Page 46 of Scandalous Passions

“Barrenness?”

“I feel so terrible. Chattering on and on and all the while causing you pain—”

“No, dear one,” said Janet, shaking her head. “Not here. I swear we shall speak of the matter soon and come to some agreement where we can all be happy. For now…think about what you shall beg me for when we return to the manor, retreat to the solar, and make use of that sturdy chaise.”

Marjorie quivered. Touching herself had brought some relief the past few endless nights alone in bed, but nothing in the world could compare to the soul-shattering pleasure she’d known with Janet and Lachlan. “I…I can think of a few things.”

“So eager. You’ve missed your lessons, then?”

Janet’s tone and smile were indulgent, but a hint of something far deeper lurked in her eyes. Almost as though her bold, commanding mistress felt a little uncertain. And to that, she could only give honesty. Probably too much, too soon, but after so much upheaval, she did not want to hide her true feelings any longer. Who knew what the future would hold for them all?

“So much,” said Marjorie rawly. “I need you, as I need Lachlan. In bed and out. Always. I…I love you.”

Janet swallowed hard, her gaze softening, her hand tightening on Marjorie’s arm. “Well. Well. That is sweet music to my ears. I…ah…where is your husband? Lachlan, stop scowling at the cathedral, or you’ll be struck by lightning.”

He joined them and grunted again. “Relics. Probably chicken bones. Or some unfortunate duck.”

“Have you seen them?”

“Yes. Have you?”

Janet rolled her eyes. “One cannot be part of the king’s retinue and not see them.”

“What is it like?” Marjorie demanded, both disappointed Janet had avoided expressing herself fully once again and curious about the holy place she’d heard so much about. “Inside St. Andrews cathedral, I mean.”

“Warm,” said Lachlan, as he placed his hand at her back and rubbed it in that wonderfully soothing manner, just the way she enjoyed. “There are…so many candles. That and the incense…stings the eyes.”

Janet nodded. “They do burn a lot of incense. But it is quite magnificent inside, dear one. You enter the north doors and progress to the relics. There are a great many shrines, and as Lachlan said, all lit up with candles. Also stained-glass windows, brightly painted effigies…St. Andrew at the highest point, of course…then you get to the casse, the jeweled box containing the bones. In truth I cannot be certain that they are real. But when you are there…it feels real. And it seems that is enough for the pilgrims. Now. We must look at these stalls so I can witness your best scorn and wrath.”

Marjorie grinned reluctantly. “Which stall first?”

“Fishmonger?” said Lachlan, gesturing to a large stall several feet away. “We know how…you adore fish.”

“Oh, you!” she replied, swatting her husband’s chest when he puckered his lips and made a kissing sound, possibly the most playful act of his life. “Beast.”

“So they say.”

Marjorie blushed at the warmth in his eyes. With Janet’s wicked promise still echoing in her mind, and now Lachlan’s palpable tenderness, she wanted to leave the market and return to the manor at once so they could reunite properly. After days without their touch, she craved them both more than air. “I…ah…”

“Devil take it.”

Startled at the curse, she glanced at Janet, but her mistress’s gaze was directed down Market Street, and her smile had vanished. “What do you see?”

“The Campbells are here. Hamish, Aileen, and that wretched peacock Angus.”

Wishing the fashionable man to purgatory, Marjorie gritted her teeth. The incident in the garden had been unpleasant, but what the snake had done after that, she would never forgive him for. He was responsible for the queen deciding she must swiftly wed the English baron in Carlisle. He had nearly ruined her life with his petulant act of vengeance when she had rejected his advances. It might be due to Lachlan’s warrior influence, but her thoughts at this moment were bloodthirsty rather than forgiving as she’d been taught. The prioress and nuns would be horrified, although Sister Elspeth and her kitchen dog might understand the sentiment.

In truth, the thought of that dog taking a large nip of Angus’s bottom cheered her greatly.

“I won’t speak to them,” Marjorie announced, uncaring if the Campbells thought her impolite or cold, as her would-be lover had accused.

“He’s fortunate…to retain all limbs,” growled Lachlan.

Janet folded her arms. “I won’t speak to Angus; that hell-spawned rodent is dead to me. But I should greet Hamish. And Aileen.”

Marjorie stilled. Something in the way Janet said the other woman’s name didn’t ease her temper but made her want to spit needles. “How do you know her, really?”

“I told you at that supper,” said Janet, looking away. “We shared a tutor a long time ago.”