Page 38 of Conquer the Highlander

“I must sleep,” he said, rising wearily. “It has been a long night.”

Esme jumped up, rushing over to the hearth where she had a bed warmer waiting. She’d found it in the piles of clutter Titus had in his cottage, a valuable piece of household equipment, and she immediately began to poke at the fire in the hearth for chunks of glowing peat.

“Of course,” she said, using a small shovel to put the peat into the pot-like warmer. “I shall have your bed warmed in a few moments.”

Titus looked at her, crouched down on the floor. After a fight like the one tonight, he was assured of an array of women to choose from afterwards. There had been more than he had ever seen waiting above the holding area, throwing money and coin purses down to him, begging to lick the sweat from his skin. He’d seen some of the women before. He’d even bedded a few of them before. Tonight, he could have had his pick.

But he couldn’t seem to do it.

All he could see was Esme.

There was a bathhouse attached to the staging area where the men would bathe after the fights, modeled after the great bathhouses of Rome. When Clegg de Lave had designed the Ludus Caledonia, he’d left nothing out – everything ancient Rome had, the Ludus Caledonia had, and the bathhouse was truly a marvel.

Built next to the Fields of Mars, it was a large stone structure on a raised floor, and servants kept the fires stoked to heat up the baths. There were both male servants and female servants to tend the bathers, whichever they preferred, and Titus usually had his pick of the female servants.

Tonight, he’d had two males.

He couldn’t even comprehend why. He’d never had that before. Usually, he’d take the female servant and expect something a little more than simple bathing assistance, but tonight, he couldn’t manage to do it. When one had tried to change his mind, he closed his eyes to enjoy the experience, but all he could see was Esme. That noble, beautiful woman that had his interest.

He’d chased the servant away.

As he looked at her now, carefully putting coals into the bed warmer so she could warm his bed, he could think of a better way for her to warm his bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He couldn’t even bring himself to do anything about it. She had come seeking his help, hadn’t she? She was sleeping in his cottage, washing his clothes, bringing meals for him, wasn’t she? Doing everything a wife would do.

A wife…

So why couldn’t he do to her what he did to every single willing female he met?

He knew why. Titus may have been an arrogant man, but he wasn’t a molester. He would never lower himself. Moreover, when he was with a woman, he wanted a willing partner.

And he knew, deep down, that Esme hadn’t come to warm his bed in the way he was hoping.

But perhaps with time, she would.

Perhaps in time, he could make her want to.

Titus continued to watch Esme as she finished with the bed warmer and dashed into his chamber to warm his sheets, but he didn’t follow. In fact, Esme had been in his chamber for quite some time, making sure everything was nice and warm, before she realized he hadn’t come into the room.

Puzzled, she went out into the larger room to see what he was doing, only to find him dead asleep on the pallet she had made for herself. He was shoved up against the wall, rolled up in a blanket with his feet on the hearth, nice and warm.

He was snoring loudly enough to lift the roof.

With a grin, Esme set the bed warmer down and went back into his chamber, returning with another blanket. Carefully, she laid it over him, making sure he was tucked in and comfortable.

That night, she slept on his bed.

CHAPTER NINE

Blackridge House

The seat of the Duke of Kintyre and Lorne

She was waiting for him in what they called the Gathering Room, a vast chamber that spanned nearly one entire side of the house, facing out into the green expanse of meadows to the south.

The woman had come in a fine carriage but without soldiers except for her coachmen, four of them, who rode fine and fat steeds, indicating wealth. In fact, everything about her carriage indicated wealth and status. He’d inspected the vehicle when he was told of her arrival, but she would not give her name, not even to his majordomo. She was secretive and quiet, demanding to see the duke with the utmost urgency.

It was pure curiosity that had brought him to the Gathering Room.

Hugh Stewart stood in the doorway of the enormous chamber, with its stone floor, paneled walls, and two magnificent hearths. It also had heavy damask curtains on the windows, and there were several, because his late wife liked the look of them. He never had the heart to get rid of them after she died. They’d cost a small fortune and they were all closed at the moment, giving the chamber a dim and mysterious ambiance.