Page 43 of Highland Seduction

“I cannae leave Berwick,” she was saying. “I’ve two wee ones now. But livin’ here in the town . . .” She shrugged, noticing Tor. “Pardon, my lord.”

The maid finished her ministrations, thankfully not noticing Ivy, who hid underneath their bed. The meal he’d asked for sat on the sole table in their room. At last she bowed to Ainsley, and then him, and bid both of them adieu.

Tor had thought of naught all afternoon but ravishing his lovely wife. Continuing what they’d started earlier, and not stopping until there was no question between them as to whether they would remain married or continue to seek an annulment.

“Shall we eat before the stew grows cold?” she asked. A reasonable question. What had he been thinking, to arrange for it? That they’d not eaten all day and Tor did not wish to share his wife with the patrons of River’s End? Too many had darted glances at her, and though he understood them, he cared little for it. This eve, he wanted his wife to himself.

“Of course,” he said, wishing for aught but. Discarding his sword, Tor poured them both wine as Ainsley sat. “’Tis fine a wine as any,” he said, uncertain now.

“I’ve drunk, perhaps, more than I should,” she said.

“The meal should compensate.” He tore off a piece of bread.

Either the maid or Ainsley had lit candles, the room drawing dark as the day drew to a close. They ate in silence, Tor realizing as he took the first bite how hungry he’d truly been. Consumed with thoughts of his wife, sustenance had been little on his mind that day.

“McGreghere seems to be a kind man,” Ainsley said as she finished chewing. “Do ye believe he will learn aught?”

Tor didnae want to talk of McGreghere. Or Ian and Marta or the priest or their clans. He wished only to discuss him and Ainsley. Or better, he would not talk at all. But if Tor’s aim was to seduce his wife, luring her into their bed would not suffice. Not with a woman such as she.

“I believe his aid will prove quite useful,” he said instead.

“Ye’d no’ mentioned him before.”

“I didnae wish to give ye more reasons than ye have already to dislike my brother.”

“Why?”

Tor’s hand paused as he began to lift the goblet of wine.

Why? The answer was a complicated one.

“I’ve begun to think of our future together.” Nay, that was not quite right. “I continue to think of our future, as husband and wife.” Tor took a sip of wine, watching Ainsley carefully.

“As have I.” She gave no hint of her leanings on the matter, what she was thinking, what she thought of them remaining married. Instead, Ainsley seemed . . . unsure.

He would not press her.

“We’ve time to consider it still,” he said. “But it pleases me ye have given the matter thought.”

She frowned. “How could I no’? We find ourselves husband and wife, enemies. And yet . . .” Ainsley hesitated.

He rescued her. “Enemies in name only?”

Ainsley thought on that for a moment, and agreed. “Aye. I am beginning to understand my brother’s words when he told me he and Catlin would willingly remain married. He said, ‘We cannae change the past, but mayhap the king was right. Mayhap a union between our clans is the only way to a peaceable future.’”

For now, ’twas enough. An understanding settled between them, one that opened a door to possibilities they’d not considered on the way to Berwick. They finished their meal in a compatible silence, one you might enjoy with a person you’ve known for a long time. A single candle flickered between them, and as Tor watched Ainsley finish her meal and sit back in the functional, if not ornate, wooden chair, he imagined doing the same every day for all his days.

The thought was so pleasing that he began to wonder why it had never been a pleasant thought before. Instead, when Adair first told him of his plans to marry, Tor had actually laughed, as if marrying was not something they’d all been expected to do eventually. Their mother had long lamented that “her boys” had shown no interest in matrimony. She wanted grandchildren desperately, and though Tor would give his life for his mother, he’d resisted any discussion of matrimony whenever she raised it.

Except, looking across the table at his wife, Tor knew precisely the reason he’d never considered the state of matrimony before. And that reason was looking back at him in the same way as she had before, at another meal. This time, however, she did precisely as he’d instructed. Rather than simply waiting for him to do it, Ainsley stood just slightly and leaned forward, over the wine and the bowls of stew.

It was the only invitation he needed.

Tor shot out of his seat and met her halfway, their lips melding together as if they belonged together. Extricating himself from behind the table without breaking contact, he moved toward a now-standing Ainsley.

She may not be prepared to give herself to him completely just yet, but before the eve was through, Ainsley would have a much deeper understanding of the pleasures they might enjoy as husband and wife.

Chapter 25