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“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he whispered.
It was a quick joining and when she woke once again it was to find Thaw in bed with them, sleeping between them, Snow having felt past the pup to touch her husband’s arm.
“You put Thaw between us on purpose,” she said when she felt his hand close around hers.
“The last time I slipped out of you, I heard you wince. I couldn’t trust myself or you not to make love again. Thaw was the easiest solution to the problem, though don’t think it will become a habit.”
Snow laughed gently. “A wise decision, since I am a bit sore, though it was well worth the small discomfort.”
“I will have Runa sent to you,” Tarass said, feeling guilty that she suffered some discomfort.
“Not necessary. Willow explained what I should do if the problem presented itself.”
“Your sister looks out for you. I am grateful for that,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss.
She sighed heavily.
“What’s wrong?” he was quick to ask, while Thaw lifted his head to lick her face.
“I fear I will make a terrible wife,” she admitted.
“Why would you think that?”
“You kiss my hand and you spark passion in me. I will be far too much of a demanding wife in bed.”
Tarass laughed, not a chuckle, but a hefty laugh. “You will never be too demanding for me.”
“You think it’s humorous, but what if I am?” she asked seriously.
He laughed again. “Then you will have worn me out and I will go to my grave a happy man.”
Snow felt him move off the bed. “Where are you going?”
“If I remain here with you any longer, Thaw will find himself put out of the room again. Besides, I have duties to see to you.”
“I’m one of those duties,” Snow said, sitting up in bed, ignoring the blanket that fell to her waist, leaving her breasts exposed.
“Now you did that on purpose. Even one night together tells you how much I enjoy your breasts,” Tarass accused, turning his head away as he slipped on his shirt.
Thaw jumped off the bed and barked at the closed door.
“Someone approaches,” Tarass said.
Snow just finished covering herself when a knock sounded at the door.
“It’s Rannock and it’s a matter that cannot wait,” he called out.
Tarass opened the door.
“James Macardle is here on an urgent matter and must speak to you posthaste,” Rannock rushed to say.
“What matter?” Tarass asked as he walked to fetch his boots.
Snow’s eyes went from one gray blur to another, though she turned her head away from both when she thought she caught a flash of color from the flicker of a flame. But it was so brief, she couldn’t be certain. Her brother’s arrival the day after her wedding was more concerning than what had probably been nothing more than her imagination as was Rannock’s hesitation to respond. It sparked alarm in Snow.
“Tell me, Rannock,” Tarass ordered.
“Lord Polwarth claims that Lady Snow is not legally your wife.”
Chapter 20
“Fetch Nettle,” Tarass ordered Rannock, “and have James wait in my solar.”
As soon as Snow heard the door close, she was out of bed. “Don’t think you’re leaving me out of this conversation.”
“This is for me to see to,” he said and grabbed her garments that she fumbled around to find and handed them to her.
“It involves me,” she insisted, slipping her shift on, her arm getting stuck in the wrong hole.
Tarass shook his head as his hands stilled her arms. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
He eased her arm out of the one hole and into the correct one. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for her to depend on others to help her with simple things he took for granted. And he didn’t want her worrying about whatever senseless claim Lord Polwarth thought he had. There was no way he’d let anyone take his wife away from him.
“I can be agreeable and pliable—”
His laughter interrupted her. “I have yet to see that side of you, wife, though I admit you are pliable in bed.”
Snow jabbed him in the chest. “This matter concerns me and I will not be left out of it.”
“I will tell you all that is discussed,” he said to appease her.
A knock sounded again and Nettle announced herself, and Tarass bid her to enter.
Snow had asked her mum once how was it that she rarely argued with her husband and yet so often got her way? Or how Sorrell, a handful to say the least when young, had complied so easily to their mum’s orders, but not to others?
It’s the maneuvers that matter more than the battle, Snow. That’s what her mum had told her and that’s what had her holding her tongue.
“Help Lady Snow and have her wait in the Great Hall for me,” Tarass ordered Nettle, then kissed his wife’s cheek. “I will join you there as soon as I can.”
