The Intended (14 page)

“Then, if your plan is not to wait and to
marry...his next infant heir...”

“Assuming it is a girl...”

“Aye. If you’re not going to wait, then how
do you expect to bind the two clans?”

“Well, lass, I’ve been thinking about coming
up with an heir of my own,” he said, his face growing sober.

“Oh?”

“Aye. That way, if Duncan and his new wife
ever produce a bairn...well, then that’ll be something for our
children to work out between them.”

“Of course!” she replied lightly. “That
sounds simple enough.”

“I am glad you think so, Jaime.” His fingers
locked like a vise on her arm, and there was a gleam in his eye.
“Then you’re ready to have my bairn?”

“A midsummer wedding, perhaps?” the duke of
Norfolk suggested, eyeing Robert Radcliffe, earl of Essex and new
Lord Great Chamberlain, across the table.

“That’s too soon,” Essex responded, looking
noncommittally at a parchment in his hand. “Though we expect to
receive word any day now regarding the negotiations with the
queen’s family, it is unreasonable to expect the king to officially
annul his marriage to Anne of Cleves until the end of July.”

“A fall wedding, then,” the duke growled
irritably.

“Nay, Norfolk. Much too late for King’s
liking.”

Catherine Howard picked up her cup of wine
and glared petulantly at the two men huddled at one end of the
table. Her uncle and the Lord Chamberlain were two of the dullest
old men alive—she was convinced of it. Staring at the Lord
Chamberlain’s bald head, she decided he would probably collapse
into a pile of dust if someone were to shake him. She looked at the
servants and clerks standing in two small groups by the door and
wondered which one of them would be man enough to do it. With a
quiet sigh, she glanced back at the two noblemen discussing her
wedding—every detail of the blasted thing.

Catherine was bored. She couldn’t recall ever
being quite so bored. She had been standing in this room for over
half an hour listening to their drivel. Why, she thought angrily,
couldn’t they just finish this? And why did she need to be here,
anyway?

Sighing audibly this time, she turned her
back on the two men, and her gaze came to rest on Edward, sitting
at the far end of the long table. Her eyes boldly devoured all of
him. His handsome face wore an expression of boredom, as well, and
his eyes flashed only momentarily in her direction. She could tell
he was forcing himself to look past her; even his look of ennui had
vanished. But she knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off her
for long.

Making Edward crazy with desire had always
been a favorite sport for Catherine, and one in which she was quite
adept. Throwing a casual glance over her shoulder at the two older
men, Catherine sauntered slowly down the room, holding the cool cup
against her cheek with one hand and letting her other hand trail
over the backs of the carved wood chairs. Her eyes focused on
Edward’s face—on his gray eyes, his full lips. Gazing at that
mouth, she could even now feel his lips and tongue tugging at her
nipples. Oh, how he had made her cry out in ecstasy, his long,
thick shaft nestled deep within her.

Feeling fresh desire stir deep in her belly,
Catherine continued to make her way toward him. Edward had pushed
his chair back from the table, and he sat with his legs spread
before him, one hand resting on the polished wood surface. By his
hand on the table sat a pitcher of wine. Catherine’s chest heaved
slightly as she considered what would happen if the two of them
were alone right now. She would move directly in front of him and
raise her skirts. As always, he would be far too impatient to let
her undress. She would climb onto his lap, straddling him. It would
be a simple business to free his manhood of its codpiece. She could
feel the heat of his breath on her skin as his strong hands pulled
down her dress. His teeth and tongue, rough on her nipple. His
arousal, pulsing and hard, probing at her moist folds and driving
deep between her legs. Catherine paused, shuddering involuntarily
with the exhilaration of the vision.

Letting out a long breath, she moved even
closer. The two gruff voices droned on behind her. Catherine
thrilled at the sight of Edward’s eyes, now focused on her every
step, rising only to linger over at her swaying hips, rising again
and halting on her breasts as she laid the cup against her skin
there. She felt the wetness between her legs and the tightness in
her middle that cried out for the man’s touch.

Catherine stopped beside him and, with a
casual wave, dismissed an approaching servant, picking up the
pitcher of wine herself. Her skirts brushed seductively against the
knee of one of his high boots.

“Did you have an enjoyable morning, cousin?”
she asked sweetly, filling her cup to the top.

“Most...entertaining!” he growled softly.

“The hunt went well?”

“The game here is...so abundant!” His eyes
lingered meaningfully on her breasts before glancing away toward
the servants. They were too far away to hear anything.

“Ah, but so little time for the truly
pleasurable pursuits!”

“Aye, cousin.” His gaze turned slowly and
bore into her eyes. “And it would appear the time for those
pleasures is growing even shorter.”

“You could take me right here, if that would
be more to your liking.” Catherine’s eyes roamed the room. Her leg
rubbed suggestively at his knee.

A wry smile crossed Edward’s face. “I think
that might just upset the negotiations going on at the other
end.”

“But it would certainly add some
excitement.”

Edward stared at her. “Excitement? Aye. And
danger, too.”

“I thought you lived for danger, cousin.”
Catherine brought the cup to her lips and let her pink tongue lick
seductively at the edge. His eyes never left her mouth. “I am quite
certain you’d find the rewards worthy of the risk.”

“I am certain, as well.”

“Then perhaps, tonight...”

“Catherine, Edward!”

Her uncle’s voice cut through their talk like
Lenten sleet. Shutting her eyes, she tried to control her sudden
anger, her annoyance at his meddling. As Edward stood, she opened
them, turning with the look of a demure and obedient niece. “Do you
require something of me, uncle?”

Norfolk pushed his chair sharply away from
the table, and the Lord Great Chamberlain followed suit.

“Have the documents sent up, Essex, if you
would.” Norfolk said to the other man, a note of satisfaction
obvious in his tone.

The Lord Chamberlain nodded and bowed to
Catherine. “Your servant, mistress.”

“It’s settled,” the duke of Norfolk said,
rubbing his hands as Essex and his entourage exited the chamber.
“Assuming the negotiations are concluded in Flanders regarding the
queen’s future, you’re to wed at the end of July. And apparently it
makes no difference to the king whether it takes place here, at
Kenninghall, or on the royal barge in the Thames!”

Catherine nodded. “Thank you, Your
Grace.”

“Edward,” the duke said, rolling up the
parchment on the table. “I believe it would be highly politic of
you to marry Jaime after the king and Catherine marry.”

“Whatever you think best, Father,” Edward
replied indifferently.

“Besides,” Norfolk continued, “we still need
to work out the details of her grandfather’s estates. And I don’t
know that the bloody Macphersons are about to give up the lands in
Kent without a bit of arm twisting.”

“Very well,” Edward agreed, glancing up at
Catherine’s face. Her skin was livid with rage. Her eyes were
daggers of fury.

“Come along, Catherine, Edward.” The duke
started for the door without a backward glance. “We’ve a great deal
to do.”

“We shall follow along momentarily,” the
knight said, trying to keep his voice even as his father passed out
of the room.

“You are to marry?” she hissed under her
breath as soon as the door closed behind the departing duke.

He nodded, “Aye, why not?”

“To Jaime? A half-blooded Scot?”

“To our cousin,” he answered quietly.

“She is no cousin of mine. She’s a
self-serving prig. She is a Scot...barely more than an animal! She
knows nothing of propriety. She mixes servants and masters, for
God’s sake!”

Edward looked away, trying to distance
himself from her anger.

“She is a faster worker than I thought.”
Catherine slammed her cup on the table. “Tell me, how is she in
bed?”

He ignored her question. “We should be
going.”

“She must be foul...otherwise you would have
come bragging to me!” She sniggered viciously. “It must be her
money.”

His face blackened, and his eyes were narrow
slits of steel, but Catherine was too angry to notice. She and
Edward were lovers long before she had left for court. He had taken
her first when she was just fourteen. And he had come to her bed
every day since he’d arrived here. She didn’t care a jot whom he
married. But to hear from the old duke, and not from him, that he
was to wed to that half-Scot, half-French hussy! Coward, she
thought.

“Well,
dear
cousin, I never thought
this day would come.”

“Marriage between us was never a
possibili...” Edward began.

“Marriage? Hah!” Her mirthless laugh had the
cutting edge of a blade. “Nay, I mean the day when you would bend
to being dependent on your wife. To ask her father, a beast of a
Scot, for a spending allowance. To have
them
provide you
with a home.” A nasty smile appeared on her face. “Tell me, does
she already carry your balls in her money purse?”

“Catherine,” he growled threateningly.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to be living in
Scotland. It is no secret at court that once the old duke dies,
your brother Surrey will be cutting you off without a
farthing.”

She watched Edward’s hands curl into fists at
his side—his jaw clenched, the muscles on the side of his face
twitching nervously. Well, she thought with satisfaction, she had
struck close to home.

“The second son,” she continued, her tone
thick with feigned pity. “Poor Edward, the boy needs to marry a
rich girl to survive. Ah, desperate Edward, selling his pride and
placing his neck under his enemy’s foot, just so they will pay his
keep.”

She leaned forward and hooked her fingers
into his belt. Her whisper was barely audible when she spoke to
him. “On second thought, I could take care of you, cousin. Do not
forget, I am to become your queen. And you must gratify me as I
please. Aye, please me
well
, Edward, and I perhaps will give
you enough to keep you out of the Scot’s clutches.”

Without another word, Catherine spun on her
heel and started for the door, never seeing the gaze, cold and
ruthless, that he turned upon her.

Jaime tried to leap from the bed, but
Malcolm’s firm grip on her arm held her in place.

“Have you gone mad?” she cried.

“I don’t believe so. Do I look mad?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “But
you...you are a widower...”

“You think widowers swear off women when
their wives die?”

“But what of your grief? Your loss? You
cannot just...just think of such things...such a short time after
her death!”

“By the Rood, Jaime, ‘tis been over a year
since Flora died. Under the most tragic of circumstances, a man
could not be expected...” As he paused, Malcolm’s face was calm and
his gaze direct. “I never even bedded Flora. In the eyes of the
law, I suppose we were never truly married. We never consummated
our...”

“Please,” she said exasperatedly. “You don’t
have to tell me the details. But I think ‘tis quite insensitive of
you to harbor such thoughts.”

He lifted himself off his pillow and pulled
her closer to his chest. “Still my wee, contentious creature,” he
whispered softly, inhaling her sweet scent. He had already marked
the womanly curves of her body beneath the dresses, the gentle
flair of her hips, the full swell of her breasts. “Still quibbling,
still quarreling for no reason than to partake of a good
brawl.”

She tried to free herself, but her effort was
halfhearted, at best. “No reason?” she challenged, glaring as
fiercely as she could at him. “Here you are asking me to give birth
to a love child, and you call that no reason?”

“You’ve no reason to be scared.”

“I am not scared!”

“Very well then!” he nodded. “I should tell
you I plan to do my share.”

“Your share?”

“Aye.” Malcolm nodded with a mischievous
smile. “I’ve mended enough to make love to you.” She felt his
fingers play ever so slightly over her arm. “I’m certain I’m man
enough to bring you pleasure—perhaps you will even call out my
name. But you’ll not be asking for more, right off, for I’ll
satisfy you, lass. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it immensely.”

She felt herself blushing to the roots of her
hair. It took her a moment to catch her breath. Could this be
happening? She stared as Malcolm shifted his weight and laid his
hand on her leg. A bolt of lightning exploded in Jaime’s brain.

“You are a rogue, a knave, and a scoundrel,
Malcolm MacLeod!” she shouted, again squirming in an unsuccessful
attempt to get off of the bed. “And if you think you can scare
me—or intimidate me with such ill-mannered, churlish prattle, then
you have...”

“I’ve always thought you liked bairns.”

“I
do
like bairns! I love children!”
She swung around and glowered at him. “So long as they are not
offspring of yours, you disgusting, thoughtless, sheep
stealing...”

“You’ll be perfect for the job,” he
interrupted. “You are intelligent and healthy. You’ve a good
build.”

“I am not a horse, Malcolm.”