She looked away from the hard hazel eyes. “I agree,” she murmured.
“I didna hear you.”
“I agree!”
“Then you’ll also agree I need no reason to have you follow me?” he pressed his point.
Her head snapped up, and her eyes, deeply blue, sparked with anger. “So it’s to be that way, is it?Now you’ve got what you want, you’ve no thought for my feelings? But then, you never did.”
Before her eyes, Jamie changed. The stiffness left him, and his expression softened. He even grinned, shamefaced.
“I’m sorry, Sheena. There’s no excuse for my acting this way. ’Tis just…och, never mind. ’Tis for your sake we’re leaving. You’re no’ enjoying yourself.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“Now, lass,” he said reprovingly. “Let us have a wee bit of peace, eh? For your father’s sake at least? Would you have him regretting that he gave you to me?”
“As if he would,” she said bitterly. “And what did you tell him just now?”
“Only no’ to get himself alarmed if we dinna return for a while.”
“A while?” The words rang ominously.
They stared at each other. The look in Jamie’s eyes was quite clear. Sheena shook her head slowly, feeling so peculiar. Somehow she found the words to speak and even managed a calm voice.
“We have guests. And I’ve no’ eaten yet, nor have you.”
Jamie held up a hand to silence her. “You’ve naught to fear, and I’ll show you that. Then you can return and be at ease, and you can smile for a change. Sweet Mary, Sheena! ’Tis your wedding day, a day to remember.”
“I’m no’ likely to forget!” she snapped. “And asto why I canna smile, ’tis simply that I’ve naught to smile about, being married to you.”
Jamie was cut deeply, but he hid it well.
“We’ll leave now, Sheena,” he said in a level tone.
“But…but I’ve no’ even met your sister yet,” Sheena protested. “What will she think of me, leaving without saying hello?”
“You have met her, Sheena. You met her and spoke no’ two words to her, though she left a sickbed to be here. What she thinks is that I’ve made the same mistake twice, for you’ve been sitting there at the table acting exactly as my first wife did on her wedding day. I’ll have no more of it.”
Sheena was surprised. Could memories of his first wife pain him still? She had never considered that. She thought about it as they walked from the hall, up the stairs, to the door, where Jamie stopped.
“Our chamber,” Jamie said softly as he held the door open, letting go of her at last.
Sheena walked inside slowly. It was a large room, with a large French bed, linen sheets pulled down, large pillows fluffed. She quickly tore her eyes away from the bed. There was a standing chest for clothes, a table with stacked papers all weighted down. Across from the table was a tier of lit candles. A comfortable chair was positioned before the fire. Most intriguing was a cabinet containing exquisite glass ornaments, large and small: birds, animals, a glass boat, a bell, and many other things. Sheena had never seen the like.
“They were my mother’s,” Jamie said. “Handed down to her by her Norman ancestors.”
Embarrassed by her own staring, she turned away from the beautiful collection and moved to the fire. Keeping her back to Jamie, she held out her trembling hands to the flames.
“Will you have some wine, Sheena?”
She jumped, then glanced at him sideways. He was waiting for her answer. She nodded hesitantly and watched him pour a rich red wine into a large goblet. He brought it to her, and she took the heavy container in both hands and drank it down without once pausing to breathe.
Jamie’s eyes were on her, slightly amused. Amusement at her expense? The wine was warming her, spreading a delicious languor. Weakness, when she had to face her enemy? She gripped the goblet, debating whether to ask for more. Would more fortify her or make her succumb? She had to get a grip on herself.
Behind her, Jamie was in agony. Never in his whole life had he been more unsure of himself. Staring at Sheena’s stiff, unyielding back, he waited. It had to be right. It had to be perfect. From the time he’d first seen her, shrouded in mist, he had wanted her. And now she was his.
The most beautiful, most desirable of women, and he was loathe to touch her, loathe to frighten her.
