The Border Trilogy (12 page)

When he released her at last, she stepped back, breathless, putting her hands to her face. He cocked his head, regarding her with amusement. “You cannot deny me now, lassie,” he said softly. “’Tis my right…this time.”

“Aye, but…” She hesitated, then, her voice low, spoke the first words that came to mind. “But I am hungry.”

“I, too.” The gleam in his eyes deepened as he moved to take her in his arms again.

This time she eluded him. “I want food, Adam. My insides have shrunk away to nothing. Only listen for yourself.”

For once he was completely taken aback. “But I’ve told them to put out the lights. I’ve sent Trotter and the other servants to bed.”

“I want food,” she insisted, knowing she was but stalling for time, yet wondering if he would yield to her wishes.

He gave a sigh of resignation. “I’ll forage a bit then and see what I can find, but there are two great kitchens in this place so it may take a while.” Then he grinned. “You may ready yourself for bed whilst I am away, sweetheart.”

She nodded, her face pale, and as soon as the door had shut firmly behind him, she flung open her leather satchels. Hurrying for fear he would return too soon, she snatched off her clothes and threw her thin, cotton night rail over her head, twitching it impatiently into place and lacing the bodice with nervous fingers. She had to search through both satchels before she found her sheepskin mules, but with them on her feet and her hooded cloak wrapped closely around her for added warmth, her courage began to return.

Forcing the tumbled satchels shut again, she picked up the rest of her discarded clothing and laid it carefully over a back stool, then turned to survey the bedchamber more closely. She inspected the intricate tapestries, peeped daringly into a chest or two, and then moved to one of the tall, narrow, leaded windows to gaze out upon the moonlit night. She could see the moon’s reflection upon the breeze-rippled waters of the Teviot at the bottom of the hill, and though the river seemed to run silently, rather than with a hearty rushing sound like the Spey, the scene reminded her of home, which at the moment seemed farther away than ever. She started when Douglas kicked at the door.

“Mary Kate, my hands are full!”

She ran to unlatch the door, and he came in grinning and set a jug of ale and a wooden platter piled high with sliced beef, bread, cheese, and fruit upon the low table near the fire.

“Fetch stools, lass. I’ve found us a feast.”

Drawing up two low stools, she watched as he produced a pair of pewter mugs from a pocket of his jerkin and placed them on the table with the flourish of a magician. Then, flinging the jerkin to a nearby chair, he unfastened his doublet and, sending it after the jerkin, sat down opposite her in his shirtsleeves.

“Eat quickly, love. I’ve a strong appetite for things other than food, and I have not got a patient nature.” Tactful for once, he ignored her blushes while he piled food on a trencher of bread for her and filled their mugs with ale. Then, drinking his own thirstily, he refilled it before turning to his food. Silence reigned while they ate.

Mary Kate munched slowly, observing her husband from under lowered eyelids. She found it difficult to digest the fact that she had actually been married to him for three whole days. He would have his way with her at last, and there was no way, barring divine interference, to stop him. With a tiny frown, she thought back once again to their first meeting.

Much had happened since that night. Mary of Scotland was dead, and as far as the Scottish people knew, her son James had done nothing to prevent her death. Knowing of her peril, and knowing, too, that for the Queen of England to try the Queen of Scotland for treason was both ludicrous and illegal, he had done little more than to issue a weak, formal protest after the fact. For him to insist now that he had not thought Elizabeth capable of putting a fellow monarch to death was foolishness. Only too clearly could Mary Kate remember the gravelly voice saying that it was impossible after the discovery of the Babington Plot that both Mary and Elizabeth should continue to live. If the men in Douglas’s room that night had understood that much, surely James must have done so, too. Mary Kate wondered, not for the first time, if the king appreciated how avidly Douglas and others had worked to avert Queen Mary’s death. Then, as her thoughts drifted idly, she found herself wondering how many other comely females had crossed the Douglas path while he was engaged in that intriguing business. Surely, she had not been the only one.

A low chuckle interrupted her reverie. “I’d give a penny for your thoughts, sweetheart, but I’ll warrant I can save my copper.”

“Why did you marry me?” she asked abruptly.

His answer was swift, filled with his usual bold impudence. “I doubt not ’twas because you are the most beautiful wench ever to dare deny me access to her charms. Have you finished?” His smile was sweet, but that unnerving gleam lurked in his eyes.

“Insufferable ape!” she snapped. “At least you married me before you tried again.”

He stood up. “Temper, lassie, temper. You had too many protectors before, and I decided marriage was not so bad a penalty to pay for such a grand reward.” Advancing, he pulled her to her feet, shaking his head in mock reproof. “I told you to uncase yourself. You’ve far too many clothes on.”

She would have given much for the courage to resist him, but she did not dare. To claim her was his right. Standing rigid, she trembled when he opened her cloak and pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, but when he reached for the cotton lacing at her bodice, she stepped back involuntarily and stumbled over the heavy cloak and the low stool behind her. He caught her by both arms and pulled her close to him.

Her heart was beating tumultuously, and she shivered, scarcely knowing what to expect. Her knowledge of the sexual activities of married persons was vague at best. She knew they sometimes slept together. She knew also that unwary females could be ravished by brutal males. But no one had ever explained the details of such ravishment to her. She had heard talk, of course, but always shaded with innuendo, and as a result, her feelings were a mixture of fear, bewilderment, and an unfamiliar, coursing excitement.

Douglas’s voice sounded gently against her ear. “Easy, lass, I’ll not hurt you. I know ’tis your first time.”

She didn’t realize that she had been holding her breath until it came out in a gusting sob, but there was some small relief in knowing that he understood her confusion.

He guided her toward the bed. “Come, lassie, trust me. It will be well, you’ll see.” He steadied her beside the huge bed and reached once more for the lacing. Untying it with practiced fingers, he opened the bodice to reveal her heaving breasts, their smooth, milky whiteness turned rosy by the candlelight. With scarcely a pause, he hooked his thumbs under the soft material at her shoulders and eased the night rail from her body until, with a faint whisper, the garment slipped to her ankles.

His gaze moved appreciatively over her firm, smooth body, and he let out a long breath. “Ah, but you are bonny, lass. More bonny even than I’d imagined.” He stroked her breast, smiling tenderly when she trembled. “I’ll teach you, lassie, so many things.” He leaned over the bed to pull back the blankets and the fine linen sheet. “Climb you in, sweetheart. We will begin your lessons as soon as I rid myself of these clothes.”

She obeyed, leaning back against silk-covered pillows, still tense but breathing less raggedly until he began to remove his breeks. Then, turning away in dismay, she screwed her eyes tight shut and remained so, concentrating on the light scent of herbs wafting from the heath padding beneath the feather bed, until she felt his weight beside her. Hardly daring to breathe at all, for she realized at once that there was nothing now between his bare skin and hers, she slowly, reluctantly opened her eyes when he commanded her to do so.

He had snuffed all but the one candle beside the bed, and now he gathered her into his arms, holding her quietly for some moments until her heart had ceased to pound so thuddingly against her ribs. She was grateful for his patience until she realized that such patience no doubt came from vast experience. Even then, she was glad that he knew more than she did. She could trust him to initiate her, properly and without awkwardness, into the mysteries of the marriage bed.

Raising himself onto one elbow, he smoothed her hair gently away from her forehead, and she was astonished to discover how her body reacted to even this light touch. She was intensely aware of his presence. He seemed bigger, more masculine, more powerful than ever. He stopped stroking her hair and gently drew a single fingertip along her left cheek. The color ebbed and flowed in her face, making it appear first ghostly, then rosy, in the golden candlelight. He watched her closely, and Mary Kate looked back at him, her eyes wide and wary.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, and to her amazement she felt her body relaxing, obeying his command whether she wished it to do so or not. Douglas’s finger moved along the line of her jaw to the point of her chin, then gently up to outline her lips.

Suddenly, she wanted to kiss his finger, but she resisted the impulse, fearing to break the spell that she was under. His finger moved back to her chin and then down the left side of her throat, lingering momentarily where her pulse throbbed. Ever so gently, he lowered his head and began to kiss her.

At first his kisses were but flickering touches of warmth upon her lips, but soon they became firmer, more demanding, and she found herself responding with a passion that astonished her. Her body had discovered a life of its own, ungoverned by her mind, and every nerve ending shouted for more stimulation. When, with his lips still in firm possession of hers, Douglas began to push the sheet and blankets away from her body, she moaned in brief protest, but when his teasing finger brushed gently against the tip of her breast, she gasped at the new sensations that flashed through her. Her body began to strain toward his touch, moving sensuously beneath his skillful hands, and her moans became sobbing cries of pleasure. Hearing herself, she thought briefly that such behavior must be improper, even wanton. What must he think of her?

At that moment, he lifted his head, and he was smiling, his eyes atwinkle in the candlelight. “This is only the beginning, sweetheart,” he said, “but I begin to believe I have discovered how best to tame you.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat when his hand moved lightly over the soft mound of her stomach, then lower, pushing the blankets further down, caressing her intimately, possessively. Clearly, protest was useless. He was too strong, too much in control of her body. She could do nothing to stop him, so she watched his eyes, fascinated, as Douglas’s warm gaze followed the movements of his wandering hand.

The candlelight gave her skin an amber glow and glistened upon titian highlights in the tawny, silken triangle at the fork of her legs. His fingers skimmed over the silk.

She trembled again when she felt a single finger touch midway down the inside of her thigh, then slowly tease its way back up. The action was repeated along the other thigh, and then he began to trace the outer lips of the secret place itself. This firmer touch sent a fiery wave through her, awakening new feelings, introducing her to yet more incredible sensations. She was lost to it all. She had closed her eyes and was mentally submerged in the flood of her awakening sexuality. Her breathing was faster. Her body made more overt gestures of its own, urging him on, and Douglas saw the signs. She knew he did, for when she opened her eyes, he was smiling more broadly than before.

He began to speak in a low, caressing tone as he explained in detail what he meant to do next. His hand continued to move as he spoke, and since her body insisted upon responding to his lightest touch, Mary Kate found it difficult to attend to what he was saying, but she went still with shock when he took her hand and drew it toward himself, explaining that he would soon penetrate her body with his own. She tried to snatch her hand away, but he held it firmly.

“There is naught to fear, sweetling,” he said quietly. “’Tis only flesh.”

“You will hurt me,” she protested, eyes wider now than ever.

“Not very much, and only for a moment this one time, I promise. Afterward it will be pleasant.”

“I daresay you know that for a fact,” she replied tartly.

Douglas chuckled and, moments later, had rendered her helpless once more. Still, he did not rush things but continued to build her passions to fever pitch with his kisses and caresses, so that she scarcely realized his intent when he moved at last to possess her.

She cried out at the brief pain, but if what followed was not quite as pleasant as he had promised, there was enough in the wonder of it all to offset the discomfort. The second time he took her was better, and later, as she lay in his arms, drifting languorously into sleep, the thought crossed her mind that there were certain advantages to marriage, advantages of which she had not previously been aware.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING, MARY
Kate awoke with a flood of memory from the night before, accompanied by a brief but sharp stab of shame and embarrassment. She was lying on her side, facing away from Douglas, and she couldn’t decide whether she dared to turn toward him. His breathing came lightly, evenly, so she knew he still slept, but someone had opened the curtains. It would not be long before he awoke.

Even as she formed the thought, the rhythm of his breathing changed. He stirred. Then he was still. Too still. She knew he was awake. Very conscious of the fact that she was lying naked beside him, she knew also that she would have to turn over, that she could not bear not to see the expression in his eyes.

Accordingly, she moved slowly onto her back, slowly so that if she was mistaken and he still slept, she would not waken him. She turned her head to look at him and felt the warmth rush to her cheeks when her gaze met his twinkling eyes.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, grinning. “Did you sleep well?”