by Louise Clark
The woman sharing my bed. The phrase, with all of the subtle implications they’d argued about last night, snapped Thea out of her pleasure-induced haze. She caught his hand to still the idle, seductive caress. “James, I need to talk to you.”
He didn’t move, beyond raising one questioning brow. “I am at your disposal, madam.”
Now that the moment had come, Thea couldn’t make the words come out. “James, I…”
Gently, he freed his hand, drawing it down to her shoulders. Feeling the tense muscles there, he kneaded her flesh. Thea felt a flash of pleasure and sighed, arching into his touch.
“You want to talk about our journey to Glenmuir.” He smiled at her surprised expression. “You merely have to ask, my dear.”
“James, will you not reconsider? You have admitted that you do not know what to expect at Glenmuir. Why must we both go into a situation where the living conditions may be impossible…”
“There are dozens of people who rely on Glenmuir for everything in their lives. As I told you last night, Thea, they need the support of the clan leader.”
“They don’t need me!”
“Yes, they do.”
“James, I will come to Glenmuir eventually, but for now, until you know what the situation is, why not leave me here, where I will not be a burden to you.”
James smiled. “Believe me, Thea, you are not a burden to me.” He touched her cheek with his finger, then slowly ran the tip down her soft skin to her jawbone.
Her heart began to beat hard. “James…”
“I will not leave you here, Thea.” He flipped onto his back and put his hands behind his head. “The people of Glenmuir need both of us.”
“You said last night that the Duke of Cumberland’s army had burned Glenmuir, then raped the women and stolen the livestock. How do you think those people of yours will feel when the wife you bring from Edinburgh is not a fine Scotswoman, but one of the hated English?”
He lay silently, staring up at the bed hangings, his mouth set in a compressed line. Finally, he said, “I have thought of that. Do you think I did not take it into consideration before I offered to marry you?”
The pain caused by his words was sharp and jagged. It tore at Thea with the savagery of a deliberate, personal attack. “Perhaps then, you should have discussed the matter with me so that we could have avoided this stupid, impossible situation!” When she began, her voice was low and throbbing, but as she spoke it rose, until she spat out the last three emphatic words.
James swung out of bed in one little movement. Then he turned to face her. She knew the thin linen of her nightdress did little to hide her body, for James stared hungrily at her for a moment, then said roughly, “The issue of our residence was discussed, by my father and your father. Your family was well aware that you would be living at Glenmuir after your marriage.”
“But I was not!”
He put his hands on his hips. “That is immaterial.”
“On the contrary, James MacLonan! I will not be disposed of like some piece of unimportant furniture!” She leapt from the bed. “I make my own decisions and I choose not to go to Glenmuir with you!”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You are my wife and you will go.”
He looked very dangerous standing there, his eyes blazing and every muscle in his body tensed for battle. Thea glared at him, hating him for seducing her into liking him enough so that she had agreed to marry him, and for seducing her with his physical magic so that she was responding to the promise in his body even as they fought over the most basic element in their marriage. She lifted her chin defiantly. “You are making a mistake, James. Do not force me to go to Glenmuir with you.”
“I do not appreciate threats,” he gritted, glaring at her.
Thea opened her eyes wide. “Do you find me threatening, James?”
He opened his mouth to say something, then thought the better of it. Instead, he spun on his heel and marched furiously from the room.
Thea watched him go as she stood straight and stiff, but more fearful of the future than ever. James was implacable. As the door slammed shut behind him, she slumped, her hair falling around her face in a thick, golden veil. Soon she would begin a journey into a forbidding land whose people were hostile to everything she knew and understood. She would have no friends, no one she could confide in, no one to care about her well-being. Yesterday she would have scoffed at this thought, believing James would easily fill the role of friend, as well as husband.
Now she knew differently. Slowly she straightened again, then tossed her head, shifting her thick mane away from her face. Very well. They were married. She knew her duty. Despite her taunts, she would follow him north to his savage stronghold. She would make love with him, she would bear his children, she would be the dutiful wife he wanted.
But she would not be a fool and lose her heart to a man who could never return her affection.
*
When James stormed out of Thea’s room he had nothing more on his mind than putting some distance between himself and his wife before he lost complete control of his temper. He forgot to put on his night robe, and so strode into the hallway completely naked. There he practically knocked over Sir Frederick, who blinked and made a dismayed sound in his throat. The general was fully dressed, in the scarlet uniform coat and white breeches of the British infantry. The sight only added fuel to James’s rage.
Seething with unexpressed anger, James felt no embarrassment as he stood naked in front of his father-by-marriage. He didn’t bother to apologize for his appearance. Instead, he curtly ordered a hovering servant to summon his valet.
“Going out?” Sir Frederick asked, eyeing James warily.
“As soon as I am dressed,” James retorted shortly.
“You seem ratherâannoyed,” Tilton said cautiously. “Is there a problem?”
James glared at him. Over the past few days he had begun to like General Sir Frederick Tilton, despite his prejudices against the man’s profession and country, but right now he was in no mood to be pleasant to anyone in the Tilton family.
“Yes, there is a problem! Your daughter!”
Enlightenment and a certain male compassion dawned on Tilton’s face. “Ah, Thea! Yes, she can be somewhat trying at times.” He glanced down James’s naked form. “What’s she been up to now?”
“She refuses to travel to Glenmuir. She wants me to live here, in Edinburgh,” James stated wrathfully.
Tilton nodded. “I thought she might have some difficulty with that.”
James clamped his jaw shut to keep from observing that Tilton’s remarks were of no use whatsoever. Fortunately his manservant arrived at that moment, so he was able to retreat into his room without coming to blows with his host. However, as he slammed the door shut, he thought he heard Tilton chuckle. His simmering temper flared.
Once he was dressed, he knew he could not remain in the Tilton household where he was very likely to meet either Thea or her parents at any time. There was much that he needed to do before he left Edinburgh, so he decided to make use of the day rather than allow it to be devastated by the way it began.
A gusty wind whipped his cloak out behind him as he strode down the narrow wynd on which the Tilton residence was situated. He clutched at the worsted material, wrapping the long garment around his body. The day was cold and raw, with a hint of winter still in the air, although the precipitation that fell intermittently from the iron-gray sky was rain, not snow.
As he marched along the steep alley toward High Street, he cursed Edinburgh, the stink of human habitation that made walking a chore rather than a pleasant pastime, and the north wind that blew the fetid reek of the polluted North Loch into the city environs. Focusing on the disadvantages of life in Edinburgh allowed him to push his angry thoughts of Thea to the back of his mind, and walking, despite the odors that assailed his nostrils, helped dissipate the frustrated energy that plagued him.
The narrow wynd ended at High Street, the mai
n thoroughfare of Edinburgh, which led from Holyrood Palace, along the spine of the ridge on which the city perched, to the Castle at its summit. James found his footsteps heading down the slope, away from the Castle, toward Holyrood Palace. At the gates he paused, looking into the gardens at the pretty structure built more than two centuries before.
Memories assaulted him. Of the evening when Neil introduced him to Charles Edward Stuart, of the charm of the man, and his interest in a younger son who came as one of many to join the Prince’s cause. One of those people who possessed phenomenal memories, the Prince had been an expert at making every man believe he was valued for himself alone. In the glittering throng that surrounded the rebel leader, in which all the men dressed in their richest clothes, the Prince had stood out, regal, yet one of them. Wearing a fine tartan kilt and velvet jacket, with a tartan sash across his breast, and lace of the finest quality at his throat and wrists, he was the quintessential Highland warrior.
A fine memory to carry all these years, thought James cynically, his mood reflected in the cold sky and the wilted vegetation of the ornate gardens beyond the wrought iron gates. The Prince had been a master of illusion, putting on a fine performance for the faithful here in Edinburgh. An actor, a dreamer, a charmer of men, Charles Edward Stuart was all of these, but he was not a leader or a decision-maker, and that was what had defeated him in the end.
Impatient with himself, James turned away. Aimlessly walking, he entered a deserted alley. The past was gone. It was the present he must be concerned with now. And the present meant coming to terms with his wife and the life they would live together. The quarrel with Thea had been unfortunate, though perhaps necessary. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh in his demand that she journey with him to Glenmuir, but he’d been surprised at her expectation that they would remain in Edinburgh and he’d reacted quickly, as was his nature, instinctively doing what he must to ensure the survival of himself and his men.
Thinking in terms of survival in relation to his argument with Thea brought James to an abrupt halt in the middle of the narrow street. Without consciously admitting it to himself, he’d already come to rely on her presence. Her merry laugh, her clear, intelligent view on issues and people, her steely refusal to be intimidated by situations that would make other women cringe and weep.
A rough voice, shouting for him to step aside, brought him back to an awareness of his surroundings with a start.
He moved quickly as two panting chairmen, carrying a fat merchant with several double chins and a hefty bulk, passed by. The interruption brought all of the dislike James felt for Edinburgh surging to the surface. It was a city of wealth and of local power and, as in all such places, the ruling class applied their power through a combination of right and coercion. Highlanders had never been welcome in this city, except for that one unreal period when Charles Edward Stuart forced the smug Lowlanders to bend to the power of his rebellious Highland army.
As the chair disappeared around the corner, James began to walk again, his thoughts returning more pleasantly to Thea and their more intimate moments together. Thinking back over the course of their argument, he began to feel a trifle happier. Theadora Tilton MacLonan was an independent, determined woman, but she responded to reason and she could be swayed given the right circumstances. Now all he had to do was convince her that her presence at Glenmuir was important to both him and his clansmen, but how was he to do that?
She responded to him physically, and in those moments when they were making love he believed, without conceit, that she would agree to follow him anywhere. At other times, she was less tractable. Was that the clue he needed?
As he walked, he considered the bright, charming woman he had married. What was important to Theadora Tilton MacLonan? In his mind he saw her again, mimicking fashionable dandies with good-natured mockery, laughing and smiling at him as they walked in Olivia Ramsey’s garden, at the parties before their wedding, standing by his side and responding to the inevitable teasing with amusement and wit. Gradually he came to realize that talk itself was important to Thea. Discussion, communication, the use of words to express feelings. She liked to take a subject, turn it around, inspect it from all angles, then pull it apart, using words.
James groaned aloud. Giving Thea ultimatums that denied discussion did nothing but distress her, or worse, it made her angry. Then, once she was angry; she fought like the daughter of a soldier that she was.
Very well, if what she needed was discussion, he’d tell her what he planned and let her say her piece, before he went out and did what he’d intended to do in the first place. That should keep her happy, and it didn’t seem to be too high a price to pay for an amenable wife.
Feeling very much better, he continued on his way, organizing his thoughts around what needed to be done to prepare for their departure from Edinburgh.
Chapter 9
Over the next week the Tilton household became a place of strong, leashed emotions as Thea spoke pleasantly to her husband on unimportant subjects, but bowed her head politely whenever he made a suggestion on their departure, or even mentioned Glenmuir. Try as he might, James could not get her to discuss the emotions simmering inside her. If he pressed her, she would smile and say that she was obeying his commands as he wished.
But James didn’t wish for a wife who was dutiful and proper. He wanted Thea’s clear observations, quiet courage, and bright, laughing charm. He wanted the woman who had stood in front of the Duchess of Argyll and championed him without a second thought. Frustration began to gnaw at him. He was doing everything he could to try to convince Thea that his intentions were good, but nothing seemed to work.
Tension in the household escalated, snaking along everyone’s nerves, so that even Arabella, with her great store of patience born of raising her high-strung, independent children, snapped at the least provocation. Finally, at the end of that long week, Sir Frederick ordered each member of the family to cancel their activities for the evening. He wished to have a family conference.
He directed each member of his household to a chair, so that Thea sat beside James, with Arabella and Isabelle beside her. All of the chairs were set in a small semi-circle facing the fireplace, where Tilton stood erect and imposing, his hands linked behind his back. He was very much the general officer conducting a meeting of his staff and expecting attention and obedient willingness to carry out the dictates that emerged from the session.
James watched him with rather cynical amusement. He suspected that Tilton was about to issue a few orders to his errant daughter, and James wasn’t sure whether he approved of the concept or not. He certainly didn’t think it would work. In fact, he was quite sure that ordering Thea to gracefully accept her inevitable departure to Glenmuir would only inflame her temper more.
“I’ve been thinking,” Tilton began, fixing each member of his family with the forceful glare that made his junior officers quake.
Although James raised his brows at this statement, no one else seemed particularly concerned by this information. Isabelle looked up and smiled, before once more bowing her head over the cushion cover she was embroidering, Thea smoothed the fine linen of the cloth she was sewing, and Lady Tilton murmured, “That’s good, Frederick.”
The general nodded, not at all put out by this tepid response. “The weather,” he noted, “is becoming much warmer.”
At that Thea did look at her father, then shot a quick glance at James, before once more staring at Sir Frederick. “What are you saying, Papa?”
“Seems to me that we’d all be wise to make plans.”
“What kind of plans, Papa?”
Sir Frederick shot his daughter a shrewd and compassionate look. “Plans on how best to keep this family together once you are permanently settled at Glenmuir.”
The expression on Thea’s face as she looked over at James could only be described as hostile. “I go to Glenmuir under duress.”
“Precisely!” Tilton said. He looked from his daughter to James. “See
ms to me that you two young people need to remember that you will be spending a lifetime together, many years of it at Glenmuir, I’ll wager. You’d best learn to be friends.”
Listening to Thea’s father critique his marriage made James uncomfortable and not a little resentful. “I was not aware that friendship was required in a marriage,” he said.
“Friendship is the basis of marriage,” Sir Frederick stated.
“I can’t say I agree with you,” Arabella interjected in a thoughtful way. “Marriage is made up of many elements, each significant.”
Sir Frederick glared at his spouse. “Respect and obedience are also important.”
“Indeed,” Arabella said, not in the least intimidated. “As are affection and liking.”
“What has this to do with my going to Glenmuir?” Thea demanded, exasperated.
James leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. His opinion of General Tilton had changed radically since he had come to live in the man’s house. Now, this unruly discussion was adding a new dimension to his view of his wife’s family. There was amusement in James’s voice as he said, “Nothing at all, my dear, but it does make for a somewhat spirited conversation, do you not think?”
Isabelle, who had abandoned her needlework, opened her eyes wide at this comment, and looked hurriedly at her father to see how he would take his new son-in-law’s remark.
“Papa, I don’t want to go to Glenmuir,” Thea said, ignoring her husband’s statement.
“Your father is well aware of that, Thea,” Arabella said. “We are all well aware of that. You have been sulking about it for days.”
“I don’t sulk!”
James laughed.
Thea turned on him, outrage in her eyes. “I am not the moody one in this marriage, Mr. MacLonan. You have been polite and passionate in turn since we argued on this very subject.”
James sat up straight. “You call me moody?”
Tilton cleared his throat.