Chapter 3

T he lights of Tabord 's inn gleamed warm and welcoming ahead of them.

But not welcoming for her, Kate remembered suddenly, stiffening. Dear heaven, she had been so weary and dazed at the bewildering changes in her life, she had let MacDarren lead her where he would.

She reined in Caird. "No."

Robert looked impatiently over his shoulder. "What the devil is wrong now?"

"I can't stay here."

"The hell you can't. You wouldn't stay at the cottage, and now you won't stay here. We're not camping by the side of the road tonight. I'm tired and almost as dirty as you are from that roll in the mud. I need a bath and a bed, and this is where we'll get both." He turned and kicked his horse into a trot. "Now."

He didn't understand, and she was too numb with weariness to explain further. He would find out soon enough.

Master Tabord threw open the door and came out into the stable yard. The light from the candelabra he carried revealed the broad smile on his face as his gaze instantly appraised the richness of MacDarren's garments. "Ah, my lord, welcome. I am Peter Tabord, the owner of this inn."

Robert inclined his head. "I'm Robert MacDarren, earl of Craighdhu."

"And how may I serve you?"

"Beds, food." Robert got down from his horse and came around to Kate's horse. "And above all, tubs of hot water for baths."

"We have the finest of all three. You took a fall?" Master Tabord shook his head sympathetically as he watched Robert lift Kate from the saddle. "I hope the lady was not—" He broke off, his eyes narrowing. He stepped closer, the candle held high, peering at Kate. She knew by the tightening of his lips the minute he recognized her. "Good evening, Kate." He turned abruptly back to Robert. "I'm sorry, my lord. I can give you no shelter here. I have no room."

"You had rooms before," Robert said slowly.

"Not now." The innkeeper turned back to Kate. "Go home. Have you not caused the vicar enough woe with your wild ways? I will not have you come whoring under my roof. You're not to—"

"Quiet!" Robert stepped forward, and his dirk was suddenly pressed to Tabord's plump stomach. "No more. By thunder, I've had enough. You'll find two rooms in this ‘crowded' hovel of yours, and you'll give me what I ask or I'll slit your gullet."

"Please refrain," Gavin said, flinching. "You know how I hate the sight of blood."

Robert ignored him as he pressed the knife harder against Tabord's stomach. "You will find a maidservant to wait on my wife, and you will give her both the respect and service she requires."

Master Tabord's lips set stubbornly. "You cannot intimidate me, my lord. I will do what is right. You cannot—Your wife?" Master Tabord's expression mirrored Kate's shock as he grasped the full meaning of Robert's words. "Kate? She is not your—"

"We are wed." Robert sheathed the dirk and turned to Gavin. "Take the horses to the stable."

"Wed?" Gavin gave a low whistle. "So that's how you're going to do it."

Master Tabord still frowned at them. "It is odd your man does not seem to know of this marriage."

"Have I taken this woman in marriage, Gavin?" Robert asked.

"Aye." Gavin smiled as he gathered Robert's and Kate's horses' reins and turned toward the stable. "You've taken her right and fast."

Robert's hand closed on Kate's wrist, and he pulled her into the inn. "Hot water, a tub, and a maidservant."

Master Tabord slowly followed them into the hall. "There is only my daughter, Carolyn."

"She will do."

"No," Kate said quickly. "Not Carolyn. I won't have her waiting on me."

For the first time the innkeeper's expression softened. "Carolyn will not mind, Kate. She's never stopped talking about you."

Robert pulled Kate up the steps. "Where is our chamber?"

"The second door," Master Tabord said. He stood in the hallway gazing up at them. "You're truly wed?"

Robert turned and said with precision, "I will not tell you again. She is my wife, and you will treat her as such." He led Kate down the short hall and opened the chamber door.

Kate tore away from his grasp and whirled to face him as the door closed behind them. "You lied to him."

"I don't lie." Robert slammed the door, took off his short cape, and threw it on the chair.

"Don't do that, you'll get mud on those fine embroidered cushions." She picked up the cloak and dropped it on the floor.

"I don't give a whit about Master Tabord's cushions." He looked at her. "And I'm surprised you do, after the way he flayed you."

"It's not his fault. He's a better man than most." Her own damp cloak seemed an unbearable weight on her shoulders. She took it off and threw it down beside his. How strange they looked together, she thought vaguely. Rich velvet and shabby wool, as different from each other as she was from this man who had whirled into her life. "He was very kind to me when I was a child. I used to play with his daughter, Carolyn."

"He didn't seem overkind to you tonight."

"When I grew older, Sebastian decided it wasn't good for me to have the company of the villagers. He forbade me to come to the village, and he told everyone…" She stopped at that remembered hurt and then continued, "He told everyone that I was a harlot, and that he must watch me closely to keep me from sinning."

"And they believed his lies?"

"Why not? He's the vicar, a man of God. And he did not think it a lie. He believes I have the soul of a harlot, and they believe him." She met his gaze and suddenly felt a flare of anger. "But I'm not a whore. I will not be anything he says I am. And I will not let you make me into the harlot he thinks me."

"I have no intention of making you my whore."

"I'm not ignorant. Sebastian made sure I know what constitutes carnal sin. We occupy the same chamber; you lie and say we are wed when we are not. Do you have any intention of marrying me?"

"We are wed."

The statement was spoken with such absoluteness that she gazed at him in shock. "Are you mad? We cannot be wed just because you say it is so."

"Oh, but we can." He smiled grimly. "And that is the only way we'll ever wed. Handfast."

She repeated the unfamiliar word. "Handfast?"

"Handfast is an entirely legal marriage in Scotland. There is no religious ceremony, but the man and the woman announce the bonding before witnesses and then live together for a year. If the match proves to give contentment to both, or a child is born, the marriage is declared permanent. If not…" He shrugged. "They are both free to go their own way."

"It sounds most strange," she said suspiciously.

"But entirely legal and binding…for a year. I'll take you to Craighdhu and acknowledge you as my wife. In a year we will part." His lips thinned. "In spite of any more permanent plans devised by Her Majesty."

He was angry, but it wasn't with her, she realized. "You don't wish to stay married to me?"

"God, no!" He smiled crookedly. "Forgive my lack of gallantry, but you're the last woman I'd consider marrying. I have enough problems without burdening myself in that fashion."

"Because I'm who I am. Because I'm her daughter," she said. It was not a question. Sebastian had always made it clear that she was not worthy of marriage, that no man would ever want her in any but the carnal sense.

"Exactly."

An odd pang of hurt shot through her at the decisive word. It was the answer she had expected, but the hurt was still there. She threw back her shoulders and forced herself to stand up straighter. "Well, I certainly don't care. I don't want you either. I don't want to marry anyone." She wished he would leave her. She had thought she had armored herself against pain, but somehow he managed to get beyond the barriers to make the loneliness worse. It was only because she was so tired, she told herself. Every emotion was distorted when you were on the verge of collapse. "I don't know why the lady—Her Majesty thought it necessary to have me wed."

"You don't?" He studied her before muttering, "Evidently the good vicar neglected to advise you on the political implications of being Mary's daughter."

"Political?" She looked at him in bewilderment. "I'm nothing to anyone. I have no power. I'm illegitimate, my lord."

"So was William the First. There are—" He stopped when they both heard the sound of voices on the stairs. "They're bringing up the tub. We'll talk later." He started for the door. "And my name is Robert. Since we are wed, I prefer less formality…Kathryn."

"Kate!" As he turned to look at her with a quizzical expression, she tempered the passion of her tone. " He calls me Kathryn."

"And you won't be anything he says you are," he quoted softly. "What did Landfield mean?"

The question confused her. "What?"

"What he said about you knowing what he had to do."

"He always told me I had to be saved or destroyed," she said. "He means to destroy me now."

"You appear to accept that quite calmly. I would think—" A knock sounded on the door, and he opened it.

A tall, dark-haired young woman stood smiling at them. Kate recognized Carolyn and instinctively tensed.

"I'm Carolyn Tabord, my lord." She gestured behind her. "Simon is bringing a tub for the countess. We've placed another in the next room for you and filled it with hot water. Your man is now bathing in the kitchen. I hope that is satisfactory?"

"Quite satisfactory." He glanced back at Kate for an instant and then turned on his heel and left the chamber.

Carolyn swept into the room, her dark eyes twinkling. "And I'm sure the countess finds his lordship very satisfactory as well," she murmured as she came toward Kate. "By the saints, he looks as lusty as that stallion we watched mount Megan that day in the field. Is he?"

Kate was caught off guard. There was no hint of censure or restraint in Carolyn's manner. It was as if they had parted yesterday instead of three years ago. "I'm not sure. I mean—Hello, Carolyn. How are you?"

"Fine. You know I'm always fine." She grinned as she swept up the cloaks from the floor. "I'm to marry also."

"Who?"

"Timothy Kanut, the blacksmith." She opened the door and threw the cloaks out into the hallway. "I'll hang them before the fire in the kitchen to dry and then dust the mud off. Merciful heavens, you're dirty."

Kate vaguely remembered Timothy Kanut. He was some years older than themselves, a tall, strapping man with a sweet smile, enormous muscles, and a wife whose tongue was as sharp as a dagger. "I thought he was already married."

"His wife died last year. Poor dear." She shut the door and turned with a grin. "Just in time to save me from sinning in the hayloft to persuade Timothy to run away with me."

Her eyes widened. "You would have done that?"

She nodded. "I love the man, and it would have been foolish for me to let him stay with a shrew who only made him miserable. That would have been a greater sin than fornication, and you know I've never been a fool."

No, Carolyn had always been shrewd, bold and free-thinking, or she would never have had the courage to become Kate's friend. "Your father would have been brokenhearted."

Carolyn nodded. "Sometimes he doesn't see things clearly." She paused, and for a moment there was a faint awkwardness in her manner. "He shouldn't have believed Sebastian. I tried to tell him…I went to the vicarage many times that first year, you know."

"No, I didn't know."

"She wouldn't let me see you. I tried to persuade her, and then I shouted at her. I did everything I could to convince her, but she looked at me with those cold eyes.…" She shrugged regretfully. "Finally, I gave up and didn't go back again."

"I wouldn't have given up," Kate said fiercely. "I would have kept on trying to see you, if it had taken a hundred years."

"I did the best I could. I knew you wouldn't understand." She made a face. "I could never be all you wanted me to be. You always demanded too much. You were never able to accept me as I was."

One part of Kate realized that she could not expect those days of freedom and friendship to be as precious to Carolyn, but she still fiercely resented the abandonment. Kate had never told her about her life at the cottage; she had wanted to keep their hours together free from any taint. Still, if Carolyn had truly cared about her, wouldn't she have sensed how alone Kate would be if she permitted Sebastian to separate them? No, Carolyn didn't understand loneliness, she thought wearily, just as Carolyn had never really understood Kate herself. "I suppose it doesn't matter."

"Well, not anymore, at least." Carolyn's smile was back. "Now, you're a fine countess with a husband who can make even my father take a step back. Everything always works out for the best. I heard nothing about your marriage in the village. How long have you been wed?"

"Not long." She still wasn't sure if MacDarren's words about their being married had been true. It all sounded most peculiar. She lifted her hand and rubbed her temple.

Carolyn noticed the gesture and immediately went to the door. "You're tired, and I'm standing here keeping you from your bath. I'll see what's keeping Simon. We can talk while you're in tub."

Everything works out for the best .

How wonderful it would be to believe that were true in this world where her fate seemed left to the whim of a stranger. Yet two good things had already come out of Robert MacDarren's arrival in her life, she realized with a little flare of hope. She had found she had not been completely abandoned by the only friend she had ever had, and she was free of Sebastian. At least for the time being. She could worry about the rest later. She was too tired to think now.

"And where is our bride?" Gavin asked as he watched Robert come down the steps an hour later.

"Presumably in a tub of hot water. I just got out of one myself." He glanced around the common room. "Did you tell the innkeeper to fix food?"

Gavin nodded. "It will be ready shortly." He thrust a cup of ale into Robert's hand. "And he has a fine sturdy mare. He's asking more than she's worth, but I think I can get him down to a reasonable sum." He paused. "You still intend to take the piebald?"

"I said so, didn't I?" Robert drained his cup. The liquid was warm and comforting, but it didn't soothe his bad humor. He didn't even know why he was in such foul temper, only that it had something to do with the way Kate had stood there looking at him, muddy, weary, and yet arrow straight, refusing to surrender to her own weakness. He crossed the room, sat down before the fire, and stretched his legs out before him.

"May I ask why?" Gavin inquired politely as he followed him across the room and leaned one arm on the mantel.

"No, you may not." He was silent a moment before he finally answered, "The girl will give us less trouble if we take the horse."

"Oh, I see. And I thought it was because the poor lass had touched your heart." His eyes twinkled. "Or perhaps your more carnal body parts. I suppose I should have known better."

"Aye, you should." Robert leaned back in the chair. "I have better taste than to wish to couple with a mudlark."

"I'd say she's much too fierce for a mudlark. Besides, you've been without a woman for weeks. Considering your somewhat voracious appetites, even a mudlark should look good to you after that time."

"Not this mudlark. Even if I was tempted, she's the one woman I would not bed."

Gavin's brows lifted. "Surely a strange attitude toward your bride." Then he understood. "Ah, the bairn. If you got her with child, the marriage would become permanent whether you willed it or not."

"Exactly."

"Of course, some risks are worth taking."

"Not that one."

Gavin made a face. "It would be difficult, but you could always take precautions."

"Why? I have no desire to couple with her."

"The poor lass." Gavin grinned. "In the full spring of youth and not to know the joys of the flesh. Have you told her?"

"I've little time to discuss anything in detail." Robert paused. "She has no idea what a danger she might pose."

"To you?"

"To me, to James, to everyone." He was silent a moment and then exploded with unexpected violence. "Christ, she doesn't know."

"It probably suited Her Majesty to make sure she was kept in blissful ignorance."

"Ignorance can lead to mistakes, and mistakes can lead to the block."

"She's scarcely more than a child. You had to realize this was a possibility. Why the sudden concern?"

He had realized, but he hadn't let himself think of anything beyond what he must do to avoid the trap Elizabeth had laid for him. Which was exactly what he must continue to do. The woman upstairs was nothing to him, and Craighdhu was everything. "I'm not concerned. I just think it foolish of the queen not to have had her warned of the—"

"Please, my lord."

Robert turned to see the innkeeper's daughter standing in the arched doorway.

The girl's eyes were wide with fear. "Please, my lord, come quickly. I cannot wake her."

"What?" Robert jumped to his feet. "What the hell do you mean, you can't wake her?"

"She fell asleep in the tub. That is, I think she is asleep. She may be ill. I shook her, but she only stirred and won't—"

"Christ!" Robert was already out of the common room and taking two steps at a time.

Kate was lying in the hip bath, her head lolled back against the rim, her dark lashes arcs on her thin cheeks.

"Kate!"

She didn't stir. He knelt beside the tub and shook her. "Kate!" Her color seemed good, and he could see the pulse pounding in her throat. Why the hell wouldn't she wake up? He had heard of instances where men wounded in battle had managed to function perfectly until hostilities ceased and then succumbed to their wounds. Perhaps she was even now drifting away from him.

The thought made his grasp tighten on her shoulders. He shook her harder. "Are you deaf? Talk to me."

Her lashes fluttered and then slowly opened. "What do you want me to say?" she whispered.

Relief tore through him. His grip loosened. "That's enough. Now, stay awake until I get you out of this tub." He turned to the servant hovering at his side. "Toweling."

The woman scurried across the room and snatched a large piece of linen from the stool in front of the fire.

"She does appear to move from disaster to disaster, doesn't she? I can only hope it's not a sign for the future." From behind him Gavin added politely, "Should I be turning my back?"

"You should be going down and getting her something to eat."

"Right away."

He heard Gavin's steps fade away as he took the towel from the maid and ordered, "Turn down the bed."

He began to dry Kate's long hair. Her eyes were beginning to close again, he noticed with exasperation. "Don't do that," he said sharply.

She didn't open her eyes. "Tired…"

"You can sleep later. You have to eat now."

She shook her head.

"Christ!" He stood up and jerked her to her feet.

Her lids flew open, but her eyes were still misty with sleep.

After quickly wrapping the toweling around her, he lifted her into his arms, then carried her across the room and set her down on the bed. She gazed dumbly at him. He doubted she even knew he was there.

Carolyn was beside him, nervously nibbling at her lower lip. "Is she well?"

"Well enough."

"It's not like her to be—Shall I go for the physician?"

"No, leave us," he ordered curtly.

"I think—" The girl broke off, hesitated, and then left the room.

He began to dry Kate briskly, starting at her shoulders and going down her torso. She wasn't as thin as he had thought, he noticed absently, and her small breasts were exquisitely shaped.

Her eyes had closed again.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

"Three…days. I was afraid…Had to keep moving."

"And how long since you ate?"

"Berries…"

Exhaustion and starvation and the terror of being stalked as prey, and yet she had borne that punishment with a stoicism that any of his clansmen would envy.

"Food," Gavin announced from the doorway. He carried the tray he was bearing to the table in front of the fireplace and set it down before turning to appraise Kate. "She still looks asleep."

"She's awake. She's in a sort of stupor." He wrapped a blanket around Kate and lifted her in his arms. "And she'll be better once her belly's full."

"If you can manage to get anything down her." Gavin shook his head as he stared at Kate. "Why don't you let her sleep now and eat later?"

"Because she needs strength, and food will give it to her." He carried her to the chair by the fire. God, she felt light in his arms. He sat down and arranged her on his lap with her head on his shoulder. "Once she goes to sleep, I doubt if she'll wake for hours."

"So much for the plan to leave at dawn." Gavin reached down and touched Kate's cheek. "Who was to guess what wonderful skin was lurking under all that mud? Like satin…"

Without thinking, Robert quickly shifted Kate in his arms so that Gavin's hand fell away from her.

Gavin's eyes widened in surprise. "I wasn't going to hurt her."

Robert's response had startled himself as much as it had Gavin. He had acted instinctively, mindlessly, when he had seen Gavin's hand on her. "She was slipping."

"Was she? It looked like you were holding her tight enough to me." He yawned. "Well, unless you need me, I think I'll go and take my own rest."

"I don't need you." He put a bit of meat to Kate's lips. "Open."

Though her eyes remained closed, her lips obediently parted, and he put the pork on her tongue. She automatically began to chew.

At Gavin's chuckle he looked up to see his cousin still standing at the doorway watching him. "You find something humorous?"

"She looks like a bairn, not a bride. And you look like a nursemaid who—"

"Good night, Gavin."

Gavin took one look at Robert's expression, and the smile vanished from his face. He quickly closed the door.

Robert resumed feeding Kate but managed to get her to eat only a few bites before she rebelled.

"No more…" she murmured, nestling closer.

He put the fork down. There was no use forcing her. He was surprised he had gotten her to eat as much as she had.

He started to get up from the chair.

"No!" Her eyes remained closed, but her hand clutched wildly at his doublet.

"Bed," he said firmly. He was tired and hungry himself, and had no intention of sitting here all night.

Her head moved in an almost imperceptible shake of negation. "Safe…here."

Safe . The words struck him like a blow. She had probably had precious little security in the past, and it was doubtful she would have it in the future, but at this moment she felt safe with him. God only knew why; he had certainly not been overgentle with her. His arms tightened instinctively around her. Dammit, he supposed it would do no harm to stay here by the fire a little while longer. When she fell into a deeper sleep, he would move her to the bed across the room. She was so exhausted that it shouldn't take long. He leaned back in the chair and gazed into the fire.

The scent of burning cedar logs and the wax of the candle on the table drifted to him. And something else—the clean smell of soap.

The girl. He glanced down at her. Her hair was a wild shining brown-gold tangle against the gray blanket, and her skin was clean and glowing as the bairn Gavin had called her.

But she wasn't a bairn. She was old enough to marry. She had a woman's fleece, and her breasts, though small, were crowned with exquisite nipples that could nurse a child.

Or a man.

The thought of his mouth enveloping that breast sent a bolt of heat through him. He was hardening, readying. It shouldn't have surprised him. Gavin was right—his appetites were strong, and it had been too long. But, God's blood, he did not need this tonight.

He was unbearably conscious of the soft, womanly weight of her resting against him as he grew in dimension. He shifted her in his arms, but it did no good. She was there , her nakedness covered only by the thin wool of the blanket. With one hand he could brush aside the cover, and she would be open to fondling and more intimate exploration. He could turn her on his lap, free himself, and in one thrust be inside her.

He was throbbing, flexing, heat moving through him with every breath. Why not? She was nothing to him. A wife was for the taking, and no man would fault him for coupling with her. He did not have to spend within her. He could enjoy that tightness and then draw out before he loosed the seed that could be a danger to Craighdhu. He could satisfy his lust and steal something for himself from this devil's bargain with Elizabeth.

He shifted her so that she sat squarely on him. His hands moved down to cup her slim buttocks before they pressed her small body down against him. She was so tiny. A shudder racked him as he wondered how much of him she could take, how tight she would be when she closed around him. He pushed the blanket from her shoulders. Her shining hair flowed over her breasts, half-veiling the pink tips from view. Would she wake when his tongue touched her? Not yet. He wanted to feel the textures of her. He shifted her again, and his hands caressed down her naked back.

She flinched and murmured something.

And he saw the red weals on her back.

He knew those marks well. He had earned many himself during those years in Santanella.

Sebastian again. It appeared the bastard had given her more cause to run away than the threat to kill her horse.

Pity, anger, and frustration exploded through him. Dammit, he didn't want to pity her. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to plunge in and out and rid himself of—

But he could not do it. In his anger and lust he might have ignored her exhaustion, but those whip marks had reminded him how defenseless he had felt under the lash. He would not inflict that sense of helplessness on anyone but his greatest enemy.

So what should he do? Sit here in torment while she slept peacefully through the night? He was not such a fool.

She stirred against him. "Safe…"

Goddammit!

She was being carried.

Kate opened her eyes to see Robert's face above hers and felt a surge of relief. For a moment she had been afraid, but it was all right. Safety…home.

"No arguments," he said grimly. "I've been sitting in that damn chair for hours, and I don't intend to spend one more minute in it."

Chair? The fog of sleep surrounded her, and she couldn't grasp what he was talking about. She was only aware that everything was right. Her lids were too heavy to stay open, but it didn't matter. All was still as it should be.

He was gone! She forced her eyes to open again. He was sitting on the bed next to her but no longer touching her. "Please…don't go."

"Close your eyes," he said between his teeth as he took off his boots. "I'm not going anywhere."

He was displeased about something, but he had promised to stay. It was all right to let go. As long as he was here, nothing bad could happen.

Home…

He was half turned away from her, and the noon sunlight streamed over his face, illuminating high cheekbones and the beautiful line of his jaw. He lay quite still, strength and power suppressed, but a living force nonetheless. His black hair was tousled, and yet Kate received no impression of careless disarray. Even now she could sense the control, the discipline that surrounded him. How terrible it must be to be this on guard even in sleep, she thought drowsily. She wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him—

Dear Lord, he was naked!

So was she.

Shock jolted through her as she scrambled upright in the bed and clutched the blanket to her chin, staring at him.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to stir." He turned to face her, his lids opening to reveal eyes fully awake and alert. His lips tightened with displeasure. "You're looking at me as if you'd just found a snake in your bed."

"I'm surprised…I did not know…Why are you here?"

"We're man and wife. I belong in your bed. You'd be wise to become accustomed to it." He sat up and swung his legs to the floor. "Though you may not have an opportunity to get used to such a civilized piece of furniture. It's possible we may not see another bed before we get to Craighdhu. You can travel days in the Highlands without running across an inn." He went to the washstand and splashed water on his face. "How do you feel?"

She stared at him in shock. The back he had half turned to her was crisscrossed with white scars that tiger-striped his dark skin and gave him an air of savagery. She supposed she should have felt sympathy, but she was too aware of his physical presence to respond with anything but helpless fascination.

She couldn't take her eyes off him: the tight buttocks, the bulging muscles of calf and thigh, the triangle of black hair on his golden-brown chest that tapered to a thin line at his waist. He looked completely and overpoweringly male.

He cast her an impatient glance over his shoulder. "Answer me."

For a moment she couldn't remember the question. "Oh, very well."

"You said that after Landfield dragged you through the forest. I want the truth. Are you able to travel?"

"Of course."

He reached for the toweling by the basin and dabbed at his face. "Then get up and get dressed."

She could feel the heat in her cheeks. "I'm waiting until you leave. I'm not so shameless about my lack of clothing as you are."

He smiled mockingly as he threw the toweling aside. "You do not find me pleasing in this state? It would be wise of you to become accustomed to that also."

"I see no reason why I should," she said haltingly.

"I didn't either until last night. The situation has…changed." He reached up to smooth his rumpled hair, and she watched his abdomen flatten, the muscles of his upper arm ripple. "Why should I be modest? You displayed little of that quality last night."

Her eyes widened in sudden alarm. "Didn't I?"

"You don't remember?"

She thought for a moment and then shook her head. "I remember Carolyn and then sitting in the tub.…"

"You also curled naked on my lap before the fire." The mockery deepened. "You were quite shameless. Evidently you found the experience less memorable than I did."

Her heart started to pound with fear. Shameless. He had called her shameless. Let it not be true, she thought fervently. Yet even as she woke, she had wanted to reach out and touch him, she remembered with panic. But she could not have—"Did I…mate with you?"

"Your eyes are big as saucers. What difference does it make? It's a wife's duty to give her husband pleasure."

"Answer me! Did I let you—did we fornicate?"

He stood looking at her for a moment and then slowly shook his head. "I assure you that I'd have made sure you remembered if we had." He watched her curiously as her breath expelled in a rush of relief. "What a violent response."

"I thought…" She swallowed and began again. "For a moment I thought he might be right."

"Sebastian?"

"He always said I was a lewd creature, unable to control my passions. He said without his guidance I would give myself to any man who crooked his finger." She straightened against the headboard and lifted her chin. "Of course, I knew he was wrong. It was foolish of me to even think I would be so weak."

"Very foolish." He paused. "But passion is not a totally undesirable quality in a wife."

"He said I would never confine myself to one man."

His lips tightened. "Now that I would find highly undesirable. So undesirable, I might respond in a manner better fitting our friend the vicar."

She could sense tension beneath the displeasure in his voice. "Why are we discussing this?" she asked impatiently. "You did not find me pleasing, or you would have taken me last night."

"Would I? Even though you were weak and hurt and unable to defend yourself?"

"Men do not care for such things. They regard women only as animals for their pleasure."

"Ah, more wise words from the vicar? If you don't believe other things he says, why believe all men are steeped in lust?"

For an instant she was uncertain, but then she remembered the cries from Martha in Sebastian's chamber. If Sebastian was driven by lust, then surely it must be so of all men? "Are you saying they are not?"

He opened his lips to speak and then wearily shook his head. "No, for once he spoke the truth. Beware of us. We can be mindless beasts when the need comes on us too strong."

Strong arms holding her, peace, a feeling of supreme contentment.

The memory came out of nowhere, colliding with his words and bringing bewilderment in its wake. "I see nothing to fear in you. In spite of what Sebastian said, I'm no Lilith who bewitches a man. I'm not even as comely as Carolyn. And if I do not please you, you will not bother me."

"No?" He smiled. "Don't be too sure. I can be more lewd than your Sebastian ever dreamed, and I indulge my passions as I see fit." He looked down at his lower body. "And I clearly do find you pleasing."

Her gaze followed his to that part of him at which she had avoided glancing. Her eyes widened as she saw the hard, bold arousal springing from the nest of dark hair.

Scorching heat flew back to her cheeks. Her chest tightened until she could scarcely draw a breath.

"You see?" He strolled over to stand in front of her. "Lustful heathen that I am, it takes little to please me. But I find much about you that draws me." He reached out and touched her hair. "Soft and glossy and of a fine length. Unbound it comes down past your waist." He draped a strand over the blanket that covered the curve of her breast. "When you were naked last night, it veiled you. But veils are meant to be pushed aside."

The soft weight of her hair felt heavy against her breasts, and she realized with astonishment that her nipples were hardening, peaking, pushing against the wool of the blanket.

"And your mouth pleases me." His voice was soft, thick, and she stared up at his face, mesmerized. Plum-rich color now darkened his cheeks, and his nostrils were flaring slightly. "It has a certain look to it.…" His index finger traced the full curve of her lower lip. "Open."

She didn't obey him. She felt frozen—no, that was too cold a term for what she was feeling, for the heat moving through her. She was…beguiled. She could do nothing but stare up at him, waiting for the next word, the next touch.

His finger slipped between her closed lips to touch her tongue. "Wonderful mouth," he murmured. "It looks as if it were created to accept…anything." He gently, rhythmically stroked her cheeks with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, forming a coaxing circle about her mouth. "Will it?"

His finger was callused, hard, faintly salty against her tongue. His words were bewildering and seemed to come from far away. Aware only of those dark, glittering eyes holding her own and the textures of that intruding finger, she wasn't certain of the moment when her mouth closed around him, holding him captive.

He jerked as if she had struck him, and a shudder went through him. "Aye," he said thickly. "It most certainly will." He looked down at her, his chest rising and falling with his labored breathing. "But at the moment I could have wished you hadn't done it." He slid his finger from her mouth and took a step back. "I'm sure the memory is going to bother me exceedingly while we're on the road today."

Reality returned the instant he was no longer touching her. "Why did you—"

"Because I wanted to," he interrupted. The mocking smile was back. "I always do what I want to do."

That wasn't true, she thought. No one could have such an air of disciplined power and be that recklessly self-indulgent.

"But I'll be damned if I prove your Sebastian right after all those painful hours of knightly restraint I went through. I can wait." He started to dress with movements that were jerky. "Though not long. And, dammit, not at all if you insist on wriggling naked on my lap."

She drew a shaky breath. "I was not myself. And it is not courteous of you to remind me of it."

His mocking smile faded. "You're right. I wasn't fair. God knows, it's bad enough to be accountable for our actions when we're in control of our senses."

His reaction surprised her. She had judged him to be far more self-willed and arrogant than Sebastian, and yet he had admitted to fault, which Sebastian would never have done.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked impatiently.

"Sebastian believes that people are accountable for their sins every moment, whether waking or sleeping."

"That doesn't surprise me." He turned to face her. "Which doesn't make it true."

"But sometimes when someone says something over and over, it seems like the truth." She moistened her lips. "Everything fades together, and it gets harder to remember which is the truth and which is a lie."

His expression became arrested. "I know."

He did know. She had thought them so different, but there was no doubt in her mind that he knew exactly what she meant. She abruptly remembered the scars on his back. Had there been a Sebastian in his life? she wondered.

He turned away and put on his doublet. "And when that happens, you just fight harder."

She nodded. How odd it was to sit here and watch a man clothe himself. Odd and yet just as strangely familiar.

"I'm no Sebastian Landfield." He didn't look at her as he sat down on the bed and pulled on his left boot. "You will not find me a gentle man, but I will be fair with you. I realize you do not wish to be caught in this coil any more than I do. Submit to my will, cause me no problems, and you will lead a comfortable, untroubled life for the next year."

"And afterward?"

"Afterward you will not be my concern." He pulled on his other boot. "You will be free to do as you wish."

"Free?" she asked, startled.

"I will give you a small allowance until you marry again. I would advise you to leave Scotland. The danger will be less if you're out of James's reach. Perhaps France would be a good choice."

It suddenly dawned on her that he was talking as if she were menaced. But that realization made little impact compared to what he'd said earlier. "I will truly be free to do as I wish?"

"Did I not say it?"

"You'll never send me back to Sebastian?"

He stood up. "Whatever happens, you will never have to see Landfield again."

She doubted if that was true; Sebastian would not relinquish her easily. But just Robert's avowal that he would never give her up to him was like a heavy stone removed from around her neck.

"You promise?" She waved an impatient hand. "Oh, not about Sebastian. I can deal with him. But you'll set me free? Truly?"

His face softened as he saw the eagerness in her expression. "By the Saints, do I perceive something besides distrust? Be good, obey me, and cause me no worry this next year, and you'll be free to do as you wish."

It seemed too much to believe. Excitement soared through her. If he was willing to give her so much for peace of mind, perhaps she could win something even more precious from this distasteful marriage. "What you wish is not impossible," she said cautiously. "But you do realize I could cause you a great deal of trouble if I chose? Sebastian found me most unsettling."

His gaze narrowed on her face. "What are you trying to say?"

She paused, then said in a rush, "A house. I want a house."

"Indeed?"

"Only a small house, but it must be built of good, strong stone."

"Like Sebastian's cottage?"

"I will see that it bears little resemblance to anything that belongs to him, but it must be of stone." She added, "And it will have to have enough ground for a garden. Every home should have a garden."

"And you refuse to promise your cooperation without this piece of property?" he asked silkily. "I have no liking for greed, Kate."

"It's not greed to demand compensation for services given." She glared at him. "I'm not asking for a palace, only a house. Something of my own."

He studied her expression. "This means a good deal to you. Why?"

"I've not been so sheltered that I haven't found that property is everything in this world," she said evasively.

"But that isn't why you want this house, is it?"

She did not want to answer him. This desire was secret and innately her own. She did not wish to share it. "It's not your concern."

"It is if I'm being forced to give it to you."

He would not let it pass, she realized with frustration. "I want a place of my own," she said baldly. "A special place that's mine alone, a place that no one can take away from me. There, I've said it. Are you satisfied?"

"For the time being."

"And you'll give it to me?"

His thoughtful gaze was still on her face, as if he were waiting for something. He nodded. "I'll give you your house."

"A stone house?"

He nodded again.

Relief and joy streamed through her. She smiled brilliantly. "I…thank you."

"You can smile. I was wondering." He smiled faintly himself. "I had every intention of providing you with a residence, you know. It would not have been suitable to do anything else."

Her smile vanished. "Then you should have told me so at once."

"But then I would have lost the opportunity to see you with your wall of thorns down. It was most interesting."

"I do not like to be considered interesting." She added sharply, "And I do not like to be probed and prodded. You would not like it, if I did it to you."

"No, I wouldn't, but that's one of the sweet prerogatives of power." He opened the door. "Get dressed and be downstairs in fifteen minutes. At this rate we'll be lucky if we get on the road before dark."

She felt feather light, sun bright, as she tossed the blanket aside when the door closed behind him. Now that he was gone, she could permit her exhilaration to spring free. No one was here to see or take this happiness away. She felt as she had during those magical childhood moments when she and Carolyn had been able to forget everything but the joy of being alive, when every day was a new adventure. Complete freedom was not hers yet, but it beckoned on the horizon, and life with Robert MacDarren could not be as terrible as living with Sebastian Landfield.

True, it appeared he might make demands on her person that the vicar would never have thought about, but she could bear that for a year. She felt that strange heat move through her again as she recalled the instant when his finger had stroked her lip.

It was not lust, she quickly assured herself. She was not shameless. She had been caught by surprise, and her response had been—She was not what Sebastian called her. She would not think about it and let it spoil this moment.

It was the earl's right as her husband to couple with her, but the next time he touched her, she was sure she would show the proper restraint when enduring his fondling. He did not appear to be a cruel man, and if time proved her wrong, she could always run away from him as she had from Sebastian.

She experienced a flicker of uneasiness as she remembered how relentless Robert had been when tracking her down. He did not possess Sebastian's fanaticism, but his quiet determination might make him even more difficult to elude.

Well, she would not worry about that now. For the first time in years she felt eager and hopeful and…and young . She would enjoy it while it lasted.