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Glancing at Adela, then back at Rob, Archie Tayt looked horrified.

Rob chuckled and said, “Don’t fear her, Arch. She’s nobbut a wee lassock.”

“Aye, sure, but I dinna want her to slap me.”

Rob shrugged. “Then don’t let her.”

Adela saw him smile at Archie and realized he expected her to fail. Pride welled in her along with a touch of anger and grim determination to prove him wrong. He was so arrogant sometimes, so sure about everything that it made her itch to show him he was not the only one who could teach lessons.

She approached Archie with a reassuring smile, looking into his eyes. The poor man, as large as he was, was clearly nervous and kept glancing at Rob as if seeking guidance as to exactly how Rob wanted him to act.

Without looking away from Archie’s blue eyes, Adela made her expression rueful. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Archie?” she asked in a small voice.

He shook his head, but she saw him swallow hard.

“It should not matter to you if he does mind,” Rob said sternly. “You just think about what I taught you and see if you can get close enough to make him alter his opinion a wee bit about how weak women are.”

“Do you think women are weak, Archie?” she asked gently.

“Aye, mistress, I ken fine that they are, because …”

She drew her arm back the way she had the first time she’d tried to slap Rob.

“… well, they be but lassies and no as strong as—”

His words ended in a sharp cry, for although he had been watching her eyes, he flicked a glance at Rob as she raised her hand. She had anticipated such a glance, and before his gaze darted back to her, she stiffened her rising hand and abruptly shifted direction to stab hard instead at the target between his legs.

He had pulled his head back, clearly believing he could easily make her miss his face. But at the last second he saw her true intent and jerked up his left knee to counter it. She had been too quick, though, and her hand slid over the knee, striking him higher than she had intended but making him gasp and cry out nonetheless.

Reacting even as the cry escaped him, he caught her shoulders, holding her arm’s length away from him.

Adela stiffened at being grabbed so, but one look at his anxious face assured her that he sought only to protect himself from further injury.

Rob burst out laughing so hard that he doubled over, hands on his knees.

Temper rising, Adela grasped Archie’s big hands and firmly removed them, then turned and strode purposefully toward her husband.

He sensed her approach and looked up, grinning widely, still gasping, tears of hilarity streaming down his cheeks.

Without breaking stride, she put her hands on both of his shoulders and shoved as hard as she could. He dropped the bundle and grabbed for her, but she easily eluded him, and he landed hard on his backside on the dusty cobbles.

“That’s for making Archie the goat of your daft game,” she said fiercely. “You should think shame to yourself for taking such callous advantage of him.”

A large but gentle hand on her arm made her look away from Rob to find Archie looming over her, looking more unsettled than ever. “Please, m’lady,” he said as his gaze flicked unhappily toward Rob. “Dinna be wroth wi’ him to defend me. He’s no a man wha’ takes kindly to such.”

Rob was on his feet with the little bundle he’d dropped in his left hand. “Stand away from my lady, Archie,” he said as he moved toward them.

Seeing the look of angry intent on his face, Adela stepped backward.

“Here, man,” Archie protested. “What d’ye mean to do to her?”

“I’ve a few more things to teach her,” Rob said grimly, reaching for her.

Adela stepped back again. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

“Too late for that,” he said, wrapping his right arm around her waist and lifting her off her feet. “Archie, tell those lads yonder to stop laughing and get back to their chores. And, whilst you’re at it, thank your Maker that I promised her ladyship I’d not punish you if she managed to slip anything past your guard.”

Archie nodded, and Adela, thus reminded that Archie might still be in some peril, stopped kicking, tried to get a breath, and prayed that Rob would not drop her.

He carried her thus one-armed up the steps to the castle’s main entrance. One of the men having the presence of mind to run ahead and open the door for them, Rob strode in and stopped on the landing, kicking the door shut behind them before he set her on her feet.

“Upstairs,” he said curtly.

“What are you going to do?”

“Go,” he said, smacking her on the backside.

Grimacing, she snatched up her skirts and hurried upstairs ahead of him to the bedchamber they’d shared. Pushing the door open, she turned to face him.

“I only did what you—”

He was grinning at her, his eyes alight with laughter and something else that changed any anxiety she felt to a tingling that spread through her entire body.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low in his throat.

She hesitated. “I thought you were furious. You had every reason to be. I don’t know what possessed me. I swear to you, I almost
never
do things like that. And in front of your men! Mercy, I would not blame you if you—”

“You must learn to obey when I speak to you, madam wife,” he said, catching her arm and pulling her close, then capturing her lips with his. His right hand moved to the red silk lacing of her kirtle as his tongue plunged into her mouth.

Moments later, they were naked on the bed, writhing together, enjoying passion that Adela had not known could exist, passion that seemed only to increase with every touch and movement.

“Ah, lass, you do things to me I did not know women could do to men,” he said as he rolled atop her and moved a hand to the fork of her legs, using his fingers to ignite fire there.

“I’m not doing anything,” she said, arching against him. “You …” She cried out as the fingers plunged into her, then moaned when they left her and gasped as, in place of them, he began to insert his—

Hammering on the door startled them both, and Rob muttered a curse that made Adela gasp again before he shouted, “What the devil do you want?”

“Beg pardon, sir, but Prince Henry of Orkney be below, and he says ye must come gey quick. He said to tell ye there’s been murder done and they may be a-coming for ye straightaway.”

“Mercy!” Adela exclaimed. “What can have happened now?”

Grimly, Rob said, “Did one of you brainless louts tell Orkney I was occupied, doubtless beating my wife?”

Silence.

“Just as I thought. Go back and tell him I said he should go boil his head.”

“But, sir—”

“Go!” Rob roared.

Cheeks aflame as she imagined having to face Henry after sending him such a message for such a reason, Adela protested. “We cannot keep him waiting whilst we stay here like this!”

“Aye, sure we can,” Rob said, resuming where he had stopped. “But what if he meant what he said? What if someone really
has
been killed? What if—”

Silencing her the best way he knew how, Rob pressed his lips to hers and his hand to one breast. Teasing the nipple as he plundered her mouth, he eased himself inside her. He was throbbing, his body more eager than ever for her. His shoulder ached, both from his ignominious fall and the exercise, but he did not care a whit.

She responded then, stroking his back and buttocks, kissing him passionately, arching to meet him as he thrust into her. He moved slowly, then faster, until he could feel himself nearly there, almost … almost …

“Robert! Damnation, man, this is no time for idling. I must talk with you!”

Groaning, Rob collapsed atop his wife, muttering imprecations. “So help me,” he said. “If someone is
not
dead, Henry soon will be.”

Chapter 16

W
ith a sigh of resignation, Rob rolled off Adela and when she got up and headed for the washstand, he watched her as he shouted, “Go downstairs, Henry, and order food for us. I’m starving. We’ll be along shortly.”

Henry began to protest but broke off, apparently realizing he had done all he could and that there might be good reason for the delay.

Adela poured water into the basin from the ewer and began washing her hands and face while Rob collected their clothing. As she turned to take her shift from him, a thought struck him that made him chuckle.

“What?”

“I was thinking about Archie,” he said, taking her place at the washstand. “The look on his face—aye,
and
yours. In troth, lass, I never thought you’d do it. I knew you could if I could persuade you to try in earnest. But I thought it would take much longer before you’d act so decisively. By heaven, though, you used what you’d learned and you did it well. The only criticism I’d have would be for your disrespectful treatment of your husband afterward.”

“You made me angry, laughing at him like that,” she said as she pulled the shift over her head and smoothed it into place.

“Aye, and doubtless I’ll make you angry again, often. But I hope you don’t mean to make a practice of tilting me onto my backside in front of all the lads.”

She looked rueful. “I expect they all knew you as Einar Logan.”

“Aye, they did,” he said, pulling on his breeks as she donned her kirtle and tied the laces. “Some did not always treat me with the respect I thought I deserved, either, although I’d come to Hugo determined to learn humility. Not knowing then, any more than
I
did, that they dealt with a future baron, some of them went right out of their way to humble me.”

“It must have been difficult for you,” she said.

“Difficult” did not come close to it.
“Not much worse than when I began training at Dunclathy,” he said. “I must not have learned as much as I’d hoped, though, because when they began laughing after you pitched me to the cobbles, the old temper surged right up again. I failed to see any humor in the situation until I was halfway up the stairs watching your skirts twitching so invitingly ahead of me.”

He leaned against the bed and pulled on his boots with one hand.

“Did all of them at Roslin or Hawthornden know you before you became Einar?” she asked as she tied the em broidered girdle low on her hips and carefully overlapped its long ends to hang properly.

“Nay, only Hugo’s own men, because most of the others here are Sinclair men,” he said. “They serve Henry or the countess. I’d visited Roslin before, of course, but only as a lad or in Sir Edward’s fighting tail. A few of Sir Ed-ward’s men from Dunclathy knew me well enough to have recognized me even after I’d grown Einar’s beard, but I kept out of their way. To everyone else, I became Einar Logan, known for things I did well and teased for other things, as most men are. I soon came to be one of Hugo’s closest captains, though, because we’d so many things in common. With no land or men of my own, life seemed good with him, sithee.”

Adela was not sure that she did see, but as he reached for his shirt, she remembered his wound and demanded to see if it had suffered in his fall or during their more recent activities.

This time he did not object, and she saw that although it still looked angry, it seemed free of incipient putrefaction.

“You certainly are moving more freely,” she said.

He grinned. “Aye, lassie, you provide excellent motivation. In truth, the wound, though painful, is not as bad as the one before when the arrow pierced my jack o’ plate and went straight in. That wound kept trying to close up, wanting to fester, so someone had to keep opening it to let it clear.”

She grimaced at the image.

“’Twas no pleasant experience, that,” he said. “This one, being open at both ends, behaves better, and moving about is good for it. So I can scarcely lay blame to it for letting my lass overset me as she did. You learn fast, sweetheart.”

She smiled, pleased with herself. The satisfaction his approval engendered was delightfully new to her. She was far more accustomed to criticism or being taken for granted.

“Sakes, that reminds me,” he said as he laced his shirt. “What did I do with that wee packet Archie gave me?”

“It’s there on the floor,” she said, pointing. “What is it?”

He picked it up and handed it to her. “See for yourself,” he said.

She unwrapped it to find a short, leather-handled dirk in a leather sheath.

“I wanted you to have something to defend yourself,” he said. “I’ll show you how to use it later. First, let me show you how to wear the sheath.” With a grin he told her to raise her skirts, then strapped the sheath snugly above her knee. “Your sister Isobel has one just like it,” he said.

“It feels strange,” she said, unsure how she felt about carrying a weapon.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Now let’s find Henry and eat. Afterward we’ll all have a thorough look round. There is much here I want to show you.”

In the hall, they found a grim-looking Henry supervising the serving of their overdue midday repast. As gillies scurried around the high table, Henry glanced appraisingly at Adela. When she smiled, his expression remained somber.

She shot a questioning look at Rob, but he gave a slight shake of his head, so she did not comment on Henry’s mood.

Rob said, “You made good time, Henry.”

“Better than I’d expected, given the countess’s usual traveling habits. She was eager to return to her new grandson. I’ve brought all your clothing, too.”

They thanked him, Adela fervently, and the three continued to chat desultorily as they took their places at the table.

When they had ascertained that they had all they needed, Rob dismissed the servants and said, “Let’s have it, Henry. What’s amiss?”

“Did you think I was jesting with you?”

“Sakes, then, is it true? Is someone dead—murdered?”

“In troth, I do not know the whole. I own, I exaggerated because your man said you …” Hesitating, he glanced at Adela, then added glibly, “But what I heard as we were leaving town was that someone attacked de Gredin late last night as he walked back up to the Castle from town, and that he lay near death. I did not stay to learn more, thinking it more important to get my mother safely back to Roslin.”

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