Betrayed (17 page)

“Krayne is an honourable man,” she reassured Mary. “He would not harm either of us.”

“He is a Johnstone.”

“Is that any worse than a Scottish Jardin?” Amber countered.

Mary would not be convinced. “An uncle and a
husband
are very different.”

“You fear for my soul if I bed down with a Johnstone?”

“Amber, you are too bold.”

“I’m a married woman. ’Tis not unseemly to talk of such things, surely.”

If possible, Mary’s pinched face grew more haggard and Amber had no trouble guessing the reason.

“Krayne has not touched me and neither will he,” she said quickly. Then, before that statement could be questioned, she tugged haphazardly at the ribbons of her bodice. “If I don’t take up the hem of this gown, I’ll trip and kill myself for sure and none of this will matter one way or the other.”

“Gently.” Mary slapped her fingers away, then took a deep breath. “You’ll rip the seam and such exquisite silk it is, too.”

“My husband gave it to me,” Amber said, smiling sweetly as Mary’s scowl cleared in progressive steps.

She knew the woman was making false connections, assuming Amber had been kept in luxury during her captivity and treated like a lady. Amber did not correct her. The less antagonism all round, the easier their escape would be. And then there was Krayne himself. He had his obvious faults, but she found herself desperate for Mary to like him. And
that,
she would not question too deeply either.

Mary deftly undid the ribbons and slid the gown down Amber’s hips so she could step out of it. “’Tis a fine garment indeed.”

Once she had the gown in hand, Mary said, “Well, don’t just stand there, child. This room does not even have a door.” She tutted something about
these barbaric Scots
before continuing, “Such fine silk demands a delicate hand and much time. You’d best put something else on.”

And there Amber’s good intentions failed, for once she donned the dirty, ripped, patched woollen gown, the truth would out. Her eyes went to the corner and the guilty scraps heaped there.

Seeing her charge look helplessly about her, Mary laid the silk carefully across the bed, exclaiming, “Ah now, my wits have surely fled. That bear of a man who brought me here stowed your chest in the outer chamber.”

“You brought my things?”

Mary marched to the door, muttering, “Now why would I leave anything behind for your uncle to get his hands on?”

“Feeling better, wife?”

Amber glanced up at the familiar timbre. Dressed in a plaid of Johnstone colours and a stark white shirt, Krayne cast a menacing figure. His hair was pulled back from the severe angles of his face with a leather thong, his eyes glinted silver and there was no sign of that lopsided grin.

A smile warmed her inside.

She did not cower that easily.

She’d faced his worst, and survived relatively unharmed. So long as she did nothing careless, she had no reason to fear her husband.

Amber did not, however, permit that smile to reach her lips.

The only thing that stood between her and a full onslaught of his displeasure was keeping Krayne out of her bed. She could give him no cause to believe that the reprieve he’d offered was served and done.

“Aye.” She slid off the bed and smoothed her skirts.

His gaze skimmed the pale lemon gown of fine taffeta with undisguised appreciation. The bodice hugged her breasts and the lightweight material fell in a swirl to her ankles. The sleeves were narrow and cuffed to an inverted vee at her wrists, adding a graceful line to the summery gown. “Little Jock mentioned that yer woman had packed up Spedlin Castle to bring along.”

“’Twas but one chest.”

The grin tugged a dimple at his cheek. “Then I’m sure my coffers will be sorely dented in the not too distant future.”

Amber blushed at the intimate notion of spending his coin. And, if she were honest, at this unexpected teasing aspect of his nature that sent a tingling sensation to her stomach.

“I’ve come ta fetch ye fer supper,” he said, his grey gaze dipping to her cleavage and lingering, as if all he saw was his to taste.

Her knees went curiously hollow. She was treading dangerous ground. And she was her own worst enemy. How had she forgotten this potent effect that had brewed wicked sensations and tested her morals from day one?

“Or, if ye prefer…” His eyes came up again to suggest a hunger that had naught to do with food. “We could share a tray in private.”

“No!” yelped Amber. This time, she had more to lose than her maidenhead. And if that thought wasn’t hilarious, what was? When she was an unmarried maid, she would have dropped into his arms at the slightest provocation. Now that they were married, she dared not.

Her fingers twined in her skirts when he came closer. Too close. She conjured up images of the drunken beast that would have mauled her given the chance.

’Tis time ye were taught the pitfalls of callous games played on a whim.

His knuckles brushed her cheek and the scent of raw masculinity folded over her.

Fingers of revenge fer every man ye ever seduced.

Scarred knuckles slipped beneath her chin, gently securing her lips as he slowly lowered his mouth.

It wasn’t working. For those weren’t images, merely words that had never developed into anything she could grasp and hold. The terror Krayne had invoked that night had been erased by his apology and earnest proposal, by the beautiful words he’d spoken to welcome her to his clan, by holding her close to his heart while she raged against his chest, by the grief they’d shared beside Stivin’s grave.

Now, the soft glint of silver fed the grey of his eyes with blatant desire that, oh yes, she knew and hungered for, as well.

“No,” she groaned again.

“Aye.” His mouth halted a breath away from hers. “Ye want me, Amber.”

“You promised…”

“I willna hurt ye, lass.” The deep voice brimmed with hot energy. “’Tis my way of thinking that we should make our own beginning and not be haunted by the demons of the past.”

Hope glimmered as she searched his gaze.

Was it possible?

Could she and Mary truly make a new life for themselves under Krayne’s protection? Would she be permitted to reach out and grab the delicious promise of sensual joy that flitted above her like a summer butterfly whenever Krayne held her near?

And not have her wings stomped to pieces when he discovered the truth?

Amber sighed ruefully. ’Twas
her
way of thinking that men erased their own sins more easily than those of others. “I need more time.”

“Yer eyes betray ye, sweet wife.” His hand left her chin to go to the back of her head, fingers bunching the hair at her nape possessively. His other arm went about her waist, bringing her body to him with strength that would not be denied and making his arousal apparent against the softness of her belly.

Flames lit low in her abdomen and warmth spread to the juncture at her thighs.

Passion’s teeth!

How was she supposed to fight this?

Her body had always responded to Krayne with no thought to consequence or anything else. Even when she’d hated him, her body had betrayed her. Even when he was a stranger, that very first day by the forester’s hut, he’d melted all reason inside her.

His head came down with the growl. “I would pleasure ye, wife. Of that ye may be sure.”

Warm lips moulded hers firmly and swallowed the protest that might or might not have been uttered. She was no longer sure of anything. The kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth as the fire swept wild and furiously through her blood. The arm about her waist hefted her higher, grinding her hips and breasts into solid muscle.

“Krayne, where the devil are…ah, there—oh!” Duncan came to an abrupt halt in the master chamber, unable to do more than stare at the unlikely sight other side the doorway.

Krayne’s head came up with a dark curse, rocking Amber back to her feet and steady ground. “Has a man no privacy in his own chamber?”

“The, um, door was open,” Duncan said feebly.

“How about that.” Krayne’s arm stiffened too late as Amber wriggled free.

“The
other
door,” Duncan clarified, his gaze following Amber’s flight to the bed, flinching for her as she set herself down heavily on a backside that had to be well and truly thrashed after last night. She met his curiosity with bold green eyes that seemed to shout,
What?

“Was there something ye wanted, little brother?”

Duncan rattled his head and moved closer, thinking there was definitely something he was missing as he noted the flush of pleasure on her cheeks.

“Duncan.”

He startled and finally found the hard eyes of his brother. “Aye, I’ve had word from Elwin and request yer permission ta depart fer Carnsalloch on the morrow.”

Krayne’s jaw clenched. “We’ve already discussed this.”

“And if I recall correctly, ye agreed so long I went alone.”

“Must this be decided now?” His pointed gaze went from Duncan to Amber and back. “As ye no doubt see, I was rather busy afore ye interrupted.”

“And if I’m ta leave on the morrow then—”

“Yer not going anywhere.”

Duncan’s voice vibrated with suppressed anger. “Is this my laird or brother speaking?”

“Both.”

Duncan gave Krayne a long, hard look before he spun on his heels and stomped off.

“Mayhap you should let him go,” Amber suggested quietly.

Not about to allow anything until he was satisfied with Duncan’s reasons, Krayne grunted, “This has naught ta do with ye.”

Duncan had first thought to leave Wamphray with Amber as his wife. Was his brother now running from a woman he could not have? Krayne would allow neither.

“Are you sure about that?”

He blunted the urge to snap that he was very sure indeed. Why would she think otherwise? Amber could not know what had transpired in his solar yesterday. His ardour had cooled, but not so much that he did not mean to pick up where he’d left off and from what he knew of women, snapping and demanding was not the way to go about it. Instead he asked rather casually, “What makes ye think it does?”

“He seemed…” She shrugged a hesitant shoulder. “He kept looking my way with…as if he found something odd.”

Krayne advanced with a slow, teasing grin to recapture the mood as he put Duncan from his thoughts. “Other than seeing ye in my arms?”

“’Tis not that strange between a husband and wife.” Amber strained back as he reached her and thought,
Uh oh, not again.

Thighs as powerful as oak trees straddled her legs where they dangled from the bed. “Let’s not forget that the last time Duncan saw us together, ye’d just slapped my face and named me a bastard.”

“Ah.” She’d hoped that was forgotten. And, under the circumstances, forgiven. Her nose wrinkled. “He saw that?”

Arms, pillars of muscle almost as powerful as those thighs, came either side her as he pressed his palms on the bed. She strained further, her body intensely aware that she was almost on her back and him on top.

“Ye know well he did,” Krayne murmured. “As did Aegus and Alexander.”

That couldn’t be very good. Amber bit her lower lip in concern, then gasped loudly as he rearranged their legs in one smart movement. Suddenly hers were spread with his in the middle, and he was stretching over her.

“Krayne, what are…?” He lowered himself to his elbows and the air between them grew hot and languid. How had she landed herself in this position? “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Most husbands,” he drawled, looking deeply into her eyes, “would take that wife across their knee and not into their arms.”

His hips came down to grind against her and she felt the heat from his swollen shaft on her belly through the thin cloth of her gown. A wave of desire started low and pushed up, to her breasts, to her throat.

“Then I am pleased that you are not most husbands,” she purred, giving in to the sensations pouring into her veins. A public slur on his pride was no small matter, yet he didn’t appear too concerned. Mayhap he’d let her live once he discovered her little lie.

The grey in his eyes glinted. “Make no mistake, sweeting. Whatever the reason, undermine my authority or make a fool of me again, and ye’ll not sit comfortably fer a week. I’ve no taste fer theatrics.”

He’s going to kill me.

Amber squirmed and his legs clamped down hard. “Oh no, ye don’t.”

She swung her arms up to push him off, but he was too quick. He locked each hand down against the covers above her head. She was trapped. Every struggle brought friction to their bodies.

Amber took a deep breath. “You’re hurting me.”

“I’m not hurting ye, Amber.”

“You promised me time,” she cried desperately. “Is this your honourable way, to apologise with one hand and force me all over again with the other?”

“Ye were willing a moment ago.”

“Mayhap I was, but now…” She should just shut up and get this over with. She was digging a hole that she’d never be able to crawl out of. “This is too much. ’Tis happening too fast. I can’t do this, Krayne. My mind cannot let go of…”

I’m going to hell for my lies.

“I’m scared,” she blurted.
That, at least, was the truth.

She was trembling now, afraid that she’d not be able to stop him. A fat tear gathered in the corner of her eye and she blinked it back.

His expression darkened. “A woman’s tears have little meaning.”

“As little as your word?” she returned.

“Christ.” Krayne looked down on her. He was being blackmailed and there was naught he could do about it. The little wildcat had decided she didn’t approve of his reprimand and this was his punishment.

Spread over his wriggling wife, so low and close that her plump breasts strained against his chest with each heaving breath she took, he was but one deftly applied move away from emptying his lust inside her. His balls nestled heavy and snug against her sweet woman’s centre. Every hair on his skin was alive with her scent and pricked with the fire streaming through his blood.