anything—at least, not to his knowledge—since arriving at Chalamine late the previous morning.
“I am fairly peckish,” he admitted.
“I, too,” she said. “But before we summon food, we must—that is, you should—decide what you mean to do.”
Her annoying calm made him conscious of a desire to show that he, too, could remain civil under stress, but with a strong temptation to test her mettle, he said, “What course would you suggest?”
Her eyes widened as they had before, telling him that he had surprised her again. But she did not hesitate to reply.
“If you could manage to act naturally, as if naught were amiss, and we could leave Chalamine today without causing a scene, I would be much obliged to you,” she said. “I mean to honor my vows in any event, so until such time as you cast me off, I’ll act as your wife in every way that you command me. I am accustomed to running a large household, and to dealing with the needs of any number of vassals and tenants, so I can be an asset to you until we must part. All I would ask in return is that you not shame or humiliate me before my kinsmen or your own.”
He considered her words only briefly before nodding. “’Tis a reasonable request,” he said. “I will agree. However, my agreement does not mean I will not seek at once to overturn this marriage of ours.”
Her eyes seemed to change as he watched from molten gold almost to green, then back to gold again. It was doubtless no more than a trick of the changing light outside, a cloud passing over the sun or some such thing. He did not want to look away to see what caused it, however. The change fascinated him.
Her cheeks reddened, and he realized he was staring. Clearing his throat, he said, “Keep yourself well covered, lass, and I’ll shout for my lad to fetch us food.”
With that, he threw back the coverlet and got out of bed, striding naked to the door.
Cristina watched him for a moment before she said, “Just one thing, sir.”
To her consternation, he turned to face her. She had seen naked men before, had even helped carry water and towels to the hall when male guests wanted to bathe. But this was different, very different. He was a splendid-looking man from his massive shoulders and muscular chest to his narrow waist, slim hips, and powerful thighs.
“What is it?” he asked. “’Tis damnably cold standing here.”
She forced her gaze upward to meet his, swallowed, and said, “Before you call for your man, sir, we—that is, you—should tell me exactly what we are to do.”
A lock of his dark hair had fallen over his left eye, and as he reached up to brush it impatiently aside, he grimaced, saying, “We’ll do as you suggested. I want scandal no more than you do, and although you deserve that I should leave you here with your father, I won’t inflict that humiliation on you or on myself. You were right to remind me that I’d look like a fool or worse if I treat you badly or admit that your father tricked me so easily.”
She drew a deep breath and let it out again. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “I’ll take you to Lochbuie with me, but you’d be wise to do nothing there to try my patience further. I’ll look into getting an annulment as quietly as possible though. No need to make a song about it.”
“I’d be most grateful for that, sir. Will you . . . that is, will we . . .” She paused, swallowing again. Then, taking courage in hand, she said quickly, “I am, after all, your wife in every way, both legally and in the eyes of the Holy Kirk, so you have every right to use me as you will. I just wondered—”
She expected him to tell her she was a fool, that he had no interest in her whatsoever, that Mariota was the only Macleod he desired. Instead, he gave her a narrow, searching look. When she met it steadily, he said, “I don’t suppose it matters one way or another now, as you are my wife in the eyes of the law and the
“I am fairly peckish,” he admitted.
“I, too,” she said. “But before we summon food, we must—that is, you should—decide what you mean to do.”
Her annoying calm made him conscious of a desire to show that he, too, could remain civil under stress, but with a strong temptation to test her mettle, he said, “What course would you suggest?”
Her eyes widened as they had before, telling him that he had surprised her again. But she did not hesitate to reply.
“If you could manage to act naturally, as if naught were amiss, and we could leave Chalamine today without causing a scene, I would be much obliged to you,” she said. “I mean to honor my vows in any event, so until such time as you cast me off, I’ll act as your wife in every way that you command me. I am accustomed to running a large household, and to dealing with the needs of any number of vassals and tenants, so I can be an asset to you until we must part. All I would ask in return is that you not shame or humiliate me before my kinsmen or your own.”
He considered her words only briefly before nodding. “’Tis a reasonable request,” he said. “I will agree. However, my agreement does not mean I will not seek at once to overturn this marriage of ours.”
Her eyes seemed to change as he watched from molten gold almost to green, then back to gold again. It was doubtless no more than a trick of the changing light outside, a cloud passing over the sun or some such thing. He did not want to look away to see what caused it, however. The change fascinated him.
Her cheeks reddened, and he realized he was staring. Clearing his throat, he said, “Keep yourself well covered, lass, and I’ll shout for my lad to fetch us food.”
With that, he threw back the coverlet and got out of bed, striding naked to the door.
Cristina watched him for a moment before she said, “Just one thing, sir.”
To her consternation, he turned to face her. She had seen naked men before, had even helped carry water and towels to the hall when male guests wanted to bathe. But this was different, very different. He was a splendid-looking man from his massive shoulders and muscular chest to his narrow waist, slim hips, and powerful thighs.
“What is it?” he asked. “’Tis damnably cold standing here.”
She forced her gaze upward to meet his, swallowed, and said, “Before you call for your man, sir, we—that is, you—should tell me exactly what we are to do.”
A lock of his dark hair had fallen over his left eye, and as he reached up to brush it impatiently aside, he grimaced, saying, “We’ll do as you suggested. I want scandal no more than you do, and although you deserve that I should leave you here with your father, I won’t inflict that humiliation on you or on myself. You were right to remind me that I’d look like a fool or worse if I treat you badly or admit that your father tricked me so easily.”
She drew a deep breath and let it out again. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “I’ll take you to Lochbuie with me, but you’d be wise to do nothing there to try my patience further. I’ll look into getting an annulment as quietly as possible though. No need to make a song about it.”
“I’d be most grateful for that, sir. Will you . . . that is, will we . . .” She paused, swallowing again. Then, taking courage in hand, she said quickly, “I am, after all, your wife in every way, both legally and in the eyes of the Holy Kirk, so you have every right to use me as you will. I just wondered—”
She expected him to tell her she was a fool, that he had no interest in her whatsoever, that Mariota was the only Macleod he desired. Instead, he gave her a narrow, searching look. When she met it steadily, he said, “I don’t suppose it matters one way or another now, as you are my wife in the eyes of the law and the
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