by Paula Quinn
“I didn’t think ’twould smell this bad,” she finally admitted, sounding thoroughly repentant and looking a little sick to her stomach. She slipped her hand and the wet cloth down her shift and shivered. “I only thought to deter you because before we parted tonight, you seemed to want to…”
“I did.” He scowled at her. “But I dinna now.”
He wanted to be angry, offended, something, but how could he be? How was she supposed to know what to expect from a stranger? She had done her best to maintain her aloof resolve since she’d arrived. But things were beginning to sink in for her. He could see the panic in her eyes. She was afraid of staying here with him. He didn’t want her to be. He didn’t want to care how she felt, but he did.
“Ye need no’ have gone to the trooble,” he assured her and carried the linens to the door. He opened it, laid the linens to the side, and returned, shutting the door behind him. “I willna force myself on ye.”
“But”—her lashes fluttered and she looked away on a series of short, quick breaths—“you said you would have me.”
“Aye, but no’ by force, lass. Hell.”
“Do you vow it?”
“Aye.” He sat on the stripped bed. “I vow it.” It wasn’t difficult to make such a promise. He knew there were men outside of Camlochlin who would do such a thing. But he never had, and he never would. He hoped, since he was bound to Sina, that she would come to want him. He had no choice but to try to win her heart.
“You think lying together every night will be safe?” she asked doubtfully.
“’Twill be temptin’, nae doubt.” He lay back on his pillow. “But ’twill be safe. Contrary to what ye think, I’m no’ always a savage.”
She cast him the slightest of smiles—one of a handful he’d pulled from her today. Mayhap winning her wouldn’t be impossible. It was best for both of them. They didn’t need to love each other. They only needed to not hate each other.
“That remains to be seen,” she told him, turning the soft blush of her cheeks away when he smiled at her. “For now, I will trust your word.”
“So no more garlic?”
“No more garlic.” Her smile deepened and her dimple beguiled him senseless.
“Don’t we have more linens?” she asked, returning to the bed.
“We do, but I dinna know where they are kept.”
She looked down at him and shook her head. Then the rest of her shook as well. “Did you toss the blanket out as well?”
Aye, he had. It smelled foul. She was wet and there were drafts. He got out of bed for the third time and retrieved his great plaid from where he’d tossed it over his chair when last he wore it.
“This’ll warm ye.” He handed it to her and stepped around Goliath again while she spread it over the bed.
He waited while she climbed in next to him and pulled the plaid over herself before he blew the nearest candle out.
“Adam?”
He liked how his name sounded on her lips. “Aye?”
“What’s the significance of all the heather? It was in every home we entered. It fills every room in this castle, save for this one. Your mother said the men pick it.”
“Aye, they do.” He was glad she was curious about something, but the heather was a topic he preferred to avoid with a lass.
“Why do they pick it?” she prodded, her whispery voice saturating his flesh and bones. “Do they think it has magical properties?”
“Nae.” He smirked and turned to look at her head poking out of his plaid. “My kin believe ’tis a symbol of love. My grandsire started pickin’ it fer my grandmother many years ago. Now it has become a contest to see which man can pick the most heather withoot losin’ any blossoms. The winner is the man who loves his wife the most.”
They would soon expect him to start picking it. Hell.
Her smile brightened her eyes and tempted him to reach out and touch the gold tendrils falling over her cheek and forget everything but the softness of her skin. He hated admitting it, and he wouldn’t, but he longed for her.
“My kin are ridiculously romantic,” he warned playfully.
Her breath faltered on her lips. “Are they?”
When he nodded, her smile nearly stopped his breath. “I never would have imagined it.”
He turned his body atop his plaid to face her and nodded. “Aye, we are savage in battle, but at home we are taught from the literary works of Monmouth, Malory, and de Troyes, to name a few. D’ye know the tales of Arthur Pendragon and his Roond Table knights?”
“I’ve read some works here and there. Such tales are out of fashion now.” Her eyes and her smile widened; she was curious to hear more. “Do you know them?”
Of course he knew them. Everyone in Camlochlin did. She would come to learn them as well.
He told her the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight who went to Camelot to test Gawain’s adherence to the code of chivalry.
She appeared suitably horrified when the Green Knight’s head spoke after Gawain had cut it off.
She listened, watching Adam while he told her about Sir Gawain’s exploits and the choices the brave knight was forced to make, and how he failed to keep his word.
“But he did it for a noble purpose!” she defended, prompting Adam’s most tender smile. He liked that she looked deeper. He hadn’t expected it of her.
“Ye shake the foundations of my first impressions, lass.”
Dear God, she rattled him further with a grin that revealed not one, but two, dimples and made her beautiful eyes sparkle like faceted jewels in the candlelight.
“And you have shaken mine as well.”
His smile washed over her, and he thought that being bound to her might not be so terrible after all.
“What is the code of chivalry?” she asked, her heavy-lidded gaze drifting over his features.
“Honor,” he whispered, letting his gaze rove over her in return, “honesty, loyalty, and valor. But honor is the only one affected by the other three. Gawain lied to his generous host and he felt dishonorable because of it, even after he was forgiven.”
“Do you follow those codes, Adam?”
He blew out a short sigh, then looked off to the side while he thought about his answer. “I try to be true to myself. I’m loyal to my kin and I’ll be loyal to ye. I lack no courage. If an enemy came to Camlochlin, I would join my kin in battle and fight to the death if I had to. But if I must be dishonest to spare someone’s feelin’s, I can live with it.”
“Have you been honorable toward women?”
He quirked his mouth at her. He wouldn’t lie now. She wasn’t fool enough to believe anything contrary anyway. “No’ always. But I’ve always been honest with how I felt.”
She closed her eyes, and he thought she might have fallen asleep. But then her soft, satiny voice filled his ears…and some other dusty, old part of him. “And have you ever picked heather for anyone?”
He stared at her in the flickering light. He wanted to slip under the plaid with her and pull her into his arms. Her small, plump mouth tempted him beyond reason.
“Nae, Sina. I never have.”
And he thought he never would.
Mayhap he was wrong.
Chapter Eleven
Sina came awake to the faint scent of heather and mist filling her nostrils. She opened her eyes, finding her bed empty and herself clutching Adam’s pillow to her face.
Where was he? Had he left the bed in the night because of her foul smell?
Someone knocked on and then opened the door. Sina sat up when she saw one of the maids. She was an older woman, with cheeks as round as her hips. Her wool skirts swished across the floor as she stepped inside. Her gray hair was tied neatly beneath cap. “Good God, I dinna understand,” she cried, waving her arms about in front of her as if she were fighting off an unseen opponent. “Why does everything reek of garlic?”
Sina fought to keep from smiling. She had a feeling Adam would have laughed had he been here. He seeme
d to find humor in many things. Most of the time it was at her expense. But she would rather he smile than shout. And she knew she’d given him reasons to rant and treat her poorly. Save for tossing her over his shoulder, he’d been tender and patient. She didn’t want to go through this marriage for however long it was kicking and screaming against him. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She still didn’t belong here. She still missed Poppy and William. But her hope of a rescue was dwindling. These people were Anne’s cousins! Minds weren’t going to be changed. At least not now. Was it true? Were the people she’d called savages relatives of the queen?
“Does madam need to bathe?” the maid asked, throwing open the shutters. “I’ll bring ye some fresh rags and some warmed water, aye?”
Sina would love to bathe, and some of her gowns back at court would be nice too.
“I’ll have yer linens changed.”
“Thank you…?” Sina waited for her name.
“Teresa, madam.”
“Thank you, Teresa.” Sina smiled, drawing one from the maid to match. “Is there, by chance, a way to have breakfast brought up, as well?”
Teresa crinkled her nose at her. “Breakfast was hours ago. Midday meal is aboot to be served.”
Oh no! Sina took a step back and looked toward the windows. She’d slept until midday? What would the women here think of her? They would think she was lazy and…spoiled.
“I’ll have something brought to ye,” Teresa promised with a wink of her chestnut eye as she headed for the door. “D’ye have a change of clothes?”
Sina shook her head. “I have another gown, but I cannot find it.”
“Oh dear,” Teresa said, turning to give her one more looking-over. “Well I’m sure ’tis bein’ seen to. Leave yer nightdress on the floor ootside the door and I’ll come back fer it and have it washed.” She brushed her hand across her nose again, lifted a curious brow at Sina, and then left.
A little while later two more maids arrived. One carried fresh cloths for washing and a jug of warmed water to her basin. The other brought a bowl of rabbit stew and fresh bread.
“Would ye like help oot of yer gown, madam?” asked the ginger-haired maid setting down her bowl on the table. She sized up Sina’s body with resentful eyes.
Sina remembered her from the chapel as one of the women weeping.
Sina’s eyes slipped to the bed. She didn’t know why she felt a stab of jealousy that this woman had likely spent time there. She quickly composed herself. She didn’t care about his past—or about him, she reminded herself, and looked at the door. What if he came barreling in while she was washing? “Why are there no bolts on the door?”
“In Camlochlin,” the redhead told her, “only marriage chambers have bolts on the doors. No one is rushing to add yers.”
“Edith!” the second maid with the water jug admonished.
Sina wasn’t angry that no one was hurrying to add locks to her bedchamber door. But she was surprised that the women in the castle didn’t use better discretion. “Weren’t you afraid someone would walk in and see you?”
“See me what?” Edith’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “I have never been invited to this bed or any other bed in the castle belonging to the chief’s sons. No one has.”
“Frolickin’ in the future marriage beds of the chief’s handsome sons is highly frowned upon,” the second maid informed her. “What the lads do ootside of these walls is their own business.”
Sina glanced once more at the bare bed. This time, a warm trickle heated her belly. No other woman had been in it but her. It made the bed, the chamber, and the vows said before the priest more sacred. She didn’t want to think of any of it as such. If she did, she’d have to admit that consummating the union was now her duty.
She dismissed the idea and the maids with it, ate her stew, and then slipped out of her nightdress. Naked, she reached for Adam’s plaid on the bed to wrap around herself while she washed.
The door opened while she was stretched over the bed. When she saw Adam standing there, she gasped and straightened, pulling the plaid to her.
His gaze, though he looked as stunned as she, heated her flesh as he took in the full sight of her.
“Get out!” she commanded on a panic-stricken breath.
He went without quarrel, disappearing in an instant behind the door.
Dear God, he’d seen her naked! How would she face him? He was going to look at her differently now, wasn’t he? She felt ill…and a little warm.
Her blood raced through her veins while she thought about the way his eyes traced over her bare flesh, her bottom. Her face would never stop burning. She quickened her washing. He didn’t have to leave. It was his right as her husband to stay. She was thankful for his consideration, for giving up what was rightfully his.
She thought about all the things he told her last eve about honor and heather, and how he looked while he did it.
She thought about what would have happened if he refused to leave. If he’d come inside and taken her where she stood.
She cast a worried glance to the door. Her heart banged in her chest as if it were trying to escape. What was happening here? She couldn’t be feeling something for him. It was impossible! She loved someone else. Lust. That’s what it was. He was virile and handsome and thoughtful. Of course she was attracted to him. So was every woman who wasn’t his relative! She wouldn’t be hard on herself about it. She wasn’t made of stone. His playful smiles and his eyes laced in mystery and mischief affected her. She admired his dedication to his family in agreeing to bind himself to her. So what? It meant nothing.
She blinked to clear her head. The problem was that she was beginning to think of him more than she thought of William. She bit her lip and pinned her hair up off her neck.
He saw her naked and he left the room at her request. She could tell by the way his eyes took her in that her body didn’t displease him. He’d wanted to kiss her last night while they walked home, so she spread garlic all over herself to keep him away. She’d been afraid. Afraid of wanting him and giving up everything. But he stayed, and he wasn’t angry. Oh, damn it all. She did like him. A part of her even thought it quite romantic that he wanted her and fought his desire. He was completely different from the men at court. She couldn’t even imagine him there, towering over everyone else, dressed in garters and heels! She smiled, thinking how he would frighten everyone if they saw him in his plaid.
At first she thought him nothing more than a careless rogue, taking her as a wife just to have her in his bed. But she was discovering someone entirely different—someone who was beginning to tempt her toward a different life.
No! She was stronger than this! She wouldn’t be compelled so easily by another man’s charms. Even if those charms felt completely genuine.
But how long could she keep him from having her? How long did she want him to stay away? Was she willing to give up everything for a Highlander?
Sina stood at the entrance of Camlochlin’s great hall and looked around at the men inside. Where were all the women? The solar perhaps?
She turned to leave but spotted Adam amid the brawny, boisterous men of his clan.
Bathed in firelight, her groom stood out among the others. Light and shadow flickered across his features as his sober gaze drifted over the faces in the crowd. He declined a cup shoved at him by one of his relatives and rubbed his forehead.
Was he thinking about her naked body? Was he trying not to? She should run. But where would she go—to the cliffs? Was she mad? Of course she shouldn’t run. She’d never make it across, and even if she did, what then? She didn’t know which way to go, or where she was.
No, best to get this over now. She was stuck here, in his castle, in his bed. It was best to face what happened and carry on through it and never think of it again.
She waited while he opened his eyes and dipped them to the three hounds watching her.
Th
e instant Sina’s eyes met Ula’s, the dog bounded to her feet, tongue dangling from her open jaws, and cantered toward her.
Seeing her, Adam met her gaze and also moved forward.
She could do it. She could look him in the eye. She could ask him never to enter their bedchamber without knocking first. He would do it—for her.
“Ula,” he warned now before the dog reached her. Ula immediately slowed. She closed her mouth and pinned back her fluffy ears, making her eyes appear even bigger.
Sina was tempted to smile at her.
“Fergive me fer bargin’ in earlier.”
And just like that, she did. His apology was so unexpected that she lifted her eyes from Ula and let her dimple flash at him. “Thank you for leaving so quickly. I was quite embarrassed.”
A hint of admiration—and something teasing and intimate—sparked his eyes. “Bolts will be put on the door before we retire.”
Her belly flipped at unbidden thoughts of him bolting the door and stripping off her clothes—carrying her to his bed—the bolts were to keep him out, weren’t they? Perhaps she should use them tonight. How could she desire him? Was her heart that traitorous?
He let his gaze rove over her face and the crown of golden waves atop her head. “Ye look rested and…bonny.”
“What is ‘bonny’?” she asked, trying not to sound too affected by his warm, deep tone.
“Beautiful,” he told her, regarding her as if he meant it.
Careful, she reminded herself as her mouth went dry. He’s done this before. Remember the crying women in the chapel, the maid in your room. Remember William and how he needs you.
“Thank you,” she said, feigning detachment. “But you have seen me in a wrinkled dress for days now.”
He smiled and leaned in slightly, clouding her thoughts. “’Tis no’ the dress, woman. ’Tis ye.”
Her defenses faltered as his warm breath fragranced in mint, not whisky or ale, fell across her face, as his words and the rich, husky cadence of his voice stole over her ears.
“There ye are, Sina!” his sister called out as she approached from the south wing, saving Sina from having to respond and breathe at the same time.