Page 33 of Her Accidental Highlander Husband

But she knew that would never happen. Not in a thousand years.

Chapter Thirteen

Cam knew Mari was intelligent enough to understand what he was telling her. But he could tell by her easy smile that she had no intention of ever starting a fight with him.

A good argument with no harm to one another, where they could make up happily afterward, was the easiest way to prove to Mari that she was truly safe with him. That even if he was angry at her, he wouldn’t touch her harshly.

But that seemed unlikely to happen anytime soon.

Meanwhile, her letter sat heavily in his sporran.

When he’d awoken to find her gone and a letter with his name waiting on the table, he’d had a moment of panic, thinking she’d left him.

But the words he’d found on the page had given him a very different type of panic.

He’d read the letter three or four times. Enough to burn the words into his memory.

Dear Cameron,

Please forgive my cowardice in writing when I should be brave enough to stand before you and speak these words. I’m afraid, for now at least, it’s the only way for me to communicate without fear.

While I don’t know you well, I know already that you are nothing like the duke, and as such you wouldn’t harm me. As I’ve said, I know it, yet my body is set to protect itself whether the danger is real or imagined. Please don’t find offense when I flinch away from your touch.

In truth, I enjoy your touch very much. Especially that of your lips. And the way your tongue caressed mine was also quite enjoyable.

At the memory of her bold words, his cock throbbed excitedly, making his kilt move. As if the beast wished to throw his garment aside all on its own. He let out a groan.

“Are you well?” she asked.

“Aye, a bit of a cramp in my leg.” He shifted his leg to hide the bulge. A bit of a cramp was close enough to accurate.

The rest of her letter had been mild enough. She mentioned her hope that she would one day be able to tell him her thoughts in person, and closed with her name.

He hoped for her to be able to speak to him as well. Letters were fine for a start, but eventually they’d need to talk face-to-face. It was the reason he’d invited her out with him this morning. To encourage her to yell at him for his actions the night before.

How would his plan work if she refused to cooperate?

He’d just have to try harder to vex her. It was his experience that he was a natural when it came to annoying women. Surely his wife would find that out soon enough.

That night when he came in to go to bed, he kicked off his boots in the middle of the room, then tossed his clothing around as well. Their chamber was quite a mess when he finally slid under the blanket next to her.

She made not a peep about it. She didn’t even give him a dirty look or so much as frown at the mess. Maybe she was a messy person and it didn’t bother her.

“Did you throw your clothes about when you lived in London?” he asked. “I guess it was nice having a servant to clean up after you.”

She shook her head and looked away. “No. I had to be scrupulously neat. Plus, my maid was my only friend. It made no sense to cause her more work unnecessarily. I always cleaned up after myself.”

Another attempt to anger her had failed. She must have the patience of a saint.

He thought of changing the topic to her letter, but the way she clenched the blanket proved she was nervous enough in his presence. She’d written to him precisely so she wouldn’t have to speak the words. He’d not force her.

“Tell me about your friend,” he asked instead, to get her talking about something easier. If she wasn’t going to yell at him for his rudeness or ask him to kiss her, they could at least keep the conversation flowing about something neutral.

He’d wake early and tidy the room before she had the chance to clean up after him.

“My maid’s name was Lucy, and she was always there for me when I—” She stopped talking abruptly and looked as if she didn’t know what to say next.

“It’s fine. You can tell me anything, and I’ll not judge you for it. I promise.”