“Then answer me like a woman who is nae trying to hide the answer.”
She shrugged. “It does not matter who spoke, what is important is how many listened.”
He frowned. “’Twas Anyon. No one else would dare or worry about yer place here so much.”
Jemma scoffed at him and tried to move off the bed, but she froze when she caught sight of the sheet. Bright red blood marred its surface, drawing a shiver from her in spite of her desire to see exactly this.
“I am going to put her out.”
“You will not, Gordon Dwyre.” Jemma didn’t care if her tone was something no wife should use with her husband. The Church would chastise her for it, her brother would disapprove, but none of that seemed to matter. Her dealings with Gordon had always been poised on the border of uncivilized behavior, and it was a truth that she enjoyed it.
“There are rules beyond the confines of this chamber, Jemma, that you know must be observed. She was my mistress, if ye may even call a few tumbles by such a title. She is to be turned out.”
He stood up and stalked across the chamber to swipe something off the floor.
“Those rules are exactly why I am telling you that she shall not be turned out by you.” Jemma followed him, determined to gain her wish.
“Ye are nae making any sense, woman.”
“Exactly.” He snorted at her triumphant tone. “You do not understand because running the house is a woman’s duty. I would not comprehend many of the things that you order your retainers to do because I am not a man and was not raised to understand the duties that are yours. So I tell you again, Gordon, leave Anyon be. I set her down and will do whatever else is needed.”
He drew in a stiff breath, his expression remaining inflexible. “Except that Anyon is nae causing trouble over her duties, she’s questioning my devotion to the vows I took with ye.”
He shook her dressing robe out with a snap that betrayed how much his temper was still burning. He held it open for her, and she lifted one arm with confusion turning her mood dreary.
Was he going to send her back to her old chamber now that he’d had her?
She couldn’t help but think it. Too many couples that wed for the same reasons they had slept apart.
Well, she would not whimper. She was a woman now, not some child wed too early because of her fortune and her groom’s taste for a girl in his bed who would be simple to dominate because she was too young to know her own thoughts. She would also speak her mind even if it displeased her groom. Her heart ached, the tenderness that had been hers but a few moments ago now wilting.
“I am your wife, Gordon, and I shall do whatever is necessary to run this house. Your doubt insults me. Do you want a wife or a pampered princess who is useless besides her ability to take your seed?”
He cursed. Jemma held her chin steady while she knotted the tie to keep her dressing robe closed.
“’Tis something I understand, lass, the need to know yer word is respected.” He picked up his kilt and wrapped the fabric around his waist a few times before tossing the rest of the fabric up and over his shoulder. It lacked the normal pleats and wasn’t as accommodating to his stride, but he seemed to care little about that. He yanked the door to the chamber open and grabbed a rope that hung next to the threshold. He yanked it several times before turning around and sending the door shut with a hard motion that slammed it.
“I’ll grant ye that, lass, the need to nae be thought too weak to command those under yer authority.”
“Thank you.”
He laughed, and it was not a kind sound. Gordon covered the distance between them, and she was able to see his expression once again. It sent a shiver down her spine because this was not a man to cross, not in his current frame of mind. Something dangerous glittered in his eyes.
He lifted one finger and pointed it at her as the sound of booted feet began to pound on the stairs leading up to their chamber.
“But be very sure that I will be setting the matter clear as far as me men go.”
Whoever was on their way up the stairs didn’t stop to knock on the chamber door. They pushed right inside, and Jemma found herself stepping back into the shadows the edges of the chamber offered because her confidence in being so scantily covered did not extend to anyone except Gordon. Two of Gordon’s captains tugged on the corners of their bonnets and kept their gazes on their laird while they waited for him to tell them why they had been summoned.
Gordon pointed toward the bed. “There seems to be some discussion about my bride’s purity. Ye will witness the fact that she came to me a virgin and that there was no blood on the sheets this morning as I did nae jump on her last night the moment the doors were sealed like some beardless boy that does nae know how to stroke his bride’s passion. We were interrupted last night before I got to deflowering her and I am nae happy to hear there has been talk to the contrary.”
Several women entered the open door in time to hear their laird’s words. One was the cook that pressed her lips into a hard line. The woman slept in the kitchen and had clearly come straight from her bed, for her long hair was hanging down her back in a single thick braid.
She joined the captains near the bed and lifted a candle lantern high to illuminate the sheets. Jemma stepped back farther into the shadows, tears prickling her eyes. It was ridiculous to cry over such an expected thing. Being English only meant she dare not overlook any detail. Brides suffered such exhibitions all over the world; it was very unwise to allow it to upset her so.
“Now begone and make sure it is known that I will nae have the matter questioned.”
“Aye, Laird.”
The captains offered Gordon a tug on their bonnets before quitting the room. The cook snapped her fingers at the other maids who had arrived behind her, and she herself pulled the soiled sheet from the bed while they brought forward a clean one.
