The night before, she and Cameron had come to an agreement. A marriage in name only. Except, they were sharing a room, a bed, and a life.
While she agreed they couldn’t expect love from their accidental marriage, she had to admit—to herself at least—that she was interested in what might eventually happen between them…physically.
And that shocked her to no end. After the physical nightmare she’d endured with the duke, how could she possibly be open to willingly share her body with a man? It made no sense, even to her.
And yet, she could not deny it—she’d felt something warm and pleasant flare within her when Cameron MacKinlay lay next her in the dark.
The idea of lying with him as a wife intrigued Marian in some deep, long-hidden part of her. But the risk remained too great. Her husband, as large and imposing as he was, could break her far more easily than Blackley ever had. Maybe violence didn’t simmer on the surface with Cameron, but at some point she would displease him, and his patience would snap.
What then?
Slipping into the kitchen, she found the women busy with preparations for the morning meal. Kenna wasn’t there. She must have given in to Lachlan’s pleading that she rest until after the babe was born.
The other women—older than Marian and Kenna—offered her a smile as she hovered near the door, unsure of how to help. As a duchess, she’d never stepped foot in the kitchen, much less helped the staff.
Even as a girl she’d never been allowed to linger in the kitchens as Kenna had. Marian had been confined to her training and lessons, forgoing fun in order to secure a future with a nobleman.
She could only imagine what her father would say to find out she’d been handfasted to a Scot. And not even a laird. The thought gave her a flicker of happiness.
She was free to be who she wanted to be. No longer forced into the rules of being the laird’s daughter or contorted into her role as duchess. She could simply be Marian.
Or Mari.
Cameron’s simpler name for her made more sense in her new life. She had been reinvented, living a simpler, easier life.
From now on, she would be Mari.
“Would you be able to help crimp the tarts?” Espath—if she remembered correctly—asked as if knowing Marian—Mari—needed prompting.
“Of course.” She offered them a smile and took her spot, eager to be of help.
This was her home now, and she longed to fit in. Her life as Duchess of Endsmere had been lonely. Only Lucy had ever spoken to her like a real person. The other staff had kept their distance, either because they felt the duchess wouldn’t embrace their relationship, or from fear of reprimand from the duke.
Mari let out a breath and took to her task. She was free. She was making friends. And she was safe.
As long as she did nothing to anger her new husband.
Though from the scowl on his face when he opened the door and ducked into the kitchen, she worried that might not be possible.
“Mari? Can I speak with ye outside?”
She glanced to the other women for help, but they offered nothing more than soft smiles. “Yes. Of course.”
He stayed her with a hand and pointed. “You might bring a few of those with you?”
The women tittered, and Espath grabbed up four of the finished tarts and wrapped them in a cloth. Handing them over to her with a wink, she said, “Have a good morning.”
Carrying the tarts, Mari followed her husband’s wide back out of the kitchen and around to the stables. She wanted to ask where they were going but remembered how much the duke hated when she’d questioned him on anything.
A few times Cameron paused as if waiting for her to catch up to him, but she stayed behind him, as was proper. Maybe he didn’t care about such things. Maybe he wanted her to walk next to him. Should she ask?
It was a strange situation. While she’d hated nearly every moment of her marriage to the duke, at least she’d known what was expected of her. Every word she uttered or move she made was watched and measured. If she said or did the wrong thing, she would be punished.
Inside the stables, she breathed in the sweet smell of hay and horses. Another place she’d not spent much time visiting in her past life. Though after fleeing London she’d sought them out as a quiet place of safety during her travels north.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw two horses being readied. The ogre from yesterday cast her a baleful glare. He tended a giant beast of a horse. The second horse, looking smaller just for standing next to the other, whickered and tossed its head.
Cameron took her bundle and tucked it inside the bag on the larger horse, and dismissed the surly groom.
“It’s a fine morning for a ride. I would like you to join me.” It was made to sound like a request, but the firm tone revealed the command.
She blinked and looked down at her feet.
“I assumed you ride, since Kenna isn’t happy unless her arse is in a saddle. If you do not, we could—”
“I do ride. Not as much as Kenna, but I can. I would like to go with you.” She tried her best to mask the tremor in her voice. There seemed to be no way to keep from displeasing him. Staying behind would ruin his plans, but when he saw how ill-equipped she was on a horse he might well toss her off himself.
Her mind raced with all she knew of riding. It had been many years. Before she went to court. Hopefully she would remember and not embarrass herself.
“I wish to show you some of our lands,” he explained.
It was clear he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated, his lips pressed into a firm line.
“Very well.” She allowed him to help her onto her horse and followed behind him.
Knowing her way around the MacKinlay lands would make it easier for her to run if needed.
She stayed directly behind him, not catching up and not allowing too much space to fall between them. She thought it the perfect distance and worked hard to maintain it.
He occasionally turned in his saddle to see her, though she knew he could well hear she was still there. Each time he frowned, and she began to worry. He was clearly displeased.
Was it with her riding? She was glad it wasn’t too difficult. The early lessons of her youth served her well.
He swiveled and cast another frown in her direction.
Fear tingled up her spine. Quickly she tried to remember the night before and the few hours this morning. What had she done to earn his ire? They’d done nothing more than sleep. She hadn’t even seen him that morning.
Was that it? Was he angry with her for leaving his bed without his permission? Giving up, her mind went blank. She knew it didn’t matter if she’d done anything offensive or not. The result would be the same. How many times had she been broken and bloodied for no crime or fault?