Page 33 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

“We’ll be seeing her today,” he said with a surprising bit of pleasure at the knowledge. The truth was, he’d been thinking of her each night of his journey. Each dream of her had been more explicit than the one before.

His new wife was beautiful. He’d known it the morning he wed her, despite her rumpled appearance. He’d only found her more alluring when forced to lie next to her.

He’d run away to be free of his lust before he betrayed Maggie. He’d not been a monk since her death, but when he’d succumbed, he’d made sure it was nothing more than relieving a physical necessity. His heart and mind had stayed firmly loyal. If he were to bed Dorie, he knew in his heart it would be different.

He couldn’t tup her and walk away. She would expect something from him. The kindness and consideration of a lover. A husband. She deserved no less. In fact, she deserved so much more.

He’d wanted to stay clear of her so as not to be pulled in by her charms. But even in the short time he’d been with her since they wed, he could tell she was kind. And she wasn’t a spy. Even before hearing the McCurdy’s comments, he’d trusted her.

It would have been much easier if she truly were a spy. Then he could easily cast her aside and not think of her. It would have been far better. Better than this wanting and longing for someone he couldn’t give himself to.

Surely now that he’d spent a few days away from her he would be better prepared. And if not…well, perhaps there was a way to embrace the things a wife offered without hurting her.

Perhaps he would be able to perform the duties of a husband after all, even while keeping his heart secured. He knew the things women liked to hear from a lover. He could say them to Dorie even if there was no real sentiment behind the words. She’d never had a lover before, she’d not know the difference. And as long as she was happy, he could take pleasure in her pleasure.

Aye, he’d have to carefully consider doing that.

For it would solve all their problems.

Chapter Twelve

Thinking of bedding Dorie made Bryce give his horse another nudge to hasten his trip. He’d been in a hurry to get away from her, and now he was equally eager to get back so he could report to Lach and then go and find his wife.

He arrived late in the afternoon after stopping at the loch to bathe.

He was glad to be back inside the walls of Dunardry. Normally he would have seen to his own horse, but as hungry as he was—for both food and company—he passed his beast off to a groom and headed for the hall.

Everyone was just gathering for the evening meal, so he went to the head table to speak to Lach and Cam about what he’d encountered on the McCurdy border. He was deep in conversation when the hall went quiet. He looked up to see what had caught everyone’s attention, and stared at the vision coming toward him, stunned.

’Twas his wife.

The new gown she wore was blue and called notice to the blue of her eyes.

Her gaze was focused on the floor as if she were afraid of making a misstep. Or perhaps she was focused on her breasts—as he was—for they were practically popping out of her bodice. This dress was cut low and her breasts were pushed up, giving the illusion of escape. Perhaps she couldn’t see past them.

Her gaze moved up for a moment and she stopped there in the middle of the hall, gazing at him in surprise.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered to the smiling women beside him.

“Aye. We thought you would be pleased.”

“Pleased?” Was he pleased? She was lovely, it was true. Her midnight hair had been brushed to a high shine and piled on top her head. A few wisps touched her elegant neck.

He’d known attraction before. But this was more than attraction, this was full-on lust. When he’d dreamed of her, she’d come to him rumpled and uncertain as he was used to seeing her. Not this graceful vixen.

The knowledge that he could actually have her because they were wed took his excitement to a higher level than he’d experienced in ages.

Not since—

“Bloody hell,” he repeated. “What did you do to her?”

Instead of answering, Kenna frowned and nodded at Dorie, who was still motionless in the hall. “Go to her and lead her to the table as your mother taught you, Bryce Thomas.”

Jumping up, he hurried to his wife’s side and led her to the table.

“You look beautiful,” he said, gazing down at her breasts. They were even more glorious up close. What spell had she placed on him?

When she smiled back at him, his earlier plan to offer meaningless words went to hell. For when he leaned over and said, “The gown is lovely, but I can’t wait to have you out of it,” he meant every word.