Page 222 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Lady Rhoslyn, I believe it is time we consummate our marriage.”

Shock shot through her, followed by fear.

“I do not say this to force you to accept me as your husband,” he quickly added. “I say this because I do not wish there to be any doubt that I am the father of your children.”

She drew a sharp breath.

“I am sorry. There is no easy way to solve this problem.”

She stiffened. “Problem?”

“If a child is born in nine months, some will say the child is not mine. But if you are my wife in every sense of the word, the rumors will be little more than an annoyance.”

He had slipped into her bed the morning following their wedding. No doubt, the servants had noticed that they hadn’t seen him there since.

“I do not want you—or the child—to suffer that indignation,” he said.

Rhoslyn swallowed. “And if the child resembles your brother?”

“My brother looks very much like my father. Why would I care that our son favors him?”

Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Surely, he didn’t want to call his brother’s son his own. Then she realized the truth.

“It would not have mattered if Melrose had gotten me with child. You would have taken me to wife and called another man’s child your own.”

St. Claire shook his head. “Nay, it would not have mattered.”

She stared. “What manner of man are you?”

“The kind that is tired of war,” he replied.

“I have never known a man to tire of war.”

“Perhaps the ones you know have not had enough. I have.”

“Impossible. Ye are too skilled a warrior. A man such as you does not give up fighting.”

Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “A man such as me? What do you make of me, Rhoslyn?”

“Ye are a man who, if your king commands you to fight, you will.”

“If I am of more use to him here than at war, he will not ask me to fight.”

Suspicion rose in her. “The only way you would be of more use to him in Scotland is if ye put his needs above Scotland’s.”

“Scotland and England have been at peace for some time,” he replied. “There is no reason for what we need to be at odds.”

“Now that your king is determined to rule us, that peace is sure to end.”

“I do not think William Wallace or Robert Bruce will allow that,” St. Claire said.

Had she heard correctly? Did an Englishman—a knight—say that a Scot would not allow the English to rule him?

“Do ye realize you speak treason?” she asked.

He laughed his deep, rich laugh, and said, “Edward knows well enough that Robert Bruce has no intention of letting him rule Scotland.”

“You speak as if Scotland will prevail over England.”