It dominated the room and her attention.
“Mag will unpack for you,” Duncan said, placing Sam’s big suitcase on the bed.
“What about your bags?”
“I take care of my own things.”
“About the sleeping arrangements,” she began. “I was wondering—”
“This is the master suite,” he said. “The two fireplaces keep it warm in winter.”
“I’m sure they do,” she said, “but that’s not—”
“The north side is windward. You don’t want—”
“Damn it, Duncan, are you sleeping here, too?” She hadn’t meant to say it with quite that sharp an edge, but there you had it.
“Where did you think I’d be sleeping?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
“This is my bed,” he said. “This is where I sleep.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I understand.”
“I don’t think you do, Samantha.”
“We’re married,” she said, as if it was no big deal. “We sleep in the same bed. No problem.”
He placed the palm of his hand against her belly and she thought she would go up in flames from his touch. “That’s mine,” he said in a low and thrilling voice. “We made that together.”
“I know,” she said, her voice suddenly husky. She felt herself swaying toward him, melting like a quick-burning candle. It was like this that first time, she thought. So fast. So crazy.
He cupped her buttocks in his hands and pulled her close to him, fitting himself against her. He was rock-hard. She could feel his heat burning through their clothes.
“We’re married,” he said, moving his hands over her hips, her waist, her rib cage. “Is this part of the bargain?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Is it?”
“That’s for you to decide, lassie.” He released her and took a step backward. “You set the boundaries.”
He sounded so businesslike, as if he could turn on and off again at will.
“Maybe we should have had our lawyers work out the details for us,” she snapped, stung by his abrupt change of attitude.
“What happens in our bedroom is nobody’s business but ours.”
“And what if nothing happens in our bedroom?” she countered, unable to control her voice.
“Then that is your decision,” he said evenly, not rising to her bait.
“You could live with that?”
“You draw the boundaries, lassie, and I will live within them or without them as I choose.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do that.”
“We’ll love the child,” he said. “We canna ask more from marriage than that.”
She knew he was wrong but couldn’t find the words to tell him how or why.
They stood there in awkward silence for a few moments. Sam vowed it would take an act of God to get her to speak first.
Duncan cleared his throat. “Would you like to see the other rooms on this floor?”
“Thank you,” Sam said, “but maybe some other time.”
She could almost see the dark storm clouds gather over his head. “You can find your way downstairs?”
“I think I can manage.”
He turned and left the room without another word.
Sam considered going after him and apologizing for her sharp tongue but sheer stubbornness held her back. She hadn’t insulted him or his country or violated any international laws. All she’d done was refuse an offer to explore her new home. Considering the fact that this would be her home for the rest of her life, there’d be plenty of other opportunities.
Why not go for broke, she thought, looking at the suitcases stacked on the bed. If she unpacked her own clothing, she could dig herself an even deeper hole with Mag—if that was humanly possible. The old woman’s whispered threat still echoed in her ears. Be good to him, lass, or you’ll know the back of my hand I’ll not see him suffer like—
Like what? Like he suffered the last time he had a cold? She knew that couldn’t possibly be what Mag was hinting at. No, it had something to do with a woman. And she’d almost be willing to bet her stake in Wilde & Daughters Ltd. that it was his ex-wife who’d made him suffer.
AN HOUR LATER Sam joined Duncan in the library for supper. Mag had set up a card table in front of the fire and laid it with a dark green cloth and the best china and silver.
“She hates me,” Sam said as Mag and Robby left the room. “Did you see the way she threw my food at me?” One of the roasted new potatoes had bounced off Sam’s plate and rolled under her chair.
“She doesn’t know you, lass,” he said. “How can she hate you?”
“I unpacked my own things.” She pierced a carrot with her fork then popped it into her mouth. “That’s one reason.”
“I told you she’d take care of it.”
“It wasn’t a difficult task, Duncan,” she said tartly. “Besides, that’s only the half of it. She also doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”
The furrow between his eyes deepened. “She said that to you?”
“She didn’t have to say anything. It’s the way she looks at me.”
“Old Mag looks the way she looks. ‘Tis nothing unusual.”
“She probably thinks you should have married a Scotswoman.”
“Aye,” he agreed, “she would think that.”
“And she’s probably scandalized that I’m already pregnant.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
“She knows.” Sam’s laugh was brittle. “I don’t know how she knows, but she has it all figured out”
“You read too much into an old woman’s ways,” he said, but there was something in his voice that piqued her curiosity. “She hasn’t the gift of second sight, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
He pushed back his chair and stood abruptly.
“Duncan?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of Mag.” Before she could protest, he left the room.
SAM FINISHED her supper then curled up in her chair to watch the fire dance in the hearth. She had no idea where Duncan had disappeared to, and for the moment, she was just as glad. He’d been gone for the better part of an hour with not so much as a word of explanation. She’d heard Old Mag’s voice in the hallway, but it was Robby
