhood. Chasing a wildcat for a few rounds of blistering passion is no longer what I need. I want to lay awake on the trail and know that there is a woman waiting for me in my bed. Maybe even praying that I’ll arrive home safely. I want to see her cradling our babe, suckling it with her own breast, because she’s happy being my wife, and mothering my children.”

Brodick smiled at his brother. They had always enjoyed taunting each other. The only one who needled him better was his sister. Fiona hid behind her feminine grace, trouncing both of them when it came to verbal attacks.

“I hope ye gain that, Brodick.” Cullen was serious, his face pensive. “Yet I’m suspicious of yer bride. Something is nae clear about her.”

Brodick agreed. “It disnae matter. Once Agnes is finished with this inspection, I’ll get on with welcoming my bride to the family. It won’t make any difference what she was thinking. All that will be important is our future. She’s in a foreign place surrounded by strangers. It’s expected that she’ll need time to settle in.”

“Spoken like a true McJames.”

Brodick felt his anxiety fade. He was the McJames and Mary would adjust. Agnes appeared at the top of the stairs and he felt his shoulders tighten in spite of his resolutions. Mary was correct about one thing. Men didn’t know a great deal about a woman’s body being sound for marriage. What a man sought were things that nature designed to attract his interest. That was the main reason that marriage was more of a business transaction. It was the wiser course of action. Letting lust lead the way was bound to land a man in a poor match both in dowry and children. He was a large man; taking a petite female to his bed would be like a death sentence for her. Inspections had begun to prevent uneven pairs. It made sense, but his lust was trying to argue with logic. He should be disciplined enough to ignore his rising attraction.

But he wasn’t.

His cock was straight and swollen again. The thing demanded he cut through all the formalities and get down to what he craved. The idea of tradition was beginning to sound foul as customs blocked his path. Desire was ripping through years of practiced discipline and it was the honest truth that he was enjoying the burn.

He moved toward Agnes with determination. The midwife approached him but stopped, waving her sons away when they stood to go to her side.

“My lord.” She lowered her head, waiting for him to ask her for her findings. That was the time-honored way of lord and vassal.

“Is my bride fit to assume her duties?”

“I believe she is.”

Satisfaction surged through him but Agnes held up a wrinkled hand.

“She is most concerned that her mother didnae produce any sons and that she may follow in those footsteps. Disappointing ye. She considers the production of children a serious responsibility.”

“Life is full of uncertainty. You cannae spend yer days never trying. Any bride I take would have that worry to contend with.”

Agnes pursed her lips, disliking his tone. The reprimand hit that spot inside him that was still a boy when it came to her. The midwife aimed a hard stare at him.

“A bride who plans to avoid disappointing her husband is as valuable as one who’s eager to please the desires of youth. I found yer new wife to be a woman of forethought.”

“Ye have my gratitude.”

Agnes lowered herself, just a tiny amount, before gesturing to her sons.

“May yer union be blessed with healthy children. I will look forward to being summoned to the lady in the fall.”

Brodick offered Agnes a small pouch. She looked at it but only stroked the silver brooch at her shoulder.

“Ye’re a stubborn woman, Agnes.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

With a cheeky grin, the midwife turned to join her family. She’d never accepted payment from the lord’s family. His mother had ordered the brooch made and gifted it to her in order to get around the stubborn streak. Agnes might refuse payment, considering her service owed to the noble family who owned the land her family farmed, but she could not refuse a gift from the lady of the house. That would be rude. It would be interesting to see how Mary dealt with the woman.

Because his bride would be staying. God willing, Agnes would be back.

“Why are ye dressing?”

Helen looked disappointed when she returned to discover Anne halfway into her dress. It was only the stays that she needed help with lacing.

“There’s no need for anyone to bring trays to my chamber. I shall eat below.”

“Och, ye’re such a considerate one.”

Helen moved behind her to begin tying her corset in place. “It will please the folks greatly, too, I’ll no deny that. They are a might curious about the new mistress. There were a few rumors of how English ladies like their pampering that had us wondering.”

“I don’t wish to be a burden to anyone.”

“’Tis a delight to have one of those men marry up. This house needs life, mistress.”

The title of mistress made her smile. She simply could not help it. It was a word that she’d never expected to hear applied to herself. It wasn’t pampering that she coveted in the position, only the respect. The chance to be judged solely on what she did.

“Into yer doublet. Cook has the supper out.”

Her belly was empty, but that wasn’t what motivated her. Anne gratefully quit the chamber with its large bed. Besides, she would have no one’s wrists aching from bringing a tray to her.

Helen led her down the stairs and into a long hallway. The evening light streamed through small openings in the stone walls. Helen kept walking until they reached another of the large round towers. There was a buzz of conversation floating into the hallway. When they reached the arched opening, she stared at a wide expanse of tables. Fires were blazing in the hearths that circled the room. It was exactly like the great hall at Warwickshire, only round. Long tables filled it and there was a raised dais at one end with thick chairs set on more carpets. Beneath the tables there was only stone, but it had been swept clean. Anne nodded approval, seeing the sense in it. Spills and crumbs might be swept up easily.

Many of the tables were already full of the earl’s retainers. They talked freely as the food was passed between them. A hush fell over the room as she entered. The servants paused in their duties to cast inquisitive looks her direction.

“May I present Mary Spencer, daughter of the Earl of Warwickshire. My wife.”

Brodick’s voice bounced off the walls, surprising her with its volume. He stood at the dais, one foot propped on the top step. He looked completely confident there, a vision of strength. The room erupted in a cheer that startled her. Brodick smiled, holding out a hand in welcome.

Guilt showed up again to crush her with its weight. Every step across the hall was pure torment because she felt like an actor. Men tugged on the corners of their bonnets in respect, while others raised their tankards with good wishes.

She was worse than a charlatan.

The good cheer filled the room, conversation resuming. Brodick didn’t climb the remaining step to the dais. Instead, he met her on the main floor. Satisfaction was shimmering in his midnight eyes. Her throat went dry. He closed his hand around hers firmly, clearly confident that all obstacles had been removed from his path. Excitement ripped through her, sending a surge of emotion along her limbs. His eyes narrowed as he felt the shiver in her hand. His thumb reached to rub across the tender skin of her inner wrist. She gasped softly as sensation rippled up her arm. It was such a simple touch, but so intense, her knees weakened.

“Would the pair of ye mind waiting until supper is over?”

Anne jumped, shocked at her own inattention. Fiona was eyeing them from the nearest table. She fluttered her eyelashes while smiling so sweetly a nun couldn’t have taken exception to her.

“Those simpering looks might make me lose my appetite.”

Brodick grunted. “Ye remember my sister. She’s the talk of half of Scotland, even if our father spent a fortune on tutors to train her better.”

“Gossip should never be believed.” Fiona offered a mischievous smile along with her comment. She reached for a round of bread and pulled a piece off. “No one truly cares what I do.”

“Not so, Sister. I am very interested in what ye’ve been about.” Brodick stepped over the bench and sat down across from his sister. Cullen was seated a few feet away, joking with other young men. Unlike Warwickshire, there appeared to be no finery laid out for the nobles. They broke bread with their people, ate off the same platters.

Brodick left the fine chairs on the dais empty choosing to sit with his men instead.

“That was my father’s table.”

Anne turned her attention back to Brodick. His expression was solemn. “I will nae sit there until I’ve earned the right, as my father did. Until I sit there with my family, showing the McJames name to be one that will continue.” He gazed at her. “I hope you dinnae mind.”

He lifted one foot and straddled a bench.

Brodick watched her, waiting to see what she made of his table. She sat on the bench, choosing the end nearest him and brought her legs about to be beneath the table.

“This is a fine table, I am honored to sit at it.” The scent of warm food drew a rumble from her belly. Brodick groaned.

“I’ve been remiss in feeding you. Now that we’re home, Bythe will take delight in stuffing ye.”

He began piling food on her plate, much larger portions than she could eat.

“Enough, Brodick, do I look that large to you?”

He stopped, turning his gaze toward her. “’Tis the first time ye have used my name.”

Anne bit into a piece of bread to avoid answering him. He was pushing close to her, overwhelming her personal space. The intimacy was bold and there was a part of her that enjoyed it. Somehow, it made him seem more powerful, that determination. Her pride was ruffled, too, but that did not stop the tingle of anticipation that flowed down to her breasts. Laced up once more, the tender globes protested their imprisonment. Behind the steel stays, her nipples drew taut.

Fiona sighed dramatically. Brodick turned to look at his sister. She only wiggled her eyebrows at his temper. Fiona shrugged before smiling at Anne.

“Men are thick-headed. They canae disengage their minds from their lust.”

“Mind yer mouth, Fiona.” Brodick reached for a tankard. “At least give the lass a few days to become accustomed to yer brashness.”

“More like ye’re thinking to get her settled into yer bed and stuck as yer wife before she learns too much about Celts.”

“We’re soon to be one nation, sister. I, for one, do not long to hold onto the wars that have taken so much blood.” There was a solid reprimand in his voice, but not anger.

Anne held her breath. Warwickshire had always been such a formal house, she wasn’t sure what Brodick would make of his sister’s words. He shook his head, his expression turning jovial again.

“And aye, I’d like to show the pleasant part of living at Sterling afore she hears what a bold female I have for a sister.”

They both laughed, enjoying the jest. She was drawn to the family camaraderie. Hidden from Philipa’s eyes, her own family enjoyed the same ease. Teasing was the one thing that truly said she was among family, because every other aspect of her life was governed by rules and her station.

Sterling was a welcoming house, indeed. The maids were not standing with their platters, attempting to be unnoticed. There was no lowering of heads before the food was presented. Conversation flowed freely instead of each word being measured before it was uttered for fear of those higher than yourself becoming offended. Her appetite returned with full vigor as she watched the supper tables, enthralled by the contentment displayed. It radiated from everyone around her, warming up that spot in her chest that had turned so cold when she was separated from her family. She still longed for them but happily enjoyed her meal with such company.

It would be simple to slip into the role she’d been thrust into. She was tempted, sorely so. Her eyes strayed to Brodick. His jaw was newly scraped clean of whiskers. His face was firm and hard, like the rest of his body. The doublet he’d worn on the trail was missing. He wore only his shirt and kilt. The tartan was flipped up along his thigh, displaying the thick muscle of his leg. She should have ignored it, but her eyes were drawn to it.

So intent was she on him she missed the fact that one of his hands was beneath the table. He gently squeezed her knee through her skirts and she jumped, knocking the table.

“Thick, cloddish, with only one thing on their minds.” Fiona waggled a finger from side to side with each insult she tossed at her brother.

Heat crept into Anne’s cheeks as Brodick turned his gaze onto her. Suspicion was clouding his expression again. He gripped her knee once more, keeping his hand there. “Maybe ye are as innocent as ye say. Ye certainly are not used to being touched.”

He had lowered his voice but it still lit her temper. Pushing her foot off the floor, she drove her knee and his hand into the top of the table. The thump covered the swift intake of his breath.

“And you wonder,” she gritted out, keeping her voice low, “why I am intent on following traditions that protect my good name.”

Several men had stopped talking and were silently chewing as they tried to listen. Rising, she bobbed a quick reverence before striding across the hall. She didn’t care if it was unwise to be angry, she was out of patience with performing to everyone’s expectations. She had no more tolerance for charges against her chastity.

A hard hand caught her elbow once she entered the hallway. Brodick spun her around to face his displeasure.

“Ye’re right, Mary, I dinnae ken why ye’re avoiding my bed.”

“Your bed…all I hear is your bed.” She raised her chin and let him see the flames in her eyes. “Yet it is my virtue you question. I am not the one who speaks of lust so often. Attending court does not make any lady a strumpet.”

“I’ve been to your English court, madam, and it was full of titled ladies who held no reservations about anything.” He pointed a finger at her. “They fucked in the hallways outside the Queen’s own chamber. I won’t have it in my wife.”

The word fuck was blunt but it also sent a shaft of need through her. Her heart was racing, driving her blood at a fast pace through her. It seemed to accentuate each of her senses.

“Then why did you enter negotiations with my father, if you have such a low opinion of English ladies?”

Her rapid breathing pulled his scent into her head. She was instantly distracted from her purpose by rising lust again. She wanted to find out what all that muscle felt like, smooth her hands over it. She could not stop the impulses and tried to thrust away from him. His arm shot around her waist the second her palms slammed against his hard chest, and with a hard jerk, she ran into his body, her fingers clenching at his shirt.

“We are ill matched—” She gasped behind Brodick’s hand as it slapped over her mouth.

“Dinnae say it! I’ll be taking ye to my bed and no other place.” He lowered his voice as his arms tightened, holding her prisoner when she squirmed. “Tell me true, Mary,” he said, removing his hand, “have ye been with another? Let us begin our marriage with honesty.”

“You’ve already made up your mind about me. Nothing I say will make any difference.”

“It will. I can trust. But it disnae come for free. Ye have to be honest with me first.”

His hand moved up her back until he threaded it through her hair. His grasp tightened and she was forced to stare into his eyes. Suspicion stared back at her and hunger so fierce it stunned her. Her words melted away as she forgot what she was fighting with him about. His attention dropped to her mouth and her lips tingled, anticipating his kiss.

It never came. With a growl, he released her. His shoulders shook as he stepped back.

“I’ll nae be distracted. Ye’ll answer me before yer kisses drive thought from my mind.”

Her body shook with the loss of his support. A dull ache ran through every inch of her flesh. Clasping her arms around herself, she tried to remove the feeling of his hands by rubbing her arms.

“You doubt me. That will never change. Even after my innocence is proven you will continue to doubt my word.” She shivered. “This is why I ask you to send me back to my father.”

“And I have told ye that I willnae do so.” He spat his words at her, pointing that finger toward her once more. “Have ye known another man?”

“No, and that won’t be changing tonight.” She had no way to enforce her words but they flew out of her mouth born from the flames of her temper. How she wished she were enduring her woman’s flow. Her eyes widened.

Her monthly flow…

“Since you doubt my innocence, it is only prudent to wait until my monthly curse happens before consummating this marriage. Only by doing that will you never doubt the parentage of any babe I may conceive.”

His expression darkened but she didn’t wait for him to demand compliance from her again.

“Yes. That is the way to end this quarrel.” Taking a deep breath into her lungs, she curtsied, dismissing him with the gesture. “Good night, my lord.”

She turned her back on him, the hairs on her nape rising as she did so. Her shoulders were tense as she began walking away, expecting to feel his hands on her at any moment. She made it the length of the hallway without any interference. Disappointment slammed into her, making her aware of how much she enjoyed his touch. Tears clouded her vision as she climbed the stairs and she wasn’t even sure why she was sniffling.

She had gained what she wanted. There was no reason for her to despair. Her monthly curse would not come for another fortnight at least. It was a much better plan than asking for an inspection.

So why did she not feel relief?