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She had half-expected the door to be locked, but it was not. The heavy oak swung inwards on smooth, silent hinges. Feeling oddly furtive, Katherine glanced to her right, then her left, then poked her head around the door to peer within.
The chamber did not appear to be occupied. The earl must be downstairs. She stepped into the room to make quite certain.
One of the servants had already been in to light the fire and several lamps, so she was able to appraise the huge oak bed set in the centre of the floor, the four posts topped by a canopy of heavy red damask. The floor-length curtains were made of the same expensive cloth, woven in Italy, she suspected.
These Scots appreciated luxury, that much was apparent.
Katherine circled the bed. Despite her irritation with the earl, she could not help but admire the fine furnishings which must have been collected over several generations. An ornate dresser graced one wall, and a pair of richly upholstered chairs were set at either side of the fireplace. A leather-bound book lay beside one of the chairs. Katherine bent to pick it up and studied the first page. She was no scholar but could tell from the neatly printed Latin that the tome was concerned with philosophy of some description.
A mahogany table was set beneath the window, and a map of Europe had been unrolled across the polished surface, pinned at opposite corners by a pewter goblet and a candlestick. Katherine peered at the thick parchment and wondered how many of the cities marked had actually been visited by Robert in the service of his king.
The walls were brightly painted in rich shades of yellow and blue, and hung with tapestries depicting scenes from mythology. She recognised Theseus in battle with the Minotaur, and Icarus plummeting to the ground following his ill-advised excursion to the sun.
She finished her inspection, having arrived at the unwelcome conclusion that the earl was, indeed, elsewhere, so her determination to set matters to rights between them must wait. She turned on her bare heel and made for the door.
“These nocturnal wanderings seem to be something of a habit, Kat. Would you find it more convenient if I was to send to the kitchens for buttermilk?”
She whirled around and was obliged to clutch the bedpost to hang on to her balance.
The earl lounged in a doorway she had not noticed in her exploration, clearly leading to an adjoining room. He was still clad in his tartan but had removed his linen shirt. In his hand was a tankard of ale, as though she had disturbed him drinking it. He regarded her, his expression one of amusement, and curiosity. He straightened and took a couple of paces towards her.
“Or perhaps you thought better of rejecting my invitation,” he suggested. “You are certainly dressed for it.”
“I… No! I simply came to…to…”
He raised one eyebrow as he crossed to the fireside chair where his book lay and settled himself in the seat. “To what, Kat?” he enquired mildly.
“I wanted to speak with you,” she managed at last.
“Ah, well, do please be seated.” He gestured to the other chair. “Are you quite warm enough? You appear to have forgotten most of your clothing.”
She chose to ignore both his observation and his offer of a seat.
She stiffened her shoulders and her spine and met his amused gaze. “I must insist that you treat me with respect, my lord. I am to be your wife, and we did discuss this. You promised to be a good husband, and—”
“I promised to be faithful, and not to spank you without good cause,” he agreed. “And I believe I assured you that you were wanted here. Very much so. Is that not respectful enough?”
“It is not respectful to…to proposition me at every turn.”
“Can a man proposition his wife?”
“I am not your wife yet. You have no right to suggest that we might share a chamber.” Despite her best endeavours, she could not help but slide an apprehensive glance in the direction of the bed.
Naturally, he did not miss it. “I had hoped that you would anticipate sharing my bed with as much eagerness as I do. Perhaps that is the case, since you do seem especially interested in studying it.”
She raised her chin and bestowed what she hoped might pass as a withering glare upon him. “You are deluded, my lord.”
His emerald-green irises darkened. He did not answer at once, preferring to drag an appraising gaze over her barely clad body. He took his time, raking her with his eyes, but betraying nothing of his thoughts. “Not deluded,” he murmured eventually. “Surely, your body is mine to use as I please. Or it will be.”
She opened her mouth to issue the stinging retort he had earned but could not quite find the precise words to use. He was despicable. He was…coarse, and foul-mouthed. He was all of this and more, yet her stomach still clenched at his intimate insinuations. A most peculiar warmth emanated from lower down, confusing and effectively silencing her.
Robert rose to his feet. One moment he was lounging harmlessly in his chair, his feet extended towards the crackling flames, the next he towered over her. The chamber was large, but he seemed to fill it, and take all the oxygen also.
Katherine abandoned all hope of standing her ground and asserting her wishes. She took a step back, then another. The earl pursued her, quickly edging her backwards until her knees connected with the mattress.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “Please…”
His lip quirked.
