Whatever political alliance her father needed, whatever she thought she knew of this man Rory, had to be wrong. There was no logic or reasonableness in him. She couldn’t even hold a conversation with him. ‘This won’t work.’
‘Our marriage? Too late for that.’
She stepped back as if he hit her. ‘You think I deny this marriage? I gave vows before God and all my clan, including my father.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Including me.’
She opened her mouth to deny it simply out of spite; however, she might be blunt, but she was no liar. ‘Including you,’ she agreed.
He took a few steps away to face a wall before he braced his left hand against it. He stayed like that as she waited for him to continue. Another moment longer before he said anything at all. ‘What won’t work?’
She’d never seen a man with mannerisms such as his. He was large, formidable, and though it looked as if he pushed against the wall it felt as if in some way the wall gave him some support.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked though shewasn’t truly paying attention. Rather, she avidly watched him drum his fingers against the plaster.
‘You mentioned that this won’t work,’ he said.
Ah, yes. ‘I meant our talking wasn’t going to work.’
He turned his head to look at her and a lock of his brown hair fell across his forehead. ‘I admit this conversation is confusing despite the number of words we’re using, but it does appear we’re conversing.’
‘I meant the ones we will have in the future.’ She wanted to put her hands on her hips. ‘Do you intend to get used to my bluntness?’
More drumming of his fingers before he huffed out a breath that could have been a laugh or annoyance, she didn’t know him well enough to know the difference.
With a shove against the wall, he stood. Then with his eyes on her, he seemed to come to a decision.
Something in her braced for it. Would he accept the way she talked, or had she married an intolerant man? Would there at least be some understanding between them even if trust was tenuous? Or would he—reach behind him and yank his tunic over his head.
Rory revelled in his wife’s slight gasp. Herblunt words were none that he ever heard from a woman. As the Chief’s son and heir, he was used to women catering to his words. If he did give them notice, they minced and blushed. Even his own mother was soft, gentle.
This woman, this wife of his, did nothing he’d ever encountered. She wanted to speak her mind, but it seemed her stunning eyes wanted to take their fill of him as well. And just as he heard every word she spoke regardless of whether he agreed with them, he felt every brush of her gaze against his bare skin.
He couldn’t explain his rash action of taking off his tunic. He had entered this marriage knowing what was expected and needed of his role. He said his vows and closed the door to this bedroom understanding precisely what needed to be done tonight to honour his vows and protect his clansmen.
For though he’d bargained to marry her, he knew he could not, should not, consummate the marriage. How could he when a betrayer was in their midst? For Paiden’s sake, for his own, he had to leave a way out. For though the McCrieffs dangled a bright future for him, they also took it away when Paiden collapsed to the floor.
More the fool he if he blithely denied that traitorous fact. But facts blurred when he was in thesame room with Ailsa. He had not expected her and whatever it was between them. In the end, it seemed his reaction to this woman was also traitorous. Being in this room shook whatever convictions he’d intended.
Who was he fooling? Nothing had gone according to plan since he’d stepped across the stream bordering the lands. And all his intentions seemed foolish as he stood in this room and faced his wife.
He wanted, and though his friend could be dying in another room, he still wanted her.
The sounds of revelry were quieter now, the candle flames lower in their wax. The room’s shadows thickened around them, cocooning them. He felt the quietness, felt the air in the room against his skin. It changed the longer they stood there staring at each other. Heavier, thicker, and harder to pull into his lungs.
He knew what this was becoming and what it shouldn’t be. Where were her words now? ‘You’re quiet.’
She gave a wave in his general direction. ‘I didn’t expect—’
‘A man?’
‘That isn’t what I meant. I mean...’
The longer she looked, the longer desire coiledaround them. His own skin felt branded by her few words, by the gasp of breath she took.
This wouldn’t do. He agreed to marry her, he didn’t agree to trust her. It was a betrayal of his friend who still did not wake. Of his clan until he found the coward who poisoned him. And those were the truths she was aware of. There were more untruths he never intended to say because a wife should not have been his future.
Yet here she was and he didn’t need to notice the flush along her cheekbones or the elegant way she turned her hands. ‘Surely in all your help with life and death you’ve seen a man’s bared back?’
