She never turned him away. Over the next three nights she allowed him to lift her nightdress and take his pleasure in her.
Just looking at her filled him with a strange heaviness and he was grateful for the distance he could keep from her during the days they travelled. Her in the carriage, he on his horse. He did not understand the sense of growing connection to this wide-eyed Englishwoman.
By the time they were in their room at night, he was half-wild with a thing he couldn’t name that made his body hard—but stranger still—made his heart beat too quickly.
As if somehow she had begun to set the pace for the blood in his veins.
He did not allow it.
He set the pace. He did not allow her to touch him. He kept control, at all times. But part of him ached to strip her completely bare and explore her body at length.
But she was a wife, not a prostitute. And the things he wanted to do to her were not indignities a man visited upon his wife. His education on carnal acts had been conducted in brothels. He had been a young soldier and it was the way of things. He’d been warned by one of the women there very early on that those who made a business of pleasure were different from delicate society women.
Especially if they were English.
And this he’d confirmed over the years listening to the men in his company talk. Even men who had wives at home, who found solace between battles in the arms of whores.
He’d thought of his own father and his reputation. The way he treated women. And how fragile his mother had been.
The only conclusion he could draw was that this was true. The line between wives and whores.
He gritted his teeth against his own hypocrisy. Because hadn’t he only thought that if he were taking pleasure, the woman deserved it as well?
She had her pleasure. Every time he had his.
But there were certain acts that one did not sully a lady with.
A lady you forced into marriage.
Forced marriage was common enough. If not forced then arranged, based on little more than mutual need.
He had no reason to feel guilt for that.
On the morning of the fourth day, he set his delicate wife in the carriage and mounted his horse as he always did.
‘I’m tired of the carriage,’ she announced, her delicate face appearing in the window.
‘You’ve a few more days of it yet,’ he responded.
‘I wish to ride today.’
‘I haven’t an extra horse for you.’
‘I shall ride with you,’ she persisted.
‘You will be wanting the comfort of the carriage,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Then you can put me back in the carriage when you’ve tired of me. Or when I’ve tired of you. Whichever comes first.’
They had managed to exchange a few words since that first day they’d ridden in the carriage together. Since then, only their bodies had shared communication. But he knew full well that if he put the woman on the front of his horse he would be forced to listen to her talk about toast or birds or any number of inane things.
That he found he could not deny her enraged him.
‘Be quick about it,’ he said, dismounting to help her alight from the carriage. He opened the door, lifted her out, then propelled her up on to the horse, nestling her in front of him, her round, glorious backside fitting snugly against his cock.
So it was to be torture for the next several hours.
She fit perfectly against him. He had never had occasion to put a woman on the front of his horse before and he had not appreciated the situation it might create.
And he had been correct about the chatter. For she did chatter.
‘I do believe that is a Scots pine,’ she said, the fifth tree she had named in as many minutes.
‘Do you?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘At least, it’s what I recall reading in one of Gilbert White’s papers.’
‘You’ve truly spent that much of your time educating yourself on pines?’
‘My father didn’t have fiction in his library. So, I’ve spent a good deal of time collecting all types of information. On plants. Animals. Aqueducts.’
‘An impressive array of subjects.’
‘The Greek pantheon. Religion in general. But there was one area of my father’s library that was sadly lacking.’
‘Other than Scotland, you mean?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Other than Scotland.’ She made a small sound that he couldn’t quite interpret. A hum, as if she was considering whether or not she would carry on. Or pretending to consider it. In the short time he’d known Penny he’d never once got the sense she’d held back something she truly wanted to say. ‘It was alarmingly lacking in the subject of human anatomy. As well as other…practicalities. I have some questions.’
The way she wiggled against him created a pull of desire in his body. ‘Do you now?’
She paused for a moment, then turned her head to the side. He could see her elegant profile, her rosy cheeks partly concealed by the rounded curve of her bonnet. ‘What do you call it?’
‘My apologies, lass, I’m not sure what you mean.’ He had a feeling he did know what she meant and that the intended target was stirring against her backside even as she manoeuvred around the topic like a battle strategist.
‘Your…that is… I am actually aware of the biological…that is to say the Latin…’
‘A cock,’ he said, opting for bluntness.
Her shoulders twitched.
‘Really?’ she asked, her head whipping to the side again, the blue ribbon on her bonnet moving with her. ‘Like a rooster?’
‘Aye,’ he returned.
He had the strangest urge to laugh. Not at her, so much as the situation itself. He could not remember the last time he’d laughed from humour. At least when not in his cups.
‘Fascinating indeed.’ It wasn’t his imagination. She arched her back against him just then. ‘A cock.’ She tested the word and it was far too enticing, that sweet voice and the innocence wound through it, saying such a provoking thing.
‘Be careful wielding that,’ he said. ‘That word on a woman’s lips could cause the downfall of mankind. Or cause a scandal at the very least.’
‘Is it? It’s very difficult to know what’s scandalous when you haven’t the context. I’ve been so protected from scandal that I fear I’m not as shocked by some things as I ought to be. Ruination is such a broad term, don’t you think? And, as far as I’m aware, a woman can be ruined by going into a closed carriage with a man, or a darkened path in a garden, as easily as she can be ruined by the actual… Well, by copulation.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes.’ She paused for a moment. Then made that same humming noise she had before. ‘What do you call that? Is it the same as it is with animals?’
Then he would have laughed if she wasn’t sitting so close to him. Were he not pressed against her temptation of a backside. ‘There are many things you can call it.’
‘Tell me.’ She sounded eager and bright and he wanted—badly—to drag her down from the horse, tell his men to occupy themselves, take her into the nearest copse of trees and spend his time naming the act while performing it with her in a variety of fashions.
It was the strength of the need that stopped him.
For where there was no control, there was chaos.
And Lachlan was not a man who indulged in chaos.
He shifted. ‘Tup. Screwing. But then neither is a term you would use in polite company.’
She made a noise as if considering it.
‘Don’t go saying that,’ he said.
‘Why not?’
‘Not fitting for a lady.’
‘But the act is? For a married lady, at least. So why can’t I say it?’
‘You’re not such an innocent, surely.’ He knew fine ladies were sheltered from the world and he’d known she was untouched, but how could she know so little, yet respond to his touch so beautifully?
‘I don’t know. I feel as though I have gaps in my knowledge of the world. Of life. I didn’t know that the act between a man and a woman would feel quite so good. Or quite so terrible.’
He stiffened. ‘It’s terrible?’
‘Oh, it feels wonderful while you do it. But I don’t understand why you won’t…’ She twitched her shoulders and for some reason he had the deep sense that she was frowning, though he couldn’t see her face. ‘I don’t know the word for that either.’
‘Orgasm,’ he said. ‘That’s what the peak is called. The little death.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It does feel like that. As though your whole body might shutter to a stop at any moment. As if you’re shattered and crushed back together all at once.’
He had nothing to say to that. He shouldn’t feel…pleased.
He had never imagined that he might have such a forthright talk about such subjects with his wife. Not that he wasn’t accustomed to speaking of it. The men of his acquaintance were quite bold about such things and whores certainly had no cause to blush about the subject.
He had not imagined that a woman of her breeding would engage in the discussion, but she seemed fascinated.
He remembered well the way that she had tackled saving the small bird. The tenacity of her. It was the same now.
‘I know how one—or rather two—creates a child,’ she said. ‘I’ve read a great many books about farm animals. And I figure, as it is the same with all animals, it is the same with people. Also, I had a governess who presented quite a few stern warnings about men and their predation. Why do you not wish to create a child with me?’
‘I’ll not carry on my line,’ he said. ‘A decision I made long before I chose you as a wife.’
He didn’t see the point in manoeuvring around the truth. He owed her nothing, it was true. He had married her only to take something from her father, not to give anything to her. It cost him nothing to tell her why he had no interest in fathering a child. ‘My father was chief of the clan. By marriage to my mother. MacKenzie is her name. Was her name. My father earned his position through the trust of her father. The trust of the people. But he was weak. While the clan was diminished my father went to Edinburgh, and he spent his money, the money of the people, on frivolous things. On women, on houses about the city. He wanted to buy his way into being like them. Like a Sassenach.’
‘What is that?’
‘An outsider. English. That was what he became. He forsook his clan. The Highlands. After everything the English did to us.’
‘But you fought for England. In the war.’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I did. I would do it again, because the world has no place for bloodthirsty madmen and I would stand against that even if it meant standing with an enemy. Don’t mistake me, my relationship with your country is complicated. But my allegiance first and foremost is to Scotland. Is to the clan. My father traded his allegiance for his own comfort. Charged outlandish rents to the farmers and spent their money. He used them poorly. I would see everything returned to the people. I will not carry on a weak bloodline.’
‘You think your bloodline is weak because of your father’s actions? If we’re doomed to be our parents, then I’m fated to die very soon. Or become like my father, which I feel is only slightly preferable to early death.’
‘My mother had many children,’ he said. ‘All of them are dead.’
‘All of them?’ she asked, her voice hushed. ‘You lost all of your brothers and sisters?’
He dismissed the tenderness in her voice. ‘I don’t remember most of them.’
Only James had lived long enough to be given a name. Only he had lived long enough for Lachlan to remember his cries, his ruddy little face. His small, angry fists that he’d waved in the air as he wailed. Fever had taken him. And quickly.
‘That’s tragic, Lachlan. I’m very sorry.’
‘The world is a harsh place. Life and happiness are guaranteed to no one. I survived. There must be a purpose to that.’
‘And you don’t think that that purpose is to have more children?’
‘My purpose is to get the land back to the clan. To make sure that balance is restored.’
‘So you’ve taken me from…from marriage to a duke, a household full of people and a life where I would have children to…to taking me up to a foreign land where I will have no one.’
No one but him.
But she didn’t say that.
‘Babies die, lass,’ he said, his voice flat. ‘If I remember anything from my youth, it’s that.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said softly, ‘why you would do this to me?’
‘It’s nothing to do with you.’
He felt her shrink against him. ‘Of course it’s not. Nothing is. I’m a pawn, aren’t I? I don’t get toast or my jewellery box. And none of it matters, because you are getting your revenge. And you’re going to restore the Highlands the way that you see fit. You don’t much care if I could marry the man that I loved. You don’t much care if I wish you would…say something to me after you use my body. You don’t care if I want to hold a baby in my arms some day. That is…a wife and mother is something I should be. It’s…the way of things.’
‘I don’t have pity in my heart, Penny,’ he said, feeling a strange tenderness there all the same. ‘It’s a wasted speech on me, bonnie girl.’
‘What good is being beautiful? My father thought that beauty was my triumph. That it was what had got me into marriage with the Duke. But my beauty doesn’t mean anything, because you would have married me even if I looked like a toadstool. All you wanted was his suffering.’
‘Yes, but had you been ugly my marrying you would’ve been a favour. Instead, it was an insult. That his beautiful daughter would be wasted on a barbarian.’
‘So glad I could help with that,’ she said, each word bitten off at its end.
‘How is it you have such a tongue in your head? Such a sheltered girl, yet you don’t seem to fear me.’
‘Why should I? What else can you possibly take from me?’
The words scraped against something he hadn’t known existed inside him.
‘You will have a castle.’
‘A castle?’
‘Yes. The clan has a proper castle and it is no medieval fortress. My father used his money to make it quite modern. I think you’ll appreciate it. All the comforts of home behind fortified stone walls.’
‘Without a friend. Without children. I can go from one mausoleum to the other. A monument to sins that were not mine. I am truly a fortunate lass.’
He urged his horse forward, at a faster pace. ‘There are always children running about the castle. I’m sure you’ll find a bairn if it’s what you desire.’
She said nothing to that and absurdly he found he wanted to go back to naming body parts and ecstasy for her education. For anything would be better than this. Knowing he had disappointed her and caring even the slightest bit.
What was it about this creature that called forth feelings in him? He knew drive. He knew how to chart a course and sail his ship to that destiny. He knew how to plan and wait and execute. He did not feel.
But she shifted things in his chest, like the rising and falling of a tide rearranged even the heaviest of boulders, and he could not see the reason for it.
‘I swear to you this,’ he said. ‘Your life will not be a misery.’
Then he knew, for he was thinking of his mother. His mother, who had been so badly disgraced by his father, who had lost all of her children but one. And though he knew his father deserved the largest share of the blame, he could not shake the guilt. It had followed him through life, following him on to the battlefield. All the women he’d failed to save. He might have married Penny for revenge, but he would never treat her cruelly. ‘You will not fade away to misery. My mother took her own life, Penny. That was where her misery took her. That was where my father took her. I have seen things on a battlefield that would tear you right in two. I have seen what it does to men, the madness that overtakes them. Rather than protecting the vulnerable they…use their strength against them. They forget they are men and become like animals. I have seen men lose all hope and decide death is preferable to the life around them. The despair that takes you to get to that point is a tremendous pit. The pit my mother fell prey to. You may not understand my reasons, but you can take me at my word. That will not be your fate. But trust that my decisions are for the best.’
He had partly expected a quick rejoinder, but she said nothing. Not for a while.
‘I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sorry if what my father did made it worse. Made it harder.’
‘It did,’ he said.
‘Of course it did. If it hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been so bent on revenge, would you?’
‘And what can you take from a man who has nothing?’
‘His daughter,’ she said, softly. ‘And his chance to have a relation to a duke by marriage.’
‘So you see that I had no choice.’
‘You always have a choice,’ she said. ‘It’s just that you might not like the results of some of those choices. And so you chose the one that suits you best. I could’ve run away from our marriage. I had a choice. Society would have made it very difficult for me to find a way to survive. The Duke’s sister offered me help, but I couldn’t in good conscience risk Beatrice’s reputation. Or even the Duke of Kendal’s. A duke he might be, but he is still beholden to society and they love nothing more than to watch a man of quality fall. He prizes his integrity and reputation. How could I be the one to damage all that he’s built?’
‘And so you fell on your sword for the sake of their reputation, then complained to me about my revenge?’
‘And you have twisted my words and used them against me.’ She sounded grudgingly impressed.
‘I have experience in war. I’m trained to fight.’
‘And I am trained to do needlepoint. So I am outmatched.’
‘Somehow, I doubt it.’
For there was something about the woman that got beneath his skin and he could not figure out the where or why.
The road went on, wide and smooth, the fields on either side of them rolling and green, sharp rocks rising from the grass out in the distance, creating a shoddy patchwork that extended to the horizon line.
‘What did you dream your life would look like?’
‘Must you talk?’
‘It’s the reason that I’m riding on the horse with you,’ she said. ‘I don’t like the quiet. It’s heavy. I was tired of being alone.’
‘I was not.’
‘Was that your dream, then?’ she asked. ‘To be alone? In which case, choosing a wife as a pawn in your revenge game was poor planning.’
‘Many men do not often see their wives.’
‘Of course,’ she said.
‘Your dreams,’ he said. ‘Tell me of your dreams, Lady Penelope. If you want to know mine, surely you should tell me yours first.’
‘When? My dreams recently consisted of a duke and his beautiful country home.’
‘Somehow, I can’t imagine you wished to marry him for his rank and title.’
He didn’t know why he was so certain of that. Any person would be tempted by a title so lofty. Why should she be any different? Yet he sensed that she was. He sensed that it was not his title that had appealed to her at all.
‘I’m tired of being alone,’ she said. ‘That’s why I used to wander the estate the way that I did. Looking for small animals. I used to dream of being like the birds. I used to dream of flying away.’
He was not looking to fulfil this woman’s dreams. He was not the husband she’d chosen. But her sadness bothered him and it made him want to offer her something.
‘Well. The horse doesn’t have wings, but it is carrying you away to Scotland.’
She took a sharp breath, her shoulders pitching upward. ‘I suppose that’s true. But I had been to Bybee House. I’ve spent so much time there. And I know the Duke’s mother. His sister. She was one of my dearest friends, before her brother was told that I betrayed him. And his ward. Such lovely girls, and… They were the first real friends that I’ve ever had. I want to not hurt. To not have to…feel fear or grief.’
Her words, her face, mingled with images from the past. With a woman he couldn’t save, whose last moment he knew had been spent in fear and despair.
‘Aye, lass, wouldn’t we all.’
‘You can’t tell me you feel fear.’
‘I fought in a war for ten years and, no matter how grimly I told myself death was to be accepted, greeted like a friend, I fought to preserve myself as well as those around me. Death was commonplace, but one thing you learn is how strong the will to survive is.’ A strange sensation tightened his chest. ‘The very worst thing of all is to see that will stolen from another person. You must have some sense of the future. For me…it was restoring the clan.’
‘And revenge,’ she said, her tone filled with mock cheer.
‘Aye.’
‘I thought I knew what my life would be, then the Duke proposed. Suddenly I could dream of a whole new future. You took that from me.’
‘Dreams, perhaps. But there is always adventure. Adventure often lies just far enough in front of us that we cannot see the destination,’ he said. ‘You cannot know to dream of what’s on the other side of that.’
‘Is that what you’ve had these last years? An adventure?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Adventure is also not always good. I came to England to make my fortune and I did. But it was a circuitous route that took me over battlefields and brings me to a home where none of my clan may remember or accept me as chief. But make my fortune I did.’
‘Was making your fortune your dream?’
‘I was born with fortune. I did not need to dream of it.’
‘Then what was your dream?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I had everything until I had nothing. And then there was no purpose to dreams.’
‘Only revenge?’
‘A dream is nothing more than a wish. Revenge takes planning.’
‘Well, then I suppose you planned well.’
‘That I did.’
Yet, as he sat atop his horse with his wife clutched tightly against him and the carriage rolling behind them, he had the sense that his plan might not be going quite as he had expected.
It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter and neither did the feelings that she roused in his soul. What mattered was getting back to Scotland, not concerning himself with her feelings of loneliness or her thoughts of her own shattered dreams. Or giving names to the mysteries in her universe.
She was not a bland, English miss and he should have given her more credit than that. But her failure to be boring hardly meant that he needed to recalibrate the way that he saw his life moving forward.
He was the husband, after all.
His wife was his property.
He protected what was his, kept it safe. He was not his father and he would not treat ill that which was his to protect. But she was his none the less.
He was returning home to the Highlands with much more property than he had when he left and that was a triumph.
It was all that mattered. He would concern himself with nothing else.
‘That’s an oak,’ Penny said, though it lacked the spirit of her earlier proclamations.
* * *
For the rest of the day he contented himself with listening to her name the obvious, while the press of her arse kept him hard with wanting.
When they arrived at the next inn, he had his way with her as he had done every night before and, when he was finished, he did not concern himself with her loneliness.