Page 107 of Bride of Fire
Morgan cursed his body. It hadn’t yet grasped that he wasn’t going to swive anyone tonight. His skin still felt warm and alive. His heart was pumping with anticipation. And beneath the covers, he’d roused like a bear from its winter sleep, awake and ravenous.
But it wasn’t to be.
He couldn’t blame Alicia. The poor lass had endured much at the hands of the enemy. It might be more than her body that was injured. Her mind could be wounded as well. He’d have to have patience with her in their bed. More than ever before.
He’d always needed to take his time with Alicia. She was a fragile creature, not easy to please. Extremely modest, she never removed her kirtle, nor was he to remove his leine. She wasn’t fond of kissing and insisted on trysting in the shadows. They coupled no more than once a week, less when she was suffering from her monthly courses.
As long as he followed her requirements, she was compliant enough to let him climb atop her. She would close her eyes while he made love to her, lying quietly beneath him, waiting for him to finish.
He supposed it was always thus for man and wife. Coupling was for making babes, after all. Whether they enjoyed it or not was irrelevant.
Still, tonight, as Alicia moved farther away from him, taking most of the coverlet with her, he couldn’t help but remember how different it had been, making love to Jenefer.
While Alicia’s breathing deepened into soft snores, Morgan stared at the ceiling, imagining the fiery, brazen lass who had ridden shamelessly atop him, demanding in her kisses and breathless with awe.
But even while his body stirred, that memory was tarnished by the nagging notion Alicia had slipped into his brain—that Jenefer was after him only for his title, his wealth, and his keep.
Chapter 48
By the time Alicia awoke, the day was half gone. Morgan, as usual, had arisen at dawn. A laird’s life was a busy one.
That was fine with her. She preferred not having to play the role of the timid and dutiful wife every hour of the day. As long as she had servants to do her bidding and see to her needs, she had no need of Morgan.
To be honest, she required very little in life. Morgan should consider himself lucky she was so easily pleased.
She demanded only five things.
A loyal husband of good standing.
Enough coin to maintain her comfort.
The authority to command others.
Civilized company.
And a bearable climate.
For two years, she’d had to live without the last two. Now that Morgan had moved the clan to the Lowlands, she could be assured of all her needs.
Swiving him was the price she paid for that assurance. She wouldn’t fool herself about that for a moment. She might have slipped through his lusty fingers last night. But Morgan would eventually insist on having his way with her. After all, as laird of a clan, he expected to sire more than one child.
For now, at least, she could use the excuse of her horrid ordeal to keep him at bay.
She picked up the steel mirror on the table beside her and examined her face. Already her cuts had begun to heal. Her black eye had turned yellow-green. The lump on her brow had diminished into a flat purple bruise.
She smiled in satisfaction. Her wounds were severe enough to be convincing, but not enough to scar. Of course, if that wretch Edward hadn’t swived the midwife, she wouldn’t have needed to inflict them at all.
Her face grew ugly as she sulked at the memory of the adulterous swine. She slammed the mirror back down on the table.
Then she forced her lips into a brilliant grin. There was no need to dwell on the past. She’d taken care of all that. Her husband would give her no cause to fret. Morgan wasn’t Edward. He’d never prove disloyal.
The shutters were ajar, and Alicia suddenly heard voices coming from outside the window. Curious, she gathered her kirtle and crept from the bed to peer out to the ground below.
Standing on the sward and conversing with Bethac’s redheaded grandson was that damned nursemaid.
Irritation crawled up Alicia’s spine. What was the irksome woman scheming? Wasn’t she supposed to be watching over Morgan’s infant? And what was her business with his soldier?
Her earlier concerns about the wench immediately resurged. It was a small step from dallying with Morgan’s men to pursuing Morgan himself. Alicia should know. She’d moved many a man to possessive jealousy by flirting with those around him.
