He noticed a thin red scar on the cheek facing him. It traveled from the corner of her left eye down to her jawline. He swallowed and let out a steady breath. The scar could have been a result of an injury or accident, but he could see how perfectly shaped it was as it mirrored the line of her face and doubted it had been made without intention.
The bloody duke.
Cam clenched his fork too tightly. The monster was dead and no longer able to hurt Marian.
He smiled at his wife, wondering what other horrors she’d experienced and how he’d ever be able to sit quietly and listen if she chose to tell him. She’d been forced to kill in defense of her own life. Her stories would be unsettling for sure. He’d have to remain calm if ever she shared her past with him.
She caught him looking at the scar, and as if by instinct she reached for her hair, tugging a few strands from the twist.
When he raised his hand to stop her, she winced, eyes closed as if waiting for a strike.
“Settle, lass,” he whispered and glanced out at the hall to see if others had noticed.
“I’m sorry. I told Kenna this style wasn’t at all the thing, but she insisted.”
Moving slower this time, he took her hand and stopped her from destroying Kenna’s handiwork.
“It’s lovely. You are lovely. There’s not a one of us save the little ones who doesn’t bear scars. Wear yours with honor, lass, for only a survivor is able to wear scars.”
She swallowed, and after a moment she nodded and turned back to her food.
As they dined she took tiny bird bites of her meal, then pushed it away when she hadn’t finished half.
“Are you not hungry or is the food not to your liking?” he asked, thinking it odd. She’d been on the run with little money. Surely, she hadn’t had easy access to food. But maybe her palate had grown used to London cuisine and their rough meal of venison and greens wasn’t setting well.
“Truth be told, I am famished. But it’s considered unladylike to eat everything upon one’s plate.” She pressed her lips together and looked longingly at the plate.
He didn’t understand women’s logic, but he did know how to fix a problem when one arose.
“That may be. What do I know?” He pulled her plate closer and dumped more food on it. “There. Now ye may eat only half again.”
She looked up at him with surprise and gratitude, then turned back to the plate, eating what he’d added. This time she left only a few small bites behind.
“That was delicious. It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed good food.” When she smiled at him he lost his breath. “Thank you, Cameron.”
He swallowed and managed to nod, thinking he’d gladly give her his last morsel and waste away into dust if she asked it of him. How could anyone look into those smiling eyes and treat her harshly? He couldn’t imagine it. Clearly the duke hadn’t had a soul.
He cleared his throat in an effort to dislodge the anger rising in him. “I believe we have entertainment tonight. Would you like to stay, or are you too tired?”
She bit her bottom lip for a moment. “I’d like to stay. If you would.”
He pushed away his disappointment, not exactly sure why he was disappointed.
He doubted she would invite him to her bed—make that his bed—after they’d married by accident. It wasn’t that they were truly man and wife, except in the legal sense. Then again, the legal sense was all most marriages started with. And technically, the marriage wasn’t officially legal until it was consummated.
They stayed throughout the evening’s entertainments, and then she excused herself to go to their room. When he offered to escort her, she refused his offer and nearly sprinted from the hall for the stairs.
Cam might have considered sleeping in the great hall, except the other men would know it. Their joking didn’t bother him, but he wouldn’t let Lach think he was put out of his own room.
When he’d given her ample time to get ready for bed, he went to his chamber and knocked on the door. He waited for her to answer before entering.
She was sitting in bed, her golden hair braided over one shoulder. The fire had died down, making the room dim, but he could see enough to know her gaze was intent on her lap where she twisted her fingers. It looked painful, and he wanted to go to her to make her stop, but when he took a step toward her, she gasped in fear.
He changed direction toward the fire and stirred the logs to give more light.
He thought briefly of what it might be like to sleep next to her, or even to consummate the marriage they had stumbled into earlier that day. But when he saw her anxiety, he tossed thoughts of that possibility aside.
She’d been married to a cruel man and probably expected even worse from a large Scottish brute. He’d give her time to acclimate to their situation and get comfortable with him.
When he stepped closer to the bed to take the extra blankets, she flinched.
“Be calm. I mean you no harm. I’m just going to put these blankets down by the fire so I have a place to sleep tonight.”
“You won’t be sleeping in your bed?”
“Nay. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He waited until she glanced at him and winked so she’d know he was joking.
She only looked slightly relieved and glanced away as quickly as she’d met his gaze. She was as skittish as a beaten horse.
He settled by the fire and frowned into the darkness when his back settled against the hard floor. His bed
