She would allow him to catch her getting ready for bed. Then she would give him the letter. From there, she didn’t know what to expect. This was a whole different type of fear. One she was willing to embrace.
But it was already an hour past when he’d come to bed last night, and still he was not there. She sat down in the chair next to the fire to give her feet a rest, ready to jump up when he entered the room.
Her plan was flawless…except that she fell asleep in the chair.
When Cameron came stumbling into their chamber, she jerked awake at the sound of the door slamming closed. She stood quickly, giving him a chance to look, but he didn’t look. He pulled off his belt and let his kilt fall to the floor. Still wearing his weapons belt, he stood on one leg to pull off his boot. He nearly lost his balance, but not before his shirt had come up enough for her to see one sculpted buttock.
She glanced away but returned her gaze immediately to get another look.
When he reached for her to steady himself, his hand grazed her breast. A pleasant feeling zinged through her body…but then she caught a whiff of him.
She stepped away, pressing her back against the wall.
He was heavy with drink from the smell of him and the way he laughed loudly. His unfocused gaze moved over her for a moment, then he flopped onto the bed.
She stayed in the corner, unmoving, until he began snoring. She edged closer and nudged his arm.
Nothing. He was dead asleep.
When the duke was in his cups he was even more violent than usual. However, Cameron seemed immobile and unthreatening with his heavy arms splayed across the bed, taking up her side as well as his own.
With a sigh she went over and picked up his leg to tug off the boot he hadn’t managed to free. Then she undid the weapons belt at his waist and slid it off. Setting his sword and dirk on the table next to the bed, she worked out how she might cover him. He was lying atop the blankets.
After another moment of contemplation, she decided he was already more comfortable than he deserved, and went to the other side of the bed. With a huff, she pushed his arm aside before getting in and closing her eyes.
She crossed her arms, settling into her disappointment.
There would be no kissing tonight.
Chapter Twelve
It was all Cam could do to keep from pulling Mari into his arms when she removed his belt. He’d felt himself growing hard and forced himself to think of other things so as not to give away the fact he wasn’t as drunk as he pretended.
He’d asked his friends what they did to make their wives angry. Coming home foxed was at the top of their lists. Yet instead of ranting at him, Mari had removed his boot and tried to make him comfortable.
However, before that she’d been terrified. Damn his eyes, he should have considered that her bastard of a husband may have beaten her when he’d been drinking.
Clearly, she wasn’t the kind of woman who would kill a man unjustly. If she’d been pushed to the point of murder, it was certainly warranted. Cam hated that someone had hurt her so much she felt her only escape was to kill.
His plan would only work if she was mad enough to fight with him and she felt comfortable enough to give him a good blistering. Once she could yell at him without fear, it would mean she was no longer afraid of him. Or so he hoped.
Mari had been badly mistreated and did not trust his kindness. Gentleness alone wouldn’t work with her. He had to earn her ire and argue loudly with her, in order to prove he would never resort to violence.
No matter how much it went against everything he’d ever done in the past when it came to women. His father had always told him women were to be honored and respected. He was never to lift his hand to a female or anyone smaller than he, except in battle for his clan.
“A large body doesn’t mean you are a strong man if you use it to intimidate others. Being able to use your body to fight your enemies, while keeping your heart kind, is the truest meaning of strength.”
Cam thought his father had the right of it. He would never raise a hand in anger to his wife. Or any other person. He just wished there was a way to convince her of that. Not touching his wife was taking more strength than he might possess.
At some point during the night she’d scooted closer, and he’d wrapped his arm around her to hold her. He wanted her badly, but he would wait until she felt safe.
Her whimpers and tossing woke him, and he pulled her from the depths of her bad dream. She cried and shook against him, and he held her as tight as he could without crushing her, hoping to help hold her together. He worried she’d shake apart into tiny pieces if he let go.
When she quieted, he stroked her hair. “Is it better now, Mari?”
“Can you hold me a little longer?”
“I’ll hold you as long as you need, lass.” Forever.
That thought made him shudder. She’d only been here a few days, and already he feared he was slipping into unwanted feelings.
He’d not wanted to marry, yet he was wed and at ease with it…because he thought it would be in name only. But now he was trying to earn
