“Aye, that looks like a fine place to start,” Braden said huskily.
But, before he could oblige the countess, the door to the room burst open.
“Piety!” came the outraged bellow.
Braden leaned up on his elbows to see Rufus standing in the doorway, his lips grim. The earl’s face was redder than the embers of the fire in the room, which made his well-trimmed white beard all the more apparent.
Braden growled low in his throat. Couldn’t a man have a moment’s worth of fun without some angry father, husband or brother rushing in and demanding his blood?
“Well, if you’d marry the woman first, brother, you’d not have that problem.”
Braden flinched at Sin’s voice in his head.
Och now, what did his brother know of it? Sin spent just as much time avoiding Holy Matrimony as Braden did.
Piety scooted off his lap with an indignant shriek while the other two women made haste for a nearby corner. The light of the chamber’s fire and tallow candles highlighted the quivering women’s shadows against the walls.
Braden sighed in regret. Well, it had certainly been fun while it lasted.
What was it with husbands who couldn’t be trusted to go out of the country when they said they would?
One would think a man would have more respect than to barge into his wife’s chambers without being announced. Why, such a thing was downright rude.
“How dare you!” Rufus snarled as he stormed into his wife’s chambers.
Piety met Rufus in the center of the room, hands on her hips. “How dare you!” she shouted as she moved to confront her irate husband.
She caught Rufus by the surcoat as he made for the bed and swung him about to face her. “You tell me you’re leaving only to return the minute I have a little fun. I’m beginning to think you lie to me just so you can come home and spear whatever man I’ve caught!”
Braden cocked his brow at her words. Just how many men had the countess caught?
Rufus narrowed his glare on his wife. “Woman, I swear if not for your father’s wealth and the fact that I know he’d be a mortal enemy, I’d have thrown you out the first week of our marriage or beat you until you couldn’t stand.”
“Well, then, ‘tis a good thing I come to this marriage well connected, isn’t it?” She gestured to where Braden was still lying on the bed. “You know, I’m beginning to suspect that you like to skewer young men just for spite.”
Rufus puffed his chest out in anger. “I’d have no cause to skewer him if he hadn’t skewered you first!”
If only I’d gotten that far, Braden thought regretfully. Unfortunately, the earl had atrocious timing. In truth, he had yet to even kiss the lass.
Braden rose slowly from the bed. “Perhaps I should be going.”
“Perhaps you should be dying.” Rufus pushed past his wife.
Having found himself in a similar situation on more than one occasion, Braden knew the best course of action was not to panic. Indeed, cool rationale would save his head from being separated from his shoulders.
And the last thing he wanted was to die on English soil. If he had to die, then by all that was holy, ‘twould be with Scottish soil beneath his feet.
And preferably with a Scottish lass moaning in his ear.
“If it’s just the same to you, Rufus, I’d rather wait a few more years before I meet my maker.”
“Then you should have kept your hands away from my wife.”
Actually, Braden was the one who’d been fondled, but right now didn’t seem like the time to point that out. Not to mention the fact it would be less than gentlemanly to compromise the lady any further.
For all her brashness, Braden did, in fact, like Piety, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be harmed in any way.
Piety and her sisters took refuge in a corner while Rufus unsheathed his sword.
