Plaid to the Bone (3 page)

He grinned at her. “If ye feel yerself misused, ye have my leave to rise from that tub and try to convince me to go away. After all, when a man goes into a betrothal on naught but faith, he deserves a chance to see if he erred in making the bargain.”

Cait glared at him. She’d been wrong to worry. When the time came, she’d have no trouble sending this man to his reward. No trouble at all.

“Ye’ll have to take your bargain on faith for a bit longer yet,” Cait Grant said. She didn’t blush like a maiden. She glared at him like an English knight, intent on unhorsing him. “What do ye want to discuss that couldna wait until I’m decently clothed?”

“I dinna think ye need fret over your state of undress. We’re to be married, remember. Probably within a day or so if that Morgan MacRath of yours has anything to say about it.”

“He’s no’ mine,” she said with vehemence. “MacRath is my father’s factor.”

“Well, whoever’s interests he represents, he’s been most insistent that we make hurried preparations, but I told him as I’d like to get to know my bride a bit first.”

Adam followed the progress of a drop of water as it slid from her jawline down her neck and disappeared into the hollow between her breasts.
Lucky drop.

“Catching ye at your ablutions has answered a few of my questions,” he said with a quirk of a brow. “Are ye no’ the least bit curious about me?”

She jerked her gaze away from him and stared instead at the smoky peat fire. “We’ll be pledged to each other till death parts us,” she said stonily. “There ought to be sufficient time for us to get to know each other
after
the vows are spoken.”

“Brrr!” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “A man could freeze to death in your presence, milady.”

“A man who interrupts a maiden’s bath ought to.”

“Duly noted. I shall endeavor no’ to repeat this error. At least until such time as you are no longer a maiden.”

There. She finally blushed. The florid pink creeping up her neck and spreading over her cheeks probably clashed with her russet hair. At least he thought there was a reddish cast to the dark brown locks hanging wetly over her shoulders. And the blush proved the woman wasn’t made of stone after all.

“Tell me about yourself, Cait.”

The request seemed to surprise her for her gaze flicked toward him, then back to the fire.

“I’m the daughter of Wallace Gr—”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “Tell me something I dinna already know.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “What do ye ken of me then, so I’ll no’ be repeating the information? Heaven knows, I wouldna wish to bore ye to tears, milord.”

“I think ye ought to call me Adam, given the circumstances. And trust me. No man in the presence of a naked woman is bored.”

He wondered how long he’d have to wait until the last bit of foam disappeared from the surface of the water and all her secrets were laid bare. For now, he forced himself to focus on her face. “But here’s how your father’s emissary described ye to me. Young, sound of limb, likely to bear sons since your mother produced six, and finally—and this was a serious understatement, mind—the man said you were comely.”

Instead of accepting the compliment, she shot a dagger glare at him. “I’m surprised he didna tell ye my teeth are strong too.”

“Perhaps ye ought to have bitten him.”

He’d thought her scowl couldn’t get any worse, but she proved him wrong.

“I’m willing to believe there’s a bit more to ye than that short list of attributes,” Adam said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward to balance his elbows on his knees.

The scowl faded a bit. “Why?”

“Well, for one thing, he didna mention that ye were fearless.”

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly at that.

“I didna mean it for a compliment. The stunt ye pulled at the pillory this afternoon might have gotten your men killed and ye with them. Did ye no’ think of that?”

“Sometimes a body must simply do what she must, regardless of how things seem.” She turned to face him. “When something’s been laid upon ye, ye just have to do it.”

Something predatory and unfathomable flickered in the depths of her green eyes. Like a pike in the moat, darting out to snag one of the smaller fish in the dappled sunlight and disappearing again into the shadows before he could be sure he’d actually seen it.

Adam had rarely felt so challenged by a man’s intense gaze. Never by a woman’s. He wondered if he’d imagined that trick of light.

“Well, then I shall add ‘stubborn’ to what I know about ye.” When her brows drew together he was quick to add, “And I mean that in a good way. Knowing something must be done and doing it even when it’s hard is a commendable quality.”

She snorted. “It eases my heart to hear ye say so.”

“Sarcastic too. Not a trait often seen in wellborn women. Indicates strongly held opinions.” He had no doubt some solidly formed ones were rolling around in that very pretty head, but he didn’t want to discuss politics or religion with her. He wanted to know about the woman—the very prickly woman—herself. But he figured she’d resist direct questions. He’d have to perform a flanking maneuver. “Grant lands are far to the north. I’ve been that way a time or two. Have ye a favorite place thereabouts?”

She blinked several times. “Why would ye ask that?”

“My mother used to say if ye know the place someone loves, ye know them. So tell me. What place do ye love, Cait Grant?”

She swallowed hard, as if the question were difficult for her. “The sea,” she finally said. Her eyes took on a hazy, soft quality, and the wistfulness in the set of her lips made Adam’s chest constrict. “There’s a beach no’ far from my father’s stronghold where the waves dash upon the rocks and the mist rises to coat my cheeks and lashes till my eyes water.”

“If the place makes ye weep, that doesna sound verra pleasant.”

“Sometimes we weep when we are happy.”

“We? I’d ask if ye have a mouse in
your
pocket, but it seems ye have no pocket at the moment.”

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “
I
, then. Maybe I went to the beach hoping for a selkie lover.”

“A what?”

A look of incredulity danced across her features and he realized when she wasn’t scowling at him, Cait Grant was really quite breathtaking.

“Have ye no’ heard the tales of the selkies then?” she asked.

“No, but I’m willing to listen.” He grinned at her. “And I’m no’ going anywhere soon.”

She flicked him an annoyed frown, but warmed to her subject in any case. “A selkie is a magical creature, ye ken. Sometimes he’s a seal and sometimes a man. When he walks on two legs he’s said to be verra fine to look upon. And a selkie husband is much to be desired because he’s always kind to his human wife.”

For a moment, Adam wondered if her churlishness toward him was due to fear. A woman couldn’t count on kindness from a husband. Well, he could dispel that notion for her. Theirs might not be a love match, but he’d never mistreat her. “And did ye ever meet a selkie in that special place of yours?”

“No. The old tales say all a maid has to do is weep seven tears into the sea and it will call one, but it didna work.” Cait shook her head slowly. “For all the times the brine made my eyes water, I ought to have had a dozen selkie men tripping over their flippers to find me.”

He laughed at the image her words conjured up. “’Tis my good fortune they didna,” he said gallantly. He noticed then that her lips were tinged with blue. “Here. Let me warm your bath for ye.”

Adam crossed to the fireplace and retrieved the kettle that was filled with boiling water. Then he returned to the bath. The bubbles parted in some places and her pale flesh wavered beneath the surface, but she’d strategically wrapped an arm across her breasts and the other hand shielded her sex.

“Dinna move,” he said. “I dinna wish to scald ye.”

He tipped the kettle and poured a stream of steaming water into the bath, near, but not too near, the dimpled knee that broke the surface of the water like a small island rising from a foamy sea.

She sighed as the water temperature rose. “Thank ye. That’s kindly done.”

“Weel, I canna be outdone by a seal for kindness now, can I?”

“Ye’d do well not to aspire to the life of a selkie husband,” she said. “The tales always end badly. His wife has to hide his sealskin, ye see, so he willna return to the sea, but invariably, he always finds it and has to leave. They canna bide together long.”

“Weel, we dinna have to fret over that, lass,” Adam said. “As ye said, we’ll have till death parts us.”

She shivered.

“Are ye still cold?”

She shook her head, not meeting his gaze.

When he’d agreed to take Grant’s daughter to wife, he hadn’t expected much from the arrangement. A little respite from the political wrangling. The promise of peace, but nothing personal beyond the vague hope of an heir someday.

He realized now that he could have done far worse for a bride. Cait Grant was pretty, intelligent, and she knew some engaging stories. All fine things for warming a man’s winter evenings. His gaze dipped lower, marking the way a pert nipple was peeking between her fingers. She’d warm his bed well all year round. Even if he’d chosen a wife for himself, he could hardly have done better.

She, however, didn’t seem too pleased with her side of the bargain. Her father had been his enemy for so long, she’d probably heard tales about him that were giving her pause.

“Lass, I want to put your mind at ease. Ye have no reason to fear me, and I’ll see that ye never do.”

She met his gaze then, her eyes enormous. “Maybe ye should fear me,” she said in a small voice.

Adam laughed again, a little surprised by the number of times she’d managed to make him do that in the space of their short acquaintance. “Maybe I should, but I dinna think I will.”

He cupped the back of her head and bent to kiss her lips.

At first, he meant to only brush her mouth with his, but her lips were so soft, he lingered. She stiffened, but didn’t object. Then he felt her melt. Her lips parted and he dived into the warm wetness of her mouth.

Aye, she’d serve him well, and he’d endeavor to return the favor.

 

Cait’s world went wet and languid and almost unbearably sweet. When his tongue softly invaded her mouth, she welcomed it. She sensed he was bridling himself and an impatient part of her wished she could brush his caution away. It wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed before.

She supposed she had acted skittish. He probably figured there was no need to scare her off first thing.

She ought to be the one doing the scaring.

Go away, Adam Cameron,
she thought vehemently.
Can ye no’ feel the harm I intend toward ye?

Despite her furious thoughts of warning, her hands somehow found the linen of his shirt and tugged him closer. He deepened their kiss and set her insides dancing.

She ought not to let him kiss her. She ought to make him keep his distance. They ought not to even have speech with each other before the ceremony that would bind them together before God and man. There was no need for him to know her or her to know him. Even once they were wed, she’d counted on the candles being snuffed and the wedding night necessities being reduced to no more than a quick fumble in the dark.

An anonymous quick fumble. A joining of body parts with no corresponding meeting of hearts, minds, or souls.

That hope dissolved as Cait chased his tongue back into his mouth and he groaned with need. She let go of his shirt with one hand and reached up to stroke his hair. It was thick and abundant and soft as . . .

Oh, why had she told him about the selkies? That was such an old fantasy of hers, Cait had no idea why it had popped back into her head. It had been foolish then. It was even more ludicrous now.

She’d been so very young when she started dreaming of a selkie who would come for her and take her away from the Grant stronghold. Away from the angry voice of her father. Away from the muffled sobs of her mother. Away from the puffy lips and swollen eyes and the constant whispers about how clumsy the lady must be since she tripped and hurt herself so often.

Cait never saw her mother fall. She always moved with quiet grace and dignity. Her mother hid her bruises, but she couldn’t hide the winces of pain if Cait happened to touch her arm or try to give her a hug.

A selkie would never let his wife injure herself like that.

When her mother died, Cait had crept away to that place by the sea whenever she could. At first she wept every day, hoping a selkie would come for her. Finally, she gave up hoping and just let the stark beauty of the place fill up the empty space in her soul.

And spent the rest of her days slavishly devoted to pleasing her father, the only parent left to her, and the one she never seemed able to satisfy.

Until she’d agreed to wed and then murder the laird of Bonniebroch.

Adam Cameron’s mouth slanted over hers. The kiss was a question and he made her body answer. A hot rush of something dark and delicious warmed her belly.

Damn the man.
She shouldn’t have given him a glimpse into her secret place by the sea. She shouldn’t have told him about the selkies. She shouldn’t let his breath take up residence in her body and wrap itself around her insides.

She’d come to Bonniebroch to do the man to death. She couldn’t afford to let honeyed kisses or that strange warmth pooling between her legs distract her.