Page 66 of Wild Hearts

"When the baggage arrives, send it up to our chamber. We need food and a bath and privacy." His possessive arm was again holding his bride. His eyes mocked her with their green brilliance. "Newlyweds need a lot of privacy."

Alexander, who had stood back from the others, came forward now He looked closely at Tabrizia and said low, "Are you happy?"

Paris's arm tightened about her, threatening to crush her ribs in his warning. She smiled faintly. "What a silly question."

When she was alone with Paris in his bedchamber, the chamber they would share as man and wife, she felt extremely shy and tongue-tied. The mere sight of the massive, curtained bed with its luxurious wolf pelts set her cheeks flaming and her pulses racing with fear. To busy her hands, she picked up his cloak where he'd negligently tossed it, and took it to the wardrobe.

He said cruelly, "You needn't overdo the dutiful wife role, now that we are in private, and for God's sake don't start turning into an efficient chatelaine, either. I prefer you as a decoration."

Almost stung to tears, she whirled away from him and ran up the short staircase to her old bedchamber. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly with her agitation, and before her breathing calmed and she gained control of her feelings, she heard the door slam below, as he left the chamber. Paris joined his brothers and sisters for dinner and made arrangements for a servant to take a tray up to Tabrizia. "I'm sorry you had to shoulder the burden of Anne's death while I was away."

Troy reassured, "We managed fine. There was no one at the funeral, except for us."

"I'II travel up to Cardell tomorrow and take the news to her father. It is the only decent thing I can do. I'd better have a talk with Mrs. Sinclair after dinner," he decided.

Shannon spoke up. "She isn't here. Margaret took her back to Tantallon."

He raised a brow but kept his own counsel. When the meal was finished, he glanced around the table and explained, "I know it seems indecent of me to have wed in such haste; but Tabrizia was betrothed and halfway to the altar. I snatched her away like a thief in the night again. I felt I had to grab what happiness I could. I don't know why I'm telling you all this"— he mocked himself—"I had to have her."

Shannon faced him, hands on hips, and laughed." Of course you had to have her. Who else would put up with you?"

He shook his head. "Perhaps she won't. Perhaps this-time I've gone too far."

By the time Paris went up to bed, Tabrizia had had plenty of time to herself to rest and regain her composure. She'd had time to eat and bathe, and she had even washed her hair and now sat before the fire, for its final stage of drying. Paris undressed and stretched out his great length, grateful to be in his own bed again. He didn't bait her tonight. It was enough just to watch her. She pleasured all his senses. Watching her graceful movements and listening to her hum were by far the safest senses to indulge. Once she was close enough for her scent to fill his nostrils, his mind reeled. When he touched her body, his blood coursed through his veins like rich red wine, making him drunk with desire, and when he tasted her— my God, it drove him to madness.

As her arms stretched high to brush her tresses, the firelight silhouetted the beauty of her body through the silken gown and lit her hair like a waterfall of liquid fire that flowed to her waist. His breath caught in his throat as she laid aside the brush and approached the bed: Her heavy lashes brushed her cheeks as she turned back the covers and gently slid under them. He raised up on an elbow to look down at her. Tiny tendrils of curls escaped the heavy, silken mass. He wanted to crush her to him, to feel her tremble in his arms. She raised pleading eyes to his, silently begging him not to hurt her. The look only brought forth his anger. "Christ, you look at me like a wounded fawn. I'm not a brute that gives you the back of my hand, so why do you flinch from me?" he demanded.

When she did not answer, he added scornfully, "You'll be rid of me for two days. I'm going to Cardell tomorrow!"

She felt contrite. Taking the news to Anne's father was an unpleasant duty that must be attended to. She felt guilty over accusing him of having a hand in her death, but the news had come as such a shock, she had voiced her suspicions unthinkingly.

He was so close, she could feel the heat from his body. Her senses were enveloped in the smell of sandalwood that lingered on him and in his bed and throughout the chamber. An ache began imperceptibly in her breasts and gradually spread down her body. A groan of dismay escaped her lips as she realized his mere presence could affect her to the point where her own body betrayed her. If only he would take her gently into his arms and tell her he loved her, she would go to him willingly, eagerly. He was her heart's desire, deny it though she would, yet still she feared him.

Paris's absence gave her the luxury of total freedom. She was home at last. She would enjoy! At the breakfast table, they all talked and laughed so much between mouthfuls, they were still sitting there two hours later. She told them all about the King's and Queen's Courts in London. The scandals, the gossip, the fashions and the extravagance fascinated them. They came back to her chamber to examine her low-cut gowns and her furs. They told her Venetia was already expecting a child, and Lennox was over the moon. Before the day was out, two of them asked her to use her influence with Paris. First, Damascus waited until she was alone; then her face took on such a woebegone expression, Tabrizia could hardly keep her face straight.

"Oh, Tabby, it is so unfair. Paris gave his permission for Venetia to marry, but when Robert asked for me, Paris snarled at him and said he forbade the marriage. Everybody is a bride but me," she pouted. "Next thing you know, Shannon will have accepted Lord Logan just to beat me to the altar. It is all your fault, really, so you are the one who should put it right."

"My fault?" asked Tabrizia, at a loss.

"Your running away from Paris put him in a black temper. No one could approach him. You will make him sweet-tempered again. All you have-to do is wait until he's being particularly tender with you and then tell him he should let me get married."

"Is that all?" asked Tabrizia faintly.

Damascus smiled happily again. "You must have him eating out of your hand by now. A really good time will be after he's been away from you for two days— he'll be able to refuse you nothing!"

Alexander came up to her and swung her into the air. "It is so wonderful to have you back. Perhaps Paris will be fit to live with again. Oh, Tab, while he was away I had the most marvelous time in Edinburgh. I took a tour of the university. That's what I want to do, Tab. I've decided to go to the university. My only problem is Paris, and, of course, you can persuade him for me!"

"Alexander, your timing is impossible. I know it is very important to you, but we will have to talk about it some other time."

He looked hurt. "But he's besotted with you. He will refuse you nothing."

"That's the second time today I've heard those words. Sometimes I don't think we are talking about the same man! It is your brother Paris we're discussing, isn't it?"

"Tabby, he's so far gone in love. He eats you with his eyes."

Tabrizia sat up late talking with Alexandria. She was on the point of confiding how Paris had forced her in the chapel and how things were between them when she reconsidered and decided to say nothing. She remembered how often Alexandria had gotten her into scrapes in the past and, though she loved her dearly, decided against telling her anything. It was only partly because Paris had forbidden her; her own pride did not want them to know that Paris did not love her.

That night she pulled the curtains all the way around Paris's great bed and snuggled down in the luxurious privacy. She must make the best of things. After all ,she was Lady Cockburn. Her position gave her the right to a good life. She would not live in his shadow, forever cowering when he so much as looked at her. He had been right when he pointed out that he had never struck her, and if his tongue was cruel, then be damned to him, he would get as good as he gave.

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