They stayed throughout the evening’s entertainments, and then she excused herself to go to their room. When he offered to escort her, she refused his offer and nearly sprinted from the hall for the stairs.
Cam might have considered sleeping in the great hall, except the other men would know it. Their joking didn’t bother him, but he wouldn’t let Lach think he was put out of his own room.
When he’d given her ample time to get ready for bed, he went to his chamber and knocked on the door. He waited for her to answer before entering.
She was sitting in bed, her golden hair braided over one shoulder. The fire had died down, making the room dim, but he could see enough to know her gaze was intent on her lap where she twisted her fingers. It looked painful, and he wanted to go to her to make her stop, but when he took a step toward her, she gasped in fear.
He changed direction toward the fire and stirred the logs to give more light.
He thought briefly of what it might be like to sleep next to her, or even to consummate the marriage they had stumbled into earlier that day. But when he saw her anxiety, he tossed thoughts of that possibility aside.
She’d been married to a cruel man and probably expected even worse from a large Scottish brute. He’d give her time to acclimate to their situation and get comfortable with him.
When he stepped closer to the bed to take the extra blankets, she flinched.
“Be calm. I mean you no harm. I’m just going to put these blankets down by the fire so I have a place to sleep tonight.”
“You won’t be sleeping in your bed?”
“Nay. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He waited until she glanced at him and winked so she’d know he was joking.
She only looked slightly relieved and glanced away as quickly as she’d met his gaze. She was as skittish as a beaten horse.
He settled by the fire and frowned into the darkness when his back settled against the hard floor. His bed was built for someone of his size. She looked like a wee mouse in a ship.
There was enough room for both of them, but he’d not cause her distress. He’d give her time to adjust to her new home. And a husband. Small steps covered just as much ground—it just took longer.
“Thank you, Cameron.” Her voice barely moved the air in the room.
“For which part, exactly? Marrying you by accident, bringing you safely to the castle, or sharing my food with you at dinner?”
“Everything, actually. I had come so close, but if you hadn’t scared off the tracker it would have been all for naught. I would be on my way back to London to face my sentence.”
“Not to worry. I was looking for a way to get out of my work anyway.”
She laughed softly at his jest. The warm sound calmed him.
Maybe this would work after all. Lachlan hadn’t wanted to marry Kenna, but now they were happily in love with one another. Who was to say the same couldn’t happen for him and his new bride?
Nay, not the love part; he didn’t want that. But having someone to share his life with would be nice. As would the physical aspects. His wife was bonny, and he hoped he could convince her someday soon they’d be good together in that way.
“You haven’t asked me why I killed him,” she said, changing the course of his thoughts.
“I saw the scar on your cheek, and I’m certain there are more. I have no doubt you had your reasons. I can’t imagine you would have willingly given up a soft life as a duchess for one on the run, married to a man you don’t even know, without cause. When you want to tell me, you will, and I’ll listen.” And hopefully remain calm for the telling.
“You’re not worried to sleep in a room with a woman who killed her first husband?”
“Nay. Not at all.”
He heard a slight sniffle and then a louder sniff. The sounds of a woman crying. He wondered if he might have misunderstood the situation. Had she loved the duke and killed him by accident? Did she mourn his death?
“Do you miss him, lass? Your husband?”
“God, no.” The answer came quickly in a voice rough from tears. “He was a monster. I’m glad he’s gone.”
“Then why are ye crying?”
“I never thought I’d feel safe again.”
She was sleeping in a room with him—a near stranger—and yet she felt safe.
“Welcome home, Mari.”
At his words a sob broke out, and he had to force himself to stay put. Eventually, she quieted and fell asleep.
He had just fallen asleep himself, when she woke him with her screams.
Chapter Six
Marian was sure it was a dream. After all, she’d already lived through this hell once. She couldn’t possibly be made to live through it yet again.
But there she was, looking in the mirror as her new maid, Lucy, came in behind her. Marian looked back to her own reflection as she sat there in her gorgeous gown, a garment created specifically for her, for this day. The day she’d married the Duke of Endsmere.
She was a duchess, and as all had told her throughout the wedding party, she was a lovely one. And now, in a matter of moments, she would lie with her new husband and truly be his duchess.
“Don’t be nervous, Your Grace,” Lucy said as she undid the gown and drew the pins from Marian’s hair. “It is not all that bad. Have you been told all that is expected of a wife on her wedding night?”
Marian felt her cheeks warm and saw the maidenly blush in the mirror.
“Yes. I’m aware of what I’m to do.” According to the letter Kenna had sent, they’d had things all wrong. The pain, according to her younger sister, was insignificant, and making sounds and moving were encouraged by one’s partner.
Marian had to admit, she found this perplexing. Perhaps it was different with a Scottish laird than what she was told to expect from an English lord.
Nodding, she imagined she had the right of it. Her new husband was not at all like the men in the Highlands. While she’d tried her best not to be disappointed by his stature, she would have liked to have braw arms to hold her and a chiseled jaw dusted lightly with stubble.
But no matter, she was a duchess now and she would get through this night, whether the pain was insignificant or not.
Throughout her years of training, she’d mastered the art of fitting in and adapting to whatever environment she was exposed to. Tonight would be the same. She would follow along with her husband and make him happy. If it was truly pleasurable as Kenna had sworn, she would be happy in it as well. Though she couldn’t imagine it as so.
The duke—Mathias, she could call him now that they were wed—seemed much too serious to enjoy the bedding. Certainly someone of his standing wouldn’t fall victim to his baser needs. Dukes were beyond lust.