Chapter Five
“Y our bedchamber is ready, my lord, my lady.” A small woman with curly brown hair and large brown eyes entered the drawing room. “It is the one at the top of the stairs.”
“Thank ye, lass,” Kerrigan said. He turned to Christine and studied her for a moment. “’Twould be best if ye go on ahead and prepare yerself for bed. I will join ye after a little while.”
She placed her glass on the table alongside the chair she’d been sitting in. Even though Kerrigan had said they would just learn about each other and have a good night’s rest, she wasn’t completely sure her idea of a good night’s rest was the same as his idea. She certainly hoped he meant they would put off any completion of their wedding vows tonight.
“Thank you. I am quite tired.” Just in case he had thought of changing his mind.
“As am I, lass.”
She almost snorted because she knew if she suggested they do what was needed to prevent her uncle from pushing for an annulment Kerrigan would most likely beat her up to the bedchamber.
The room was charming, also in good taste as was the rest of the townhouse. Mr. Kendall never mentioned if his brother had a wife, but if he did not, he was a very good decorator. The walls were striped pale green with a soft cream color, and a deeper green carpet on the floor. Dark blue and green window hangings and bed covers contrasted nicely.
The maid had apparently unpacked the few things she was able to sneak out of her room the night of her escape. Her nightrail and dressing gown lay across the bottom of the bed. With a very unladylike yawn, she began to undress, having worn the gown she was able to put on herself, knowing she would not have a maid at Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s where she’d spent the night before.
She washed with the warm water and soft linens the maid had provided and brushed her hair. Feeling overwhelmingly tired, she removed her dressing gown and climbed into bed. She was just pulling the bedcovers up when the sound of the door opening caught her attention.
The nicely sized room shrunk as Kerrigan walked into it. Lord, was the man that tall downstairs? He smiled at her, and apparently having no qualms about undressing, proceeded to remove everything except his braies, for which she was eternally grateful.
He approached the bed, resting his knee on the mattress. “Ye look lovely with yer hair down, lass.” He reached out and ran his thick fingers through the strands. “It feels like fine silk.”
She attempted a smile but was afraid it would come out more like a grimace. Picking up on her mood, he stood and climbed in alongside her. “What I’ve been wondering is how you managed to escape your house.”
“I jumped.”
His brows rose to his hairline “What?”
She grinned. “I jumped. I knotted the bed sheets, then tied one end around the sturdy bedpost and the other about my waist. Then I dropped my bundle out the window and climbed out after it.”
He shook his head. “How far of a drop was it?”
“I don’t know and I’m glad I didn’t know because I never would have attempted it. In fact, I had no idea how far it was until I was hanging out the window.”
Kerrigan took in a deep breath. “Doona ever try something like that again.”
Christine stiffened. “Ye cannot tell me what to do.”
“Aye, I can, and I will. I am yer husband now and ye are under my protection. Ye are no’ to put yerself in danger like that ever again.”
Well, then.
Apparently, she hadn’t considered how annoying a husband could be. Her papa had not put too much restraint on her. He was always busy and if she had a maid and footman with her, she’d been able to go just about anywhere she wanted. When he was still alive, he’d engaged a chaperone for her, but that was only for balls, and strolls and carriage rides in the park.
“Ye’re lucky ye dinna break yer neck.”
She huffed. “Based on what my uncle had planned for me, that would have been the better choice.”
He grew silent and stared at her for a minute with a very dangerous look in his eyes. She began to squirm. “What?”
“I was wondering if I could get a kiss good night from my wife.”
She slid over a bit, bringing a smile to his lips. “Where are ye going, lass? If ye keep that up ye will be on yer bottom on the floor. Just a kiss.” Kerrigan reached over and pulled her to him. “Come here before ye fall.” He kept pulling until she was flat against him. The warmth from his bare chest invaded her body and her senses. Before she could catch her breath, his mouth descended on hers. Just as she’d remembered, his lips were warm and soft. He gave her quick little kisses before completely consuming her mouth and her mind.
Almost as if they had minds of their own, her hands slid up his warm, massive chest to encircle his neck, pulling him even closer. He nudged her lips with his tongue and entered, bringing sensations to her that she’d never felt before. Her nipples swelled and she rubbed them against his chest. It felt so good, she let out a soft moan.
Kerrigan cupped her face in his hands and moved her head into a position where he took the kiss deeper. Warmth spread throughout her body, bringing a dampness to her woman’s part. Since she’d been without a mother for so long, she was not certain where these feelings came from, but just her normal intelligence told her that her husband’s kisses were setting her body on fire.
He pulled back and began to kiss her neck, shoulder, the soft skin under her ear. When his hand slid up to cup her breast, she pulled back. They were both panting, and she shook her head. “Not yet. I need a little bit more time. You promised.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he said, “Aye. I did at that.” When he reached for her, she slid over again.
“Nay. I just want to hold ye. We can talk for a while.”
“Talk? That’s all you want to do?”
He snorted. “Nay, that’s no’ all I want to do, but I did promise, and ’tis no’ a good way to start off a marriage with broken promises.”
She nodded and moved closer to him again. He rested his arm around her shoulders and slid them both down, so they were lying on their backs. He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
“And I do want a good marriage, Christine. I ken we dinna start off in the normal way, but I think we can have a happy life. I think ye will be content as my wife at our castle. Ye will be able to run things the way ye want to run them. Right now, Llioni, our cook, has been doing the duty of both cooking and seeing that the castle runs smoothly. She will be verra happy, I am sure, to give up the duties to ye.”
Duties? He expected her to take over duties? It seemed she hadn’t given this marriage business enough thought. While Kerrigan was very charming, indeed handsome, and had the greatest way to warm her in a way that didn’t need a fire, she hadn’t thought beyond keeping her fortune from Uncle Carl. What exactly did a wife do? All the mothers of her friends had spent their time paying calls on other women, visiting the modistes and shops and hosting dinner parties and balls while trying to marry off their daughters to do similar things.
But a wife in the wilds of Scotland would have other duties, she was sure. Did they host dinner parties and balls? Was there even a decent modiste in the area? Would she have a carriage for her use to make calls?
Fatigue once again washed over her at that thought, along with the strain of planning her escape from Uncle Carl, convincing Mrs. Dove-Lyon to help her and getting herself married before she was forced to marry the dreadful Lord Newton.
The soothing sound of Kerrigan’s voice as he spoke of his home lulled her as she lay against him. The warmth coming from him and the soft rumble of his voice brought her closer and closer to sleep. She shifted so she was plastered against her husband’s body like an old, familiar pillow and drifted off.
After a few minutes of speaking of his life in Scotland, Kerrigan realized his wife’s breathing was becoming deeper. He looked at her slumbering body under the bedclothes, feeling sorry for himself for not being able to uncover the lushness waiting for him, but reminded himself that he would have many years to enjoy her body. He shifted so he was able to blow out the candle next to the bed.
Making sure she was tucked securely next to him, he yawned, expecting to take a while to fall asleep with the day he’d had. The thought had barely gone through his mind when he was sound asleep himself.
“I demand to see my niece right now. I don’t care who you are and whose house this is.”
The shouting startled Kerrigan awake, and he sat up in bed. Christine remained asleep, so he climbed from the bed and padded to the bedchamber door. The shouting continued, along with the soft, modulated voice of Stevens. Kerrigan grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair near the door and slipped it on.
“What is all this racket?” He asked as he made his way downstairs, tucking his shirt into his braies.
“Oh, thank goodness, Laird. This man”—Kerrigan noticed the butler did not refer to the person at the door as a “gentleman”—“insists on seeing Lady Lindsay.”
The man leaned forward, stabbing Stevens in the chest with his index finger. “That is where you are wrong, man. I don’t wish to see Lady Lindsay, whoever she might be. I want to see my niece. Lady Christine Spencer.”
It didn’t take too much consideration on his part to realize Christine’s Uncle Carl had arrived for a visit. The man was florid with anger, his double chin jiggling as he spoke. Another man stood behind him, looking bored.
“Excuse me, sir, but I wish to ken who ye are and why ye are making so much noise while my wife and I wish to continue our sleep.”
The man turned his attention to Kerrigan. “I have no idea who you are, or who you think you are, but I’ve come to retrieve my niece, Lady Christine Spencer.”
Kerrigan rubbed his chin and looked at a very unsettled Stevens. “I will handle this. You may return to yer duties.” After the butler’s hurried departure, Kerrigan gave his attention to the irate visitor. “I’m no’ sure ye are at the right house, sir. There is no Lady Christine Spencer here.”
Spittle flew from the man’s mouth. “Do not play with me. I know Christine is here and I intend to bring her home. Now.”
“Uncle Carl?” Christine’s soft voice caused Kerrigan to turn to see his wife coming down the stairs, tying the belt of her dressing gown. He wanted to tell her to turn back and return to the bedchamber and let him hand the bully, but after the way she’d reacted the night before when he ordered her to never go out alone again, he thought it best to allow her to speak to her uncle.
However, he would certainly keep himself between his wife and the deranged man.
“Why are you here?” Chistine asked.
Apparently, the man decided to try another tactic. In a softer tone he’d not used up to that point he said, “I was worried about you, niece. It took me some time to track you down, and now what I’ve found you, I’ve come to bring you home.”
Kerrigan reached out and pulled Christine to his side. “I’m afraid ye are mistaken, my good man. This woman is my wife, and she is going nowhere with you.”
“I am married, Uncle Carl. You can no longer force me to marry Lord Newton. This is my husband, Laird Kerrigan Lindsay.”
The lass’s uncle pulled the man standing behind him forward. “No. You are not married, and as your legal guardian, I have brought a doctor here to examine you.”
“Why?”
“So we can apply for an annulment since I am certain you have not had time to consummate this farce of a marriage.”