fought back the tears that had threatened ever since she discovered her fate was in the hands of the MacLerie. She blamed it on her exhaustion and her fear for her brother’s safety and well-being. She stood and allowed Ailsa to peel the soggy layers of gown and chemise and plaid from her shaking body. When the noise outside the chamber signaled the arrival of the promised bath, Ailsa guided her behind a screen and continued to undress her, removing the mud that had found its way inside her garments. After a few more minutes, Jocelyn found herself sinking into the overly large tub of steaming scented water.
She later remembered Ailsa lathering her hair with a pungent soap and rinsing it at least twice and helping her to wash the rest of herself. Then Jocelyn remembered being wrapped in heavy towels and sitting on the bed as a tray of food was delivered. And that was the last thing she knew until the rays of the rising sun flooded her room and roused her from a deep sleep.
Panic filled her as she realized in an instant that she had not fulfilled the second part of the bargain. For unless bedding was an incredibly overrated experience and could be done on someone sound asleep, she doubted her husband had exercised his marital rights during the night.
Climbing from the center of the bed and still wrapped in the towels from her bath, she searched through the trunks lining one wall for anything she could wear. Jocelyn did not know where her own small bundle was and she could find nothing suitable for her. A sense of dread engulfed her as she realized that without the consummation of their vows, Connor could still seek retribution on her brother. Unable to locate anything but bed linens in the chest, she slammed down the lid and shook her head. She was a prisoner until one of the servants came to her. Grabbing a brush from the table next to the bed, she pulled it through her hair and braided it quickly.
Her activities must have alerted the servants that she was awake for soon a knock came on the door of the chamber and a young girl entered with a bucket of steaming water. After curtsying, the girl poured an amount of it into the basin by her bedside and sat the bucket near the hearth. With an efficiency born of experience, the servant had the fire within the hearth burning brightly with just a few adjustments to it. Then the girl turned to leave, but stopped once she’d pulled the door open.
“Milady, the laird asks that ye join him in the hall to break yer fast.”
“I fear I cannot do that…what is your name?”
“Cora, milady.” The girl curtsied again.
“Cora, please tell the laird that I cannot do as he asks—”
Before she could finish, the girl was gone. Jocelyn did not think a body could move that fast, but in a blink of an eye, she was alone once more. Hoping that someone would seek her out and discover her need for clothes, she decided to wash up. Rearranging the towels around her, she leaned over and dipped her hands into the hot water. Splashing it onto her face, Jocelyn reached for a cloth to wipe the water off. The noise behind her startled her into turning and losing control over the layers of toweling around her until it loosened and slipped down her. Grasping it before it fell to her waist, she looked up expecting Cora.
She found her husband. Connor MacLerie.
And from the dangerous look on his face, she knew why he was called Beast. All the words she thought she would say to him froze in her throat as his gaze moved down her and settled on her breasts. She longed to slap the now lustful stare from his face, but as her husband, she knew she must submit to not only his gazes but also his touch, his possession of her body. She could not control the shudder that moved through her. Finally, he met her glare with one of his own.
“I see that even the night of rest I allowed you has not sweetened your disposition. You would disobey even my smallest request?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he took several steps toward her. Although she would have liked to back away, she had nowhere to move.
“Laird,” she said, looking around the room once more. “I did not disobey you.”
“I called you to the hall below and you refused me. What else is it, but disobedience, plain and simple?”
This was no way to begin their married life. A simple misunderstanding, but it could become something larger if she did not handle it well enough. Looking at him, she realized that she had not really taken his measure on her arrival. Exhausted, soaked through with icy muck and fearful for her brother’s well-being, she had stumbled through their meeting and their vows. Now, in the full light of the sun, she found she had married a wildly attractive man. Taller than her father, taller than even Ewan, Connor towered over her. His black hair was pulled back from his face and tied in small braids at his temples. Shaven clean of any beard, the rugged angles of his face proclaimed his masculinity. Eyes nearly the color of bronze glowed back at her, full of fire at her challenge to his authority, both as her husband and now as her laird.
“My lord, I have no clothes.” She lowered herself into as deep a curtsy as she dared before him. With her head bowed, she could not see his reaction, but heard the cough he let loose.
“No clothes?” he asked.
“None, my lord. And there seem to be none in this chamber that I could cover myself with to answer your summons to the hall. Unless you want me to appear naked before your clan?”
She heard his choking cough again and the sound of laughter from outside her chamber. She looked up just enough to see his booted feet move to the doorway. A scuffle ensued and a few moments later a bundle was dropped on the floor next to her. Jocelyn looked up to find him staring down at her, and staring down the loosely held towel at her chest again. When she tried to stand, she lost her balance and toppled backward. His hands around her arms prevented her from hitting the stone floor. She found herself being pulled in close to his chest until she was steady on her feet.
“Get yourself dressed and down to the hall now.” She felt his gruff voice as he whispered the words into her ear.
“Aye, my lord,” she answered.
He released his grasp of her and walked away. But she could not let him go until she discovered her brother’s condition.
“Laird?” she called out. He stopped, but did not turn to face her. “Did my brother suffer for my failure to consummate our vows last night?”
Another strangled cough erupted, this one from the hallway, but Jocelyn could not break her gaze from him as he turned and met hers. Rising even taller and looking as dangerous as a beast could, he stalked over to her, clenching, tightening and opening his fists with every step. Standing as close as possible but without touching her, he looked down at her from his height and spoke through clenched teeth. She could feel the waves of anger pouring from him as he spoke.
“I hold your brother accountable for his own behavior as I hold you accountable for yours. Now, get you dressed and get you down to my hall.”
She stood frozen by the cold fury in his voice until he turned and left, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the windows in the room and her head. A muffled argument outside her chamber drew her attention for a few moments, but when it quieted she knew he was gone. She sank to her knees as the tremors of fear shook her to her core.
Jocelyn did not know how long she stayed on her knees, but she soon became aware of whispered voices outside her door. Rubbing her hands over her arms and face, she roused herself and climbed up onto still-shaking legs. Rummaging through the bundle at her feet, she found a clean shift, gown and stockings. With a few minutes of struggling with the laces, she was dressed. Jocelyn decided to use a length of plaid as a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders tightly, trying to ease the trembling that still filled her.
After a few deep breaths, she felt ready to answer Connor’s call. Pulling open the door, she was surprised to find Duncan and Ailsa standing before her. Ailsa curtsied as Duncan bowed to her, a far cry from the disrespect he had showed her every leg of their trip here.
“The laird asked me to escort you to the hall.”
“Fine,” she answered, waiting for him to lead the way.
“Mayhap shoes would make the walk