Bond of Passion (11 page)

“Snuff the stick,” Annabella said. She struggled to remain awake. She had one more duty to perform this day, and she would not shirk that duty.

“Good night then,” Jean said, and she hurried from the bedchamber, closing the door softly behind her as she went.

It was such a big bed, Annabella thought. Her sisters would fit quite comfortably into it. Her sleepy eyes scanned the chamber. It was a gracious space at least four or five times the size of the little room she had inhabited at Rath. Jean had not drawn the bed curtains. The hearth opposite her bed burned brightly, warming the room. There was a large upholstered chair set at an angle by it. The floor, like the one in the dayroom, was covered in a wool carpet, this one dusky blue and cream in the firelight. She would be interested to see whether the colors held in the daylight. It was a lovely room.

Hearing the click of a lock, she turned her head toward the sound. The earl stepped into her bedchamber through a small door that had been hidden in the paneled wall. He was wrapped in a brocaded robe, but his feet were bare. Annabella realized that beneath the dark silk he was undoubtedly naked. He must have worn the garment for her sake, believing that the sight of a male body might frighten her. She felt her fingers clutching at the down-filled silk coverlet as he seated himself on the edge of the bed.

“We have one final duty to perform this day, madam,” he said.

“I know,” Annabella replied.

“And ye are prepared to fulfill it, madam, are ye not?”

“Aye, my lord, I am,” she answered him.

“Yer mam has told ye what is required of ye?” He waited for her reply.

“I am to lie upon my back with my legs open to ye,” Annabella responded.

“God’s blood!” he swore softly, and then he laughed. “I think, madam, we shall leave this duty for another time,” the earl told her. “Ye’re exhausted by yer long journey, and coupling wi’ a man ye have known but a few hours will not be pleasant for ye. I have no desire to have to deal wi’ a tired little virgin tonight. We both understand that the purpose of our union is to create heirs for Duin. There is time enough for that, lass,” he finished as he reached out and stroked her face with a gentle hand.

But instead of being reassured by his words, Annabella was horrified and found herself near tears. “Is it that ye find me so displeasing, my lord, that ye canna bring yerself to do what needs be done?” she asked him in a tremulous voice.

“Nay, nay, madam,” he sought to reassure her. “I am a man of great carnal appetites, lass, but never have I forced a woman to my will. That is what I would be doing tonight if I insisted on deflowering ye. I want us to get to know each other better, and when we do what will come next will come naturally to both of us. I dinna find ye displeasing at all. Ye have surprised me and ye quite delight me, for ye have charm, manners, wit, and intellect. What is beauty in comparison to those?”

“Do ye speak of love?” she queried him. She didn’t quite understand what he was getting at. She had wed him. It was their wedding night. Why was he was turning away from her? And yet . . . She paused in her thoughts, realizing that she was actually finding herself relieved that she should not have to take the next step with him tonight.

“I know naught of love, madam,” he said honestly. “I know of lust, and ye will discover that delightful emotion quite soon, for though I will give ye time to grow used to my presence, we shall kiss and caress at will, which will give rise to your lust. It is ye who will lead the way for us as ye seek more and more knowledge of a passionate nature. Soon enough, the time will come when we will do what is expected of us, madam. Do ye understand better now, and agree wi’ me? Or will you insist that I mount ye now? I will do whatever ye choose, madam.”

“Aye, I understand ye,” Annabella said, and she did. He was a strange man, she thought, wondering whether any other bridegroom would have been as thoughtful.

“Give me yer hand,” he said. Without hesitation, she obeyed him. He took the hand in his own, kissing first the back of it, then placing lingering warm lips upon her palm and her wrist.

She shivered with delight but said nothing.

The dark green eyes twinkled at her. “I can see ye’re going to be an obedient wife, madam,” he told her.

“I will do my best to please ye, my lord, but there may be times when I displease,” Annabella said candidly. His lips on her flesh had been deliciously disturbing. A frisson of emotion had shot through her that she did not recognize when his flesh had met hers.

Angus Ferguson saw the brief confusion upon her face. He was surprised. A virgin, aye. But one so artless? It become more and more obvious to him that she had not dissembled in any way when she told him she had never been courted. Had there ever been a time when he had known such pure and perfect innocence? Releasing the small hand in his, he reached out with his other hand to cup her face in his big palm. “Will ye trust me, madam?” he asked her softly.

Again Annabella felt that unfamiliar stirring within her. His dark green eyes were like a pool in the depths of a deep sunlit forest. She wanted to immerse herself within that pool until she became one with it. His touch both warmed and aroused her. “Aye, my lord,” she told him low. “I will trust ye.”

They called her plain of face, and yet he thought the solemn little face now looking up at him with wary eyes had a sweetness about it that touched him. Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his own, but then the very sweetness of those lips aroused a ferocity within him that was difficult to control. A hand cupped her head. His mouth pressed down hard on her soft mouth and his kiss became demanding. To his absolute surprise she met the wild kiss with a fierceness of her own until he broke the embrace, saying, “I shall bid ye good night then, madam.” Angus Ferguson arose and returned back through the little door in the paneled wall, ducking his head as he went to avoid hitting the low arch.

Her lips still burning, Annabella lay back against her plump pillows. She didn’t know whether to rejoice or to weep. She knew so little about bed sport, and yet should she have known more? Her mother had said a virgin should not be knowledgeable. She had been vague in her explanations. Was Myrna’s blunt explanation closer to the truth?

When she had repeated it to her husband, he had laughed ruefully. Why?

But she had to admit that she was more comfortable knowing she might sleep in peace this night. Although she had not shown the emotion to anyone, fearing to be thought a weakling, she had been very frightened of leaving Rath to travel across Scotland and into the keeping of a virtual stranger known as a sorcerer, as well as the handsomest man in the borders. It was a relief to find that Angus Ferguson was a kind man.

It had been such an amazing day, and a day filled with so much activity. Duin Castle was so beautiful. It made the tower house where she had been raised look so poor and sparse. Yet she had never felt a lack of anything, and her girlhood home had been filled with love and happiness. She hoped that in the weeks, the months, the years ahead, she would be able to bring that same sense of warmth to Duin, to her husband and their children. Then, clearing her mind of random thoughts, Annabella softly whispered her prayers and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

On the other side of the little door in the paneled wall, the Earl of Duin was not so fortunate. Angus Ferguson had returned to his own bedchamber, part of a spacious apartment that matched his wife’s. He had seen the relief on her face when he had suggested they come to know each other better. The truth was, he was equally relieved not to have to deflower Annabella this night. She was a stranger. An intriguing one, but nonetheless unfamiliar to him. He had always taken the time to know a woman before they became lovers. His French mother had always insisted that the hunt, and the seduction that ensued, brought about a greater satisfaction when one worked at it. Quick couplings were to be avoided at all costs, and forcing a woman was unforgivable.

His new wife was a true innocent. Who the hell had told her that lying on her back and opening her legs to him was all that was required of her? Her mother? A serving woman? Annabella might not be a beauty, but he would treat her with the greatest care nonetheless. Her position as his wife made her particularly worthy of his regard.

She had not been aware that the coverlet she had clutched so tightly had slipped down while they talked. He had been treated to a shadowed glimpse of her breasts beneath the sheer silk and lace of her bed gown. They were dainty, perfectly round little breasts with small nipples. He had quickly looked away so she had not been aware of his interest, but his hands had actually itched to reach out and cup those breasts. Even now, the memory of them caused him to imagine their weight in his palms.

His body servant had been dismissed for the night, so no one would know he had not done what was expected of them. Jean would see. Like everyone at Duin, she was anxious for him to produce a legitimate heir. She might question him, but should she find out, he knew she would understand. He realized all at Duin would be pleased if midsummer of the new year brought them the birth of the next generation of Fergusons. However, he would not force the issue. Annabella needed to be slowly seduced so that when the right moment came for her to give up her virginity, she would do it gladly and without tears. He wanted her filled with the passion his lips had drawn from her this evening. He wanted to be filled with that same passion her lips had surprised him with earlier. He slept fitfully.

Up early and down in the hall the next morning, he found Jean. “Tell yer lady that we will ride together this morning,” he said to her.

Jean looked at him, surprised. “Will she not be too fragile?”

“Nay,” he replied, and the look he gave his sister warned her to ask no questions.

Jean did as she was bidden, waking Annabella and helping her dress. She saw the lack of blood upon the sheets, and looked to the younger woman, who blushed. It was then that Jean realized her mistress was yet untouched. As to Angus, she said nothing.

She realized that her brother was giving his bride an opportunity to know him. She remembered the sage advice regarding lovers that the lady Adrienne had given to them all when they were growing up. Only Mary had fled away when such things were discussed.

And so Angus and Annabella rode out together most mornings. They rode the hills about the castle. They rode the beach along the sea below it. They rode without an escort, for it would have been a foolish man who attempted accosting the Earl of Duin on his own lands. Angus Ferguson wanted to be with his new wife. He wanted to know more about her. Realizing his intent, Annabella spoke freely with him. In doing so, she learned as much about her husband as he learned of her. They were making a good beginning, and becoming friends.

Matthew was directed to help Annabella become quickly familiar with the household, which was hers to manage. He complied, quite content to have the new lady of Duin take up her womanly duties. Suddenly Annabella found herself conferring with the cook on meals, and directing the maidservants in their duties. One morning, down in the kitchens, she saw a little lass and, recognizing Una, the child who had given her the white heather bouquet on her wedding day, she greeted her.

Una’s small face lit up at hearing the countess address her by name. She curtsied.

“What brings you to the kitchens, little one?” Annabella asked.

“I’ve come to deliver the clean polishing clothes,” Una replied. “My mam is the castle’s laundress, my lady.”

It was then that Annabella realized she had seen many children toiling in Duin village at one simple task or another. The winter was coming, however, and soon those children would spend most of their days penned up in their family cottages in idleness. It was then that she decided to teach the children at least to write their names. She went to Matthew Ferguson, asking, “Is there anywhere in the village where I might have a place to teach the bairns this winter?”

“Teach them what?” he inquired of her.

“To write their names, mayhap to read,” Annabella told him.

“Why would ye teach cotters’ brats to read and write?” he said. “They have no need of such things. Have you spoken to my brother of your plans, my lady?”

“I had not thought it necessary to ask him,” Annabella said, irritated by Matthew’s presumption. He might be the steward of Duin, but she was its lady. “However, now that ye have brought it up, let us go and ask Angus what he thinks.”

He was surprised that she had forced his hand, and had not yielded to his authority as the castle’s steward. “Angus is out seeing that the cattle and sheep are brought safely into the home pastures,” he told her.

“We shall ask him when he returns then,” Annabella said sweetly.

Matthew was further astonished when his brother agreed to Annabella’s wish. “There is no work to be done in the winter that cannot give the bairns time to learn. There is no harm in it. Besides, there might be among those bairns one who is clever, and for whom a slight bit of knowledge will prove useful to me eventually. Come the spring, they will return to their regular duties in the fields, helping their elders where they are needed.”

Matthew offered the lady a tiny uninhabited cottage, its former tenant now deceased. “I’ll have the roof repaired and the place swept out. What else will ye need?”

“Wood for the fire, stools for the children, and a table and chair for me,” Annabella told him. “And make certain the chimney is open.”

The clan folk were wary of Annabella’s plans, for while they liked their new mistress, they didn’t understand why she would want to teach their children to read or to write. What good were these skills to simple folk?

The first day, Annabella came down from the castle to discover the little cottage was overflowing with lads and lasses. She quickly discovered they had come more from curiosity than a desire to learn. Over the next few days, her pupils faded away, until by week’s end she was left with only two: little Una and the blacksmith’s youngest son, a lad called Callum.