I heard the rustling sound of his clothing being tossed to land on a nearby chair, then movement as his heavy form settled into bed next to me. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel the instant heat of his body as intensely as if I was standing next to a roaring blaze. With the howl of the cool wind rippling the furs at the windows, I could admit that the heat he provided was not unwelcome. The thought, however, of his bulk and his nakednessso close beside me was alarming indeed. He was so big and so outrageously...male.
I lay entirely motionless, afraid to move lest I rubbed up against him or somehow issued an unintentional invitation of some kind.
He suffered no such hesitations and thrashed mildly until he found a position that was comfortable to him, occasionally brushing some part of himself lightly against me, only to quickly withdraw the touch. He turned his head to look at me, although my gaze remained resolutely directed at the ceiling.
After a time, he spoke. “Stella,” he said softly.
Tentatively, I looked over at his face. It was so dark in the room that I could only see the outline of his disheveled hair and the gleam of his eyes. “Aye?” I whispered.
He didn’t reply immediately, as though he was considering discussing something with me but was unsure how the topic might be received. It was several minutes before he continued. In the end, what he said was, “Good night.”
I almost smiled. It was the very last thing I expected him to say. “Good night,” I whispered.
With that, his eyes closed and he sighed deeply. Very soon, his breathing deepened. His big body twitched gently several times as he succumbed to sleep.
As soon as I was assured he was deeply asleep, I exhaled with a great sense of relief. This dreaded day had passed less painfully than I had imagined. I had not been forced by him. He had not hurt me or threatened me. As much as I’d been incensed by his manner, I couldunderstand now that he’d merely asked me to comply with a request—somewhat aggressively, aye, when he doubted my agreement. Yet as soon as he was assured that I would honor his—our—privacy, he had shown me kindness. Respect. Compassion. Not only that, but his touch had inspired unexpected sensations that had not been entirely unpleasant. An inexplicable warmth. The soft pull of a new and enticing anticipation—the same manner of anticipation that had once visited me in the night garden far below us.
Still, it was a long time before I could take comfort in my own dreams.
* * *
IAWOKEINthe night, startled to find another person in bed with me.
Kade Mackenzie.
My husband.
He lay on his back with one arm slung over his head. His thick hair was in wild disarray. In sleep, his face looked younger. In repose, his aggression was virtually undetectable. His bare chest rose and fell gracefully with his breath. The top of the fur lay low on his stomach. My eyes studied with fascination the unfamiliar lines of his body. I had seen shirtless men before, from a distance, as they worked or fought or swam. But never like this. Never close enough to touch in the silvery moonlight. I was surprised by the light dusting of hair on his chest, the arrow line that ran below his navel down, to where the furs barely covered him, his carved hipbones. Little scars lined his skin in uneven patterns,including a jagged crescent that circled the front of his left shoulder and shone pale against his brownness. His very color was intriguing to me, the darkness of it, the vivid richness of absorbed sun on his skin, as though he retained some of its heat and its light. He was very muscled, each chiseled curve mortared between by smaller ones that rippled slightly as he breathed. A light pulse played gently under the skin of his neck.
I was surprised at the sight being delivered to my eyes, and at the turn of my own thoughts. My husband, without his weapons and his wrath, was beautiful.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IWASAWAKENEDby a sound I was now becoming accustomed to: the clang of metal against metal, steel against stone. My husband had risen from the bed and was clad only in his leather trews and the low-slung belt from which one of his large knives hung. I watched him, studying more closely the wide span of his shoulders, the defined muscles of his torso, narrowing to the flat plane of his stomach. The blatant power of his body as he moved was obvious. Rising memories of the brutality I’d been subjected to all my life at the hands of powerful men such as this could not be suppressed. Despite the drowsed comfort of his bed and the dreamlike memory of his face as he slept, the sight of him sent a small chill chasing up my spine.
Kade was taking care to put his weapons into place. He sheathed his oversized sword, distinctive for its unusual gold hilt. The hard leather of its scabbard had been etched and stitched with swirling flame-shaped designs.
He added a second belt, reaching then for a sharpening stone, which sat on a cluttered table. He unslung a bone-handled knife from a holster. Before he began to sharpen the knife, he looked in my direction, as though mindful that the scrape of it might wake me.
He noticed my open eyes watching him. “She wakes,” he said.
I didn’t reply to him. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer he might expect.
His fierceness had returned to him, so much so that I wondered if I’d dreamed the peaceful scene in the quiet moonlight. This was a different display entirely to the tranquil sleeping vision of the night before. Kade’s long tousled hair framed his face like a lion’s mane.Be assured: I don’t plan on eating you alive. Not yet, anyway.
Yet the spectacle of him didn’t spear me with as much anxiety as it had done in days past. I had seen a softer side of him. And I knew he possessed the capacity to allow me my fears. This seemed important. I had no way of knowing when he might choose to consummate our marriage. But the fact that he hadn’t forced himself upon me at his very first opportunity gave me a small measure of comfort.
And I had slept surprisingly well, without the agitated dreams that had recently disturbed me.
There was a timid knock on the door. Kade answered it, ushering two servants with trays of covered dishes into our chambers, indicating the table where he wanted them placed. The women were young, and the sight of my brawny, armed husband, shirtless and barefoot, nearly caused them to spill their delivery to the floor. Managing to place their trays, they blushed and stared, huddling together. Noticing me, still reclined in the marriage bed, they giggled nervously and whispered to each other.
“My wife requires a bath to be brought to my chambers once we have eaten,” Kade told them, having no time for their tittering embarrassment. “You will attend to her as she requires. Proof that the marriage is now valid, as requested by Laird Morrison, may then be stripped from the bed and taken to his chambers.”
The chambermaids went silent, nodding slightly, and backed from the room with wide eyes to obey his command. They glanced at me once more as they made their leave. I could see the thoughts churning behind their eyes, imagining the debauched scenes of what had taken place here during the night.
So my father was the one who wanted evidence that my marriage had been finalized, proof that his coveted alliance was now sealed irrevocably. This did not surprise me. I was used to my father’s domination. I could only hope that my husband would not be even more controlling than my father.
“Come and break your fast,” Kade said. “We will attend the farewell of my brother and his new wife. They depart for Ossian Lochs later this morning.” His tone was neither friendly nor cold, but there was an implication there that I would do as I was told. “And we will prepare to leave for Glenlochie the day after tomorrow.”
