Page 34 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

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Dorie’s hands trembled as they approached the chamber she would be sharing with her husband. Tonight was different from the last time they’d entered his chamber together. She could walk under her own power for one thing, but that wasn’t the only difference. The air between them practically sizzled with attraction.

She wondered what had caused his reaction. Surprisingly, it wasn’t just the new gown and having her hair done. He’d hardly looked at her dress or her hair. His gaze had been on her face.

And her breasts.

The women in the kitchen had mentioned how enthralled men were with breasts. It was the reason Kenna and Mari had designed this gown with such a low neckline, despite Dorie’s protests. They just smiled and told her to trust them.

So she had. And look what had happened.

She swallowed. Exactly what she’d wanted to happen. The way Bryce was looking at her—as though she were a gooseberry tart—made her heart pound. She’d never felt like this before—nervous and hot and cold and shivery all at the same time—but she knew from listening to Kenna’s bawdy talk that it would all end in enjoyment. Or so the other women had made it seem. Dorie now wished she had asked for more details.

So far, all she knew was she was supposed to put her mouth…somewhere…and he would fall helpless to her wishes. Surely Bryce would be able to instruct her in the ways a wife was supposed to please her husband.

She whimpered when he shut the door behind him, leaving the dog on the other side. He slid the bar into place and turned toward her. Pushing away the fear of being trapped, she forced a smile to her lips. The door was locked from the inside. She could get out if she needed to.

And at the moment, she didn’t want to go anywhere. Because Bryce was here with her.

“Would you like help unlacing your gown?” he asked. The suggestion was politely helpful, but the tone of his voice and the way he watched her sent a thrill through her whole being.

She nodded and lit another lamp by the bed.

He came closer and bent his head right by her neck. She could feel his breath on her skin and closed her eyes, letting the warmth settle over her. He’d just untied her laces and had loosened the strings when his hands stilled.

She felt his tension and turned to see what was amiss. He was standing and staring at the nightstand where she’d set out her things. His eyes, filled with hunger just a moment ago, were hard and angry.

She stepped away, holding her gown in front of her.

Was he angry that she’d put her things out to be seen? Perhaps he liked things to be tidy and put away.

“Why do you have these? They’re not yours,” he snapped. “I will see you get what you need. Put these back where you got them this instant.”

Jumping, she lurched forward and picked up the brush and comb set. She spun toward the door. She’d managed to get the bar off while still holding up her dress, but Bryce was there again, even angrier.

“Where do you think you’re going? Give them to me.” He snatched them from her hands and marched to the trunk at the end of the bed. Throwing open the lid, he stopped abruptly. He must have seen the brush and comb set she’d found there before. The set that looked so similar to the one the dowager had given her.

He turned to Dorie, confusion on his face. “These aren’t Maggie’s.”

She shook her head quickly.

“I thought you—” He stopped and took a step toward her.

She jumped back and winced, expecting pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

She would have liked to see the expression on his face, but tears had blurred her vision and were now streaming down her cheeks.

“Lass…” He took the set and returned them to the small table by the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. She could see clearly enough to take in the pain in his eyes. She didn’t know what she’d done to cause him such agony, but she didn’t want him to hurt. He’d been hurting for so long.

When she reached out, he turned sharply and went to the door. Her hand dropped as he opened it, and she braced herself for the door to close and the suffocating feeling of being trapped to grip her. But it didn’t come.

Instead of leaving the room as she expected, he paused there for a long moment, then closed the door again and slid the bar back in place.

He came to stand before her, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “I used to run away when I’d upset Maggie, to give us time to calm down and speak without angry words between us.” He ran his hand over his hair. “I deserve your angry words. I deserve to have you yell and call me horrible names. But you won’t, because you won’t talk to me.”