Improper Seduction (25 page)

“Fly it.”

Synclair wasted no time. His boots tapped against the floor as he walked toward the open shutter. He thrust the soiled shirt out into the morning light and a cheer rose from the yard below. Bells began to ring along the walls and even from the chapel.

Curan walked over to where Bridget’s chemise lay on the floor. Reaching down, he plucked it up and returned to the bed while his men became absorbed with looking out the window.

Her face burned hotter, if such a thing were possible, but there was no mercy in his dark eyes, not even a shred. Instead there was hard determination glittering back at her. He laid the chemise down where he had slept.

“We have ground to cover, Bridget. Synclair will wait for you with his back turned.”

Curan slid the bed curtain closed, and she heard his men walking back across the solar. Yet his warning rang, clear in her head. There would be no trust given to her.

With a sigh, she picked up the chemise and lifted it above her head. She had no right to expect anything else, but still it hurt to know she had a guard waiting upon her. She suddenly detested her father. Never once had she questioned his will, because she had been taught her entire life to be obedient to her sire, but today she felt her temper rise clear and bright against the man who could not seem to settle her future. Where was her reward for being a dutiful daughter?

Where was the lover you felt tenderly holding you in the darkest hours of the morning?

“Mistress? Are ye ready to rise?”

Bridget sighed. Reaching for the curtain, she pushed it aside and let the light chase away the last of her dreams. Illusions were for the night, after all, and the sun had risen now. Just as she had known it would. Her mother had warned her, and yet she had done all that she could to follow her mother’s advice.

A maid lowered herself before holding up her long stays.

“There’s too many eyes on ye, and that is for sure. Best to get dressed before we tend to yer hair, if ye don’t mind me saying so.”

Bridget slid her arm into the strap of the corset. “You’re correct.” Even if nothing else seemed to be right.

Her body ached, reminding her that Curan had done exactly what he wished, and there was no undoing of that now. She was his woman, even if her father might yet argue that she was not his wife. The maid was quick, and her gown settled into place before the sun had completely risen. There was little to do with her hair, save brush it until it was neat and then braid it. Tears prickled her eyes, because she would have enjoyed spending time lingering in naught save her chemise. The freedom was quite addictive as was the tender nature of her husband. She feared that she would not meet that side of him again.

“Lady Ryppon? Are you ready?”

Synclair used her title, and it snapped her back into the moment. Lady Ryppon, indeed. It was a mark of respect from the knight and not one used lightly.

“Yes.”

He crossed the solar and retrieved the shirt that was still flying
from the window ledge. Bridget turned her back on it and headed toward the stairs. She heard Synclair hurrying to catch up to her and had to force her distaste down for being guarded. Raging against injustice had never changed it, and she knew that well. Her mother had sent for Marie just to show her a way around the imperfect world in which she lived.

It worked remarkably well, though … Curan does enjoy having his cock suckled.

She paused at the top of the stairs that led down into the courtyard in front of Laird Barras’s fortress. Yesterday’s long journey to the solar made her want to snarl for seeing the truth that she had in fact been taken on a merry parade designed to confuse her. Inside the stone walls, it had worked very well. She had never guessed that the exit was so near to where she was being kept.

It was a well-kept place, giving no credit to the rumors she had heard of Scots who wallowed in muck. There were no mounds of droppings or foul odors, either. The yard was not covered in cobblestone, such as Amber Hill, but the dirt was well packed and bore marks from being swept.

“Good morning to ye, Lady Ryppon. I trust the bed met with yer approval.”

Gordon Dwyre was a cocksure man, and no doubt about it. The Scot flashed her a bright smile that was followed by a bold wink. “Ye know, I’m quite taken aback by the fact that I did nae get to kiss the bride. A shame that is, considering ye passed the night beneath me own roof.”

“Find your own bride to kiss.”

There was a note in Curan’s voice that suggested he was jesting with the Scottish laird. There was no hint of playfulness on his face, however. He sat on top of his stallion looking every inch the commander. His armor was in place once more, even gauntlets covering his fingers.

Laird Barras shrugged. “From yer lips unto God’s ears. Go in peace, neighbor.”

A mare was led up to the base of the stairs. Clearly the animal was for her, for it was fitted with a sidesaddle to enable her to keep her skirts over her ankles. The courtyard was suddenly filled with the sound of armor plates hitting against each other as Curan’s men mounted. Horses snorted and danced with eager anticipation. Synclair offered her his hand to mount.

So now she was gifted with a horse?

The mare was soft brown and looked healthy. Keeping her chin level, Bridget gained the saddle with all the grace her mother had ensured she had. Bridget discovered herself grateful for lessons she had been forced to repeat over and over until she polished her skills, because today there were more than a hundred stares being directed at her. They were silent but judging looks that weighed her worth through her actions.

Taking the reins, she adjusted her skirts so that they were properly placed. There was only one set of eyes she was concerned with. She shifted her attention to Curan to find him watching her with that dark, keen gaze. He took a moment to survey the way she sat on the mare, judging her confidence. Approval sparkled in his eyes, and she discovered that she enjoyed knowing that he thought her capable in the saddle.

“I hope the mare pleases you.”

“Very much so.”

Formal and polished, their words might have been exchanged between strangers. Nevertheless she didn’t miss the fact that he had recalled that she did not care for being transported in a wagon. Some might suggest that she was clutching at anything to be satisfied, but she ignored those nagging thoughts. There would be plenty of days ahead to worry and battle suspicions.

For the moment she would cradle the idea that Curan had
brought her a mare because he cared about her happiness. Something flickered in his eyes, and she smiled at him. His lips twitched, abandoning their firm line that she had become used to seeing on his face. A brief smile was the result, fading almost in the same moment that it had appeared.

Yet it was branded into her memory.

So what if the man had smiled at her? He possessed a disposition that was impossible to tolerate.

They reached Amber Hill before sunset. The ride had been quite enjoyable with spring in the air. The mare carried her smoothly, and she discovered a new respect being given to her by the men surrounding her. They inclined their heads when she looked at them now. Gone was the rather blatant desire to ignore her.

It really wasn’t fair that a woman’s virginity was so highly prized when you considered that most men were not virgins when they married. Still it pleased Bridget to know she had brought honor to Curan by being proved chaste.

All of her happiness ended abruptly when they entered the courtyard of Amber Hill. Curan tossed his reins to a young lad who hurried out to greet him. Before she had lifted her knee off the horn set into the side of the saddle to help keep her on the horse, Curan was reaching up to help lift her. His face was set in hard lines, firm resolve flickering in his eyes. He didn’t release her when her feet were firmly on the cobblestones. Instead, the man curled his hand around her wrist and turned with her in tow. He pulled her up the stairs that led to the first tower, ignoring the staff that lined the way. His manner irritated her because it reminded her of a child being taken inside for a whipping.

Her throat tightened. A man did have the right to beat his
wife, and she had run from him. Everyone in the castle must know. The slight to his honor was unmistaken. Curan pulled her toward the stairs that led to the second floor, his longer legs making it necessary for her to scurry to keep up while he maintained his stony silence. Her skirts slapped against her ankles, threatening to trip her.

“Enough, my lord. You need not pull me along like an errant child.”

He turned to peg her with a sharp glare, but that was not enough to deter her. She yanked on her arm, her temper lending strength to her motion.

“Do you mean to say that you have not earned to be treated as such?”

“I do.”

He looked stunned. His lips opened slightly in shock.

“I have obeyed, obeyed, and obeyed until I am sick unto death of hearing what everyone else expects of me. It is far past time for the lot of you to come into agreement on just what is expected from me.”

Grabbing a fistful of her skirts, she yanked the fabric up past her ankles and took to the stairs. She didn’t know where his chambers were, but a scurry of footfalls on the third floor was telling enough. Gaining the third floor, she faced a set of double doors that were held open. The entire floor was the lord’s chamber. The doorway led to a candlelit entry chamber.

A wise choice considering their master stomped into his room behind her.

“Close the doors and be gone.”

He snarled his words at the remaining servants while yanking on one of his armor gauntlets. Bridget turned in a flurry of wool skirts and offered him no penance for her sharp words.

“You shall not temper my mood, madam. I marched an
army across a border to retrieve you. Barras could have considered that an act of war.”

“And I have told you, my lord, that I am merely obeying my father. An action you told me you would not have me fail at, lest you discard me. I struggle to please both of you while suffering displeasure all about me.”

He threw the freed gauntlet onto the table and it made a loud metallic sound as it landed.

“Agreed. Your point is well founded, but you are my wife now, no longer just my bride. Obeying me takes precedence from hence forward.”

He stopped himself from throwing the second gauntlet. He dropped it while he struggled to regain his composure.

“Promise …” He shut his mouth and took a deep breath. “I understand that you were trying to respect your parents, but our union is celebrated now. Promise me, swear to me, Bridget, that you will stay by my side henceforth. Give me your agreement that this matter is settled.”

His eyes were bright, and a muscle along his jawline twitched. He flattened his hands on the tabletop. “I want your solemn pledge of honor, Bridget, nothing less.”

She was torn. Her anger dampened in the face of his willingness to accept her word. That was trust and not a thing that came easily for a man such as he.

“I do not know what to do anymore.”

His fingers curled on the tabletop. “Why not? You are my wife. Do I not deserve your loyalty?”

She wanted to give him what he sought, wanted to soothe his troubled expression. It was but a few simple words, but she knew they would be false.

“You know the ways of this world. There will be a cry from court if you keep me.”

“A matter you will trust me to shoulder, Bridget.” He straightened up, much of his anger clearing from his expression. “I ask you to settle into your place and allow me to shelter you as a husband should.”

She clasped her hands, trying to maintain her resolve. “And I ask you to recall that husband and wife should work together. That is the reason for marriage, the forming of a union.”

Triumph lit his eyes. “Exactly what I desire, a union between us. Give me your promise on the matter.”

“The chancellor could take everything you have earned from you.” She shook her head. “I will not be the cause of you losing all that you have battled to hold.”

Her voice trailed off, and her attention strayed to the bed. It was a huge one, with carved head-and footboards. Thick curtains hung from the canopy. Moving closer, she marveled at the fact that those curtains were made of velvet.

“Henry gave me that bed.”

She jumped because Curan was directly behind her. She had not heard even one step. His hands closed around her shoulders, gently keeping her in place while he leaned down to tease her ear with his lips.

“Henry Tudor.”

“The king?”

His hands gently rubbed her arms, sending little ripples of sensation down her body. Her skin became more sensitive, eagerly anticipating where his lips would touch next. Erotic anticipation began to burn along her neck at the sight of the bed.

“A gift given in honor of our wedding. Henry had it made by the very same family that made his own.” His lips closed around her earlobe, drawing a stiff breath from her.

“Look at it, Bridget. I have imagined you in it from the moment
I laid eyes upon it. Swear that our marriage is true and binding in your thoughts, and we shall leave the past behind us.”

She suddenly understood how Eve must have felt. She was tempted, her resolve so weakened by his voice. It was rich with the promise of the lover she had known last night.

“Henry will not allow the chancellor to interfere in our union, Bridget, you must trust me on that.”

She pulled herself away from him, stumbling because of how fast she moved to avoid being held captive. Frustration showed in Curan’s eyes, but it was edged with determination, and he was not alone in that desire.

“I will not be the cause of your downfall. We must think of any children we might have.”

His eyes darkened. “There will be children. Be very sure that I will not allow you to sleep anywhere except by my side.” His lips curved up. “And there will be no chemise worn in my bed, I promise you that, Bridget.”

She believed him. Her cheeks colored, heating with a blush that told him how much she liked his declaration. He reached out and laid the back of his hand along the side of her face. It was such a simple touch, but she shivered in response.