Page 138 of Bride of Ice
Dread kicked him in the gut.
That had to be the same Archibald Scott.
But what “special entertainment” had Archibald Scott required? God’s blood. What kind of twisted monster had the king sent to wed his Hallie?
He set down the ale. Done with drinking. He needed to speak with Sir Geoffrey. And for that he needed a clear head.
Hallie woke abruptly. The winter moon cast a thin sliver of light through the shutters. It was not enough to see by. But she didn’t need her eyes to tell her what had made her stir. Her ears told her everything she needed to know.
Archie apparently thought she was sleeping. Otherwise, he wouldn’t engage in such licentious activity. Wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell of wool grease, she heard the sounds of moist, rhythmic smacking and Archie snatching quivering breaths through his teeth, as if he were having a nightmare.
He was pleasuring himself.
She wasn’t annoyed. Only mystified. He wasn’t completely incapable of lust then. He was only anxious with her.
It was all ridiculous. No matter how fierce she was in battle, in bed she’d been as harmless as a kitten. She’d let him take the lead. She’d acquiesced with his preference for the dark, for silence, for complacency.
But now she had a reason for assertiveness, for urgency.
Sometimes in war, it was merciful to be quick. Rather than letting the enemy languish in unnecessary dread, it was best to dispatch things quickly.
Perhaps if she could waylay him while he was aroused…
Casting caution to the wind, she took swift action. While he was in the throes of passion, she tossed off the coverlet and flung a leg over his thighs.
He shrieked in surprise and threw up his hands.
“Here,” she coaxed. “Let me help you.”
Climbing atop him, she wrapped her fingers around his stiff, greasy stump, angling it toward her waiting womb.
But he shuddered beneath her, shriveling in her hand, letting out a mournful moan of defeat.
She silently cursed. She wasn’t angry. Not really. Mostly she felt sorry for him. And for herself, she felt terribly frustrated.
They’d been wed for three months now, and this was the longest, most agonizing siege she’d endured. Despite letting down her guard and opening the palisade gates, he still hadn’t managed to breach her walls and storm her castle.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “But you mustn’t frighten me like that.”
Hallie sighed and rolled off of him. Of course, he blamed her.
But if he didn’t take responsibility in the near future, consummate this marriage, and start exercising his marital duties, she feared a very ugly truth would come to light.
Hallie was with child.
She wasn’t swollen enough yet for anyone to notice. But it wouldn’t be long before her condition became apparent. And Archie would realize the babe wasn’t his.
He only had to swive her once. Just once, and she could joyfully announce that they were expecting their first child. If it came a few months early, no one would blink. After all, babes came early all the time. As long as the child was whole and healthy, the clan would be delighted to greet the next Rivenloch heir.
“Good night,” Archie groused as he turned his back, probably annoyed now that she’d interrupted his self-pleasure.
She couldn’t get back to sleep, even when Archie began drawing in long, whining breaths of slumber.
She kept thinking about her babe. Would the child have Colban’s soft brown eyes? His chiseled features? His golden hair?
She closed her eyes and dreamed. Of Colban an Curaidh in her bed. Of kissing his warm mouth and melting in his embrace. Of holding their precious babe in her arms.
Colban plopped a bag of coin on the table before the pale reptile of a man who sat in the corner of the inn.
