“Let me show you your chamber,” his aunt said, and gently but firmly pulled Margaret toward the opposite door.
Margaret barely had time to duck her head under the low doorway before she found herself in a tidy chamber with a vase of flowers on a small ledge above the bed and a view of the sea from a window in the thick castle wall.
“What a cozy chamber!” Margaret’s immediate delight with the room faded as she realized she would be sharing it with Finn. Now the small chamber seemed cramped rather than cozy—and it had only one bed. “’Tis lovely. Thank you, Countess.”
“You can call me Helen,” his aunt said, giving her a friendly smile. “I’m glad the chamber pleases ye, Maggie.”
“This is all very kind of you,” Margaret said.
“You’re a lucky lass to catch Finn,” Helen said with a conspiratorial wink as Finn joined them. “Many a lass has tried. I worried this one would never settle down.”
“I never thought I would,” Finn said, and pulled Margaret against his side. “Maggie certainly surprised me.”
She had indeed, and his cheerful countenance did not fool her that he was pleased about it.
“Make the most of these early days of your marriage,” Helen said, then added with a glint in her eyes, “and the nights.”
Margaret avoided looking at Finn.
“Oh, I intend to enjoy my bride quite thoroughly,” Finn said, and nuzzled Margaret’s neck.
“I’ll be off, then,” Helen said, then she looked at Finn and nodded toward the door, indicating she wanted a private word.
Finn followed his aunt into the stairwell, but he did not quite close the door. Margaret could not help that, if she stood close to it, she could hear every word.
“If ye were ready to wed,” Helen said, “ye should have asked me to find ye a bride.”
“Ye think I needed help?” Finn asked in an amused tone.
“She’s a charming lass, and I wish ye well,” Helen said. “But after your foolishness with the Sinclairs, a wife from a solid Gordon—or even a Sutherland—family of unquestioned loyalty would have gone a long way to smooth your path.”
“There wasn’t a Gordon or Sutherland lass I wanted to wed,” Finn said. “And what’s done is done.”
“Ye know I’m verra fond of ye,” his aunt said, “but it will be no easy task to win your place here. The men are suspicious.”
“I know they are,” Finn said. “I’m grateful my uncle seems willing to give me a chance to prove myself.”
“He won’t give ye a second one,” she said. “So there can be no running off again!”
When Margaret heard Helen going down the stairs, she braced herself to face Finn. Before he had a chance to confront her about her tale of being handfasted, however, servants came up the stairs carrying wine, bowls of savory soup, and a platter with cheese, sliced pork, oatcakes, and honeyed nuts.
Finn instructed them to set the food and drink out in Una’s chamber, which was no bigger but had a small table between the two cots. Margaret could barely eat, but Finn and Ella ate as if it was their last meal. When they were finished, Una turned to Ella.
“I’d wager this wee lassie would like to hear a story about trouble Finn got into when he was a bairn,” Una said. “Ach, he got into so much mischief ’tis hard to know which tale to start with.”
Ella crawled into Una’s lap, the deserter.
“There’s no need for ye to keep Ella,” Margaret said. “She can sleep in our chamber.”
“Nay, we need our privacy, being newlyweds and all, mo leannain,” Finn said as he pulled Margaret to her feet. “Fair warning, Una. Ye may need to hold the pillow over your head tonight to sleep through my wife’s screams of pleasure.”
The elderly nursemaid slapped Finn’s arm. “I’ve known this charming devil since he was a lad, and he’s not half as bad as he seems,” she told Margaret. “Don’t fret over Ella. I’ll take good care of this sweet bairn.”
Before Margaret could argue, Finn pulled her into their chamber, closed the door, and stood in front of it with his arms folded. The time for reckoning had come.
“What made ye say we’re handfasted?” he asked, raising one black eyebrow.
“What made you attempt to paint me as a woman who was willing to sell myself?”
“I said it because no one would believe I hadn’t bedded ye when we’d traveled together,” he said.
“Women find ye that irresistible, do they?”
“Anyone would think a lass who was willing to travel alone with a man would also be willing to share his bed,” he said. “By saying ye were a desperate widow, I put the best face on it I could.”
“Nay, I put the best face on it,” she said. “I couldn’t have your mother, of all people, thinking ye brought a prostitute home to the family. Don’t ye care what she thinks of ye?”
“My mother wants to believe the worst in me.” He blew out his breath and spread his arms. “I don’t know why I feel compelled to find out if she actually will, as she always does.”
“So ye make sure she does,” Margaret said.
“Don’t be angry with me about that.” He gave her that smile that probably got him extra sweets when he was a bairn—and sexual favors later on. “I’m sorry I insulted ye, but it would never have occurred to me to say we were wed.”
Would never have occurred to him. As apologies went, that was not a very good one.
Finn lifted her to sit on the bed and took her hands between his. “Ye do know what handfasting is?”
“’Tis a Highland custom whereby a couple enters a trial marriage by making vows to each other,” she said. “They have a year and a day to change their minds and dissolve the marriage if they wish.”
“So ye did know what ye were doing.” He heaved a sigh. “I suppose it could be worse. Ye could have said our marriage was blessed by the church. Then we’d be bound forever.”
“Being blessed by the church did not ensure my marriage was forever,” she said, folding her arms.
“Well, I’m no rich Lowland nobleman, so there would be no getting out of it.”
Finn obviously thought being bound to her for life would be the worst possible fate that could befall him. That should not irritate her, as marriage would be the worst possible thing for her as well. All the same, it did.
“’Tis all a lie anyway, so what does it matter?” she said.
“What matters is that ye convinced everyone else of your lie. So here we are, m' eudail,” my treasure, he said with a slow smile and a devilish twinkle in his eye, “forced to share a bed.”
Margaret’s skin felt hot under his gaze. She never should have kissed him this morning. Never should have let him touch her like he did. Never should have run her hands over his chest or clutched his hair in her fingers. Because now, when he was looking at her like this, all she could think about was how wonderful it felt to have his mouth on hers and his hard, muscular body pressing her against the tree.
It had been a grave mistake to initiate that kiss. Yet, try as she might, she could not persuade herself to regret it. The memory drew her body toward his, as if pulled by a rope.
Rap, rap, rap.
The knock at the door saved her from herself. This time the servants arrived with a tub and buckets of steaming water, breaking the spell Finn cast over her and giving her a chance to come to her senses. She shook her head, determined not to let it happen again
###
Finn never thought he’d like being married—but playing at it definitely had its advantages.
Now that he and Margaret were sharing a chamber—and a bed—he was certain they would make love tonight. After the way passion exploded between them with their first kiss outside of Huntly Castle, there was no denying the attraction between them. Ach, Margaret had been on fire in his arms. Sharing such close quarters, it was inevitable they would be lovers.
He was more than ready to get naked, but he understood now he must go slowly and give her time. Margaret wa
s a cautious woman who liked to keep a tight rein on her emotions, and that explosion of passion between them had frightened her. It sure as hell had surprised him.
“You can bathe first,” he said after the servants left them alone. “I’ll wash your back for ye.”
“I can manage on my own, thank you,” she said, giving him an amused smile.
Finn stretched out on his side on the bed, propped his head on his elbow, and watched her through the steam rising from the tub between them. This bath would be his undoing. And he was looking forward to it.
“You’re not staying in this room while I bathe,” Margaret said. “You can wait in Una’s chamber.”
“If the household is to believe we’re newlyweds, I’m afraid I must stay.” He gave her a wide smile. “Una is a wonderful nursemaid, but a dreadful gossip.”
She rolled her eyes. “Turn around then and promise not to look.”
“Ye can’t mean it,” he groaned. When she did not relent, he reluctantly rolled onto his other side and faced the wall.
“Wait,” she said, causing his hope to rise—along with his cock. “Could ye unhook my gown first?”
He leaped to his feet. After sweeping her hair to the side, he slowly unfastened the first hook. Who knew the nape of her neck could be so irresistible? He had to fight the urge to press his lips there. As he slid his fingers along her skin from hook to hook down her back, her breathing grew shallow, and he smiled. He was not alone in being affected by their closeness.
“With all your experience,” she said, “I thought you’d be quicker at this.”
“Some things are better savored,” he breathed in her ear.
She shivered beneath his fingers as he slid the gown off her shoulders, and he thought perhaps she would let him wash her after all…
But, alas, she turned around holding the loosened bodice over her breasts and said, “I can do the rest myself.”
He heaved a loud sigh and stretched out on the bed again—facing the wall. The next half-hour was pure torture as his imagination filled in what he could not see. He heard the rustle of her gown as she slipped it down her body and the soft whoosh as it hit the floor. His pulse raced as he envisioned how the candlelight would reveal her silhouette beneath the thin fabric of her shift.
What would she do next? Probably sit on the stool and remove her stockings with one long leg crossed over the other. He was already breathing hard when he heard her step into the tub. His heart nearly stopped at the sound of another soft whoosh and he envisioned her pulling her shift over her head and tossing it on the stool.
She paused then, making him wonder if the water was too hot. Things were certainly too hot where he was. In his mind’s eye, he saw her standing in the tub with the steam rising up her long, slender legs. Knowing how modest she was, Margaret would be holding one hand over the juncture between her legs and her other arm across her breasts, which only had the effect of adding to the allure of the image.
Before he could continue his mental journey over her naked form, she sank into the water with a deep sigh. He hoped to make her sigh like that many times before this night was over. Mesmerized by the light trickle hitting the tub of water, he imagined her squeezing the sponge. She would run it down her arms and then along her throat, causing beads of water to stream down the valley between her breasts with their tips rosy from the heat.
The next time, she would let him bathe her, and he would kiss those rosy tips…run the sponge down the length of her leg…suck on her wet toes…pleasure her with his hand and watch her come. Aye, it had to happen. He was sweating and lightheaded from all the blood rushing to his cock when her voice interrupted his daydream.
“Oh my, that was lovely.”
She had no idea.
“’Tis your turn,” she said. “The servants left another bucket of hot water. I’ll pour it into warm the bath up for ye.”
What he needed was a dip in an icy loch. Nay, he needed her with him in the tub. Or on the bed. Or on the floor. Or against the wall.
When he turned around and saw her, his heart did a flip in his chest. She had donned the simple night shift the servants had brought for her. Though it revealed nothing but her pretty bare feet and ankles, just knowing she was naked beneath it nearly killed him. And she smelled like heaven.
Jesu, he was not strong enough to survive this.
###
“I don’t mind if ye wish to watch me bathe.” With that devilish glint in his eye, Finn unfastened his belt, let it fall to the floor, and started to pull his tunic and shirt over his head.
Margaret whirled around before she caught an eyeful of brawny, naked Highlander. Though she was tempted to watch him bathe, Finn would take it as encouragement that she would do what she absolutely could not allow herself to do tonight.
Still, she could not help but wonder if he was as beautiful without his clothes as he was with them. If she turned her head to look out the window and happened to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, that would not be the same as actually watching him…
“You’re peeking,” he said.
“I’m not,” she said, and fixed her gaze straight ahead again. “I was concerned ye might be flooding the floor.”
For a man who could sneak into a cottage without making a sound, he seemed intent on making certain she was aware of his every motion by splashing in the tub.
“I’m out,” he said after a while. “’Tis safe to look now.”
She turned around and swallowed hard. Nay, it most certainly was not safe to look.
Drops of water glistened on his sooty eyelashes and fell from his black hair in tantalizing rivulets down his muscular shoulders and broad chest. More drops glistened on the hair on his abdomen above the drying cloth he’d slung low around his hips.
“Shall I take this off so ye can have a better look?” he asked, giving the drying cloth a slight tug.
Her cheeks burned hot and her gaze flew to his face. He wore a wide grin.
“If you’re done staring,” he said, “ye can hand me that clean léine my aunt sent up.”
“I wasn’t staring,” she said. “I merely wondered why ye did such a poor job of drying yourself.”
“Do ye have any notion what a poor liar ye are?” he asked with a laugh.
She held the shirt out to him and turned her head as he dropped the drying cloth.
When she looked again, he had donned the léine, the loose linen shirt Highlanders wore, which hung to his mid-thighs, clung to his damp skin, and exposed an expanse of his chest through the gap down the front.
“Sit on the stool and let me comb your hair for ye,” he said.
Finn’s offer seemed harmless—and she would not have to struggle to keep her eyes off him while he stood behind her—so she sat down and handed him the comb.
Harmless? Heavens, no. Margaret could not help the occasional sigh as Finn took his time, combing with smooth, rhythmic strokes that he drew out and lengthened. She was surprised by how intimate it felt to have Finn do this for her. In five years of marriage, William never had. It never would have occurred to him. She was the one who was always expected to cater to him.
“Your hair is the color of moonlight shimmering across a loch on a clear night,” Finn said as he paused to let strands of her hair slide through his fingers.
When Finn began massaging her temples, her eyes fluttered closed. Don’t stop, she silently pleaded, because it felt so good. She felt the whisper of his breath on the side of her neck, followed by his lips, a soft touch that caused a tantalizing thrill and made her nipples tighten. She tensed with delicious anticipation as he continued down her throat toward her breasts…
Good heavens! She opened her eyes with a start as she suddenly recalled how quickly she lost her head the first time they kissed—and ended up with her skirts around her waist and her back against a tree. She sprang to her feet and spun around to face him.
“Are ye ready to go to bed, leannain?” he asked, and ran
his hands down her arms, a gesture that made it difficult for her to breathe.
“Aye, ’tis getting late,” she said, her voice coming out unnaturally high.
She opened her mouth to ask which side of the bed he preferred, but the words died on her lips when he cupped her face between his large hands and leaned down to kiss her. Her will to resist him slipped away and her body bent toward his.
Instead of hot and demanding like the last time, these were slow, sensuous kisses that made her feel drugged, bewitched. Her head fell back, and her mind could focus on nothing but the journey of his lips and tongue as they traveled along her jaw, below her ear, and down the side of her throat. He lifted her onto the bed and enfolded her in his arms, then his mouth was on hers in another smoldering kiss that left her head spinning.
He paused to lean over her, his deep blue eyes dark with desire, and brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead with his fingers.
“I’m beginning to think,” he said in a hoarse voice, “that telling everyone we are handfasted was a verra good idea after all.”
She wanted to pull him down into another mindless kiss, to not think of risks and consequences. She’d never been kissed like that before, where time seemed to stop, and it felt as if he wanted to kiss her forever. But time did not stop. She knew where Finn expected these kisses to lead—where they would inevitably take them—and she could not let herself go there.
“We can’t do this,” she forced herself to say, and pressed her palms against his chest.
His brows shot up. “Why not?”
“Because we’re not truly wed,” she said, though that was not the reason that stopped her.
“If we must act as if we are,” he said, “we ought to have the one benefit of this pretense of a marriage.”
“But it is only a pretense,” she said.
“M' eudail,” my treasure, he said, giving her a wicked smile that made her stomach flip, “ye cannot truly believe the two of us can share this chamber—this bed—and not enjoy ourselves in it.”
“Of course I can,” she said. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Kidnapped by a Rogue, kindle Page 14