The Highlander's Accidental Bride (8 page)

Eaden felt Mary’s body stiffen an instant before she tore from his arms. For a moment he was too stunned to move, and Mary stumbled as she pulled free of his grasp, windmilling her arms to catch her balance.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Eaden shoved away from the tree to chase after her. He’d expected her to dissolve into tears, not run away. Once again she’d caught him off guard, and he found himself several strides behind her, alarmed at how close she stood to the edge of the cliff. It would only take a single misstep or a loose rock . . .

Eaden redoubled his efforts. “Mary,
stop
!” But his words had no affect on his young bride. She did not hesitate, did not slow her headlong bid for freedom.

Eaden lunged for her. Grabbing one arm, he planted his feet firmly in the rocky soil and brought them both to a stop. The force swung Mary around, and she cried out. The despair in her eyes as she rounded on him stabbed straight to his heart. He started to pull her into his arms, wanting only to soothe the hurt he’d caused her.

“No!” She slapped at him with her free hand as she tried to escape his grasp, but Eaden held on, letting her fight him, making no move to shield himself from the fist pounding him with furious intent. Finally, drained but unvanquished, Mary stood still before him, breathing heavily, eyeing him with loathing.

Eaden’s heart swelled with admiration at her spirit, even as exasperation filled him for the way she refused to listen.

“Why?” she choked, breathless. “You promised!”

“Aye. I promised I would wait until ye knew if ye were with child or no’. And I promised I would then make yer request known to the king.” He faced the fire in her eyes. “But I dinnae promise ye a divorce.”

“But you couldn’t wait to go to the king!” she protested. “You were so angry when you left!”

“Aye, I was angry. But I was angry ye insisted I ask King Robert for a divorce, no’ because ye were no’ with child.”

Mary chewed her bottom lip in a thoughtful manner. Suddenly she reached out and pinched his arm, hard.

Eaden flinched away with an oath of surprised pain. “What the . . .!”

Mary sighed, the anger at last fading from her face. “I wanted to make sure this wasn’t a bad dream.”

“By pinching me?”

“You can’t feel pain in a dream,” she pointed out.

Eaden rubbed his arm over the still-red mark. “Then pinch yerself,” he growled.

Mary blinked in wide-eyed surprise. “It would have hurt.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “‘Tis no’ a dream, lass.”

“But you know you don’t want me! And this is not what
I
wanted . . .”

Eaden’s lips quirked ruefully. As disillusioned as he knew her to be, his wife still believed in her girlish dreams. “What do ye want of marriage, Mairi?” he asked, recapturing one of her hands.

Mary tugged uselessly against his grip. Giving him a sidelong glance, she hesitated as though weighing his interest. He returned her look evenly and ran his thumb slowly across the palm of her hand, but he did not release her.

Her shoulders slumped as though in defeat. “I wanted to marry for love. Though someone in my position would have little chance of marrying for wealth or status, there was always a chance I would be able to marry someone of my choosing.”

“Is there a lad who has yer heart, lass?”

To his relief, Mary replied, “No. There is no one. Only the dream.”

In spite of his good intention to listen seriously, Eaden uttered a short laugh.

Mary glared at him. “I suppose you have a different outlook on marriage, don’t you?” she mocked bitterly.

“I am more practical, aye,” he admitted. “I have always known I would most likely marry to suit my people or my king. I gave no thought to seeking a wife who would suit me.”

“And what if you were forced to marry someone you didn’t like?” Mary challenged him, jutting her chin defiantly. “Like me?”

He shrugged. “I can adopt any son as my heir. It doesnae matter if he is legitimate.”

“You can please yourself, then? Love the woman you chose, and ignore the wife bound to you by your vows? Does that mean your wife is free take a lover, too?” She flung the words, surprising him with the anger and hurt in her voice.

She apparently did not understand he was not taunting her, merely stating a fact. He knew her own parentage to be a matter of some concern to her. But the thought of her in another man’s arms instantly set his blood to boil. His eyebrows met with a snap as he scowled at her, and Mary drew back, eyes wide with alarm.

“Discreetly?” she offered in a small voice, though it sounded to him more like an appeasement than an apology.

Eaden couldn’t believe his ears. Surely she knew such an action on her part was unthinkable; surely she was not so naïve! That was the trouble with virgins; they didn’t understand the rules.

He advanced on her again, holding her wrist against her retreat, until he stood mere inches from her. “Nay,” he whispered, the menace in his voice daring her to pursue the argument.

“Because women live by different rules than men?”

“Nay. Because I would kill the man who dared lay a finger on ye.”

Mary glanced up, clearly confused. “Why do you want me?”

Eaden reined in his anger, realizing his ire only alienated her further. Using his free hand, he stroked the side of her face, gratified to see the stiff lines soften at his attempt to calm them both.

His rage abated, and he could at last speak without heat. “Because ye belong to me and no other. Because ye are beautiful to me and I would not have ye in another man’s arms.”

As her eyes changed from a hard, brittle green to the soft color of the leaves in the spring, desire rose in him, and he slowly lowered his head. “And because of this,” he murmured as his lips touched hers.

To his surprise, Mary did not pull away, or attempt to slap at him. Her body stiffened, but also quivered beneath his hands. His breathing grew ragged as he fought to contain the passion exploding in him, damning himself to remember that beyond a kiss, she feared him.

He wanted to show her how to love him, how to respond to him. He wanted to learn how to love her, to feel her response. But there was little or no privacy beyond the height of this cliff and a few well-placed rocks and trees. Releasing her wrist, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, letting her sense the strength of his embrace and the wonder of what she aroused in him.

A small cry escaped her as her weight shifted against him. Desire slammed through him, almost overriding his sense of caution. A nearby shout broke them apart.

Eaden set Mary back on her feet, holding her until she caught her breath. He glanced at her flushed face and tucked her against his chest, angling her away from Ian’s direct gaze as he climbed the path toward them.

“Ye told us to begin work on the second moat, and there are some questions only ye can answer, Laird.” Ian checked his gait, ducking his head in apology.

Eaden weighed the man’s words, then grunted in acknowledgement and nodded once in Ian’s direction. “I’ll be there shortly,” he said, holding Mary’s suddenly stiff body against him. Ian bobbed his head once more and hurried back down the trail. Eaden could feel Mary’s breathing quicken, her muscles tighten beneath his hands. She pushed against him, struggling to break his embrace.

He bent to kiss the top of her head. “Hold,” he commanded her, tightening his arms enough to let her know he was not ready to release her. She struggled harder.

“Don’t fight this.” He kept her close, minimizing the damage her hands and feet could inflict.

Trembling, Mary at last gave in and Eaden relaxed his grip, stroking his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.

“Hush now, lass. We’ll finish this later.”

Mary shook her head in denial, and Eaden sighed deeply.

“Ye cannae fight me on this. Ye cannae change the way things are. It willnae be a bad life here, I promise ye. We need to begin again, ye and I, and we need to set things straight between us.” He set her back from him just far enough to read the mutiny in her eyes. And the fear still lurking there.

“I’ll arrange for ye to get a message to Miriam. And I’d like to see ye in yer new gown,” he teased her lightly, hoping to bring a smile to her face.

Mary’s gaze cut away from his. Finally, she nodded and Eaden had to accept her silent agreement. Taking one of her hands tightly in his, he turned and led her over the trail to the castle where the decisions she made would affect the rest of her life.

Isobel heard the faint slapping sound of leather slippers on the stone floor. Intrigued to see Lady Scott enter the great hall alone, she noted the look of dismay the woman wore as she passed Isobel’s hiding place.

Easing out of the shadow of a recessed doorway, she followed Mary as she fled up the stairwell. Moments later the laird’s bedroom door slammed shut. Isobel approached the closed portal and leaned her ear against the door, trying to gauge the activity beyond. A curious, muffled sound drifted through the thick wood.

Waiting several minutes in silence, Isobel tried to decide what to do next. If those were sobs she heard—and she sincerely hoped they were—could there be a way to turn this to her advantage?

Her burning curiosity to see the woman who stole Laird Scott had brought her to the castle in the first place. Knowing she had no business there, she’d nevertheless lingered in the great hall and listened to the servants’ chatter. When she heard Lady Scott’s maid had fallen ill, Isobel had been smart enough to seize the obvious opportunity. Ina had to appoint someone to attend the Barde’s daughter, didn’t she?

“I’ll do it,” Isobel had said, startling everyone around her, including Ina, who had been too busy to question Isobel’s willingness to serve.

When she’d viewed Eaden’s young wife for the first time, Isobel’s heart had lurched painfully. The new Lady Scott was young, very beautiful, and most assuredly competition for Eaden’s affections. It would not take him long to sire a brat on this child-bride of his, but would she be obliging enough to die birthing it?

From the beginning Isobel knew the risk of Eaden’s growing attachment to the girl. Surely there was something she could do to make Eaden send his bride away. She’d use her time in Lady Scott’s bower to her advantage and search for any insecurities the young woman might reveal. So far, Isobel’s efforts to ingratiate herself had fared well.

Now, she disengaged the latch and eased the door open enough to see inside the room. Sunlight streamed in the narrow window on the far wall, but it took Isobel a few moments to discern the outline of the woman curled in the middle of the bed, crying brokenly. Her arms were wrapped around a pillow, her face buried in its softness.

For several minutes Isobel savored the muffled sound of Mary’s distress. Finally, she smoothed the smile on her face to a more appropriate expression of dismayed commiseration and entered the room.

She crossed to the bed and settled next to Mary, ignoring the embarrassed look on the younger woman’s tear-stained face. Mary scrambled to a sitting position, clutching the pillow protectively against her stomach.

Isobel picked up the corner of the coverlet and wiped the girl’s tears away. “There, milady,” she crooned. “Whatever ‘tis, it cannae be so bad as all that.”

“N-no,” Mary replied, a wary edge to her voice.

“I can see ye dinnae want to share yer troubles,” Isobel said gently. “But I’d be honored if I could help in any way.”

While Mary silently twisted the pillow in her hands, Isobel watched her closely. To her knowledge Mary had formed no close friendships in the castle, and Isobel waited impatiently to see if Mary would confide in her.

“I don’t know what to do,” Mary finally admitted in an anguished whisper.

Isobel’s heart leapt with expectancy inside her. “Perhaps if ye told me a bit of what’s botherin’ ye, I could try to help.”

Indecision showed plainly on Mary’s face. Isobel swallowed the hateful words she wanted to snarl at the young woman. She’d seen Eaden’s dangerous expression this morning when he realized she’d insinuated herself with his young wife. Stunned, she’d managed to contain her fury when he’d taken Mary in his arms and kissed her soundly in front of her.

She burned to feel his hands on
her
body, yearned for the hunger of his kisses on
her
lips, and had astonished herself with the depth of her hatred for Eaden’s wife.

There had to be a way to win Eaden back. Her new husband was too easy to manipulate, too amazed she’d said ‘yes’ to his proposal of marriage to naysay her in any matter, and she’d grown completely bored with him already. She wanted raw power and unleashed passion. She wanted Eaden. Badly.

“I don’t want to stay here,” Mary whispered.

Startled to hear Mary speak, Isobel dragged her attention back to the miserable girl on the bed. Her breath caught in her throat as she considered Mary’s statement. Short of murder, there were not many ways to rid herself of Laird Scott’s young wife. She wasn’t willing to wait and hope the twit would die someday in childbed or through some fortuitous accident, though the urge to form a plan had crossed her mind on more than one occasion. There was too much at stake, including Eaden’s love, should he suspect Isobel’s involvement in his wife’s death.

But Isobel wanted him back
now
, not some time in the distant future.

Slowly, an idea began to take shape and Isobel tilted her head to the side as if in sweet empathy for the young, heart-sore woman beside her. “Och, milady,” she crooned softly. “‘Tis homesick ye are.”

Mary blinked back sudden tears, her shoulders stiffening, her hands trembling in her lap.

Isobel missed nothing. She reached a hand to tuck a strand of fallen hair behind Mary’s ear in a motherly gesture. “Tell me what it is, lass,” she whispered. “Ye can trust me.”

“I’m afraid. I don’t know what to do.”

What could Eaden’s wife be afraid of? As Lady Scott, she had the protection of the entire clan. It had to be something much more personal, and Isobel recalled the gossip around the castle. The Laird and his Lady were not in accord. Though they slept together every night, they showed no outward signs of affection when away from their bedroom. She thought back to the way Eaden had greeted his wife that morning, and wondered about the truth of their relationship.

“What frightens ye, milady?” Isobel asked carefully.

“I’m not used to this.” Mary waved a hand vaguely around in a circular motion. “All this. And, please call me ‘Mary.’ It’s what I
am
used to.”

Isobel nodded. “All right then, Mary,” she said with deceptive calmness, even as her heart raced in her chest. “Now, tell me what it is ye need to know.”

“Everything!” Mary wailed. The familiar use of her name seemed to break her inhibitions free, and she turned to Isobel. “I don’t know how to be Lady Scott. I don’t know how to run a castle.” She hesitated, staring at her hands, white-knuckled as they gripped the pillow. “I don’t know how to be a wife.”

Isobel tried not to let skepticism show on her face. Though she knew Mary was young, and most likely completely inexperienced in the ways of men upon first arriving at Scott Castle, from her own personal experience, Isobel couldn’t believe Eaden would have not completely initiated his young wife in such intimate pleasures. Could Mary be completely immune or indifferent to Eaden’s skill as a lover?

“Your duties as Laird Scott’s wife? In his bed?”

Mary swallowed and nodded, the mortification of the personal subject evident in the flush spreading across her pale cheeks.

“Lass, ye need to know what he expects from ye, ‘tis all,” Isobel soothed. “I know how intimidating he can be. He’s so large, so frightening.” Isobel patted Mary’s hands. “Can I tell ye, from my own experience, what a man wants from his wife?”

Relief and gratitude spilled across Mary’s pretty face and Isobel suffered an instant twinge of guilt at what she was about to do. But she wasted less than a second on the unappealing emotion and squelched it easily as she took Mary’s hands in hers in friendly reassurance.

“Listen to me, Mary,” she said firmly. “I’ll tell ye everything ye need to know.”