Everything ached. The muscles in her shoulders and thighs. The bruises on her hips. The soreness between her thighs.
Winnifred shifted with a groan. Sin had been right. She didn’t want to rise from bed this morn.
Rolling onto her back, she stared at the cathedral ceiling of the bed and reveled in the luxury of the silk sheets. They were good aches, she decided. The fatigue one felt after a long and successful day of running experiments. Twinges that would remind her of the day before with every move she made.
She’d let Sin strip her of all control. Reduce her to her basest self. She waited for the flood of panic to crush her. It never came.
Sin had seen her at her worst. Her wildest. She’d behaved in ways her mother had never come close to.
And he’d accepted it. Taken pleasure in it. Shown her how to discover her own bliss in the storm of passion in return.
Her husband had shown her so much and she would forever be grateful. Expanded her constrained world and let her explore her limits. He truly was a dear man.
Her stomach growled, and she rubbed a hand over her abdomen. She could wait for the maid to bring her breakfast, but there were guests in the house. The thought of entertaining them left her feeling nothing but calm. A smile nudged her lips. Her frenzies when alone with Sin were their own private moments. They didn’t reflect her behavior the rest of her day.
She pressed a hand to her heart, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t broken.
Throwing her covers off, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and dropped to her feet. She winced at her first step but by the time she rung for her dressing maid, her steps were even.
Sheena breezed into the room. “’Morning, milady.” Her abigail flung open the door to the dressing room, chattering like a magpie. “Going doon to break your fast this morn? I dunnae blame ye. Have ye seen the Earl of Summerset?” The girl held up a blue-stripped satin gown, and Winnifred nodded approval. “Of course, ye’ve seen him. He’s the laird’s friend, but cor, is he handsome.”
Winnifred put her stays on while the girl talked, but there was nothing for it but to bare her back for the girl to help her with the dress. Her cheeks burned. Would Sheena notice the bruises and scratches from Sin? The bite marks? How could she not? Would she understand just how Winnifred had earned them?
She lifted her chin. What did it matter? Her abigail would have to become used to them. She didn’t foresee her and Sin’s manner of intercourse changing, and truly, it was no one’s concern but theirs.
If Sheena noticed them, she didn’t comment, instead prattling on about Summerset’s hair, and wondering how long it took him each morning to get the curls just so.
“Thank you, Sheena.” Winnifred gave her hair one last adjustment, cutting the girl off mid-sentence. She turned for the door, not knowing how much more gossip before her morning tea she could take.
Sheena dipped a curtsey and skipped from the room.
Winnifred followed more sedately She gripped the bannister tightly as she eased down the stairs. She stood in the door of the breakfast room, an odd flutter that had nothing to do with hunger tickling her stomach at the thought of seeing her husband. Which was foolish. She and Sin had come to an agreement of sorts, albeit a nonverbal one. They would allow themselves to act in a frenzy when it came to their bed sport and maintain their friendly companionship through the rest of their marriage. A harmonious union. Nothing that should cause any flutters. She fiddled with her fichu, ensuring it covered any marks before pushing through the double doors.
Into an empty room.
“Hm.” She twisted her lips. She knew Sin wasn’t still abed. Her stomach twisted. He wouldn’t have left for Glasgow without saying goodbye. Would he?
A footman entered carrying a tray of cold meats. He bowed to her before setting the dish on the end table, exchanging it for an empty tray.
“Do you know where the marquess and his guests are?” she asked.
“Yes, milady. I believe Laird Dunkeld and the others are in the west tunnel.”
Her shoulders drooped with relief. Still at Kenmore. And making another attempt at badger-removal.
Her stomach growled again, and she quickly loaded up a plate. As no one was around to see her, she ate quickly, licking grease from her fingers. She’d heard that most fine houses had abandoned the tradition of serving a substantial breakfast, instead only having light breads and cakes for the morning meal. She popped another bit of beef into her mouth. Thankfully, Sin still served a good country breakfast.
Gulping down the last of her tea, she rose to search for her husband. Not wanting to walk through the dark tunnel again, she exited a side door and wrapped around to the mouth of the tunnel.
No sounds emerged. No flash of a lamp. But she felt its presence, knew its beady eyes were staring at her.
A shiver rolled down her back and she stepped back. She walked around the castle, waving at Jock as he helped a young boy carry a bale of hay to the stables. Voices rose from the shed next to the stables, and Winnifred followed them to stand at the open door.
Sin stood with his back to her, his jacket nowhere in sight, his back a quivering line of tension.
“Are we ready to go back in?” Sutton’s voice sounded exhausted, resigned. He shifted on his legs, the only part of him Winnifred could see.
“Yes.” Sin swung a length of lead pipe that he held. The back and forth made an ominous swishing sound in the air. “I’m going to beat its bloody head in this time. He won’t slip past me again.”
Summerset stepped into view. The coiled locks that Sheena had sighed over were sticking up in all directions, and a small trickle of blood ran down the side of his neck. He held up a burlap sack. “Or we can capture it in this sack,” he said, his voice a lazy drawl.
“And then I’ll beat its head in.” Swish, swish. Sin nodded. “Thereby containing the blood to the sack. Smart plan.”
Summerset blinked. “This badger has really gotten under your skin.”
“Kill it. Capture it. Who cares?” Sutton’s hands stretched into view over Sin’s head. “I’m just tired of rolling about with it.”
“Agreed.” Summerset plucked a shovel from its spot on the wall. “I have other things I could be doing, like rolling about between a woman’s thighs. Is Widow MacGregor unmarried still? She was always an eager one.”
Heat bloomed on her cheeks. Winnifred cleared her throat. “Good morning, gentlemen.” She couldn’t quite meet her husband’s eyes when he turned. Her belly quivered at memories of the rolling about between her thighs he’d done. “I see the badger hunt has begun anon.”
“We almost had him earlier.” Sin clenched the pipe. “Brought Banquo in on a lead to help flush him out.”
She examined the dirt streaking the front of his shirt and trousers. Sweat had dampened the linen across his chest and stomach, making the fabric cling to his muscles. “What happened?”
Summerset snorted. “The mongrel snapped his lead in two in his eagerness to escape.” He shook his head. “Really, Dunkeld, I thought you said those dogs would fly into battle beside the family.”
Winnifred finally looked into Sin’s face. His eyes were focused on her, cataloguing her face, her breasts and hips. His gaze was possessive, knowing, like every wanton act they’d ever performed was running through his mind, as well. “Their ancestors did. Something went wrong with this litter.”
She licked her lips, attempted to slow her breathing. Now was not the time for these improper thoughts. “Might I speak with you, husband?”
He tossed the pipe to Summerset who snatched it from the air an inch before it struck his nose. “That wasn’t called for,” he hollered at Sin’s retreating back.
Winnifred followed him outside and they strolled past the stables to a large oak tree. She ran her palm along the rough bark of the trunk, feeling each prickle and scratch. “Do you know yet when you leave for Glasgow?”
“On the morrow.” He ran the pad of his finger along her cheekbone, over the bridge of her nose. It was though he were trying to memorize her features, imprint them in his brain.
“I would like to come with you.”
His hand stilled. “As I and my friends investigate a rebellion? Out of the question.”
She squared her shoulders. “Surely, not every moment will be spent engaging in fisticuffs. You will stay in nice accommodations, socialize with your fellow peers? I’m not asking to accompany you when you go out on your investigations, only to travel with you as many wives do with their husbands.”
“Why?” He stilled her hands, and she frowned, not realizing that she worried her lace cuff until he stopped her.
She tilted her chin up. “There is a scholar there, at the University of Glasgow. We’ve communicated via letter several times, but I’d like to discuss his insights into nitrates in person.”
“This is important to you?”
She hesitated. It was. Discussing research in person was nearly always more efficient than through the back and forth of letters. She’d attended a hundred salons her father had held in his home with fellow natural philosophers. Listening, lurking, but never speaking, of course, but edifying all the same.
Sin’s response to her request was even more important. He’d stated that he wanted her to acknowledge her work. When faced with that reality, how would he react?
“Yes.” Her pulse thrummed beneath her skin. “Most important.”
“Very well,” Sin said. “It will be nice to show you Glasgow anyhow. It is a beautiful city.”
She clapped her hands together. “Thank you!” She hopped onto her toes and kissed his cheek.
Sin’s arm curved around her back, keeping her close.
“Are we going to rid your castle of vermin or are we stopping for a romantic interlude?” Summerset leaned against the wall of the shed, one leg carelessly crossed over the other.
Sutton ambled up next to him. “It is coming up on nuncheon.”
Sin draped his arm over her shoulder as they strolled toward his friends. “The badger can live. For now.”
“Marvelous.” The earl’s eyes tracked every point of contact between Sin and Winnifred, narrowing slightly. A small furrow creased his forehead when he looked up into his friend’s face.
“There has been a slight change in plans.” Sin squeezed her shoulder. “Winnifred has business to attend to in Glasgow. She will be accompanying us.”
Sutton pursed his lips. “What business—” He cut himself off.
Could a woman possibly have? A woman like her? Winnifred swallowed. “It’s with a man of science, a professor at the university there.”
“A colleague of Winnifred’s,” Sin added.
“Of my father’s.” The words were a reflex, and she felt Sin’s glare burning the side of her face. “But I’ve communicated with him, as well,” she amended.
Sin bobbed his chin at Summerset. “What? No snide commentary from you?”
The man shrugged. “It will help with appearances, having your new wife along. Much of our work will involve dinner parties and the like, and it would be only natural for you to want to introduce her to Scottish society.” He flicked a leaf from his shoulder. “In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t had a ball here in her honor, yet.”
“With neighbors going hungry, a ball hardly seems proper.” Sin blew out a breath.
Summerset straightened and gave them a bright smile. “Of course, that’s the reason. I never once thought it was because you weren’t proud to show off your wife.”
Sin’s arm turned to an iron band around her shoulders.
“And how about you, love.” Summerset ran his fingers through his hair, a move that instead of further ruffling his locks seemed to spring them back into place. “Are you excited to finally meet the Polite Society that you married into? Don’t be concerned that you don’t look the part. Most of us quite respect the intelligence it takes to climb into our ranks.”
Sin released her so quickly that she stumbled. He was a blur as he sprung forward. Red highlights glinted in his queue as it flew behind him. A tear in his shirt near the elbow gaped wide as he drew his arm back. The sickening sound of bone cracking against bone followed.
Summerset’s body seemed to move before the blow landed, moving with the punch. His head jerked back from the impact, and he stumbled against the shed, nearly sliding to the ground before Sutton grabbed his shoulder.
The baron stood between his two friends. “Enough.” He swiveled his head to glare at both men. “Enough nonsense out of you,” he said, shaking Summerset, “and you, save it for the men we seek. We have enemies enough without you two turning on each other.”
Winnifred fell a step back, the surprise of the attack shocking her. The violence of their intercourse was nothing compared to the brutality her husband kept pent up inside. She’d known he was rough; she hadn’t realized how much he’d held back from her.
Sin spun away from his friends, clenching and unclenching his hands, eyes burning with anger. They landed on Winnifred, and narrowed even further.
A spiral of lust swirled in her belly. Her nipples tightened under her stays, an involuntary response to his ferocity. She took another step back. Brutality shouldn’t affect her this way. This evidence of her husband’s violence.
But it did. Because she knew he would use that violence to protect what was his. Protect her. And he knew how to hone that violent edge to bring her to the peaks of pleasure.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as the distance between them grew. Emptiness pushed out the anger in his gaze.
Her heart stumbled. She raised a hand to stop him, tell him she wasn’t scared of him, but he’d already turned his back to stomp away. “I’m going after the badger,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Enjoy your nuncheon.”
She lifted her skirts to chase after him, but Sutton stopped her. “You’d best let him calm himself. Your husband tends to hit first, think later, but he’ll come out right in the end.”
She frowned. She didn’t need lectures about her husband. She spun on Summerset. “Why did you goad him so? I thought you were supposed to be his friend.”
Summerset pressed his fingers to the mark that spread from his cheek to his jaw. It would develop into a lovely bruise, and very well deserved, too, Winnifred thought.
He gazed at her, his expression thoughtful. “In anger, true emotions are revealed. Now I know how he feels. It isn’t just a duty to defend his wife. He actually has feelings for you.”
Sutton threw up his hands and muttered ‘idiot’.
The earl ignored him. He cocked his head. “I now understand Sin. All that’s left to understand is you.”