Her Accidental Highlander Husband (MacKinlay Clan) Page 4

  She caught him looking at the scar, and as if by instinct she reached for her hair, tugging a few strands from the twist.

  When he raised his hand to stop her, she winced, eyes closed as if waiting for a strike.

  “Settle, lass,” he whispered and glanced out at the hall to see if others had noticed.

  “I’m sorry. I told Kenna this style wasn’t at all the thing, but she insisted.”

  Moving slower this time, he took her hand and stopped her from destroying Kenna’s handiwork.

  “It’s lovely. You are lovely. There’s not a one of us save the little ones who doesn’t bear scars. Wear yours with honor, lass, for only a survivor is able to wear scars.”

  She swallowed, and after a moment she nodded and turned back to her food.

  As they dined she took tiny bird bites of her meal, then pushed it away when she hadn’t finished half.

  “Are you not hungry or is the food not to your liking?” he asked, thinking it odd. She’d been on the run with little money. Surely, she hadn’t had easy access to food. But maybe her palate had grown used to London cuisine and their rough meal of venison and greens wasn’t setting well.

  “Truth be told, I am famished. But it’s considered unladylike to eat everything upon one’s plate.” She pressed her lips together and looked longingly at the plate.

  He didn’t understand women’s logic, but he did know how to fix a problem when one arose.

  “That may be. What do I know?” He pulled her plate closer and dumped more food on it. “There. Now ye may eat only half again.”

  She looked up at him with surprise and gratitude, then turned back to the plate, eating what he’d added. This time she left only a few small bites behind.

  “That was delicious. It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed good food.” When she smiled at him he lost his breath. “Thank you, Cameron.”

  He swallowed and managed to nod, thinking he’d gladly give her his last morsel and waste away into dust if she asked it of him. How could anyone look into those smiling eyes and treat her harshly? He couldn’t imagine it. Clearly the duke hadn’t had a soul.

  He cleared his throat in an effort to dislodge the anger rising in him. “I believe we have entertainment tonight. Would you like to stay, or are you too tired?”

  She bit her bottom lip for a moment. “I’d like to stay. If you would.”

  He pushed away his disappointment, not exactly sure why he was disappointed.

  He doubted she would invite him to her bed—make that his bed—after they’d married by accident. It wasn’t that they were truly man and wife, except in the legal sense. Then again, the legal sense was all most marriages started with. And technically, the marriage wasn’t officially legal until it was consummated.

  They stayed throughout the evening’s entertainments, and then she excused herself to go to their room. When he offered to escort her, she refused his offer and nearly sprinted from the hall for the stairs.

  Cam might have considered sleeping in the great hall, except the other men would know it. Their joking didn’t bother him, but he wouldn’t let Lach think he was put out of his own room.

  When he’d given her ample time to get ready for bed, he went to his chamber and knocked on the door. He waited for her to answer before entering.

  She was sitting in bed, her golden hair braided over one shoulder. The fire had died down, making the room dim, but he could see enough to know her gaze was intent on her lap where she twisted her fingers. It looked painful, and he wanted to go to her to make her stop, but when he took a step toward her, she gasped in fear.

  He changed direction toward the fire and stirred the logs to give more light.

  He thought briefly of what it might be like to sleep next to her, or even to consummate the marriage they had stumbled into earlier that day. But when he saw her anxiety, he tossed thoughts of that possibility aside.

  She’d been married to a cruel man and probably expected even worse from a large Scottish brute. He’d give her time to acclimate to their situation and get comfortable with him.

  When he stepped closer to the bed to take the extra blankets, she flinched.

  “Be calm. I mean you no harm. I’m just going to put these blankets down by the fire so I have a place to sleep tonight.”

  “You won’t be sleeping in your bed?”

  “Nay. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He waited until she glanced at him and winked so she’d know he was joking.

  She only looked slightly relieved and glanced away as quickly as she’d met his gaze. She was as skittish as a beaten horse.

  He settled by the fire and frowned into the darkness when his back settled against the hard floor. His bed was built for someone of his size. She looked like a wee mouse in a ship.

  There was enough room for both of them, but he’d not cause her distress. He’d give her time to adjust to her new home. And a husband. Small steps covered just as much ground—it just took longer.

  “Thank you, Cameron.” Her voice barely moved the air in the room.

  “For which part, exactly? Marrying you by accident, bringing you safely to the castle, or sharing my food with you at dinner?”

  “Everything, actually. I had come so close, but if you hadn’t scared off the tracker it would have been all for naught. I would be on my way back to London to face my sentence.”

  “Not to worry. I was looking for a way to get out of my work anyway.”

  She laughed softly at his jest. The warm sound calmed him.

  Maybe this would work after all. Lachlan hadn’t wanted to marry Kenna, but now they were happily in love with one another. Who was to say the same couldn’t happen for him and his new bride?

  Nay, not the love part; he didn’t want that. But having someone to share his life with would be nice. As would the physical aspects. His wife was bonny, and he hoped he could convince her someday soon they’d be good together in that way.

  “You haven’t asked me why I killed him,” she said, changing the course of his thoughts.

  “I saw the scar on your cheek, and I’m certain there are more. I have no doubt you had your reasons. I can’t imagine you would have willingly given up a soft life as a duchess for one on the run, married to a man you don’t even know, without cause. When you want to tell me, you will, and I’ll listen.” And hopefully remain calm for the telling.

  “You’re not worried to sleep in a room with a woman who killed her first husband?”

  “Nay. Not at all.”

  He heard a slight sniffle and then a louder sniff. The sounds of a woman crying. He wondered if he might have misunderstood the situation. Had she loved the duke and killed him by accident? Did she mourn his death?

  “Do you miss him, lass? Your husband?”

  “God, no.” The answer came quickly in a voice rough from tears. “He was a monster. I’m glad he’s gone.”

  “Then why are ye crying?”

  “I never thought I’d feel safe again.”

  She was sleeping in a room with him—a near stranger—and yet she felt safe.

  “Welcome home, Mari.”

  At his words a sob broke out, and he had to force himself to stay put. Eventually, she quieted and fell asleep.

  He had just fallen asleep himself, when she woke him with her screams.

  Chapter Six

  Marian was sure it was a dream. After all, she’d already lived through this hell once. She couldn’t possibly be made to live through it yet again.

  But there she was, looking in the mirror as her new maid, Lucy, came in behind her. Marian looked back to her own reflection as she sat there in her gorgeous gown, a garment created specifically for her, for this day. The day she’d married the Duke of Endsmere.

  She was a duchess, and as all had told her throughout the wedding party, sh
e was a lovely one. And now, in a matter of moments, she would lie with her new husband and truly be his duchess.

  “Don’t be nervous, Your Grace,” Lucy said as she undid the gown and drew the pins from Marian’s hair. “It is not all that bad. Have you been told all that is expected of a wife on her wedding night?”

  Marian felt her cheeks warm and saw the maidenly blush in the mirror.

  “Yes. I’m aware of what I’m to do.” According to the letter Kenna had sent, they’d had things all wrong. The pain, according to her younger sister, was insignificant, and making sounds and moving were encouraged by one’s partner.

  Marian had to admit, she found this perplexing. Perhaps it was different with a Scottish laird than what she was told to expect from an English lord.

  Nodding, she imagined she had the right of it. Her new husband was not at all like the men in the Highlands. While she’d tried her best not to be disappointed by his stature, she would have liked to have braw arms to hold her and a chiseled jaw dusted lightly with stubble.

  But no matter, she was a duchess now and she would get through this night, whether the pain was insignificant or not.

  Throughout her years of training, she’d mastered the art of fitting in and adapting to whatever environment she was exposed to. Tonight would be the same. She would follow along with her husband and make him happy. If it was truly pleasurable as Kenna had sworn, she would be happy in it as well. Though she couldn’t imagine it as so.

  The duke—Mathias, she could call him now that they were wed—seemed much too serious to enjoy the bedding. Certainly someone of his standing wouldn’t fall victim to his baser needs. Dukes were beyond lust.

  Throughout their wedding, and the meal that followed, he’d hardly looked at her. His thin lips stayed firmly in a straight line that appeared neither happy at the occasion nor displeased. He was simply there.

  The few times she’d attempted conversation he hadn’t said more than a few terse words. Eventually he’d frowned at her impertinence and she’d tried no more.

  Theirs was not a love match. He’d checked her over during her visit at court like a prized gelding and had written her a few short notes to determine her willingness to marry him. Everything seemed rather cold, but she hadn’t expected anything different.

  She’d been prepared for this duty since she was a girl. With her nerves in check, she donned her fancy new night rail, frowning at the low cut of the neckline. It was obviously created to entice a man, with strategically placed areas where only lace covered her bare skin. One such place exposed her navel, and she placed her hand over it, feeling vulnerable.

  Her maid brushed her hair, all the while praising her beauty. With her hair shining, she was helped into the high bed, where she sat with the blankets pooled around her waist, waiting for her husband to enter.

  It seemed like hours passed. She had slumped back along the pillows and actually dozed off when she heard the door open. She popped up from the bed and pressed a smile to her cheeks.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” she said, hearing the nervousness in her voice.

  Her husband stumbled as he came closer. He looked her over and winced away as if she were a hideous ogre. She looked down at herself, seeing the neckline had shifted and one of her nipples was on full display.

  “Your breasts are disgustingly huge,” he said, obviously physically repulsed.

  It was her understanding men liked large breasts. She remembered her brothers fighting over a lass solely for that reason. Yet, her husband didn’t like hers.

  Her earlier assumptions proved true. Scottish men were far different from English lords in their preferences.

  “My apologies.”

  “Don’t speak. Your rough tongue is nearly as distasteful as your figure. Come closer so I can see what I’m cursed to bear for my former wife’s clumsiness.”

  On shaky legs, Marian moved around the foot of the bed and stood before her husband as he frowned at her with hatred. She’d expected pain on her wedding night. A quick thing, but this was different.

  Her husband disliked everything about her. He didn’t grope at her as she’d been told might happen. Instead, he drew back as if hoping his robe wasn’t soiled by contact with her skin.

  She was completely lost. Her skills of fitting in were of no help in this situation. Instead, she stood mutely with her eyes on her feet as he continued his appraisal. He pointed out how her hair was too light—he preferred brunettes. How she was too tall, which was almost humorous as she was the shortest fully-grown woman she knew.

  He poured a glass of port as he continued telling her all the ways she had failed him. Ways she was unable to do anything to change. When it appeared he’d finished, she sniffed back the tears of disappointment and raised her head. She’d been reared for this duty, and she’d not fail.

  “Perhaps it would be easier for you to lie with me if it were dark. If the candles were—”

  Her suggestion was cut short when he struck her across the mouth to silence her. She felt the intense heat and tasted the coppery flavor of her blood as she stumbled back.

  “How dare you suggest I’m incapable of performing my duties as a husband, despite how inhospitable the vessel may be?” He struck her again, this time hard enough she lost her balance and fell to the floor by his booted feet.

  She remembered thinking how shiny they were when he drew back and kicked her in the stomach. Air left her lungs in a gush, and for a few moments she wasn’t able to breathe in. Her vision fluttered on the edges.

  She longed to go home. Except she was married to this monster, and this hell was now her home. There was no escape. She was trapped.

  He turned toward the door, and she slumped in relief that he was leaving. She’d have time to tend to her wounds and come up with a plan to stay clear of him. Except he hadn’t left. He had just gone to the table by the door to retrieve something. When he turned she saw it was a knife.

  “Mari, Mari,” he said.

  Except the duke had never called her Mari. Only Cameron used that name. “Wake up,” he encouraged, and she opened her eyes to find the Scot sitting on the bed. She jumped back and he held up his hands, showing he meant no harm. “You were having a nightmare, lass. Are you well? You’re soaked through.”

  She looked down at her thin shift, noticing how transparent it was in the low light. Covering herself, she looked up in time to see interest and appreciation in his eyes.

  He was not disgusted by her. She’d seen the way he looked at her earlier at dinner. And then he’d slept on the floor so as not to scare her. Even now, he watched her with nothing but concern. She knew he would not hurt her, however her body responded instinctively.

  When he stood she jumped away.

  Again he made a calming gesture. “I think you should change into a new shift. Do you have one?”

  She shook her head and shivered. She’d been given only the one garment and had been thankful for it.

  He nodded and walked into the darkness. He returned with a clean shirt. “Here you go. It’s much too big for you, but it’s clean and dry.”

  He turned his back on her. When she didn’t move, he looked over his shoulder. “Go on. Put it on. I swear on my honor, I’ll not peek.”

  It was almost humorous. This giant was her husband. He had the right to peek, and much more. Yet, she didn’t worry as she pulled the thin, damp shift over her head and settled the heavier fabric over her body. She sniffed the collar, noticing it smelled of him. A warm, earthy scent that brought a smile to her lips.

  “Thank you,” she said when she was covered and had regained her composure.

  He turned and smiled down at her. Even with the menacing shadows cutting across his features, he looked kind. He grinned and turned to go back to his place by the fire. On the floor.

  The ridiculousness of it struck her, and she reache
d for him. Her long fingers didn’t encompass his wrist, but he stopped and faced her.

  “This is your bed. There’s plenty of room for the both of us. The floor can’t be all that comfortable.” She patted the mattress when it seemed he didn’t understand what she meant. It was the middle of the night. She’d need to be clearer. “If you’d meant to ravish me, you would have done so by now. Stay here with me. I trust you.”

  He sniffed and rubbed his jaw. “I appreciate it.” He bowed and slid in next to her.

  She’d thought there was plenty of room, but once her large husband was settled, there wasn’t much space left between them. While his shoulders and chest were immense, his waist was narrow. She was able to sleep on her side and curl her knees into the void left there.

  “I hope ye sleep better now. But if you do have another bad dream. I’m right here to help.” He patted her hand and she responded by lacing her fingers through his and holding tight. He let out a breath but didn’t pull away.

  In Cameron’s shirt and with his warmth next to her, she thought she would drift off immediately. But despite being more comfortable than she’d ever been before, she wasn’t able to sleep.

  “Do you wish me to go back to the floor, lass?” he said into the darkness, startling her. She’d thought he was asleep long ago.

  “No. I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve never slept with a man before.”

  He shifted to his side as if to look at her, but the darkness made that impossible.

  “You never shared a bed with your husband? He just…and left?”

  She nodded, and he let out an unpleasant huff. His question had been vague and her answer misleading, but she said nothing further.

  He squeezed her hand. “Well, since it seems sleep has abandoned us, mayhap we could talk.”

  She smiled into the darkness as a tear ran down her cheek.

  This night was so different from her first wedding night. There was no pain here with her new husband. Only comfort and understanding. Kenna had promised she would be happy, and it was already clear she was right. Marian had never been so content.