Page 65 of Bound to a Scot
“Looks like he came back early,” he said, trying to project an image of calm.
The fear on Emmeline’s face was obvious and he feared if Macfie was to question her about last night, she would fold and tell him everything. If that happened, it would likely end in death for them both. As they reined their horses to a stop and dismounted, Maddox caught the smug, imperious look on laird Macfie’s face and got the idea he already knew everything, sending his heart plummeting into his stomach.
“And where have ye two been then, eh?” Macfie asked with barely restrained anger.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Cold and bedraggled, Emmeline shifted in her seat, her belly churning, her throat dry, and a sheen of cold, greasy sweat upon her body. She swallowed hard and kept her gaze fixed on the table in front of her. Maddox sat casually enough across the table from her, his full lips turned down, but Emmeline could see by the way his shoulders were bunched and the tightness around his eyes that he was nervous. He hid it well, but she was getting to know him enough to be able to read him.
Burchard paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, a cup of mead in his hand. The flames flickered across his features, pinched and tight, and glittered off eyes that were narrowed to slits. The room was silent, and the air crackled with tension. Burchard was angry. She cut a glance at Lorn who stood silent sentinel in the corner of the salon, arms folded over his broad chest, his face like stone, emotionless and unreadable.
Burchard stopped pacing and turned to her. “Where have the both of ye been?”
His voice was low, menacing, and the way he watched her reminded Emmeline of the way a hawk might watch a plump field mouse moments before it struck. She shrank back in her seat.
“Well? Answer me, woman,” Burchard growled.
“Me laird,” Maddox said. “The Lady Emmeline was?—”
“I didnae ask ye, did I?” Burchard snapped as he rounded on Maddox. “When I want ye tae speak, I’ll ask ye directly.”
Maddox fell silent and sat back in his chair, his face tight and a frown stretched across his lips. He obviously didn’t appreciate being spoken to that way but seemed as if he was trying to give Burchard the respect one laird should give another. The trouble was, Emmeline knew that Burchard had the right to be angry. She was his wife, and she had been out of the castle all night with another man after all. From that perspective, she understood his anger. But that did not give him the right to treat Maddox that way.
Burchard swung his head back to her, his eyes narrow, cold, and reptilian. “Now, wife of mine. Where were ye all night? And why did ye come back with him?”
Emmeline swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat and sat up straight. She held his gaze and reined in the torrent of emotions swirling around inside of her, doing her best to project a sense of confidence. Her strength wavered though, when she recalled the events of the previous day and just how close shehad come to being killed. The emotions returned and she felt herself tremble.
“I was set upon by three men just outside the village yesterday when I went tae fetch Cecilia’s weddin’ gown as ye’d asked,” she said. “If nae fer Laird MacLachlan, I’d have been killed.”
“Killed?” Burchard asked, arching an eyebrow at her.
“Aye, me laird,” she replied. “The men meant tae kill me.”
A skeptical look crossed his face as he pursed his lips. And as Emmeline realized that he didn’t believe her, she felt an unexpected stitch in her heart. She shot to her feet and threw the cloak around her shoulders to the ground, showing him her rumpled and torn dress.
“And how dae ye think this happened? Dae ye think I bleedin’ fell down? Did this tae meself, eh?” she roared.
Burchard looked as surprised by her ferocity as Emmeline felt. But that rush of anger felt good. Her defiance in the face of his skepticism made her feel more powerful than she could ever recall feeling before. Still frowning, Burchard turned to Maddox.
“Is this true?” he asked.
Maddox nodded. “Aye. It is, Laird Macfie. When I came upon the Lady Emmeline, she had been set up on by three men. One hadher in a pond and was tryin’ tae drown her while the other two stood on shore and watched.”
“And who were these men?” Burchard pressed.
Maddox shrugged. “I dinnae ken. I killed them before I could ask.”
A strange look flashed across Burchard’s face that made Emmeline frown. It was there for the blink of an eye and then it was gone like it had never been and she was left struggling to understand what it meant. Or whether she had simply seen something that wasn’t there at all. She knew it was possible she was already so on edge, and perhaps feeling guilty about what had happened with Maddox, that she was ascribing dark and nefarious looks to her husband that weren’t really there.
“And how did ye ken where tae find her, Laird MacLachlan?” Burchard asked.
“I heard her screamin’ in the forest while I was out lookin’,” Maddox replied.
“’Tis nae what I meant. What made ye go and look for her in the first place?”
A quiver of fear ran through Emmeline. It felt to her that Burchard already knew what had happened between them in the cabin and was trying to trap them into admitting it. But she and Maddox had already talked about it and knew they couldnot admit that they’d slept together. Burchard must never know. If they told him, they knew his retribution would be swift and terrible and so they had both vowed to keep their secret.
However, as she sat there beneath the dark and judgmental eyes of her husband, Emmeline couldn’t keep her mind off what had happened. As wrong as she knew it had been to give herself to Maddox, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop recalling the way he had felt inside of her. Her mind was flooded with the memories of their coupling and the pleasure he had given her. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before and simply remembering it was enough to send a quiver through her body and reignite the fires between her thighs.
