Page 40 of Kilty as Sin
He’dhither?
The pain gave her something to focus on. Rather than whimpering and falling back into the black obscurity, she struggled upward again, angry beyond words.
“Wife! Yewillbe awake!” His second blow—to her other cheek—slammed her head back into the pillow. “I will no’ fook a drugged woman! Wake up, so I can claim ye!”
The sharp bite of the anger pushed her eyes open and she glared at the vague silhouette above the bed.
That’s when the water hit her square in the face.
Sputtering, she struggled to breathe past the water—he’dtossed waterat her?—and the fierce ire burning in her gut.
“How—dare—” she sputtered.
As she blinked water from her eyes, she could clearly see the man standing at her bedside.
MacGill.
He was more than twice her age, but as evidenced by his actions, he’d lost none of his strength. When she’d first met him, she’d thought him handsome, with his dark hair shot through with silver, and his even teeth. Aye, Grace could imagine him turning many a lass’s head…
Until she looked at his eyes.
His eyes, a gray-green which reminded her of Barclay’s, were as cold as ice. His cruelty was reflected in that gaze and had always made her shiver with dread.
Handsome, aye, but terrifying as well.
“Good. Ye’re finally awake.” MacGill reached for his belt, and when he unclasped it, his tunic sagged open. “When we return to my keep, I’ll no’ allow ye to laze the day away as ye’ve been doing.”
Laze? She’d beendrugged. By her own father!
Grace struggled upright, her cheek throbbing and her horrified gaze focused on the fact MacGill was undressing.
“What are—”
“I told ye,” he snapped, kicking off his boots. “We’re married. Now I’m consummating the marriage. Nae need to unclothe, wife. I’ll just throw up yer skirts.”
Grace glanced down. She was wearing one of her nicest gowns, a blue silk she’d always thought made her look lovely. Today she felt dirty.
MacGill planned to—tofookher. Here and now? With no loving words, no gentle touches? They hadn’t evenkissed.
Why are ye surprised? He told ye he cared naught for yer pleasure, only his. He told ye he planned to fook ye until ye gave him a son, and continue after, nae matter yer feelings.
Naught at all like Barclay.
Barclay had held her on his lap, had cradled her against him, had shown her the most incredible pleasure…using only his fingers and his tongue.
He’d given her pleasure without taking any of his own.
He’d shown her the world, exactly the way she’d asked him, even if it conflicted with his mission.
He’d put her before his mission, if only for a few moments. To show her pleasure.
Grace’s eyes filled with tears. He was a good man. The best of men.
How could she not love him?
She loved Barclay.
Blinking, she glared up at MacGill. “I dinnae want to be married to ye.”
