Rogue of the Borders (9 page)

“I am so happy for both of you,” Jillian said once they were seated in the parlor and her maid, Darcy, had taken Kyla to the servants’ quarters. “Although I had no idea the two of you were courting. Mari never said a word.”

“I dinna ken ye were looking for a wife either,” Ian added, still barely able to control his grin.

Shane would have taken great pleasure in wiping the smirk off his cousin’s face. Ian knew well enough Shane had had no plans to marry. No doubt he wanted the entire story of how Abigail had succeeded in slipping the parson’s noose over Shane’s head. He glanced over to her. She was pale as an alabaster statue and equally as rigid, sitting stiffly on the edge of a straight-back chair, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. When her big brown eyes met his, he was reminded of a fawn he’d once found caught in a snare. The wee thing had nearly torn its leg off before he could free it.

Luckily, the twins had been enticed into the kitchen by the smell of freshly baked scones, although Shane doubted that would keep them away for long. He had to come with some sort of plausible story without telling anyone Abigail had stowed away on his ship and he had not recognized she was a woman. He would never live that down.

“We met last fall when I went to London to fetch Mari. We had quite an interesting conversation while I waited for Ian and Jamie to return.”

“A conversation?” Bridget asked. “About what, pray tell?”

“We…we discussed Chaucer,” Abigail said quickly. “I was most impressed by Shane’s intelligence.”

“Aye, Shane is an intelligent one,” Ian replied, trying to restrain from another bout of laughter. “’Twas quite smart of him to keep ye a secret.”

“Ye could have told us, cousin,” Shauna added, reproach in her voice.

“Well, I—”

“It would not be very sensible to propose marriage after just one visit,” Abigail interjected, her voice just a little too high-pitched. “We wanted to be sure we suited first so I decided—”

“She decided quite rightly that we should spend a wee bit more time together,” Shane said before Abigail blurted out the embarrassing escapade.

Ian raised a brow. “I thought ye went to France when Jillie and I returned home.”

His cousin was trying to obtain information Shane did not wish to give. Of course, he didn’t want to discuss the other reason he went to France either. He’d already had to squelch the maid’s waxing on about Bonny Prince Charlie. If certain people found out a Stuart descendent still lived—and who supported him—charges of treason could be filed. Shane had no wish to place anyone in danger.

Not that he entirely blamed Ian for needling him about bringing back a wife. Shane’s actions were clearly not in keeping with his usual, practical approach to events. From the looks on the women’s faces—curiosity from Fiona, confusion and puzzlement from Shauna and Jillian and suspicion from Bridget—they all wanted a better answer than he was giving.

“I had a little over a fortnight when I returned,” he said. “It…it seemed enough time.”

“Yes, quite enough time,” Abigail said, relaxing slightly in her chair. “I was quite sure that Shane was the man for me.”

Bridget’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she shifted her gaze from Shane to Abigail. “I have no doubt about that.”

“Well.” Shane stood before Bridget started an inquisition. “We are tired from our journey. Perhaps ye could show Abigail—”

“Of course. How rude of me not to think of your comfort.” Jillian handed baby Rose to Ian and stood as well. “I will have Abigail’s trunks and a hot bath sent to your room at once.”

“Ah, perhaps—”

“That will be fine,” Abigail said and gave him a big smile.

Chapter Eight

“Ye are going to turn into a prune if ye do nae come out of that tub,” Kyla complained as she sat by the small table in Shane’s bedchamber tending to a bit of mending in the late afternoon light filtering in the window.

Abigail already felt like a prune and the water was nearly cold, but she was determined to stay where she was until Shane returned to his room. Jillian had explained the men used the tub afterwards—sometimes even at the same time, she’d said with a wink—to save the servants from having to heat and lug more water up the stairs.

Shane had not stayed to share the tub, but Abigail tucked that idea away for a future goal. Perhaps on her return to Edinburgh, she could also find a tub big enough for both of them—and place it in front of a roaring fire so they could
linger
in the water… She felt her body grow warm at the thought of what might happen. She’d read, not as extensively as she would have liked, about the decadence of ancient Roman culture—the orgies and public baths—not that she had any intention of
publicly
bathing, but in the privacy of a cozy bedchamber? Her mind was already brimming over with naughty ideas that she intended to try.

For now, though, she wanted Shane to see her naked. To realize she was a female—and a very willing one who was his
wife
. What in the world could be keeping him from returning? The salt spray from Loch Linnhe and the dust from the road had covered both of them in grime and she’d already learned Shane was fastidious in being clean at the end of the day.

She eyed Kyla. Of course. Shane would not return while the maid was still in the room. Why hadn’t Abigail thought of that before?

“You may go.”

Kyla looked up, surprised. “Who will help ye dress?”

“My husband should be up shortly. He can help me.” Her voice wavered slightly and Abigail hoped she sounded confident.

Kyla snorted as she gathered her mending. “Men are better at taking clothes off a woman than putting them on. Ring the bell if ye need me,” she added as she went out the door, shaking her head.

Having Shane
remove
her clothes was another interesting thought.

Or maybe she should remove his?

Sometime later, when the water had turned completely cold, a knock sounded on the door.
Finally.
Abigail tried to control her shivering and stood up in the tub. “Enter.”

Jillian opened the door, holding a tray with tea, and Abigail gasped, reaching for the towel Kyla had left nearby. “I…I was expecting Shane.”

Jillian entered, closing the door behind her. “He went for a swim in the burn behind the castle,” she said as she set the tray on the table. “I thought you might like a little sustenance before dinner.”

“Thank you.” Disappointment flowed over Abigail that Shane had not come to their room. “But…is a burn not a creek? How could he swim in it?”

“It is, but the burn curves around boulders and beavers damned up a spot that forms a small pool. It usually guarantees an easy fish or two.”

“But…is the water not cold this time of year?”

“Yes, it is.” Jillian smiled broadly. “Ian teased Shane about needing a cold dunk to keep from being late for supper.” She picked up the chemise Kyla had laid out on the bed. “Here, let me help you dress.”

As Jillian helped her with the back laces of her corset, Abigail was already thinking she would ask Shane to unlace them tonight.

After all,
tonight
they would finally be sharing a room.

Abigail looked considerably more composed as they sat down to the evening meal in the small room that served for the family’s private dining. Shane noted how the candlelight from the wall sconces brought out the burnished red in her chestnut hair. Her brown eyes looked luminous in that light too, but perhaps her coloring was set off by the emerald-green gown she wore. Its square neckline revealed creamy-white shoulders and the swell of her cleavage.

Shane frowned. The gown showed more than a wee bit of her cleavage. Much more. Abigail’s breasts practically spilled out of the garment. His groin tightened immediately at the thought of only two fingers’ width of thin material separating him from uncovering her nipples. With an effort, he forced his thoughts away from where that might lead.

“Ye look lovely,” Fiona said to Abigail. “That color suits ye.”

“I thought it did too,” Jillian added.

Abigail blushed. “I—um, thank you.”

Where had that gown come from anyhow? Shane had grown accustomed to seeing Abigail in her modest dresses in rather drab colors. Then he remembered the shopping trip for the trousseau. Two trunks had been waiting at his townhouse by the time the ship reached Edinburgh. Heaven help him if those trunks contained more of the same low-cut necklines. Now that he noticed, Abigail’s hair was loosely curled on top of her head rather than drawn severely back.

He glanced around the table. Jillian had a studied look of innocence on her face, but Fiona smiled broadly at him. He suspected a women’s conspiracy.

Or at least from two of them. Shauna wore a thoughtful expression on her face while Bridget looked skeptical.

“I still find your marriage unusual,” Bridget said to him. “’Tis nae like ye to make such a major decision hastily.”

“Especially when ye have said many times ye dinnae intend to marry at all,” Shauna added as both women turned their gazes on Abigail.

“Abigail is unlike other women,” Shane answered quickly before his determined cousins could ferret out any more information. “’Tis intriguing to find a woman as well-read as she.”

“Aye, the books again,” Ian said with a grin. “’Tis on the top of every man’s list as a priority.”

“I like to read,” Shauna said in an accusatory tone. “What is wrong with that?”

Shane hid his own grin at her response. Shauna was the middle cousin, not given to bossiness like Bridget nor the ill-fated adventures that got Fiona into trouble. She was the sensible one, much like Abigail.

“I have been known to read a book also,” Jillian chided gently.

Ian threw up his hands in surrender. “’Tis nothing wrong with ye lasses
reading
. ’Tis just that Shane has a peculiar notion—”

“Begging your pardon,” Abigail interrupted, “but I do find the world of literature and history fascinating. With Shane owning a shipping line, he has been to places I would love to see.”

“Ye can hardly travel with him though,” Bridget said, “since his are working ships with hardened crew. ’Twould nae be safe.”

“It could be exciting though,” Fiona said. “Just think how—”

“Bridget is right,” Shane said before Fiona could finish the thought. They were getting much too close to the truth as it was. “’Tis nae safe.”

Abigail turned her big brown eyes on him. “But we sailed to Edinburgh, did we not? What is the difference?”

Was the lass trying to corner him or did she actually think to join him on another trip? Either way, he was not about to entertain the notion. “We had a skeletal crew of trusted men on the way home. I have to hire from the docks for some loads. ’Tis nae safe for a woman aboard. Ye ken how superstitious sailors are. The sea is nae forgiving either. Some crossings are risky.”

“That seems to be a lot of reasons for nae taking the lass,” Ian said.

“I agree,” Abigail replied. “Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.”

Shane stared at her. Now she was paraphrasing Shakespeare at him? He clenched his jaw. Maybe he was being a little too obvious. “’Tis nae safe.”

“Well, that is neither here nor there,” Jillian said as a maid lame in to remove the plates, “since we are on dry land at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow Shane can show his new bride around the area.”

“Can we go to Glenfinnan?” one of the twins asked.

“Yes. Can we?” the other one chimed in. “The gypsies came through a few days ago. The market should have all sorts of new things to see.”

“To buy, you mean,” Bridget answered.

“We have saved our coin from chores,” the first one said.

“Shane can decide tomorrow where he wants to take Abigail first,” Jillian intervened. “They have had a long journey and must be tired. For now, let them retire to get their rest.”

“Aye. Taking your rest can be beneficial,” Ian added with a straight face.

Before this visit was over, Shane suspected his cousin and he would have a round of fisticuffs, although he could hardly argue about the innuendos without giving away the whole reason for this sham marriage.

Already, Abigail was standing, a bright smile on her face. He joined her, forcing himself to smile as well. She put her arm through his, pressing the side of her soft breast against his sleeve. Blood shot straight to his shaft. Did the lass have any idea of the effect that had on him? He glanced down to find her dewy-eyed gaze on his face.

With a jolt, he realized she did.

With wary trepidation, he led her up the stairs, dreading the moment he shut the door behind them and they would be alone.

Keeping the vow he’d made to her father was going to be much harder than he thought.

Abigail almost laughed at the apprehensive expression on Shane’s face as she locked the door he had just closed. Almost. She felt victorious—they were finally alone for the night, even though Shane stood halfway across the room, feet apart in a warrior’s stance, his muscular arms tense as though he might reach for weapons at any minute. With the glances he was giving the open window, she wondered if he was thinking about bolting even though they were on the third floor. Her big, strapping sea-captain husband was about as skittish as a wild stallion—an image that only further stirred her imagination.