Page 105 of The Scot Beds His Wife
“I did,” she answered sedately. “Though I still feel bad that your present hasn’t yet arrived.”
“Think nothing of it. Ye’d lost everything ye had, and ye didna get yer annuity in time to send away for gifts. Ye gave me Erradale, and my mother gets another woman in the house, which I can tell pleases her to no end.”
“Still,” she worried. “You both ordered me such thoughtful gifts.” She motioned to the long sapphire silk robe his mother had commissioned for her, and the ornate box that held within it brand-new pearl-handled pistols ornately engraved with her initials,A.S.J.
Alison St. James.
The gift had delighted her, at first, and the kiss of uninhibited joy she’d gifted him with had kept him warm all the day long. So much so, in fact, that he’d barely been able to make it through Christmas dinner. He’d tried to take pleasure in Locryn and Calybrid’s hilarious banter and ancient, bardic solstice stories. He usually enjoyed the lively music performed by Eammon’s fiddle and Callum’s bodhran drum. But tonight, all he wanted was his wife.
Later, he’d caught her running her fingertips over the inscription on his gift, a sheen of moisture darkening her eyes from cobalt to midnight blue.
Happy tears, he’d thought at first. But upon closer inspection of her features, he wasn’t so sure. A bleakness bracketed full lips drawn tight, and a wrinkle of ever-present anxiety creased her forehead. Had she been more affected by recent events than she let on? She’d been so fond of her guns before, so proud of her skill, but perhaps getting shot put her off them.
But could that be? She wore her old pistol on her belt every day, was never without it, in fact.
Maybe the new ones displeased her, somehow, and she was loath to tell him.
He’d know if he could just scrape enough courage together to ask her, outright. Instead, he’d a bath drawn, as he knew of her fondness for them, and he’d intended to take his time undressing them both.
She’d refused to relax, and had avoided his touch, going so far as to undress herself and plop into the tub, drawing her knees into her chest.
The gesture made room for him, though, and he noticed that she hadn’t been able to resist watching him strip until he joined her.
Once he’d pulled her in close and settled her soft posterior against his lap, their physical connection had done just what he’d thought it might and, as always, she’d melted against him. He’d washed her hair and her body, and now that she was returning the favor, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember that they needed to talk. However, he could sense none of her usual heat or desire, and intrinsically knew that to take her to bed now would be folly.
“Are ye… Is there aught bothering ye, bonny?”
She stilled mid-scrub. The tiny bristles needled his flesh, but he didn’t dare move, hoping his silence would draw her out.
“It’s nothing,” she said finally, resuming her ministrations with crisp efficiency.
“In my experience, if a lass says ‘’Tis nothing,’ then ’tis most definitely something.”
“I’m well aware of your infamously extensive experience with other women,” she snapped. “But when I say it’s nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Now ye’ve convinced me it’s something,” he murmured against her ear, licking at the delicate shell, hoping to disarm her a bit.
She plopped his hand back into the water. “Fine. It’s something I just… cannot discuss at the moment, how’s that?”
The words he’d harshly spoken to her on their wedding day came rushing back to him. He’d firmly locked the door on a few very specific topics, and perhaps one of them needled at her on a holiday that was supposed to be about family.
“Ye want to share secrets, bonny?” He enfolded the bulk of his arms around her.
She took a moment to think about it, and then deflated with a breathy sigh. “No. It’s probably best we both keep our secrets for the time being.”
An odd reply, he thought. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to do something he’d not done in longer than a decade.
Trust someone.
“I told ye I wouldna discuss my back, my father, my brother, or Colleen…”
She took in an expectant breath, and that confirmed his suspicions.
“But… I was wrong to do that. To shut that door forever, was I not?”
She shrugged. “We barely knew—know—each other. You’re entitled to keep your past in the—”
“How will we get to know each other without personal revelations?” he interjected. “If ye have any questions about me, lass, ye can ask them. And no matter what they are, I promise I’ll answer them honestly.”
