“Christ. What if I get a babe on her? I should keep my bloody hands to myself. I’m going to go stay in the woods until we’re old and gray. Then I’ll be too feeble to cause her harm.”
“You’re talking nonsense. You wouldn’t make it two days knowing food and a warm woman await you here.”
Cam wanted to argue, but Bryce was right. And it wasn’t the food that was the biggest lure.
“I need to talk to her.”
He’d kept his distance the entire day. Using her method of communicating by letter was a bit easier than speaking to her directly. He hadn’t been strong enough to face her most of the day. Seeing her limping, with her beautiful face bruised, made his chest hurt as if he’d been stabbed through.
But it was time to confess. Time to face it straight on like the warrior he was. If she hated him, it would make things easier for both of them. He’d find a place to sleep in the hall, and they’d not need to speak again.
He should want that. It would give him a perfect excuse if Lach complained of the arrangement.
But he hoped for something else.
He stood at their chamber door and rested his head against the wood. He was out of ideas and ways to make his wife comfortable with him. Rather than come up with another bungled plan, he decided to be honest and hope for the best.
He entered to find her already in bed with the covers pulled up like a shield, as on the other nights she’d been in bed when he arrived. He closed and barred the door and went to sit next to her by the bed. As usual, she flinched when he moved too quickly.
He let out a breath. “You remember the talk we had down by the river? When I told you to tell me if you dinna like something I did or didna do?”
“Yes. I remember.”
“But you’ve not said anything. Not when I flirted with the serving girl right in front of you the other evening. Not about my clothes scattered about the room. Not even about my boots in the middle of the floor causing you to trip and injure yourself. Nothing. Not so much as a peep to show your displeasure.”
She hesitated, then said, “It almost sounds as if you did those things on purpose to earn my ire.”
“That would be bloody foolish.” His gaze glanced away from hers. “But it’s also true.” He winced. Christ almighty. “I’m sorry.”
“You wanted me to be angry with you?” She looked confused, and rightfully so, but still not angry.
“Yes—no. I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to argue with me. I thought if we had a disagreement and you and I scrapped a bit, when it was over you would see I hadn’t hurt ye, and you would no longer be afraid of me.”
Damn Liam for suggesting such a plan. And damn Bryce and Lach for agreeing with such a farce. But mostly, damn himself for thinking this was the way to go about making someone feel safe. What an arse he was.
She shifted slightly. “I appreciate your efforts—I guess—but I’m not afraid of you, Cameron.”
“Nay?” He reached for her, his heart filled with hope, but she instantly pulled away, her eyes wide with the same fear he saw each time he moved too quickly.
He let out a breath. “Aye, I can see that. Never mind. I’ll bed down in the hall. You can sleep here in peace.” He stood to leave again.
“No. Wait.” She slid from the bed and hobbled over to him.
He grimaced, hating that she was obviously still in pain.
“As I said in my letter…it’s not you that I fear. I know violence is not your way. But my body remembers the past and reacts without my consent. Just by instinct. I can’t help it.”
He shook his head. “It’s not just your body. You’re a timid little mouse around me, and I can’t take it. If I do something wrong, you should feel free to let me have it. I know he hurt you, but I’m not the duke. Never would I hurt you.”
Cam turned for the door but stopped when she placed her hand on his arm.
She stepped closer, still touching him. She swallowed and looked him in the eye. “You take all the covers and leave me none.”
One foot moved back and her hand dropped, but she stayed before him. He could see the strength it took for her to stand there and not retreat.
Come on, Mari. You can do this. If she was ready to do battle, he would help her along.
He crossed his arms in his most imposing stance. “I’m bigger than you. I deserve more of the blankets, don’t you think?”
She pressed her slightly trembling lips together. “Maybe. But I should get some. It’s only fair.”
“It’s my bed,” he pointed out and leaned over her.
She winced away, but after a few seconds she straightened and leaned toward him. “It’s our bed. We’re married,” she snapped. Then looked surprised and rather proud of herself.
He refrained from smiling, though his heart was flying with joy. His wife was scrapping with him. She felt safe enough to argue. He’d make sure not to take it too far, but at the moment he was enjoying her spark.
Slowly, he raised his hands to her shoulders. He squeezed gently in encouragement. “You snore,” he accused, and reveled in the way her eyes went wide with outrage.
“I do not snore.” Her voice rose into a disgruntled squeak.
“Aye. I dream I’m lying with a sow from the barns and wake to find ye beside me.”
When it was clear she was so angry she couldn’t find words, he bent and kissed her. Careful of her wounds, he pulled her into his arms in a silent promise never to let go. And kissed her again.
…
One moment Mari was pulling in breath to scream at her husband, and the
