Amanda Scott (26 page)

A little dismayed, Mary said, “Oh, but, ma’am, truly, we do not intend—” Duncan’s hand on her arm silenced her.

He said smoothly, “Mary and I will deal with all that soon enough, ma’am.”

Mary’s gaze flew to meet his, and she saw gentle mockery in his eyes. Collecting herself, she said, “Aye, sir. I didn’t think.” Wondering if he had changed his mind about giving her time to adjust to their marriage, she waited only until they could speak privately again to ask if he meant to visit her bed that very night.

“Worried, lass? I keep my word. I just did not think we ought to advertise to the castle at large that my wife is not yet ready to sleep with her husband.”

Mary bit her lip, but later, when the guests had all gone home and she had dismissed Ailis for the night, she began to wonder how long it would be before everyone knew exactly how matters stood. There were few secrets in a castle full of servants. Then, too, she wondered what Duncan expected of her. Did he think she would tell him when she was ready to consummate their marriage, that one night she would just invite him to join her in her bedchamber?

As she snuffed her candle and pulled the covers up, she assured herself that she could not imagine doing either one, but her dreams soon proved her wrong. Duncan appeared in every one, and not one portrayed him as patient or casual. His hands and lips touched her everywhere, making her squirm with delight. Just the sound of his voice strained her senses—and her imagination—and never did she try to avoid him. She was enthusiastic, ardent, even wanton, and in her dreams, none of this very un-Marylike behavior seemed the least bit unusual.

Duncan lay alone and sleepless in his bed. The fire had died to ashes as he lay staring up at the dark tester. The dog had crept onto the bed, and for once he did not object, grateful for the extra warmth. He found it hard to believe that he was married. He found it harder yet to stop thinking about his bride.

Had he been a fool to agree to leave her alone? His imagination kept suggesting things he might be doing with her, right now, and he began to wonder if she would prove passionate. He had heard men talk of quiet girls proving to be even more ardent than those who seemed to be the opposite. Still waters ran deep, they said. He wondered if Mary’s passions ran deep. He suspected that they did.

She had a temper, for he had seen the signs more than once, and tempers demanded passion. But Mary generally kept her fires well banked. Thinking of her that way stirred his imagination, which in turn stirred sensations to life in his loins. He shifted uncomfortably. He was indeed a fool.

How long did she think this state of affairs could continue before the servants made a gift of the news to everyone else in the house? Serena would certainly hear of it, and his father. The disturbing sensations ebbed when he imagined how the pair would react upon learning that he had not touched Mary on their wedding night. He would have to make her see the wisdom of consummating the union quickly.

Grimacing, he remembered that his trying to make her see wisdom had annoyed her in the past, and he remembered certain things she had said. She was right. He was accustomed to telling others what to do, while he did as he pleased.

He recognized no master. The thought pleased him but irritated him, as well. He could change, as he had promised he would, but he would never yield to anyone when he knew he was right. Surely it would be enough to discuss his reasons with her before he issued any ultimatum that concerned her welfare.

Her hands were so white, her complexion so smooth, and if what he had seen at Shian was a sample, her skin was like that all over. He had the right now to see and touch it, and his curiosity nearly overwhelmed him. Her lips always looked soft, and the way her body moved when she walked made him think of a graceful woodland creature. When she drew in a quick breath or turned quickly, responding to someone’s voice … Duncan groaned at the images his mind produced.

He slept at last, but his sleep was so restless that the dog soon sought the hearth rug again, curling tight against the cold.

Even without its warmth, Duncan was not cold. His body burned, and in his dreams, his bewitching bride obeyed his every command. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her breasts soft and springy to his touch, her moans responsive and filled with passion, her tongue warm and wet wherever it touched him. When he took her, she writhed beneath him, urging him on, her body leaping to welcome his.

When he awoke in a tangle of bedclothes, his body was awash with sweat that soon threatened to turn icy in the freezing room.

“I
T’S SNOWING SOMETHING STRONG,”
Ailis told Mary as she drew back the bed curtains, “but I brought ye a Christmas bicker o’ new sowens tae warm ye, madam.”

The new form of address being a powerful reminder of her marriage, Mary wondered why she felt no different from the way she had the day before. Not only was it Christmas Day, but she was now and forevermore a married lady.

Accepting the wooden porridge dish that Ailis handed to her, she sniffed at its contents, a distinctive mixture of oatmeal husks and sittings boiled to the consistency of molasses that most Highlanders received early Christmas morning while still in their beds. When Mary had finished hers, she got up, shivering in the chilly air to perform her morning ablutions.

As she washed her face, she saw Ailis steal several sidelong looks at her.

“I expect you stayed with Master Duncan for a long time last night,” the maid said at last, very casually, as she bent to stir up the fire.

It was a good thing, Mary thought, that Ailis was not looking at her just then, for she could feel her cheeks burning. She nearly denied having done any such thing before she realized that she would be wiser to keep silent. The last thing she wanted was for the servants to begin talking about her relationship with her husband. Duncan’s man, Hardwick, would not say a word about his master’s business, however, and she did not think Ailis would dare press her now to say more.

She said with quiet dignity, “I will wear the dark blue wool, Ailis, please.”

Her cheeks reddening, the maid said hastily, “Aye, madam, and will ye be wanting a cap tae wear, as well?”

About to refuse, Mary changed her mind. “I believe I will, if you can find me a suitable one. I am a married lady now, am I not?”

“Aye, madam, and the mistress has any number of lovely ones. Nay doot she’ll be that glad tae lend ye one, so ye can wear it tae the kirk.”

Half an hour later, her hair tidily arranged beneath a fetching lace cap, Mary descended to the dining parlor, where she found Balcardane, his wife, and his son, augmenting the Christmas sowens with a substantial breakfast. Serena evidently had either chosen to sleep late or was dressing even more carefully than usual for kirk.

Lady Balcardane said enthusiastically, “Good morning, my dear. How very becoming that gown is on you. I declare, it never became me so well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“What the devil have you got on your head?” Duncan demanded.

“I am wearing a lace cap, sir, as you must be able to see for yourself.” Turning to Balcardane, she added, “Good morning, my lord. Happy Christmas.”

Balcardane returned her greeting, but he was watching his son. Although both men had risen to their feet at her entrance, only Balcardane resumed his seat.

Duncan remained standing, regarding her critically. “I don’t like that thing,” he said. “I’d rather look at your hair.”

Lady Balcardane protested, “But it is the fashion, Duncan. Married ladies do not go about with their heads uncovered.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I do not know precisely. It is not the thing, that’s all.”

“Mary?”

She met his stern gaze calmly. “Yes, sir?”

“Would you prefer to please your husband or certain critics of fashion?”

She pretended to think about it, then tilted her head to one side and said, “My husband, sir, looks as if he did not sleep well. Perhaps I had better do as he bids.”

“Just what I was thinking,” he said. Amusement crept into his eyes, although he ignored his father’s chuckles. “I thought you did not fear me, Mary.”

“Oh, I don’t, sir, but vexation is certain to increase your weariness, and it is my duty to give you comfort and solace—when it is possible, at all events.”

He stepped around the table, his gaze still locked with hers, and for a moment she thought he was going to take her out of the room, perhaps to scold her for her impertinence. Instead, coming to a stop directly in front of her, he reached for the cap.

“Take care that you remove only the pins holding it, sir, or you will have my hair tumbling down around my shoulders and I shall have to do it all up again before we leave for kirk. That is,” she added with a questioning look, “I assume that we will attend services today.”

He was too near. Her heart was pounding, and she found it hard to keep her voice calm. She was unusually aware of his size, and the spicy scent of his clothing seemed to fill her senses. His hands touching her hair stirred sensations that shot right to her toes and back up again, settling somewhere near her midsection.

“To be sure we’ll attend services, lass,” Balcardane said. “Parson would read out our names did we not attend, and we must set a good example, even,” he added with a chuckle, “if we did not get much sleep. My men have begun to clear the road, but we’ll not trust the coach. They’ll hitch up the sleigh when it is time to go.”

Duncan handed her the cap, kissed her on the forehead, and said evenly, “That is much better. Don’t wear that thing again. It does not suit you.”

Clutching the cap in one hand, she waited until he had returned to his chair before she tucked it into her sash and moved to help herself to sliced ham, toast, and an apple from the sideboard. Trying to ignore the burning sensation where he had kissed her forehead, she watched in a daze as Jessie served her hot chocolate, and set a pot of bramble jam nearby on the table for her toast.

While they ate, Lady Balcardane maintained her usual light chatter, and for once Mary was grateful for it. She felt self-conscious, and the feeling was new to her. She had not missed Balcardane’s chuckle, and could only hope that he stood in too much awe of his son’s volatile temper to question him about his wedding night. At least, she thought, the earl would not do so in front of anyone else.

She avoided Duncan’s glances, hoping he would think she was as calm as always, and that she took interest only in her breakfast. Most of all, she hoped that he would ascribe any extra color in her cheeks to the chilly morning air. Even with a fire crackling on the hearth, the dining parlor was not warm. More than once she cradled her chocolate cup with both hands to warm them, and she shifted her feet frequently, rubbing them together in search of warmth.

The men talked quietly, their conversation providing an undercurrent to Lady Balcardane’s continual stream of light comments. Mary murmured a response to one, more out of politeness than because she was paying close attention. When a sudden silence ensued just as she took a bite of toast, she looked up in surprise.

The others were staring at her as if she had said something odd. She looked from one to another, letting her gaze come to rest on Duncan.

“My mother just said that she hoped you do not regret your hasty marriage,” he said wryly. “You said, ‘Indeed I do, ma’am, thank you.’”

Nearly choking on the food in her mouth, she swallowed and looked ruefully at Lady Balcardane. “Oh, ma’am, I beg your pardon! Of course, I do not regret my marriage. My mind was wool-gathering, I’m afraid, and I must have misunderstood your comment. Pray, say that you will forgive me.”

“Of course, I will, my dear. Why, I remember that I scarcely got a wink of sleep on my wedding night, so I daresay you are not at all yourself this morning. You said that Duncan looked tired, and I must say, that you do not look too well rested yourself. I should have seen that you were listening with but half an ear.”

Doing her best to conceal her embarrassment, Mary said firmly, “It was unconscionable of me not to listen with both ears, ma’am. I should be well scolded, but you are always so very kind to me that I daresay, you won’t do it. Nonetheless, I am a wretch to repay your kindness with such discourtesy.”

“Well, it is no great matter, my dear, after all.”

“Have you finished your breakfast?” Duncan asked.

Mary’s gaze snapped to meet his, but she could tell nothing from his expression. “Why, yes, I suppose I have, sir.”

“Good, then you may take a walk with me, and I’ll see if I can do something about that scolding you deserve.”

His mother protested. “Duncan, don’t be absurd! I have taken no offense, I promise you, and if I have not, I cannot think why you should do so. I am sure
you
never listen to half of what I say!”

“Then you should take me to task for
my
bad manners, ma’am,” he said, grinning at her as he got to his feet and went to hold Mary’s chair for her.

Lady Balcardane stared at him in astonishment. “Why, I don’t believe you mean to scold her at all! I cannot recall the last time you made a jest, Duncan.”

“Was I jesting, ma’am? I’ll wager Mary is not so certain of that as you are.”

Mary said not a word. She allowed him to draw her hand through the crook of his arm, thinking it odd that she had never before been so sensitive to the roughness of wool as she was now with her hand resting on Duncan’s sleeve.

Just outside the dining parlor, they met Serena, and Mary saw at once what had kept her. The other young woman looked particularly lovely in a magnificent straw-colored silk gown with a narrow edging of lace at neckline and sleeves. Over it she wore a gaily embroidered white silk apron.

“I thought you would still be breaking your fast, Duncan,” she said, pouting. “The snow lies so thick on the ground that I was persuaded you would play slug-a-bed. Now I shall have to breakfast alone, I suppose.” She did not look at Mary.

Duncan said, “My parents are in the dining parlor, Serena, so you will not be alone. As for sleeping late, chores do not wait upon the weather, nor will the Christmas kirk services. We will all be out and about today as usual, I believe.”