Claimed by a Scottish Lord (29 page)

Rose decided to take Angus‘s advice to heart and not involve herself in Kerr family matters. Now that Jamie had confirmed himself to be a man to everyone‘s satisfaction, she hoped she would be allowed to examine him.

R
ose sloshed water from the ewer into a bowl and rinsed the rag. Jamie sat in his bed, his legs drawn up to his chest, his chin on his knees. He had been stubbornly quiet all day, not making a fuss, never complaining. She had come here to give him her aide, but she knew ‘twas more personal.

Mary had given her permission to enter the room and see him. Something was going on outside between Ruark and Duncan, and had taken much of the staff‘s attention, leaving the few who remained busy running off in every direction to get food, water, clothes, and medicines. Mary had sent Julia out of the room while Jason finished helping Jamie wash his hair and check for lice, but as Rose looked at the wounds and injuries, she knew Julia had been sent out for a reason.

He wore a long white nightshirt unlaced over his chest and rolled up to his elbows, revealing scrapes and cuts on his arm, a head injury that should have had sutures. His shoulders bore signs of a whip.

At that moment, she had never hated anyone more than her father.

She needed medicine or a tonic to soothe Jamie‘s stomach. He had a fever and had vomited again. Her heart ached for him. Her soul cried.

A sniffle sounded. She pushed back a strand of blond hair. He had eyes the color of Ruark‘s, the same shape nose. Ruark must have looked very much like his brother at twelve. Was he ever as vulnerable? He held a gold doubloon in his hand that he had picked out of a drawer filled with seashells and other treasures young boys collected.

―You are very brave, Jamie.‖

He lowered is chin. ―Nay, I was no‘.‖ He swiped at his cheeks with the heel of his hand.

―If Da ever caught me crying, he would have taken a strap to my backside and give me a reason to cry. I did no‘ weep once while . while I was away . even though I was scairt of the dark. Rufus and Gavin . they didn‘t seem scairt.‖

―Believe me, they were.‖

His voice barely audible, he asked, ―You are his bride?‖

She looked away to wring out the rag. Water dribbled into the bowl. ―Aye.‖

―They said he married ye to save me.‖

―I suppose he did,‖ she said quietly to the saucer-eyed boy, who seemed to have inquired more out of compassion, not judgment. Perhaps his feelings weren‘t for her, but they did hold for his brother.

―You‘re no‘ like him . your da.‖ He blinked wet eyes at her. ―People were afraid of my da, too. Duncan says Lord Hereford killed him.‖

Telling the boy that she was sorry seemed inadequate. ―I know.‖

He studied the scraped fingers that held the doubloon. ―Da made Ruark go away before I was born,‖ he said after a moment. ―I did no‘ even know I had a brother until I was nine. When I was older I heard Da shout at Mam that it was her fault, he made Duncan take Ruark away.‖

―You must have communicated somehow. That is a gold doubloon in your hand. That must have come from him.‖

―Mary gave it to me. She has family in the village and Ruark would send letters to her with gifts inside, and she would send my letters to him. I liked having a brother everyone called the
Black Dragon
.‖

The creak of a floorboard turned her attention to the door. Ruark was standing in the doorway, Julia behind him. She carefully folded the rag and draped it over the bowl. Then stood as he approached his brother and as Julia swept past.

He was a master at hiding his emotions, but for one instant she glimpsed the bleakness in his eyes as he looked down at his brother.

Rose walked out of the room. Mary stood in the corridor. ―Look at ye, lass. Your dress is damp and ye look in need of supper yourself.‖

She had been barely conscious of her damp gown for the last hour, but as she looked down at her skirts, she saw that grass stains and dirt from the ride also marred the beautiful fabric.

But she didn‘t care as her feet carried her down the corridor. She heard someone call her name but her flight had already taken her down the stairs and into the entry hall. Her heart began to thump faster as she swept past a dozen servants and hurried toward the kitchen, nearly toppling the cook in her haste to throw open the door and walk out into the night. But she wasn‘t walking, she was running, scattering dogs and geese that slept outside the scullery. She had wanted to go to the surgery, then realized she did not know where it was, and McBain wasn‘t here to show her.

She heard the sound behind her a moment before a hand came down on her shoulder and spun her around. Startled, she stumbled and tripped over her skirts. Ruark stood before her, the concern visible on his face in the pale, misty moonlight, silencing her struggles.

―I . have to do something for him, Ruark. I cannot just dismiss the fact—‖

―That your father is responsible?‖ he quietly asked.

―Aye, he is responsible,‖ she whispered with passion. ―He is responsible for that boy‘s . care, for your father‘s death . ‖

―So you think you can fix everything he broke and make the world a better place for us all,‖ he said dispassionately.

She shook her head, spilling her hair over her shoulders. She didn‘t know how she could begin such a task; she didn‘t know where to begin.

Ruark took her against him. ―I would like to lay the blame of everything that has occurred in this life at your father‘s feet, but I cannot, Rose. He does not bear all the responsibility. There are many here who are culpable.‖

She didn‘t believe it. Not anymore.

―He has a fever, Ruark,‖ she said. ―He could be ill. And he‘s scratched and bruised and scared. You cannot just wash him and put him to bed and think everything will be all right. He is just a boy. He needs . ‖

―The person he needs most is in the room with him, Rose.‖

―I am so sorry—‖

He gave her a shake. ―I will not let you apologize or martyr yourself. Do you understand?‖

She tried to step past him but he caught her hand easily, turning her. She pressed her palm against his chest. ―I do not understand how you went through with this ordeal, when this marriage could easily have been annulled.‖

His low voice challenged. ―Truthfully? I wed you because you were compromised beyond all hope, Rose. You have proven beyond a doubt that I am a gentleman.‖

She stared at him aghast. She was attempting to talk to him and all he could do was make light of her efforts.

―And there is always this to consider, my love.‖

His mouth covered hers.

He parted her lips and drank in the tension that came as she spoke his name. The long fingers of his other hand framed her jaw and turned her face. The kiss deepened with mutual desire and need. But despite the wave of longing pulling her under, uncertainty wracked her mind and her heart.

Perhaps it was the way he knew how to touch her that made her feel important to him. Only after a few moments did she seem to realize the magnitude of her doubt. Then as the weight of the last few hours began to crush her, she leaned against Ruark and kissed him with everything that was inside of her.

His hand came under her chin to lift her face. He caught a tear at the corner of her eye and his mouth curved downward. ―Tears?‖

A cold shiver shook her. She was afraid of speaking, afraid she would say something she‘d regret later. ―I swear I will be a loyal wife to you.‖

―I want more than loyalty.‖

Loyalty was the only offering she could make him that came from her heart. ―I do not know what else to give you that is my own, Ruark.‖

She didn‘t understand him enough to know what he expected from her, and she pushed past him in the darkness seeking . seeking what?

She never saw what tripped her, a tree root perhaps, but she hit the ground hard. She came to in Ruark‘s arms with the light around her, her head resting against his shoulder, his voice distant. A door slammed somewhere behind them. Its staid symbolism not lost on Rose in her murky state of mind.

A
n hour later, Ruark finally let Mary convince him that Rose was not seriously injured, but merely exhausted. Mary had bathed her and seen she was not bruised, not even a bump on her head. Later, his hair still damp from his own bath, Mary found him standing in front of his window. She reassured him Rose had dined on soup and Mary‘s own hot toddy and was now sleeping soundly. She reassured him that Jamie was also sleeping.

―The lass was vexed that she had caused so much trouble and told me that I should be with Jamie, not her,‖ Mary said as if that should surprise Ruark.

―Did you tell her we have fifty servants who are attending to Jamie?‖

Mary replied that she had said as much, but Ruark sensed Mary was of a mind to speak more. ―The lad will be all right. Do not think ye are to blame. Ye are not.‖

He continued to stare out the window, seeing nothing but his own reflection in the darkness, and not liking the man staring back at him.

―I know who is to blame, Mary.‖

―Some believe your taking an English bride will cause opposition among those who have yet to swear their fealty to ye, that Hereford intended such.‖

So she had heard about the disagreement he and Duncan had had on the front drive. ―I know, Mary.‖

―Ye knew, and ye wed her anyway. Then went and sealed it so ye can never annul it.‖

―I wed her because I chose to.‖ Now, impatience to have the housekeeper gone forced him to soften his tone as he spoke, ―Go, now. ‘Tis late. And I have a wish to be abed.‖

Her expression softened. ―Ye are a decent man, Ruark Kerr. Despite what ye may think at this moment.‖

He laughed. ―Am I now?‖

Ruark had never held illusions about his character. But even at his worst, he‘d always known there were consequences to his actions. Despite the wealth and privilege in which he‘d been born, he had made his own way and survived. Not because he knew
when
to fight and when to retreat but because he knew how to fight.

Until now.

After Mary left the sitting room, Ruark walked to his bedchamber. The firelight revealed Rose in his bed. Her even breathing told him she was asleep and not unconscious.

He unknotted the belt on his loose-fitting black robe, removed the garment, then crawled beneath the blankets and pulled the soft down over his shoulders. He felt her shiver as the cold air touched her. He adjusted her head to rest on his shoulder, gently smoothing silken strands of hair from her cheeks. Her tranquility in sleep contrasted with the turmoil inside him as he lay in the warmer darkness of the damask-canopied bed listening to her even breathing. And for the first time since he‘d left his old life in Scotland, he felt something stir deep inside him he‘d thought gone forever. Passion that did not rise from the darkness inside him.

He didn‘t understand his need to possess her; he only knew that when she was near him, he could think of little else.

She clouded his brain, and as he turned her in his arms, he knew he wanted her even now, when he should be too exhausted to want anything but sleep. Even now, when his brother weighed heavily in his heart.

Her hand slowly splayed his chest and she murmured sleepily. ―Tomorrow will you show me the herbal?‖

―I will take you myself, love.‖

―
Thank you
,‖ she breathed and kissed his cheek, then settled her cheek against his shoulder before he could touch her, before his arms could respond and wrap her to him.

Before he could take her mouth and turn the kiss into something more than an affectionate act of gratitude.

―I thought aristocrats slept in separate beds from their wives, my lord.‖

His hair was not tied back and when he rose on his elbow above her it fell over his shoulders. ―Ye must be thinking of the English,
m’eudail
. In Scotland, we are not afraid of our women.‖

In the darkness, he could feel her eyes searching his face. He made a gentle pass over her collarbone with his thumb and around the curve of one breast. ―Are you afraid of me, Sassenach?‖

Her breath grazed his cheek. Hesitation? ―Nay, Ruark.‖

He‘d not shaven, and he was careful not to scratch her pale skin as he kissed her throat.

―Then you were not running away from me tonight.‖

―I am your wife.‖

―Aye,‖ he said against her neck.

His hand slid to her waist, turned her slowly and spread the front of her nightdress. ―You are mine.‖

But she had not told him she was not running away from him when she had tried to escape him in the garden. He dipped his head lower and suckled each nipple, willing her to stir. The darkness hindered all but a soft inviting mew as he curled his fingers in her nightdress, pushing the hem to her hips. Her breath quickened as his hand went between her legs and spread her for his exploration. He wanted her in a way he‘d not wanted anything before. He wanted more than her acquiescence or gratitude or obedience.

He wanted to be inside her body and her mind, he needed to taste her passion, to see himself in her eyes when he made love to her. In the darkness, he would settle for her desire as he dragged her hand to his erection. ―You can touch me, Rose,‖ he said huskily. ―I am not delicate.‖

Her fingers closed around him. His skin was warm and taut, the shape of him well defined by her palm. Her touch whet his pleasure beyond the quickening of his blood. Her breathing slightly ragged, she found the base of his shaft and, with her responding inhalation, he felt as if he had won a victory, slight as it was.

Her life was his and she was here because he willed it of her. He should feel guilty that he wanted this from her as well. But this time the sound he heard was his own.

―How do you say in Gaelic . ‗That pleases me, Ruark.‘ ‖

―
Tha sin a’ cordadh rium
,‖ he said on a breath and braced himself on his elbow as he moved between her thighs and let her guide him. A hot shiver shot through him as he buried himself inside her hot sweet passage until he no longer cared where she ended and he began.

―
Tha sin a’ cordadh rium
,‖ she whispered, wrapping her legs around his hips.