Highland Hellion Page 13

  “And I’m here to witness ye signing it,” Duncan added.

  They appeared to be well pleased with themselves. A tingle touched her nape as Katherine debated asking Rolfe what he meant. She stepped closer to the table to see what sort of contract he had brought with him.

  “Are you insane?” she demanded. “A contract of marriage?”

  Duncan Lindsey was choking on his amusement, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his shirtsleeves over his upper arms. “Might be, at that. He just might.”

  She tore her attention from the contract to glare at him briefly before looking back at the desk. It was there, in bold, black ink. Rolfe William Brian McTavish and her own name, clearly noted as the parties entering into holy wedlock.

  “It’s the perfect solution,” Rolfe said, trying to soothe her.

  “Perfect?” She looked up to find him watching her intently. “Perfect until you take me home to your father as his daughter-in-law. I doubt he’d consider your actions very favorably.”

  A gleam appeared in Rolfe’s eyes that drove home just why he was as arrogant as he was. The man had more daring than was healthy for a single soul. Of course, she’d come to realize that more than one Highlander suffered from that same affliction.

  “Me father will appreciate me cunning” was his confident response.

  Katherine settled her hands on her hips and scoffed at him. “Right before he has me smothered.”

  “Ah…she’s met yer father, I see.” Duncan was doing a poor job of containing his snickers.

  “There is nothing for you to witness. Get out.” She was being overly daring to order the man about in his own tower, but Katherine didn’t really think about her words.

  Duncan’s dark eyebrows rose with surprise before he opened his arms wide and lowered himself in a mocking display of courtesy. “One of the fine things about Scotland is, now that he’s offered to make an honest woman of ye, I really do nae need to stay to protect yer reputation.”

  “So I’ll sign that contract or face being labeled unpure?”

  Duncan nodded without a hint of remorse for the blunt fact that he was trapping her.

  Katherine pointed at the door, her temper straining against the hold she had on it. “I don’t much care if your people say I’ve sampled half your men.”

  Duncan had started toward the door, but he turned and cocked his head to one side. “And ye did nae think to share any of yer honey with me?”

  “Duncan!” Rolfe growled at his friend. “If ye do nae mind, I need to woo me bride.”

  Katherine snorted, eliciting another round of snickers from Duncan.

  “I’ll tell the surgeon to expect ye shortly.”

  Duncan held the door wide for his men and let it swing shut the moment the last of them was past the threshold. He closed the door with a solid sound that shattered Katherine’s anger, letting it fall to the floor like ice, and leaving her to look at Rolfe in pure, unguarded uncertainty.

  He was watching her now, determination glittering in his eyes, his jaw set stubbornly.

  “I would never allow me father to harm ye, Kat.”

  He meant it. Part of her didn’t care to insult him by arguing, but that left her far too aware of the marriage contract sitting on the table near her and the fact that there were only her own arguments to overcome. Ink and quill were at the ready while Rolfe McTavish stood waiting for her to accept his suit. It both astonished and confounded her. No one had ever wanted her, not merely for herself. The contract was only a single page long, because no one was promising him anything.

  Did she dare?

  Christ, wasn’t Fate done toying with her?

  “You don’t question your father,” she began, trying to find some patience. No one chose their parents, after all, and the scriptures bound all children to obey their parents.

  “Which can lose its shine when I fail to consider what my father is ordering done,” Rolfe explained. “Ye reminded me the other night of just how important it is for me to question him from time to time.”

  She shifted away from Rolfe and the contract. Her heart was thumping hard beneath her breastbone, pushing her blood through her veins too fast. That made it hard to concentrate and form calm thoughts.

  Katherine pointed at the contract. “That is not an answer to anything.”

  Rolfe slowly grinned, giving her a glimpse of his teeth. It made him both menacing and delectable. He stepped toward her and she retreated, earning a soft sound of victory from him.

  “It’s an answer, sure enough,” he offered in a soft tone edged with promise. “I want to take ye to bed, and by Christ, I will wed ye first. For I will no’ act like a brute who sees ye as a prize.”

  Was it so simple?

  Katherine scoffed at her own thoughts. Life was never so easy.

  “We cannot do any such thing,” she told him firmly.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and faced her with his feet braced shoulder-width apart. He was only two paces from her, making it necessary for her to look up to lock gazes with him.

  “And why no’?” he asked seriously. “Are ye contracted to another?”

  She shook her head.

  “Promised?” he pressed her.

  “I am English,” she argued. “And your father detests me for it.”

  Rolfe closed the distance between them, and her breath caught. He reached out and gently tapped her on her chin. So simple a touch, and yet she jerked because it felt as if lightning had just struck her.

  “Are…ye…promised? By the MacPhersons’ word or yer own?”

  He had that sense of purpose, the one he’d so often used when dealing with her. Part of her was melting in response to it, the need to just sag against him and allow him to shelter her nearly overwhelming.

  She drew herself up straight instead. “You would respect a private promise I may have made?”

  “I respect ye enough to insist we take the Church’s blessing before I take ye to bed.” He tilted his head to one side and offered her an arrogant grin, with no apology for how personal his words were. “I’ll be happy to allow ye time to pen the man a letter explaining why ye chose me over him. If he does nae have the blessing of the MacPherson, the man has nae the courage ye deserve in a husband.”

  “That is not funny,” she exclaimed. “And you are too sure of yourself by far, sir.”

  “I’m sure I crave ye.” His voice had deepened, stroking something deep inside her. He reached out and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  She shuddered, sensation flooding her. The simplest of things, such as breathing, had becoming difficult with him so close.

  “And very sure ye want me to touch ye.”

  He moved close, slipping his hand around the back of her head to cradle her nape.

  “So,” he muttered, just a bare inch from kissing her, “I am going to wed ye.”

  “But your father—”

  Rolfe sealed her protest beneath his lips. It was a firm kiss that pressed his will upon her. She shifted but honestly couldn’t say if what she felt was the need to get closer to him or to move away. They were twisting against each other, her hands on his chest as she tried to use his clothing to pull him closer. She rose onto her toes, pressing her mouth against his as she kissed him back.

  Heat flared between them, stealing her breath and turning her thoughts into vapor that dissipated in the flames of need. There were so many new sensations, things she’d never associated with passion before. Such as the way her nipples contracted into hard little points. It wasn’t from a chill and they didn’t hurt, but there was a definite ache that had her pressing forward, seeking out some sort of comfort from his body.

  Rolfe tore his mouth from hers and kept control of her nape to keep her from following him.

  “Sign the contract.” His voice was
raspy, his eyes glittering with hard purpose. He released her and backed away, as though he doubted his own control. He paused at the door and sent her a look that left no doubt about how determined he was.

  “I will have ye,” he declared. “And I will no’ do so without giving ye the respect ye have earned.” He looked past her. “Sign it.”

  “And if I do not?” She questioned him, or maybe her own need to quarrel with his will. Honestly, she did not know for certain.

  “Ye are a coward.” He pulled the chamber door open. “For I will stand firm in the face of me father’s displeasure because ye are a woman of rare spirit, and I willingly admit I want to bed ye nearly more than I want to continue drawing breath. Refuse to meet me in church, lass, and ye are afraid of yer own body—and that is a solid fact.”

  He closed the door, the sound like a stone dropping in the chamber. She flinched, wrapping her arms around herself because she felt chilled without him against her. The surface of her lips was tingling and still moist from his kiss. Her heart was racing, and she felt more aware of her body than she ever had been. Wave after wave of sensation was washing over her, and as her thoughts returned, she faced the hard truth that Rolfe had awakened something inside her.

  It was rare.

  Perhaps it was also wicked.

  For certain, she knew the way lust was spoken of in church, and yet she couldn’t help but feel elated over the sheer intensity of the feeling. To think she might have gone through life without ever feeling it horrified her, making her sure she would have missed out on something very special.

  Intimate…

  Yes, that was the correct word, or at least when such feelings were sanctioned by the Church. Katherine came to a stop near the table, looking down at the contract. The black ink on the creamy paper would serve to legalize her relationship with a man and take it from murky, slanderous terms such as fornication into the realm of holy wedlock.

  One a sin, the other a duty.

  Rolfe was correct: if she refused, she was a coward. Frightened of her own gender and unwilling to embrace everything that being a woman meant. That knowledge burst upon her as she stood there, looking past the table to where the bed was.

  It would have been simple for him to claim her, and not many would have reprimanded him for it.

  She was English. Her blood deserved to suffer recompense.

  Rolfe wasn’t that sort. She smiled as she contemplated his character. His nobility was more than a word spoken by men who didn’t care for the struggle it might take to uphold it. Rolfe embodied it.

  She dipped the quill and signed her name on the bottom of the contract. Only after she’d laid the quill aside did she realize she’d held her breath.

  The ink was shiny at first, slowly drying as Katherine smiled at the sight of her name.

  Embrace her fate?

  Indeed.

  That was exactly what she would do after all.

  Five

  “Yer father is going to have yer balls cut off,” Adwin warned.

  Rolfe reached for a lump of soap and started to wash his chest. “He might curse me, but he’d no’ want to see his bloodline ended by castrating me.”

  Adwin had been worrying the edge of his bonnet. He stopped and threw the wool hat to the ground in frustration. “Ye are no’ going to talk yer way out of anything, Rolfe. Yer father will no’ forgive ye for wedding an English lass.”

  Rolfe slipped down in the tub until he was submerged and came up as water went streaming down his face. He wiped it out of his eyes before working the soap into his hair. “If me father was so worried about it, he should have arranged a match for me.”

  “And that is how ye repay yer father’s kindness in no’ swearing ye into a contract with a woman ye’ve never laid eyes upon?” Adwin reached down and scooped up his bonnet with a motion full of repressed anger. “Ye’re fortunate beyond measure to have a sire who thought to let ye have a look at the fillies before deciding on one for ye to marry. He has them brought up every summer, and ye know it well.”

  Adwin put his bonnet back on, glaring at Rolfe.

  “She’s the one I want, the one I crave.”

  Adwin’s fingers went still as he locked gazes with Rolfe. The chamber was silent for a long moment before Adwin let out a snort.

  “Ye would settle on an English lass.”

  Rolfe went back to working the soap into his hair. “Is no’ marriage for alliances?”

  His captain gripped his wide belt and scoffed at him. “Do nae think I don’t know ye are just saying what ye think will gain ye me compliance.”

  “True.” Rolfe sent his captain a cocky grin. “But I’ll admit, I do nae want to be known as the man who gave Morton what he wanted, when he demanded it. There is only one way to ensure he can nae wed her to someone else for his gain, and that’s if I take her as me bride before he knows about it.”

  Adwin fought it, but he ended up grinning in response. “The earl does make a fair number of demands when it comes to us Highland clans.”

  “He does,” Rolfe agreed. “And I am no’ going to have him thinking I will be less difficult to bring into his plans than Marcus MacPherson was.”

  Adwin’s grin widened. “No, we can nae have that. Still, it’s a dangerous game. The earl is a Douglas and will nae be duped easily, nor will he be fool enough to not see exactly what game ye are playing.”

  “That’s why I’m wedding Katherine before I ride down to meet the man. I want him to know the McTavish will not be dancing to his tune like those who inhabit his court.”

  Adwin’s expression became serious. “He might still dissolve the marriage, consummated or not—or worse yet, clap ye in irons. The truth is, the girl’s family has no’ agreed to the match.”

  “Aye, I thought of that meself.” Rolfe slid down and submerged his head to rinse the soap from it. When he came up and wiped his eyes free of water, Adwin was waiting for an explanation. “So I hope Marcus shows up soon to attend the wedding. I sent him word of me plans.”

  “Ye did…what?” Adwin was back to throwing his bonnet onto the floor. “He’s as likely to kill ye as give ye his blessing.”

  “With the MacPhersons, it’s one and the same.” Rolfe leaned forward and started washing his feet. “But it beats being fool enough to ride down to Morton with Katherine, hoping the earl plans to treat the McTavish well.”

  Adwin made a low sound under his breath. “The earl has no liking for the Highland clans, and that’s a well-known fact.”

  “So,” Rolfe continued, “better my father’s displeasure over what I’ve done than returning home with naught.”

  “But…” Adwin was stroking his beard. “Ye do nae have to wed her. The contracts would do the trick.”

  Rolfe looked toward his captain. “She did keep us from having to fight the bloody Gordons.”

  “And sending her home with Marcus will even out the debt.”

  Rolfe shook his head. “I can nae let her go.”

  It was an admission, one Adwin wouldn’t dismiss because he knew Rolfe very well. Adwin still held Rolfe’s gaze for a time before shaking his head. “Well, ye’re no’ the first man to be taken by a lass and no’ able to separate business from yer cravings.”

  “And I can no’ refuse to go to see Morton, since me father has ordered it so.” Rolfe inhaled deeply.

  “So ye’ll wed her to deny Morton an easy path to claiming her,” Adwin said.

  Rolfe slowly smiled.

  “Get in one of those tubs, Adwin. Ye know there is naught like a wedding to make the lasses more receptive to a man’s charms after the feast has been finished. A few of Duncan’s housemaids watch ye as if ye’re something they’d like a taste of.”

  His captain slowly grinned, a flicker of wicked knowledge in his eyes. He left the bonnet on the floor and unbuckled his belt. “That’s a s
olid fact, and I won’t have to be worrying about them following me home.”

  Rolfe heard his friend shucking the last of his clothing before taking one of the kettles hanging over the fire and pouring the hot water into a tub. Then there was a splash and a sound of male enjoyment as Adwin settled into the bath.

  * * *

  It was over so quickly.

  Katherine still heard her blood roaring in her ears, while each breath took effort. Her fingers felt like ice, while her body was hot, and her thoughts jumped about like rabbits after a spring rain.

  “She’s going to wilt.”

  Katherine stiffened and turned her head away from Rolfe to look at his captain. “I will do no such thing.”

  Adwin was cleaner than she’d ever seen the man, his shoulder-length hair brushed and tied back, while his bonnet looked as if someone had brushed the dust of the road off it. Even his beard was trimmed and free of crumbs. He tilted his head to one side and fixed her with a narrow-eyed look. “Are ye doing that on purpose? Sounding more English?”

  “She’s nervous,” Rolfe answered his captain.

  Katherine returned her attention to him.

  To her husband.

  The word felt odd as she contemplated the look of satisfaction in his eyes. Many would tell her it was lust and the knowledge that he would have satisfaction now that the priest had finished the blessing.

  She wanted to believe it was more.

  Perhaps she was doomed to be cut deeply in the morning when Fate showed her again how little she seemed to be worth to those around her and Rolfe proved he’d wanted to bed her naught more. But for the moment, she enjoyed the way Rolfe gently captured her hands and warmed her icy digits.

  “Nervous.” Duncan spoke smoothly from where he stood near Rolfe. “Nothing a good drink will nae soothe.”

  Duncan’s people were enjoying the excuse to celebrate. The hall was full of music and good food. Although the Head of House had been given very little warning of the wedding, the woman had done a fine job in laying out a feast.

  “Come, my friend.” Duncan indicated the two chairs in the middle of the head table. It was the place of honor reserved for the laird, but Duncan made it clear that Rolfe and Katherine would preside over the feast.