How would his plan work if she refused to cooperate?
He’d just have to try harder to vex her. It was his experience that he was a natural when it came to annoying women. Surely his wife would find that out soon enough.
That night when he came in to go to bed, he kicked off his boots in the middle of the room, then tossed his clothing around as well. Their chamber was quite a mess when he finally slid under the blanket next to her.
She made not a peep about it. She didn’t even give him a dirty look or so much as frown at the mess. Maybe she was a messy person and it didn’t bother her.
“Did you throw your clothes about when you lived in London?” he asked. “I guess it was nice having a servant to clean up after you.”
She shook her head and looked away. “No. I had to be scrupulously neat. Plus, my maid was my only friend. It made no sense to cause her more work unnecessarily. I always cleaned up after myself.”
Another attempt to anger her had failed. She must have the patience of a saint.
He thought of changing the topic to her letter, but the way she clenched the blanket proved she was nervous enough in his presence. She’d written to him precisely so she wouldn’t have to speak the words. He’d not force her.
“Tell me about your friend,” he asked instead, to get her talking about something easier. If she wasn’t going to yell at him for his rudeness or ask him to kiss her, they could at least keep the conversation flowing about something neutral.
He’d wake early and tidy the room before she had the chance to clean up after him.
“My maid’s name was Lucy, and she was always there for me when I—” She stopped talking abruptly and looked as if she didn’t know what to say next.
“It’s fine. You can tell me anything, and I’ll not judge you for it. I promise.”
“My apologies.” She smiled the awkward moment away. “She was always there for me, no matter what I needed. Whether it be to mend a dress that had gotten torn or to sit with me when I had trouble sleeping.”
Cam knew there was more to her words. He wanted to ask how often her dresses were torn and why she had trouble sleeping, but to do so would mean pushing her into telling him something she obviously wasn’t ready to tell.
Not that he was so sure he would be ready to hear. The more he heard, the more he hated her late husband and the terrible things he’d done to cause her to live in the shadows.
He pulled her close as she continued to tell him carefully selected stories of her maid. She didn’t hesitate to come into his arms and even snuggled against his chest to get comfortable.
It was progress.
He’d never had such a difficult time speaking to another person, but he’d not give up. This was too important. He would one day claim victory over her demons. He would never be able to love her, but he’d damn well treat her better than the duke. Her dead husband would not win this battle.
…
Mari woke at the sound of someone passing by outside her door. For a moment in the darkness she’d forgotten where she was and thought it was the duke coming for her in a fit of anger.
But he was gone. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.
The night before, she had started looking for the letter when she’d heard Cameron’s footsteps approaching. Abandoning her search, she’d jumped into bed and waited for him to mention it.
Instead, he’d thrown his boots about and just held her.
Had he found and read her letter, or had it perhaps fallen behind the stand?
Thirsty, she slid out from bed to get a drink and to take another look for the letter. The moonlight came in through the window on that side of the room, so she hoped she might find it.
If she did, she would toss it into the fire. She was silly to write such things.
Quietly, she made it around the corner at the foot of the bed and then tripped over some large, heavy object on the floor. She went down so hard she didn’t have time to stop her fall and landed on her chin and cheek. She tasted blood as it welled from the corner of her lip.
Her ankle throbbed from hitting the thing on the floor, which she realized was Cameron’s carelessly discarded boot.
“Mari! Mari?” he called anxiously from the bed.
“Down here,” she muttered as she pushed herself up to a seated position.
“What happened?” he asked as he came to crouch next to her.
“I tripped.”
“Tripped?” He took the boot she handed him. “Bloody hell. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Except she wasn’t fine. Her jaw and cheek were on fire with the burn of a blossoming bruise. Her lip was swelling, too.
“I shouldn’t have left my boots like that. I’m not normally messy, I just—” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he ran his hand over his face. “What were ye doing up in the middle of the night?”
“I was thirsty.” She hoped that wouldn’t make him angrier. It was clear he was mad, he just hadn’t directed it toward her. It seemed he was put out with himself instead.
Still, her hands shook in fear as he hurried toward her. She prepared for the pain in her arm, the burn in her shoulder from being yanked to her feet. Or maybe he would grab her up by her hair.
But he only leaned down with compassion in his eyes.
“Let me put you back in bed and I’ll get you something to drink.” He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and settled her gently on her side of the bed. “Did you want water? I could get you tea, or maybe a whisky would be good.”
“Water is fine. Thank you.” Whisky would have taken the edge off the pain, but it would also burn the open wound on her lip.
“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I’m such an oaf.”
He lit a candle and carried it back with him, along with her glass of water. “Bloody hell,” he blurted when the light revealed the extent of her injuries. “You’re bleeding. I’ll run down to the loch to get ice-cold water.”
“There’s no need. I’ll be fine.” This was nothing compared to what the duke had done when he’d found disfavor in her actions. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Your face is a mess, and look at your ankle. It’s swollen.”
“I assure you, I’ve had worse injuries and healed just fine.” She’d said it to put his mind at ease, but her words had the opposite effect.
She could feel the rage coming off him, yet he spoke quietly. “You’ve been injured worse than this, on purpose, at the hands of your duke.”