But he only leaned down with compassion in his eyes.
“Let me put you back in bed and I’ll get you something to drink.” He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and settled her gently on her side of the bed. “Did you want water? I could get you tea, or maybe a whisky would be good.”
“Water is fine. Thank you.” Whisky would have taken the edge off the pain, but it would also burn the open wound on her lip.
“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I’m such an oaf.”
He lit a candle and carried it back with him, along with her glass of water. “Bloody hell,” he blurted when the light revealed the extent of her injuries. “You’re bleeding. I’ll run down to the loch to get ice-cold water.”
“There’s no need. I’ll be fine.” This was nothing compared to what the duke had done when he’d found disfavor in her actions. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Your face is a mess, and look at your ankle. It’s swollen.”
“I assure you, I’ve had worse injuries and healed just fine.” She’d said it to put his mind at ease, but her words had the opposite effect.
She could feel the rage coming off him, yet he spoke quietly. “You’ve been injured worse than this, on purpose, at the hands of your duke.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded. She wanted to add that he hadn’t been her duke, but kept quiet.
He stood and turned away. She thought he might leave, but he went to the pitcher and came back with a wet cloth to clean the blood from her lip. She hissed when he pressed it to the cut, and she saw him go pale in the low light.
“I’m making it worse. I’ll go get someone to help. I can’t stand to hurt you more than I already have.”
“No. Please. Don’t wake anyone. It’s not so bad, really. I can do it myself.” She reached for the cloth, and he handed it over. She dabbed at the cut and he brought her a new cloth. Eventually it stopped bleeding, and she reached for the glass to drink, careful not to reopen the wound.
Touching her ankle, she knew it would be stiff and hard to walk on the next day, but it wasn’t broken. A mild sprain, she guessed. She’d had the opportunity to diagnose many of her own injuries over the years.
She lay back, and Cameron was right there to help her. “Mari, I’m such a clod. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course. It wasn’t your fault. It’s your room. You’re free to put your boots wherever you wish.”
“It’s our room,” he corrected as he gently put his arm around her. “And you have every right to be angry with me. In fact, I would very much like it if you yelled at me. Please just tell me what a bugger I am.”
She laughed and shook her head. “It was an accident. I know you didn’t leave them there on purpose to cause me harm. Let’s go to sleep. I’ll be fine in the morning.”
It was an odd experience having a man care for her to the point of doting. She’d never imagined such a thing. Her father had been more interested in a strategic marriage for her than her happiness or well-being. And of course the duke… He definitely hadn’t cared about her needs.
But Cameron was still fluttering about the room in a futile attempt to soothe her and ease her pain. Pain he hadn’t even caused.
She would need to be more cautious in the future, since her husband wasn’t a tidy person. Funny, he’d seemed quite orderly before. In fact, the first time she was in his room it had been extremely neat.
Perhaps he’d been expecting company that day. Then she’d barged into his life and forced him into a marriage he didn’t want.
He eventually settled into bed beside her and blew out the candle. “I’m sorry, Mari. I’ll not do anything so foolish again.”
“As I said, it’s your room. I’m naught but an unwanted guest forced upon you by circumstance.”
The bed moved, and she heard a sound in the darkness that sounded like laughter.
“It’s true I never wished to marry, but I’d hardly call ye an unwanted guest. I definitely want you.”
She felt warmth against her palm as his fingers interlaced with hers in an intimate way. Her face felt hot for a different reason, and she was grateful for the cover of darkness.
Mixed in with the tangle of physical feelings she’d never experienced, she also felt safe. This large man, whose body was honed for violence, made her feel protected and cherished.
The night she’d left London fleeing for her life, she’d only wanted to be safe. But now she thought she might also have the chance to be happy as well.
She’d often wondered what she’d done to earn such a terrible punishment as being married to the devil himself. Perhaps it wasn’t a punishment, but a payment of sorts, in advance.
And perhaps it was now time to reap her earned reward.
Chapter Fourteen
Despite Mari’s promise the night before, she wasn’t fine in the morning, and Cam felt wretched. His wife looked like she’d lost a battle with a rival clan. The left side of her face was bruised and swollen. Her eye was blackened, and a dark scab sealed the cut on her lip.
When she got out of bed on her own after refusing his assistance, she stumbled and sat back down. Her ankle wasn’t up for holding her weight.
He moaned at seeing her in pain. Pain he’d caused with his stupid attempt to bait her into an argument. He’d only wanted her to get mad at him and let down her guard. Instead he’d hurt her.
He reached for her. “Please, let me help. I think I’ll be ill
