throat at the brief contact. ‘Twas that part of
him, she was sure.
What
else could fair scorch her through the linen sheet she'd wrapped around herself
several times over?
What
else would send tingles all the way to her toes?
What
else indeed but that mysteriously masculine part of him he meant to keep from
her.
"Come,"
he said close to her ear, his breath wanning her cheek. "I'll guide you to
bed," he added, his voice steady and firm... normal.
As
if he hadn't realized what part of him had just touched her so intimately.
Or,
mayhap closer to the truth, he simply didn't care.
Linnet
yanked her arm from his grasp. "I canna yet sleep."
"And
neither can I if you dinna cease poltering about," Duncan grumbled,
snatching back her arm and pulling her forward.
Linnet
dug her heels into the rushes. "Then I shall sit in the chair by the
fire."
"By
the Rood, wench, ‘tis cold, I am weary, and my head aches. Dinna rile me
further." Fair dragging her to the bed, he flung back the covers.
"Climb in. I willna touch you if that's what's bothering you."
She
bristled at his harshly spoken words, but scrambled onto the bed, quickly
scooting to the far side and drawing the coverlet to her chin.
To
her surprise, rather than getting into bed himself, he hastened to the wall
where he took down one of the hanging tapestries. As she looked on, he spread
the heavy cloth on the floor and began rolling it up.
"What...
what are you doing?" Linnet asked from the bed, although his intentions
became humiliatingly clear as he carried the unwieldy column closer and plunked
it down in the middle of the bed.
"Naught
but assuring myself an undisturbed night's rest," he said, then settled
himself onto the bed... on the other side of the tapestry barrier. "After
this night, I shall sleep in my own chamber, and you will not be disturbed."
Feeling
chastised and as insignificant as if he'd just informed her he found her less
appealing than a gray mouse, Linnet lay stiff and quiet, fearing the slightest
movement or sound would only serve to further inflame his ill humor.
Merciful
saints, did he think she'd fall upon him in the night?
Would
that she had the courage to flee.
Exit
the chamber and seek refuge elsewhere.
She
would, too, were it not for the boy.
For
his sake, she remained motionless, not daring to even take a deep breath lest
she disturb her husband.
If
she meant to help Robbie, she must achieve some semblance of a relationship
with his father.
Even
if that meant suffering through such indignities as knowing he'd likely prefer
taking a ewe to bed than her.
Aye,
her own feelings mattered scarce little.
Besides,
she was used to being unloved.
But
for the good of the lad, she must be strong. Duncan MacKenzie could bully her
to the gates of hell and beyond, she wouldn't reveal what she knew about Robbie
unless he softened toward the boy.
Until
then, she'd maintain a firm stance, anger him if need be. His opinion of her
wasn't of consequence.
‘Twas
the lad who needed him, not her.
Linnet
swallowed the long sigh that almost escaped her lips. Could she e'er bring her
husband to accept Robbie?
To
admit his love for the child?
Afore he learned the truth? Her husband should love Robbie for himself...
regardless of whether he'd sired the lad or nay.
Such
was her goal, but could she achieve it?
She
did not know, but she meant to try. Even if the effort cost her last breath.
Outside,
wind caught the shutter of one of the windows, slamming it against the tower
with a mighty bang that echoed and reechoed in the shadowy chamber.
Linnet
sat up with a start, coming instantly awake and realizing she must've fallen
asleep despite her doubts of being able to do so. Pearly gray moonlight shone
through the one unshuttered window, bathing the room in a silvery glow.
She
shot a glance at the man beside her, half-afraid the loud noise might've
startled him awake, too, but he slept soundly, his breathing deep and regular.
Indeed,
he appeared
him, she was sure.
What
else could fair scorch her through the linen sheet she'd wrapped around herself
several times over?
What
else would send tingles all the way to her toes?
What
else indeed but that mysteriously masculine part of him he meant to keep from
her.
"Come,"
he said close to her ear, his breath wanning her cheek. "I'll guide you to
bed," he added, his voice steady and firm... normal.
As
if he hadn't realized what part of him had just touched her so intimately.
Or,
mayhap closer to the truth, he simply didn't care.
Linnet
yanked her arm from his grasp. "I canna yet sleep."
"And
neither can I if you dinna cease poltering about," Duncan grumbled,
snatching back her arm and pulling her forward.
Linnet
dug her heels into the rushes. "Then I shall sit in the chair by the
fire."
"By
the Rood, wench, ‘tis cold, I am weary, and my head aches. Dinna rile me
further." Fair dragging her to the bed, he flung back the covers.
"Climb in. I willna touch you if that's what's bothering you."
She
bristled at his harshly spoken words, but scrambled onto the bed, quickly
scooting to the far side and drawing the coverlet to her chin.
To
her surprise, rather than getting into bed himself, he hastened to the wall
where he took down one of the hanging tapestries. As she looked on, he spread
the heavy cloth on the floor and began rolling it up.
"What...
what are you doing?" Linnet asked from the bed, although his intentions
became humiliatingly clear as he carried the unwieldy column closer and plunked
it down in the middle of the bed.
"Naught
but assuring myself an undisturbed night's rest," he said, then settled
himself onto the bed... on the other side of the tapestry barrier. "After
this night, I shall sleep in my own chamber, and you will not be disturbed."
Feeling
chastised and as insignificant as if he'd just informed her he found her less
appealing than a gray mouse, Linnet lay stiff and quiet, fearing the slightest
movement or sound would only serve to further inflame his ill humor.
Merciful
saints, did he think she'd fall upon him in the night?
Would
that she had the courage to flee.
Exit
the chamber and seek refuge elsewhere.
She
would, too, were it not for the boy.
For
his sake, she remained motionless, not daring to even take a deep breath lest
she disturb her husband.
If
she meant to help Robbie, she must achieve some semblance of a relationship
with his father.
Even
if that meant suffering through such indignities as knowing he'd likely prefer
taking a ewe to bed than her.
Aye,
her own feelings mattered scarce little.
Besides,
she was used to being unloved.
But
for the good of the lad, she must be strong. Duncan MacKenzie could bully her
to the gates of hell and beyond, she wouldn't reveal what she knew about Robbie
unless he softened toward the boy.
Until
then, she'd maintain a firm stance, anger him if need be. His opinion of her
wasn't of consequence.
‘Twas
the lad who needed him, not her.
Linnet
swallowed the long sigh that almost escaped her lips. Could she e'er bring her
husband to accept Robbie?
To
admit his love for the child?
Afore he learned the truth? Her husband should love Robbie for himself...
regardless of whether he'd sired the lad or nay.
Such
was her goal, but could she achieve it?
She
did not know, but she meant to try. Even if the effort cost her last breath.
Outside,
wind caught the shutter of one of the windows, slamming it against the tower
with a mighty bang that echoed and reechoed in the shadowy chamber.
Linnet
sat up with a start, coming instantly awake and realizing she must've fallen
asleep despite her doubts of being able to do so. Pearly gray moonlight shone
through the one unshuttered window, bathing the room in a silvery glow.
She
shot a glance at the man beside her, half-afraid the loud noise might've
startled him awake, too, but he slept soundly, his breathing deep and regular.
Indeed,
he appeared
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