If theirs had been a true marriage, she had no doubt that he would spend the entire day making love to her. But he didn’t know the dark memories that resurfaced with every touch. She didn’t want to remember that terrible night, nor what had followed.
One day, she would have to tell him the truth. But in the meantime, she was trying to make sense of this unexpected marriage.
‘We should go back,’ he suggested, releasing her hand. Though the sun had not yet set, she supposed he wanted to show her the rest of the estate. And when it was possible, she longed to change her gown. She had worn the same wedding gown for the past four days, and while she had washed her face and hands daily, she wanted to wear a clean chemise and petticoat.
‘Will you take me to my room and send a maid to me? I should like to change my gown before dinner.’
‘Aye,’ he agreed. He led her back inside, and she absorbed the sight of her surroundings. There was an aura of peace in Cairnross, and she decided it would make a good place to hide from the scandal and blackmail shadowing her. Here, she could start a new beginning, forgetting all about the past. Perhaps she could bring her father here to visit, and the fresh air might do him good, as well as her mother.
‘Would you care to play another game of chess later?’ he asked.
‘I am terrible at chess, remember?’ She tried to hide her smile while they walked through the halls. Dalton was far better than he’d let on, and she had to be careful of his wagers.
‘I remember that you’re a beautiful liar. You only want me to believe that you’re terrible.’
She laughed, and as they walked, his hand bumped against her fingers. The slight touch unnerved her with the sudden desire to take his hand again. This man was not her legal husband, but it startled her to realise how much she was enjoying his presence. She felt drawn to him, and though it should have frightened her, she took comfort.
They walked through the rest of the house, and he showed her the older wing that had once been part of a medieval castle. ‘It burned to the ground, hundreds of years ago,’ Dalton explained. ‘When it was rebuilt, some of my ancestors created hidden passages.’
‘The old Earl of Cairnross?’ she mused.
‘Indeed. His castle came into our hands through an arranged marriage between a Highlander’s daughter and a Norman.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s ours now.’
‘How did your mother inherit the property?’ she asked. He led her up a stone staircase towards the bedchambers.
‘In truth, it’s not hers—my grandfather is still living. I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow. But after he dies, it will become mine. My mother had no brothers, and her father wanted it to pass to her sons. After Brandon died, Granda named me the heir.’
She hadn’t realised that his grandfather was still alive, and it occurred to her that she knew very little about Dalton St George. But she wanted to know more.
He stopped before one of the bedchambers and opened the door. ‘This was my mother’s room. I asked Evina to prepare it for you. You’ll find gowns in the wardrobe and the trunk. Choose whatever you like.’
‘Thank you.’ Before she lost her nerve, she took his hand and squeezed it lightly. He held it for a moment, as if savouring the touch. His green eyes drank in the sight of her, and she sensed that if she offered more, he would tempt her beyond all reason. The invisible heat between them made her lose her courage, and she reluctantly released his hand.
She walked inside the doorway and found a modest room with a mahogany wardrobe, a small table with a basin and pitcher, a fireplace which the servants had lit, and a narrow bed with a canopy. A quilt rested upon the bed, and the colours were soft blues and greens. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. On the opposite side of the room, she saw a door. ‘Where does that lead?’
‘To my room,’ he said. He closed the door behind him, to give them privacy. ‘But you needn’t worry. I won’t intrude.’
Her skin tightened at the mention, and she wondered what it would be like if the door were open between their rooms. In her mind, she imagined him trailing a single finger down her cheek to her throat. She envisioned him cupping her chin and leaning in for another kiss. His mouth would be warm and inviting, making her crave more. She felt the colour rise to her cheeks, but she let the vision continue as she imagined him undressing her.
He would be gentle, she knew. And, God help her, she could feel an ache between her legs, the stirrings of desire.
She turned away, and another memory slammed into her, of being forced against the wall. Harsh lips ground against her, while Mallencourt’s hand reached beneath her skirts.
Regina trembled, and pulled back, unable to separate the present from the past. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she reminded herself that this was Dalton, not her attacker. He would never harm her.
But he was unaware of her sudden panic. ‘I will send Evina to help you dress for dinner. I hope to see you there.’
Then he departed, closing
