Chapter Seven

Isobel came to a halt in the hall and held out her hand. “Give me the sword and I’ll put it away.”

She nodded toward the empty space on the wall where a chair had been positioned so she could reach. Trusting her, he held out the hilt. She took it and smiled then walked over to the chair and climbed on. Grant noticed her strong calves, which were exposed by the way she’d tied her dress.

Murmurs reached his ears and he glanced around to see the room full of men also examining his wife’s lack of decency. As she rose to insert the sword into the holder, her skirts lifted, almost exposing the backs of her knees. Then, she was climbing down again. He held out a hand and she took it, looking quite pleased. His gaze was drawn to the spot on her neck still purple from his attentions yesterday and then farther still to the gown that was so loose it looked as if someone had been trying to remove it.

It should have been him.

A surge of desire shot through him as he remembered the taste of her, the feel of her lean body smashed against his. He shouldn’t want this woman, but damn him, he did, and he didn’t want others to see what she was so willingly putting on display. Something had to be done about her attire, and he hoped Annis had arrived.

“Change of plans.” Drawing her through the door, he kept his hand on hers and guided her up the steps to their room.

“I am hungry. What are we doing?”

“Aye. I’m hungry too,” he ground out, fighting his body’s response to her nearness as they’d been pushed together on the narrow set of steps.

He opened the door, pulled his wife into their room, and shut it all in one fluid movement. When he had her alone, he swirled her around in front of him and as his breath became shallow, he moved into her.

She gasped as he latched onto her other hand and pinned both of them on either side of her. She didn’t fight him as she did with her words; it was as if her body, too, had a primal reaction to him, uncontrollable and clambering to be obeyed. Her plump breasts rose and fell beneath her shift, and he groaned at the thought of tasting one of them.

“W-What?” Isobel stuttered, but her gaze said she knew exactly what he was thinking and wanting. Dipping his head, he was just moving in to take her mouth when a knock sounded at the door.

Stopping mid-descent, he prayed for the person to go away, to leave him with this wife who vexed him to no end. He wished to give in to what he’d been suppressing. Now that he acknowledged he didn’t have to like her to perform his husbandly duty and enjoy her body, he wanted to delve into her and sate the need that had claimed him once he’d tasted her in the larder.

When no more rapping came, he continued, his lips landing on hers, needy and hungry. Her arms, which had tensed when he’d held them to her sides, relaxed and he felt her head tilt ever so slightly, allowing him better access as her body softened and her mouth opened to his.

Another knock jolted him, but he just stilled, not wanting to give up on the progress he’d made. Opening his eyes, he realized the door latch was not bolted. No. He’d not thought of that when they’d entered the room. Damn, he’d not been thinking about anything but claiming his wife.

“Grant.” It was his mother’s voice. Groaning, he reluctantly drew back, his gaze pinning on the bonny creature in front of him. With her eyes dazed and dilated, she didn’t look like the killer he knew her to be, she looked like a woman in need of a good bedding. Despite the short kiss, her lips had deepened a shade and were swollen. They were still slightly parted as if waiting for him to continue. She looked like she could trust him and that made him want it to be true.

“Yes.” His throaty reply was forced out as he tried to banish the desire coursing through him and the stray thought that had him wishing their union could become more.

“Annis is here. She said ye sent for her.” Fenella’s voice carried through the door.

“I did.”

“Are ye ready for her? She is waiting in the kitchen. I’ll send her up if ye are ready.”

“Yes. Send her up.” If he was quick, he could sate this lust that burned deep inside, but he couldn’t do that to Isobel. He’d sensed yesterday she might be inexperienced. Even if he only wanted to claim his rights and forget about his wife, some small part of him spoke up and said it wouldn’t be right. That she deserved more from him.

He had only been with a small handful of lasses, but none had made his loins ache this way. Maybe if Annis helped Isobel dress like a proper wife, he’d not feel this need so intensely. It was a desire like none he’d ever experienced. Because, God help him, he didn’t think he could resist Isobel on his own.

…

“Who is Annis?” Isobel asked as her husband released her hands and backed away. She’d been so enthralled by his touch she’d not thought to protest. A man had never taken such liberties with her and those who tried scurried away after she pulled her knife on them or Alex or one of his men stepped in to protect her.

This had been different. First of all, she didn’t have a dirk on her and second, Grant made her feel something she’d never thought possible. Hell, they were married and she would need to experience lying with him at some point, but she’d never thought she might enjoy the act.

“She is yer new maid.”

Stunned, she turned and moved deeper into the room, away from him, away from the memories that threatened to steal her breath.

Nae, nae, nae, he didn’t. Her heart pumped harder trying to dislodge the dread that assailed her at the news. If anything could douse the flames heating her core, that did it. She rounded on him. “I dinnae want a maid.”

“Ye will have one.”

“Why?” She wanted to stamp her foot and act like a child. He could force her to his bed if he wanted, but he couldn’t force her to accept a maid. This was where she drew the line.

“Ye can nae longer go around this keep dressed as if ye have just come from my bed.”

“What?” He made no sense.

“Ye look as if we had been caught in the middle of some illicit tryst with the way yer dress falls off yer shoulder and ye hike it up to show off yer legs.”

“There is nothing wrong with the way I dress. I dinnae need a maid.”

“And yer hair. ’Tis time ye do something with it, because with it loose like this, it looks as if my fingers have been in it, mussing it while we…” He made a groaning noise and his eyes darkened and dilated.

“There is nothing wrong with my hair.” Puffing out her chest, she stood taller, but he moved closer, becoming even bolder.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he drew her into his hard frame. “As of now, ye have two choices.”

She tilted her head up to his, listening to his warning.

“One, ye will accept her help and dress like a proper modest wife.”

She shook her head, indicating she would not give.

After twirling her around, he pushed forward, toward the bed that had once belonged to his first wife. A few steps shy, he spun her to face him. “Or, two, ye will stay naked in this chamber ready for me to take ye whenever I want.”

She was certain her mouth fell open. Had she ever been speechless before?

He inched closer, urging her back; she stopped just as her knees hit the mattress, halting their progress. Raising his hand, he let his fingers slide between her shift and the skin beneath. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “Seeing ye like this makes me want to do things ye’ve probably never heard of, and if ye want to leave this room, ye will take the help.”

Releasing her, he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him as if she’d done something worthy of his wrath, then her gaze traveled down to the bed he’d once shared with another woman. A woman who would think her unworthy of him. Hell, she probably was, and although he’d awoken feelings in her that made her want to know more, she’d be damned if she would let him take her in that bed.

And he’d uttered something else hateful, too. He thought her responsible for some man’s death. Tomas, he had said. The only men she’d killed had been a threat to Stew, the abandoned youth who had been taken in by Royalist Rebels. Grant was either mistaken, or he didn’t know his friend well.

She moved to the chair and sat, waiting for the new maid to arrive. When a knock sounded at the door, she called out, “Enter.”

The door creaked open slowly and as it did, the wee kitten came bounding in, running straight for her and clawing its way up her dress. Bending to help it, she pulled its talons from her skirts and nestled it close to her cheek. It started making that noise again, the one that made her want to snuggle up with it and go to sleep.

Next, Grant’s mother peeked her head in, followed by a lass probably about five years younger than she, just the age her last maid had been when everything had gone wrong. A lump formed in her throat. She pulled the cat closer and pushed the memories away, determined to face this head-on but stay detached at the same time.

Straightening, she smiled and stood, still holding the kitten as a shield. “Hello. I’m Isobel.”

The girl walked forward and curtsied slightly. “I’m Annis, and I’m pleased to come work for ye. I went with my cousin to Inverness and had training in how to be a lady’s maid.”

“I’m sure ye will do just fine.”

“Should we get started straight away?” Annis sounded eager.

“I think so, but I havenae even unpacked yet.”

“No’ a thing to worry over. I’ll help.” As the girl moved over to the trunks, Grant’s mother stepped forward. She’d been having a lovely conversation with the woman the previous evening and was finding her company quite enjoyable until her son had blurted out how he didn’t want her in his bed.

Isobel asked, “Do ye have another room I can sleep in? Ye ken yer son doesnae want me here.”

“Och, he wants ye here, but I agree, ’twill do him some good to realize what he’s done.”

She smiled, relief washing over her.

“I have the perfect place for ye to stay until yer ready to come back to this room.”

“Thank ye. Why does he think his first wife would have hated me?”

“Because ’twas her brother who died.”

Now she was even more confused. “When?”

“On the way to that meeting in Edinburgh.”

Her thoughts once again turned to the skirmish on the road. “But I didnae kill anyone that day.”

Grant’s mother only shrugged.

Let him think her a heartless beast, then maybe he’d let her go. She wasn’t going to do anyone any good and there were people here who would try to make her feel again, and what if she couldn’t protect them? A shudder ran down her spine.

If she did as her husband wished and didn’t attract his attention, he wouldn’t bed her and if he didn’t, maybe he would lose interest in her and let her go. The best course was to let this maid mold her into a proper wife so she could get out of here as soon as possible.