his fists onto the top of the table, he rose to his feet and let his gaze pass over those in the room.
“You cannot blame them, Connor,” Duncan said. The humor in his friend’s voice did not please him. “You have cultivated your own reputation and use it when necessary. Do not hold it against them that they now believe the worst about you.”
“And you, Duncan?” he asked, taking his seat. “Do you not believe it? Do you think I have imprisoned my wife below, even as I hold her brother?”
“If she continues as she has begun, I think you may wish that you had locked her below.”
Connor nodded, understanding Duncan’s comment completely. In her first day here, she had already caused him to change his mind several times. When he sent Duncan to her father, he envisioned a marriage that would have her in his bed at night and out of his way during the day. He knew undoubtedly that he could never love another woman the way he had loved Kenna and so he accustomed himself recently to the idea of simply marrying to fulfill the clan’s need for an heir. If he did not let himself care for her, if he kept her at a distance, he could guard his heart from ever having to experience the agony of loss again.
Somehow he now knew that this wife was going to be more trouble than he bargained for. As if his thoughts had conjured her up, she entered the hall with Duff at her side. She kept her gaze on the floor as she walked back to the table. Her next action stunned him.
Stopping before him where all could see, she dropped into a deep curtsy with her head bowed and eyes still lowered. Her voice carried throughout the hall, filling the silence with her words.
“Your pardon, my lord. Please forgive my earlier rash behavior in questioning your honor.”
Connor felt his throat tighten and he could not swallow the mouthful of ale he had just taken. He did not sense anything but a sincere apology in her words. That this was done for show was obvious to him, but he knew with a feeling of certainty that it was honestly meant. He swallowed forcefully.
“Join me, lady, and break your fast.”
She rose smoothly to her feet and slid onto the stool next to his chair. He held out a loaf of bread to her and she took it, her fingers brushing his as she lifted it from his grasp. Connor watched as she moved the bowl of now-cooled porridge away and broke off a chunk of cheese instead.
“Ian? Bring the lady another bowl of porridge. Hers has cooled.”
“Nay, Ian. I do not need any more.”
She challenged him again, even while the words of her apology still echoed through the hall. He closed his eyes for a moment and then let out his breath. Glaring at her in her defiance, he repeated his order to the servant once again.
“Is this to be the way of it, then? I give an order and you disobey it?”
Part of him wanted to laugh—at the least, she was no empty-headed ninny as he feared he would be forced to marry. Although his well-developed reputation served him, it also caused women, and some weak-nerved men, to lose their wits around him. If he had to be married, he was inwardly pleased that she did not shrink from him and his every word. But, as laird, he could not, would not, have every order he gave undermined by her.
Jocelyn finally met his gaze and he watched her expression change from defiant to something less disobedient. She pursed her lips and looked as if she was fighting to keep her words in. Good. Let her consider her actions before she took them. He knew she understood him when she moved her bowl over to the side where Ian stood waiting for the outcome.
“Please, Ian,” she said in a quiet voice.
He nodded, satisfied. This could all work out. He finished his meal and engaged Duncan in a discussion about their duties for the day. Connor also took advantage of the time to make a more thorough study of his wife as she sat next to him eating her meal.
She was plain in appearance; her face, eyes and hair were neither exceptional nor unattractive. After Kenna’s extraordinary beauty, Connor did not want another comely wife. She did move with a certain grace as she walked and her form was definitely the better of her attributes. When the sheet she’d held around her had dropped, exposing her bare shoulders and the slopes of her breasts to him, he knew, and his body’s reaction told him, that consummating their union would not be difficult for him. Shifting now in his chair as the memory of her creamy flesh stirred him once more.
As if she felt his scrutiny, their eyes met. Mayhap he had been premature in his assessment of her features, for when her eyes flashed as they did now at him, they were quite attractive. Turning back to face Duncan, he tore his gaze from hers. Aye, ’twould not be difficult after all. Thoughts of her naked beneath him, soon, filled his mind with images that would be better left until later.
“You should see the seamstress today and have some clothes made.”
“I can sew, my lord, and I have clothes…just not with me. Your orders did not allow me time to pack my belongings.”
“Then I will replace them with new since I cannot have the Lady MacLerie wandering through keep and village as I found her this morn.”
Her mouth opened and shut and a becoming blush crept up her cheeks. So, she could be quieted.
“Ailsa will make arrangements for you. If you will excuse me—” he rose and nodded to Duncan who stood next to him “—we must see to our duties.”
They walked quickly from the hall, the heat in his body cooling even as the distance between them grew. Tonight should prove interesting. Tonight she would be his and the marriage would be consummated.
Tonight.
Darkness had fallen some time ago, yet Connor had not shown himself within the keep. Each time she asked one of the servants if this was his habit, she was met with various grunts or nods and she knew no more than before she asked her questions. Realizing that they would not be cooperative with her efforts to learn more about her husband, she finally gave up and sought comfort and privacy in her chamber.
The day had been a frustrating one for her. She visited the seamstresses within the keep and then the cobbler in the village, all under Ailsa’s watchful eye. Her excursion was successful for a few garments were available for her and an additional pair of shoes was found that needed only a few minor adjustments to fit her well enough. Returning with her new possessions, Jocelyn was surprised to find that Connor had not arrived back from his duties. Dinner came and passed and his absence from the hall made her too uncomfortable to eat under the scrutiny of his people. She asked for a tray to be delivered to her in her room and that was where she had spent the last few hours.
Waiting.
Jumping at every noise.
Anticipating the coming night…and him.
She knew that the reprieve granted her last night was over and she would be held to the bargain made. Could she do this? Expecting to marry Ewan, Jocelyn had welcomed and even enjoyed his occasional but fervent kisses. She knew what was expected of a wife in the marriage bed, just not the details of the act itself. She just could not imagine now submitting to this stranger and his desires. She shivered as waves of fear and confusion and curiosity pulsed through her.
Cora, the young girl who had precipitated her misunderstanding with Connor, was back, this time straightening the room and tending to the fire in the hearth. Jocelyn stood by the window, gazing out over the yard. She could see the guards moving up on the main wall in their slow progression around the perimeter. No other movements were apparent to her as she tried to calm the emotions within her.
A soft knock at the door brought her around quickly. Cora opened the door, but instead of her husband, Ailsa entered carrying a pile of linens. The older woman whispered something to Cora and the girl was gone from the room in a few moments. After laying her bundle on the bed, the servant approached her.
“Here now, my lady. I’ve brought ye a fresh gown and a robe. After ye change, I’ll brush out yer hair, if ye’d like?”
Moving