Page 4 of Bound to a Scot
He cleared his throat and drained his cup, then signaled for another, desperately trying to banish the thoughts of the woman that were invading his mind. Maddox was certain he’d never met her before but there was something familiar about her all the same. He leaned back in his chair and tried to figure out what that was. Understanding eluded him, but he found himself wondering if he was ever going to see her again. Hoping to see her again.
He shook his head, knowing that train of thinking wouldn’t lead him anywhere good.
CHAPTER THREE
Emmeline tossed and turned on the hard, uncomfortable bed. The cheap, straw-stuffed mattress was a far cry from the feather-stuffed one she slept on at home. But in truth, she knew it wasn’t the bed keeping her away. She was dreading returning to Castle Macfie. There was part of her that had wanted to remain with her sister and live out her days there rather than under her husband’s roof with a man as repugnant and detestable as she’d ever encountered.
The only thing that kept Emmeline from running away—or dying in the effort—was Cecilia. When she’d first come to Colonsay as a fifteen-year-old, she’d been made to care for the girl, who’d been but five at the time. Now, ten years later, Emmeline loved her like she was her own family. And now that Cecilia was the same age she’d been when she’d been wed to Burchard, Emmeline could see herself in the girl. They were much the same and they were as close as a natural born mother and daughter ever were.
Much to the consternation of her father, Cecilia had taken on many of Emmeline’s own traits. Beautiful and artistic, she was fiercely independent, fiery, intelligent, and precocious. She was a girl who had her own mind and was not afraid to share her opinions. At least in private. The face she presented to the world was one of a demure, quiet, and introverted girl. She was thoughtful and considerate of other people and their feelings. She was becoming a lady in her own right.
But it wasn’t just the mattress or thoughts of Cecilia and her own dread of returning to Castle Macfie that were keeping Emmeline from sleeping. It was him. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see his hard, angular face, the way the fire had glinted off his jade green eyes and white-blond hair. She could see the way his taut, corded biceps had strained against the sleeves of his tunic and across his broad, board-like shoulders. He was as beautiful a man as she’d ever seen, and Emmeline couldn’t stop thinking about him.
It was inappropriate, she knew. Despite how much she despised her husband, she was a married woman. She shouldn’t be letting herself think about another man. And yet, try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself. Thoughts of the blond-haired stranger kept popping into her mind and the more she fought them, the more she tried to push them away, the more she was unable to. He was like a splinter stuck just beneath her skin.
With a growl of frustration, Emmeline threw the blankets off and climbed out of the hard, lumpy bed. By the flickering candlelight, she walked over to the table in the corner, splashing some water in the basin onto her face. Emmeline scrubbed it, then grabbed the towel and dried herself off. Raking her fingersthrough her hair, she pulled it back and used a silk ribbon to tie it back. That done, she stood in front of the looking glass and smoothed out her dress.
Deciding it was about as good as she was going to get, Emmeline walked quietly to the door and pressed her ear to it, listening for movement beyond. She didn’t hear anything, so she opened it slightly and pressed her eye to the crack. Seeing nobody in the hallway, Emmeline slipped out and quickly made her way to the stairs. A smile on her lips and a feeling of triumph surging through her veins, she swiftly made her way down to the common room and pulled up short when she saw two of Titus’ men at the bottom of the stairs.
“Me lady, ye shouldnae be down here,” said the older of the two.
“And ye shouldnae be tellin’ me what tae dae,” she fired back.
“Me lady, we’ve got orders.”
“And ye ken where ye can stick yer orders,” she said. “I cannae sleep and need a bleedin’ drink. I’m the Lady of Castle Macfie, so if ye try tae stop me, I’m goin’ tae show ye me other side. And if that happens, ye ain’t goin’ tae be able tae eat solid food fer a bleedin’ month. Dae ye understand me, boy?”
He was twice her age at least, so calling him boy seemed a bit silly and over the top, but Emmeline didn’t care. She was on a roll. And her ferocity seemed to have the desire effect as the man recoiled, his face blanching. But he stepped aside.
“Why dinnae ye two go on up tae bed?” she went on. “I dinnae want tae drink me wine with ye both starin’ over me shoulder like a buzzard over a corpse.”
“Me lady?—”
“I said, go tae bed. Now.”
The two men exchanged a look but did as she said, quickly going upstairs. Emmeline waited until she heard a door close, then smiled to herself and walked to a table in the corner and leaned back against the wall. This table was set off by itself in a shadowy corner of the room with no other table near it. The seclusion was odd, given how full the rest of the room was, but welcome. She would see Titus coming long before he saw her. One of the barmaids dropped off a mug of mulled wine as soon as she sat down. Emmeline fished a couple of coppers out of her purse and dropped them onto her tray.
“Thank ye,” she said and gave Emmeline a brief curtsy before turning and walking off.
Emmeline took a sip of her wine, savoring the multitude of flavors as it hit her tongue with a smile. It was more than just the wine though. It was the brief sense of freedom she had being able to sit there alone, enjoying a bit of solitude, without somebody hovering over her for a change.
“Dae ye play?”
Her heart fell into her stomach when she looked up and saw the blond-haired man standing beside her table. His eyes sparkled in the firelight and seemed to bore down into her soul. For a moment, Emmeline felt like she couldn’t breathe, frozen. Paralyzed. And it was only then that she realized he’d spoken to her.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, giving herself a small shake.
The man pointed to the table. “I asked if ye played.”
Emmeline looked down and realized she’d sat down at a table with a chess set on it that she hadn’t noticed before. But it was a game she was familiar with. One she was relatively good at, actually. She offered him a small smile.
“Aye,” she said. “I play.”
“Dae ye now.”
“I said aye, dinnae I?”
“I suppose ye did,” he replied as he sat down across from her. “Care fer a game then?”
