"I would not have allowed any other Englishwoman here," MacBain said when Johanna hesitated in giving her answer.
"They were content to stay in England," Johanna interjected.
Leila nodded, then turned and started up the steps. Johanna followed her.
"Do you think you'll be happy here?" she asked over her shoulder.
"Oh, yes," Johanna answered, praying she was right. "I'll be safe here."
MacBain frowned. Johanna had no idea how much that comment said about her past. He stood at the bottom of the steps, watching his bride.
Leila wasn't as astute as her laird. "But I asked you if you'd be happy," she said with a bit of laughter in her voice. "Of course you'll be safe here. Our laird will protect you."
She could take care of herself, Johanna thought. She didn't tell Leila that, however, for she didn't want the woman to think she wasn't grateful to have the laird's protection. She turned around to look at her husband.
"Good night, m'lord."
"Good night, Johanna."
Johanna followed Leila up the rest of the steps. The landing was partially blocked by a stack of wooden crates on the left so no one would pitch over into the great hall or the hallway below. A narrow corridor was on the opposite side. There were candles perched inside bronzed holders braced against the wall to light the way. Leila started telling Johanna about the keep and begged her to ask questions that came to mind. Another woman named Megan waited inside the first chamber with a bath ready for Johanna. She had dark brown hair and hazel eyes and also wore the Maclaurin plaid. Her smile was just as inviting as Leila's.
Their easy acceptance of Johanna helped her relax. The bath felt wonderful. She told them how thoughtful they were to think she would enjoy the luxury.
"Our laird ordered the bath for you," Megan explained. "Since a MacBain gave up his bed for you last night, it was the Maclaurins' turn to do something for you."
"It was only fair," Leila added.
Before Johanna could ask what she meant by that remark, Megan turned the topic. She wanted to talk about the wedding. "You looked so beautiful, m'lady. Did you do the embroidery work on your dress? It was quite lovely."
"Of course she didn't do the work herself," Leila said. "Her maid…"
"But I did do the sewing," Johanna interjected.
The conversation continued all during her bath. Johanna finally bid the ladies good night and went down the hall to the second chamber.
The room was warm inside and very appealing. There was a hearth against the outside wall, a huge bed draped with the MacBain plaid along the opposite wall, and a window overlooking the meadow below. A thick fur covering on the window blocked the night winds, and that protection, added to the fire blazing away in the hearth, made the room most inviting.
The bed all but swallowed her up. She imagined four people could sleep under the covers together side by side without touching each other. Her feet were cold, but that was the only discomfort she felt. She considered getting out of her bed in search of a pair of woolen stockings, then decided the task would require too much effort. She probably should have taken the time to braid her hair, she thought with a loud yawn. It was going to be full of tangles in the morning. She decided she was too tired to care. She closed her eyes, said her prayers, and went to sleep.
The door opened just as she was drifting off. Her mind didn't register what was happening until she felt the side of the bed sag. She slowly opened her eyes. It was all right, she told herself. It was Gabriel and not an intruder sitting on the side of the bed.
He was taking his boots off. She tried not to be alarmed. "What are you doing, m'lord?"
Her voice was a groggy whisper. He looked over his shoulder to answer her. "I'm getting ready for bed."
She closed her eyes again. He thought she'd gone back to sleep. MacBain sat there staring down at her for several minutes. She rested on her side, facing him. Her hair, as golden as a sunset, was spread over her shoulders like a coverlet. She looked exquisite to him. Innocent and fragile as well. She was much younger than he'd supposed she would be, and after he and Nicholas had resolved their differences and the baron had wisely decided to obey his commands, he'd asked him exactly how old his sister was. Nicholas couldn't remember the date of her birth, but he'd said she'd been little more than a child when her parents received the order from King John to marry her to his favored baron.
Johanna suddenly bolted upright in the bed. "Here? You think to sleep here, m'lord?"
She'd choked on the question. He nodded, wondering why she looked so panic-stricken.
Her mouth dropped open. She was too stunned to speak. Gabriel stood up, untied the piece of leather holding his plaid in place, then tossed the strip of leather on the nearby chair. His plaid dropped to the floor.
He was stark naked. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Gabriel…" His name came out in a low whisper.
She'd closed her eyes, but not before she'd gotten a thorough look at his backside. It was enough to make her feel fainthearted. The man was bronzed from the sun from neck to ankles, and how in heaven's name was that possible? Did he walk around without a stitch on during the sunlight hours?
She wasn't about to ask him. She felt the covers being pulled back, then felt the sag of the bed again as he stretched out beside her. He started to reach for her.
She bounded to her knees and turned around to face him. He was on his back and hadn't bothered to cover himself.
She grabbed hold of the blanket and fairly tossed it over his middle. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment.
"You've been tricked, m'lord. Aye, you have!" she blurted out in a near shout.
Gabriel didn't know what in God's name had come over her. She looked terrified. Her eyes filled with tears, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd burst into sobs.
"How was I tricked?" He'd deliberately kept his voice calm and low. He stacked his hands behind his head and acted as though he had all the time in the world to wait for her answer.
His casual attitude helped to calm her. She took a deep breath, then said, "My brother didn't tell you. He said he had explained… Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I should have made certain you knew. When I found out you already had a son, I thought you knew about me and that it didn't matter. You had an heir. You…"
Gabriel reached up and put his hand over her mouth. Tears were streaming down her face. He kept his voice soothing when he said, "Your brother's an honorable man."
She nodded. He removed his hand from her mouth, then gently tugged her down next to him. "Yes, Nicholas is an honorable man," she whispered.
The side of her face rested on his shoulder. He could feel her tears as they dropped on his skin.
"Nicholas wouldn't trick me."
"I didn't think he would." She sounded bewildered.
A long minute passed while he waited for her to tell him what was bothering her.
"Perhaps he forgot to tell you… or thought he had."
"What did he forget to tell me?"
"I cannot have children."
He waited for her to continue. "And?" he asked when she didn't say another word.
She'd been holding her breath, waiting for his reaction. She thought he'd be furious. He didn't appear to be, however. He was casually stroking her arm. An angry man wouldn't caress. He would strike.
Johanna decided he didn't understand. "I'm barren," she whispered. "I thought Nicholas told you. If you want the marriage annulled, I'm sure that Father MacKechnie will see to the petition."
"Nicholas did tell me, Johanna."
She bolted up in the bed again. "He told you?" She looked thoroughly confused. "Then why are you here?"
"I'm here because I'm your husband and this is our wedding night It's a usual occurrence to share the bed."
"Do you mean you wish to sleep here tonight?"
"Damned right I mean to," he answered.
She looked incredulous now. "And every other night," he announced.
&
nbsp; "Why?"
"Because I'm your husband," he explained.
He pulled her down next to him again, rolled to his side, and leaned over her. He gently brushed the hair away from the side of her face.
His touch was gentle and soothing. "Are you here just to sleep, m'lord?"
"No."
"Then you wish to…"
"Yes," he said, irritated by how horrified she looked now.
"Why?"
She really didn't understand. His own observation soothed his pride, but he couldn't control his exasperation with her. "Johanna, weren't you married for three years?"
She was trying not to stare into his eyes. It was a difficult task. They really were quite beautiful. The color was the purest of gray. He had nice high cheekbones, too, and a straight nose. He really was a handsome devil, and even though she tried not to care, her heartbeat reacted to his nearness. It was racing now. His scent was appealing, too. He smelled clean, male. His hair was damp. Gabriel had had a bath before coming to bed.
She shouldn't have thought that was nice. She did, though. She really should get hold of her undisciplined thoughts. What he looked like or how he smelled shouldn't matter.
"Are you going to answer me before daylight?"
She remembered his question. "I was married three years."
"Then how can you ask me if I want to sleep with you?"
His confusion didn't make any sense to her. "For what purpose? I can't have your children."
"You've mentioned that," he snapped. "There's another reason I want to bed you."
"What other reason?" she asked suspiciously.
"There's pleasure in the marriage act. Have you never experienced it before?"
"I don't know about pleasure, m'lord, but I'm most familiar with disappointment."
"Do you think I'll be disappointed, or do you believe you will be?"
"Both of us will be disappointed," she said. "Then you'll become angry. It's really for the better if you leave me alone."
He wasn't about to agree to that suggestion. She acted as though she had everything all figured out. He didn't need to ask where she'd gotten her opinions. It was apparent to him she'd been sorely mistreated by her first husband. She was so damned innocent and vulnerable. MacBain thought it a pity Raulf was dead. He would have liked to kill him.
He couldn't change the past for her, however. All he could do was concentrate on the present and their future together. He leaned down and kissed her brow. He was pleased to see she didn't flinch or try to turn away.
"Tonight is the first time for you-"
He was going to explain that it would be their first time together and that it would be a new beginning for both of them, but Johanna interrupted. "I'm not a virgin, m'lord. Raulf came to my bed many times during our first year as man and wife."
That statement caught his curiosity. He leaned back to look at her. "And after the first year?"
"He went to other women. He was most disappointed in me. Aren't there any women you could go to?"
She sounded enthusiastic over the possibility. He didn't know if he should be insulted or amused. Most wives didn't wish to share their husbands. Johanna looked eager enough to run outside and recruit a mistress for him. Hell, she'd probably give up her side of the bed, too.
"I don't want any other women."
"Why not?"
She had the gall to look disgruntled. He was having difficulty believing this bizarre conversation. He grinned and shook his head. "I want you," he insisted.
She let out a sigh. "I suppose it's your right."
"Yes, it is."
He pulled the covers away. She jerked them back in place. "Just one moment please," she said. "I would like to ask you an important question before you begin."
He frowned over her request. She turned her gaze to his chin so he wouldn't see how frightened she was becoming as she waited for his agreement or his denial.
"What is your question?"
"I would like to know what will happen when you're disappointed." She dared a quick look up into his eyes, then hastily added, "I would like to prepare myself."
"I won't be disappointed."
She didn't look as though she believed him.
"But when you are?" she persisted.
He held onto his patience. "Then I will have no one to blame but myself."
She stared at him a long minute before letting go of her death grip on the covers. While he watched, she folded her hands together on top of her stomach and closed her eyes. The look of resignation on her face made him shake his head in frustration.
It was inevitable, he supposed. Gabriel was going to get his way, and she was intelligent enough to know it.
She wasn't in a complete panic. She remembered the pain involved in the mating act; and although she certainly wasn't looking forward to the god-awful discomfort, it wouldn't be unbearable. It wouldn't kill her. She had gotten through the ordeal before, she reminded herself; she could get through it again. She would survive.
"All right, m'lord. I'm ready."
Lord, she was an exasperating woman. "Nay, Johanna," he countered in a low, gruff whisper.
He reached for the ribbon holding her gown in place and pulled the string free. "You aren't ready yet, but you will be. 'Tis my duty to make you want me, and I won't take you until you do."
She didn't show any outward reaction to his promise. God's truth, she looked as though she'd just been placed inside a wooden box. The only thing missing was a flower clutched between her rigid fingers, MacBain decided. Then he'd know for certain she was dead and about to be put in the ground.
He decided he was going to have to change his approach. His bride was alarmingly pale and as tense as the string on his bow right now. She was on guard against him. That fact didn't bother him overly much, for he understood her reasons, even if she didn't. He was going to have to wait until she had calmed down just a little. Then he would begin his gentle attack. His strategy wasn't complex. He was simply going to overwhelm her. Hopefully she wouldn't realize what was happening to her until it was too late. Her shields would be down; and once passion ignited, there wouldn't be much room in her mind for fear.
He'd already learned his bride was a gentle lady. The expression on her face when she'd been talking to his son before the wedding told him she was a compassionate, caring woman. He didn't know if she had a passionate nature, however, but he was determined to find out before either one of them left the bed.
MacBain leaned down, kissed her brow, and then rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.
Long minutes passed before she realized he was actually going to sleep. She turned to stare at him. Why had she been given this reprieve?
"Have I already disappointed you, m'lord?"
"No."
She continued to watch him, waiting for further explanation. He didn't say another word to appease her curiosity.
Not understanding his motives made her worry all the more. "What would you like me to do?" she asked.
"Take your shift off."
"And then?"
"Go to sleep. I won't touch you tonight."
His eyes were closed, and he, therefore, didn't see the change in her expression. He heard her sigh though, speculated it was due to relief, and couldn't help but become a little irritated with the woman. Hell, it was going to be a long, long night before he found satisfaction.
She couldn't make any sense out of his order. If he was going to leave her alone, why did he care if she wore a nightgown or not? Perhaps the command was just his way of saving face, she thought to herself. She wasn't about to argue with him, not now, not after she'd been given this wonderful gift.
Since his eyes were closed, she didn't have to concern herself with modesty. She got out of the bed, took her gown off, folded it neatly, then walked around to the other side of the bed to put the garment on the chair next to it His plaid was on the floor. She picked it up, folded it, and put it on top of her nightgown.
The air inside the chamber had become frigid, and the floorboards were freezing cold against her bare feet. She hurried to get back under the covers before her toes turned to ice.
His heat drew her close to his side, but she was careful not to touch him. She turned on her side, giving him her back, and ever so slowly edged closer and closer to him.
It took her a long time to relax. She was afraid to trust him, yet afraid not to because he was now her husband and deserved her trust, until he'd proven he wasn't worthy, of course. Nicholas trusted him. Her brother was the most honorable man she'd ever known, save for her father. Nicholas was also an excellent judge of character. He wouldn't have suggested she marry the laird if he didn't believe Gabriel was a good, decent man. There was also the telling fact that her husband hadn't forced himself on her. Why, he was actually being very accommodating.
The heat from his body radiated against her back. It felt wonderful. She moved just a little bit closer until the backs of her thighs touched the tops of his. She was sound asleep minutes later.
Gabriel decided he was going to get a high place in heaven no matter how mortal his past sins were and all because of the consideration he'd shown his bride tonight. Anticipation made his forehead break out in a cold sweat. Rolling in hot coals wouldn't have been as painful as this wait, he decided. He believed he could endure any amount of physical pain, but lying next to her with lustful thoughts raging through his mind now made this night one hell of a challenge. She wasn't helping matters much. She kept pressing her backside up against his groin. It was the sweetest torture he'd ever experienced and he had to clench his jaw tight against the provocation.
The fire burned down to embers in the hearth and it was well after midnight before he decided he'd waited long enough. He put his arm around Johanna's waist and leaned down to nuzzle the side of her neck. She awakened with a start. She went completely rigid, but only for a minute or two, and then she put her hand on top of his where it rested just below her breasts. She tried to push his hand away. He wouldn't move. She was groggy from sleep, and the wet kisses he placed on her neck were actually making her shiver with heat, not cold. It felt too good to worry about. Just to make certain he didn't think he was going to be allowed any more liberties, however, she laced her fingers through his to keep his hand from moving.
Saving Grace Page 7