And he was her husband, for heaven’s sake! What on earth was she waiting for?
She knew the answer, of course, but she also knew it was the wrong answer. Marriage couldn’t be about giving something to get something else. If theirs was to succeed, they would both have to share themselves, body and soul. And if he couldn’t see that…
Well, she would have to show him.
She would have to stop holding back.
“Trick?” she called softly.
No response.
She poked his shoulder. “Trick?”
“Hmm?” Without opening his eyes, he rolled toward her and flung an arm over her middle.
She snuggled happily into his warmth. “Tomorrow,” she said, struggling to keep the tremble from her voice, “tomorrow night, I want to sleep with you.”
“Sleeping now,” he murmured.
“No. I want…I want…”
His eyes slid open and gazed into hers, so close. “Are you begging, leannan?” he whispered, a tentative note of hope in the words.
“I’m begging,” she answered simply.
He raised up to give her a sleepy smile and an even sleepier kiss. When his head dropped back to the pillow, his arms tightened around her, holding her fast against his body.
And she drifted off to sleep again, not feeling smothered at all.
THIRTY-TWO
“THERE’S THE castle,” Trick said after a long day spent on the road. “In the distance, atop that hill. Just as I remembered.”
Kendra squinted through the half-light of dusk. “It looks…forbidding.” At the end of a narrow, twisty path, twin square towers rose from the hill, thrusting gray and ugly into the leaden sky. “How old is it? Is there no manor house attached?”
“Thirteenth century. It’s just the two connected keeps. They’re large, though—the distance is deceiving.”
“It must be very cold.”
“There are fireplaces.”
“I’m not talking about the temperature. It doesn’t look like a friendly place.”
“It isn’t,” he said shortly.
While two carriages and a luggage cart rolled slowly behind, attended by Trick’s servants, they guided their mounts silently past a somber gray-stone church that stood at the edge of a small village. The simple homes seemed eerily empty, however. Though the rain had stopped, no children had come out to play, no women were hanging out wash, no men were at work.
The clip-clop of their horse’s hooves sounded loud in the odd stillness.
“Where is everyone?” Kendra asked.
“I’m wondering myself.” He glanced up the hill. “Do you hear laughter?”
“Maybe. Far away.”
“Up at the castle.” As they rode closer, he could hear it better. “They must be holding an entertainment that includes the whole village. Strange…I cannot remember anything like that from when I lived here. My mother doesn’t strike me as the type.”
“People change in eighteen years.”
“I expect you’re right.” Lost in memories, Trick remained quiet as they made their way to the hill and started up it. The laughter grew louder. When they crested the rise, they saw athletic events in progress on the lawn that bordered the keeps. Five young men were lining up for a foot race while two other lads executed standing jumps and lassies poked fun at their results.
“Will you test your skills?” Kendra asked as they slid off their horses.
“Maybe later.” Trick gave her a shaky smile, handing his reins to an Amberley outrider.
A few curious glances were focused their way, but no one made a move to greet them. Shrugging, Trick instructed his staff to find the stables and settle the horses, then took Kendra’s elbow and headed inside. Worn stone steps rose to a landing and a small, arched door that stood open, allowing more laughter to drift out into the cool early-evening air.
Beyond the door, a short tunnel led through the twenty-foot-thick wall. At the far end of the passageway they stepped into the first towering keep.
It was every bit as dark and cold as he’d remembered. Iron chandeliers dripped with candles struggling vainly to brighten the great hall, a vaulted chamber of ancient gray stone.
He stood stock still while memories flooded back: having lessons at the old oak desk with his tutor; taking meals at the long trestle table with his mother; playing at her feet while she sat with her embroidery at the far end where flames roared in the immense canopied fireplace, his toy soldiers lined up on the scarred wooden floor. The Cavalier soldiers had always won, of course, since Father had been away fighting among them.
The chamber was teeming with people, and two children chased around him, but he barely took notice even when one bumped his knees. “I remembered it larger,” he told Kendra. “It’s not nearly the size of Cainewood’s great hall.”
“It’s large enough.”
“I recall thinking as a child that it was so big and high a man on horseback could turn a spear in it with all the ease imaginable.”
“He’d have to get through the door first,” she said with a grin.
Indeed, the entrance they’d just ducked through was shorter than Trick by a head or more—precisely to stop raiders on horseback from entering. Even on foot, a grown man couldn’t enter without stooping, therefore hampering his ability to attack. He remembered asking about that short doorway as a child, over and over, as children were wont to do.
“You look pale,” Kendra said.
“Memories.” He shrugged, looking around. “I believe there’s a painting of Queen Mary of Scots under there,” he said, indicating a rectangle draped in black.
“Why is it covered?”
“To prevent the spirit going in the wrong direction.”
Trick blinked, wondering who had answered.
“You look oddly familiar,” he heard Kendra say, and turned to see the lad she was addressing.
He could only stare. Several heartbeats passed while all around them people cheered on their favorite of two men playing jump-the-stick.
“I’m Niall,” the blond young man introduced himself, bewilderment clouding his golden eyes. “And I thank you for attending my dear mother’s wake.” He paused expectantly and then added, “Whoever you may be.”
“Patrick Caldwell, the Duke of Amberley,” Trick replied. “And my wife, the Duchess. And I’m looking for my mother.”
“Crivvens.” Niall visibly paled. “I should have guessed. She always said we looked like
