In Bed With A Stranger (6 page)

“She’s a fine animal, to be sure.” Turning her head, Anne found one of the McJames’ retainers a few feet behind her. He studied her with eyes the same shade as a summer sky. He was fair-haired as well; quite the opposite of the earl.

“Indeed, she is very beautiful.”

He lifted a hand to firmly pat the horse on its hindquarter. “Strong. That’s what matters.”

Releasing the reins, Anne let the mare have her freedom. With a soft nicker, the mare followed the other horses toward the edge of the river.

“My brother bred her from his own stock. McJames’ horses are the best in Scotland.”

“I can see that.”

The Scot peered at her trying to see past her face veil. When she didn’t lift it, his gaze slid down her frame, inspecting her exactly as he had the mare.

“I thought English ladies wore gloves to keep their hands soft.”

Anne was grateful for her veil because it hid the sudden widening of her eyes. She curled her frozen fingers into fists.

“I forgot them this morning.” She cringed because she made yet another error. As a lady, her maid should have seen to the task of fetching her gloves. “When you were spotted approaching, I became flustered.”

A grin appeared on the Scot. “Now don’t go telling my brother that. His ego disnae need any stroking.” He actually winked at her. The playful expression stunned her because she’d never quite pictured Scotsmen relaxed.

“Well then, you’d better take care of your needs before we mount up again.” He pointed to a large outcropping of boulders and her face burned scarlet.

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice squeaked as her blush deepened. She felt like every pair of eyes was focused on her as she walked toward the rocks. Returning took a great deal of discipline as she ordered herself to stop being so childish. The body had needs; it was no reason for blushing.

More of the men were turned her way now, studying her as she drew closer to the water. The earl was already back on his steed, watching them from several feet above. He scanned the horizon, his face set in hard lines. He wasn’t relaxed or jovial. Solid determination radiated from him as he swept the entire surrounding area before letting his gaze settle on her.

Her cheeks warmed again, the tiny response tingling as it went through her flesh. She worried her lower lip as she found herself staring back at him, unable to break the connection. He actually frowned before looking away. Her pride bristled, the hot stain on her cheeks annoying.

How could she blush for him?

And why did he find her unpleasing?

Her anger stunned her, numbing her mind as she tried to decide why she cared what the man thought of her. If he found her ugly, all the better. It would certainly make avoiding the bedding easier.

Yet she could not deny the surge of disappointment that went through her. It was as real as the kilt-wearing men near her. Quite unexpected but still a firm reality.

“The two of you will just have to wait.”

There was a male chuckle as the earl’s brother returned leading her mare. He smirked at her while offering her a hand to mount. Anne reached for the saddle horn instead, lodging one foot in the stirrup and pushing her body up into the air on her own.

Humph, she’d be very well and good on her own.

“Well now, I’ve never seen an English lady who could do that. Maybe my brother made a better choice than he thinks.”

Looking down at the Scot, Anne was tempted to flip her veil back so that he might see the frown she was aiming at him. It was another impulse, one that was very hard to resist. She found the man grinning from ear to ear, his sky blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Her anger fled as she noted how much he reminded her of Bonnie.

“You know a great deal about English women, do you?”

His lips lowered into a pensive line. “I’ve attended yer queen’s court with my brother, so aye, I know a wee bit.” His eyes flickered with something that looked like distrust. “Ye’re not exactly what I expected when my brother told me we were off to fetch ye home.”

He looked at her with a critical eye that made her wonder just what she was lacking in his opinion.

“As we are strangers, I declined to form any opinions of you or your brother before I met you both.”

One of his eyebrows rose. A soft scoff pasted his lips and his eyes glittered with amusement.

“Och well, there’s a tone I recall well. Ye English lasses must be descended from Valkyries because ye have the north wind living inside ye. Icy as snow ye are when ye’re of the mind to freeze a man with your words.”

Anne bit back an apology. Philipa’s words rose above her impulse. Becoming too familiar with any of these men was unwise considering the precarious position of her family. Still, she was not the one casting rude comments about. No matter the situation, she was not weak willed.

“My name is Cullen.” He offered her a folded cloth. “Here’s something to eat. It’s a two-day ride to Sterling castle. Ye’ll need yer strength.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was low as she took the offering. Cullen hooked a leather cord attached to a full wine skin over the saddle horn. Her cheeks heated again, this time in shame for being so outspoken. She shouldn’t allow Philipa to turn her into a bitter-hearted person. But she held her comments, sealing them behind her lips for fear of what might yet happen to her family. She had to play her role, at least until her sire discovered her plight.

Cullen nodded. “Welcome to the family.”

His voice was gruff. She deserved it for being so haughty. Regret pierced her as he walked toward his own horse. She had regret for so many things that weren’t in her power to change. Everything about where she found herself was frustrating. She’d heard a lot of sermons on kindness being the key to unlocking good solutions, but today she was hard-pressed to figure a way to deal with her dilemma in a Christian way.

There was nothing virtuous about her position. It was steeped in sin and the stain was smearing with each word she spoke. Philipa had truly poisoned herself with hatred because no woman with a heart could send someone into such a situation.

But being correct didn’t help her. All of her reasoning and justifications of being the victim failed to fend off the guilt chewing on her. Truly, speaking to the saints was unlikely to bring her any help. Not when she considered that all of those holy figures had martyred themselves rather than act unchristian.

Even knowing that didn’t open her lips. She kept them sealed and sat, firmly resolved to play her assigned role as the earl motioned them forward.

Her counterfeit role.

T
he earl didn’t call a halt to their travel until the sun was almost gone. Only a pink stain colored the horizon when his hand rose and the horses all stopped. His men seemed to know exactly what his gesture meant because they dismounted and began making camp.

The spot he’d chosen was sheltered in trees, their branches forming a camouflage of sorts. There were few leaves on them but several large boulders rose up out of the earth to join them. One rock was smudged with dark black soot. Two of the retainers set about building a small fire in the same spot, while another couple of men gathered up the horses. They removed the bits from the mouths of their mounts, but made sure each bridle was secure. They knotted a length of rope to each bridle draping several feet between each horse to keep them from wandering apart during the night. One man climbed up onto the rock outcroppings, propping his back against some of the tree branches. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and propped it against one thigh.

The rest of the men talked in low voices but she couldn’t miss the lightness of their tones. There was also the distinct Scottish sound to their words. Loneliness clamped around her like a steel vise, tightening with each foreign detail she noticed. With a sigh she turned and walked toward the river. She could hear the water rushing and babbling but it wasn’t in sight. She had to walk over a rise and the water was below her. Paying close attention to her footing, she made her way down the slope. The wine skin hadn’t been filled with sweet wine but water. Still it had been welcome as her lips dried out in the winter air. Propping a foot on a rock, she was mindful to toss her skirts over her thigh before leaning down to refill the skin. The night air brushed her bare skin above the edge of the knitted stocking, raising gooseflesh. Once full, she straightened up, placing both feet firmly back on the bank. Giving the top a twist she secured it before looking up.

She gasped as she came face to face with the earl. He was only two feet behind her, his huge body impossibly large. She jumped away from him without considering how close the river was. Her heels sank into the moist soil, the wine skin dropping into the mud as she tottered off balance.

His hand snaked out, capturing her wrist. Warm, hard fingers curled around her limb, jerking her away from the river. She slammed into his chest, unsure if she wouldn’t have preferred the cold water behind her. Her eyes widened as his arm slid right around her back, securing her in place.

“Are ye actually intent on running off into the night?”

There was no mistaking the anger that colored his voice. He frowned at her, distrust etched into his face.

“I simply wanted to refill the skin.”

He snorted at her. “And ye just did that little chore without telling anyone where ye were going. Slipping off into the darkness quiet as may be.”

“I certainly didn’t think of it like that.”

But she should have. It was another error. Mary would have sent someone to fill the skin, never mind that there were the horses to tend to.

“I’d appreciate ye staying with my men. We don’t need to be fetching ye away from the men of any other clans that stumble upon ye without escort. If ye’ve no care for the harm they might do ye, have a bit of concern for the blood that will be spilt when we have to fight to take ye back.”

Her mouth formed a little round expression of horror. “I want no one fighting over me.”

His face was as serious as an executioner. “Be very sure of that. I dinnae let anyone take what is mine, madam. Run away and I’ll fetch ye back.”

His words were as hard and unrelenting as the arm binding her to him.

“I wasn’t fleeing.”

He snorted, clearly doubting her. Anne snapped her lips shut because her temper was rising. Labeling him a presumptuous clod wouldn’t help matters. However, she could at least take solace in the fact that insulting him was definitely something Mary would have done. His lips pressed tightly together as she failed to answer.

“Are ye ever going to take that thing off yer head? I thought it was against the law to be a nun in England.”

Anne raised her chin to find the earl frowning at her again. His eyes were a darker blue than his brother’s.

Midnight eyes…

She shivered, a chill shooting down her spine. His eyes narrowed as the hand pressing across her back felt the ripple of reaction. Heat bled across her cheeks once again as she inhaled the scent of his skin. Her belly suddenly tightened with the oddest sensation. With a hard shove she tried to escape from his hold.

He scoffed at her. A soft sound of male disgruntlement. “Since ye’ve been at court, I don’t see the need for feigning innocence, Mary. I’m nae the first man that’s held you.”

Her eyes widened as he retained his hold. His arm was like steel, binding her to his body.

How presumptuous.
“I pretend nothing, sir.”

His gaze narrowed once more. A moment later her French hood was tugged off her head, pulling her hair as he plucked it free. He studied her face for a long moment before releasing her.

“I’ll be the judge of that matter myself.”

One foot plunged into the mud as she placed distance between them. A flicker of amusement entered his eyes as he stood blocking her path, using the river and his larger size to keep her at his mercy.

“If ye’ve become accustomed to loose morals at yer English court, best ye ken that I will not be shamed.”

Her chin lifted, no amount of better judgment interfering. “You’ve made yourself clear.”

She pushed past him, uncaring of how close she was to his body anymore. There were very few things she had the right to call her own, but she wasn’t a lightskirt.

“Good.” Command edged his voice. He followed her up the bank. “It pleases me to find yer face beneath that veil instead of a courtesan’s, all covered in paint.”

He reached out, stroking a finger over one of her cheeks. “Aye, I am pleased.”

She shivered again, this time in some odd response to the way his tone had softened. He was no longer angry with her.

Anne turned quickly to hide the strange reaction from his keen stare. Her face was hot where he’d touched it, the skin oddly alive with sensation. There was a part of her that liked hearing that he approved of her. A man such as he was far above any that she might hope to have of her own.

“Face me, Mary.”

Hearing her half-sister’s name was like icy water being tossed onto her feet. She turned slowly, struggling to conceal her emotions before facing him once more. This man would not take being deceived very well. Now that her face veil was gone, she needed to be more attentive to concealing her feelings.

“I’ve no taste for timid women.”

The gruff tone of his voice annoyed her once again. “You may always return me home.” She looked at the ground, doing her best to look like a coward. For one brief moment hope flickered in her heart that he might reject her.

“You should take me to my father. He is returned to court.”

A hard hand cupped her chin, raising it to lock stares with him. “It’s clear you’ve been at court. That place is ripe with schemes.” His lips lost their hard line as he stepped up closer holding her jaw in a firm grip. “Do I really look like a man who would cry surrender so soon after greeting ye?” He chuckled, the sound sending a quiver through her belly. His warm scent filled her head with each breath as he tilted his head so that his breath teased her lips.

“You dinnae know very much about Scotsmen, Wife. We’re nae intimidated by a few cold glances. In Scotland, we’re more practiced in the arts of warming up our women.”

He touched his mouth to hers and she jerked away from the contact. It burned clear through her, all the way to her toes. Her freedom was short-lived. With a twist of his larger body, he snaked an arm around her waist. He moved toward her in the same moment, surrounding her and pinning her against his hard body.

“Now that won’t do.” He pulled her flush against his frame, tight enough to feel his heart beating. His gaze settled onto her mouth as he slipped a hand up the back of her neck to hold her head. “It won’t do at all. Kissing my new wife is something I’m nae in the mood to miss.”

He touched his mouth to hers again, this time slowly. She twisted in his embrace, too many impulses shooting along her body to understand. The few kisses in her past had been stolen ones and brief. Brodick lingered over her mouth, gently tasting her lips before pressing her jaw to open for a deeper touch. His embrace imprisoned her but not painfully. He seemed to understand his strength perfectly, keeping her against him with exactly enough force, but stopping short of causing her pain.

She shivered as the tip of his tongued glided across her lower lip. Sensation rippled down her spine as she gasped in shock. Never once had she thought that a touch might be so intense. Her hands were flattened against his chest and her fingertips were alive with new desires. Touching him felt good. She opened her fingers wider, letting them smooth over the hard ridges of muscles that his open doublet had allowed her to see. Pleasure moved through her in a slow cloud that left a haze over her mind. Forming thoughts became slow and cumbersome as he teased her upper lip, tasting her.

“Much better.”

His eyes were full of male enjoyment now. It was mesmerizing, so much so, she stared at him, forgetting that keeping him at arm’s length was in her best interest.

“I see the pair of you dinnae seem to be interested in supper.”

Cullen’s voice was full of glee. Anne felt her eyes widen in horror. She pushed against the hard chest beneath her fingers. Brodick frowned, a dangerous look entering his eyes. His arms released her a moment later as he turned to glare at his brother.

“You don’t look like my manservant.”

Cullen smiled like a boy. “You don’t have one.”

“Oh, but I do, Cullen. Ye see, the man is wise enough to be invisible—like ye should be.”

Cullen began walking toward them in spite of the growl in his brother’s voice. He winked at her as he drew closer.

“Now is that any way to act in front of the English lass here? She’ll be thinking we’re uncivilized.”

Brodick snorted. Anne stared at him, trying to decide if she’d really heard such a sound from an earl. “Most English think the word Scots means uncivilized.”

The earl looked back at her, his words sounding like a challenge. His lips were set in an arrogant expression of enjoyment. The man wasn’t sorry about stealing that kiss. Not one bit.

“No one might label you indecisive, that much is for certain.” Anne glared at him, unsure if she should be annoyed at him for being so bold or herself for enjoying it.

Cullen laughed his amusement out loud against the darkening night. “Are ye sure ye want to keep her, Brother? I think I like her.”

Brodick lifted one dark eyebrow as he clasped his arms over his chest. He looked more formidable than Goliath must have—a mountain of undefeatable muscle and brawn.

“I was working on getting to know her when ye so rudely interrupted.”

“Och well, ye can let the lass have some supper before ye get around to consummating yer union.”

Shock slammed into her as she listened to the word “consummate.”

“Surely not tonight!” She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her body. “Not here!”

Brodick returned to brooding, suspicion coating his features.

“What reason would ye have for denying me, Wife?”

She was in dangerous waters now, that place that she had fretted about all day. How did she put the man off when he held all the legal right to claim her? Brodick’s gaze shifted to her mouth for a moment, and the tender skin on her lips tingled. Her hand rose to cover them as she tried to understand why his kiss had been so pleasurable.

“Ye didn’t seem to be minding all that much when I was kissing ye.” He stepped closer and she shivered, the damned impulse sending a ripple along her spine in spite of her need to think of a way to avoid his touch.

“Maybe the trail doesn’t meet yer standards, my lady.” His voice was full of mocking scorn now. The Scot in him was clearly offended that she didn’t care for his country. “Perhaps it’s too primitive.”

“I find your country quite pleasing but there are standards expected and we must make sure to follow traditions.” Her mind was working frantically as she held a hand out in front of her. “Yes, traditions.”

“I heard ye the first time.”

Taking a deep breath she forced her heart to stop racing while she considered her next words. “My lord, I meant no inconvenience; however, I have but one maidenhead and must be careful that it is intact for my husband.”

“I am yer husband.” He stepped toward her, his arms uncrossing.

Anne held her chin high, refusing to cower. Little David had felled Goliath after all.

“Yet, I have not been inspected and it is possible that after that task is seen to, you may wish to rethink our union.”

A smirk appeared on Brodick’s face. “Well lass, that’s exactly what I was getting to doing when my brother showed up. I’ll be happy to inspect every bit of ye. Personally.”

Cullen frowned, his face darkening. It almost looked as though he might be jealous.

“Now that is ludicrous.”

“I disagree.” The earl was back in full commanding form now. “I believe that inspecting my bride has full merit.”

“I’ll not be inspected by you.”

“And why not?” He glared at her as formidable as she’d always heard Scotsmen were. This was not a man who would bend simply because she told him no.

Anne stiffened. “Because you are not a midwife. What could you possibly know about a woman’s body?”

His lips twitched up again as his attention dropped to her chest. Heat snaked along her skin until it touched her breasts behind her stays. Her nipples actually tingled as her lips had done. A sudden picture of him kissing the tip of her breast blossomed inside her mind, sending a torrent of heat through her blood. It was heavy with dark temptation to allow him to do it, to discover if it felt as delightful as his kiss had against her lips.

“I assure ye I know a great deal about the gentle sex.”