Page 38 of The Wrong Bride
CHAPTER 10
Hugh could have lain within Riona’s arms forever. One of her soft, warm arms was beneath his neck as she curled against him. It wasn’t dawn yet, but his body was awakening—in more ways than one.
He was filled with satisfaction and confidence in the future. Riona wasn’t immune to him; it would just take a little time to make her see that their marriage could be happy. They might not trust each other, but that didn’t really matter. Trust was something that could get a person killed. Attraction was more important to him than some mystical feeling like love that could hurt her in the end.
She gave a little sigh, and he could feel the exhalation through her chest, which was pressed along his arm. This was a good way to wake up.
Until she went all stiff and affronted; she opened her green eyes wide and gazed into his.
“I can’t get up,” he said with amused apology in his voice. “Someone is holding on tight.”
With a sigh, she rolled onto her back. “I cannot control what I do in my sleep. Please sit up and free my arm now.”
“Ye mean ye can’t hold back your desires when ye’re asleep.”
“Just untie me, please.”
He chuckled and stood up, then squatted as she put her legs over the edge within his reach. He untied her a little slower than necessary, making sure his fingers had to repeatedly touch her soft skin.
When she gave several exaggerated sighs, he glanced up at her. “Ye just like having me at your feet.”
“Only if I can kick you,” she grumbled.
He slid the rope free. “See, not a permanent mark on ye.”
She bent her knee and put her heel on the bed, the better to look at her shin. There were faint impression marks there.
“Shall I kiss them better?” he asked softly, leaning forward.
She swung her legs away with the speed of a swordsman and tucked them beneath her. “No, thank you. You can leave now, go about your day, whatever you’d like to do.”
He stood up. “I hope the day passes swiftly, so that we’re soon together again.”
She looked aghast at the notion, and with a shaky finger pointed at the door. “Please leave! If you thought tying me up would help your cause, you’ve miscalculated. I’m more offended than ever by your uncivilized behavior.”
Leaning against the bed frame, he eyed her rumpled garments with interest. “I think ye’re lying to yourself. You enjoy kissing as much as I do. Ye’ll enjoy what follows even more.”
She came up on her knees and screeched, “Out!”
He laughed, and wearing a victorious smirk, he left.
RIONAate breakfast in the great hall without Hugh, and at first she thought that was better than staring at him across an intimate table in his suite. But she was eating in the company of a household of mostly men, and though they obviously tried not to stare at her, they all took turns sending her surreptitious glances. She’d never felt so on display before, regarded with such curiosity and speculation. She was their enemy—many must think it. Some might also consider her their clan’s very salvation. It was an awkward, scary place to be. She’d spent much of her childhood and young womanhood praying someone would notice her; she’d gotten her wish and the irony was keen.
She was grateful Samuel made time to see how she was doing, but other than that, conversationscontinued in Gaelic all around her, and she felt very alone, an outsider in every sense. But to bolster her spirits, she reminded herself that she would leave someday—shehadto leave, she thought firmly, considering all that had happened between her and Hugh last night.
She explored the castle for much of the morning, opening random doors, speaking to servants, reluctantly introducing herself to Hugh’s young gentlemen who helped him run the business of the clan estates. She didn’t see Dermot. Everyone was polite but distant, sometimes even wary, and she felt very much like the enemy, a Duff in the midst of McCallums. But she’d be a Duff who knew Larig Castle if an opportunity to escape presented itself—not that she was counting on that.
As the day went on, memories of her night tied in bed with Hugh began to overtake her, and anticipation built stronger and stronger. Though she told herself she’d use the opportunity to learn more about him, learn his weaknesses, deep inside she imagined how he might touch her, and how it would feel, and what would come next.
Why was she having these kinds of thoughts about her cousin’s betrothed? Much as Cat didn’t even know about him, their families had this marriage long planned. Riona should respect it, even as she tried to escape it for herself. Instead she was discovering a wicked part of her she’d never imagined.
To distract herself, she went to the kitchens and watched the cook and servants prepare tarts they’d be serving with the main course for dinner. Mrs. Wallace was there as well, chatting cheerfully as if she hadn’t seen Riona tied up by the McCallum. Riona couldn’t stop blushing, but perhaps they’d think the cause was merely the heat in the kitchen. Then a ragged man entered, and Mrs. Wallace called him a gaberlunzie, a beggar granted a license to beg. Apparently he was a regular gossip with the servants, and brought news in exchange for a meal. Mrs. Wallace asked hesitantly if Riona wished to have a say in whether he was still welcome, but she demurred. She wasn’t going to be the mistress of the castle and didn’t want to give that impression.
But . . . it had been rare to be asked her opinion, and she’d been grateful that Mrs. Wallace had given her the chance. To turn down having her own say had been bittersweet.
After the midday meal, she wore a hooded cloak and boots outside into the cloudy, misty—muddy—day. She was used to occasionally walking alone in London’s public parks or shopping on Regent Street, so it was strange that someone would be assigned to watch over her. She didn’t know who it was, and there were so many people in the courtyard that his identity was well hidden. But she couldn’t let that stop her from exploring, because she’d go crazy with nothing to do. She briefly considered justwalking through the gatehouse and into the forbidden world, but what was the point? She could get nowhere on her own, didn’t even know where the nearest village was. And it wasn’t like there was a road with a sign pointing the way. The trails that crisscrossed the mountains as they’d approached could have been from cattle roaming and might lead nowhere. She wasn’t about to risk death in so foolish a manner. But she did spend a while studying the guards’ focus on people entering the castle, and realized they were far more indifferent when people left.
She wandered through the castle buildings, probably making the servants nervous as she watched them brew beer or soak the castle laundry. In the lower courtyard, she stared fascinated as the smithy worked glowing metal into a horseshoe.
