Page 27

Chapter 9

After a swim in the icy loch later that evening, Angus sat on the wooden jetty by the water gate of the castle. The sun was setting over Loch Alsh, sinking behind the hills to the west. The waters were still, reflecting the frenzy of orange, pink, and gold, and the colors spilled against the blue and indigo in the east. His feet hung from the jetty and dangled. He had his fresh clothes on and felt clean, and dry, and like himself. His hair was still wet.

God Almighty, it had been so good to dip into the cool waters and forget what had happened in the negotiation room. He didn’t know how he’d marry Euphemia. Under her beautiful exterior was a woman of similar character to his father—selfish, cold, and ready to do anything to get what she wanted. Having a father like that had been bad enough. And although Angus had regretted his death, as he hadn’t wished the man harm, he did feel like a new stage of his life had begun, a free one.

And now, tying himself to Euphemia, it felt like he’d be chaining himself up once again.

Light footsteps sounded on the jetty and he turned. Lady Rogene was coming to him. He stopped breathing for a moment. She was the epitome of beauty: slender, with small breasts and fair skin, her long hair falling over her shoulders and chest. Her figure under the dress moved in the elegant ways of a highborn woman. To be the ideal, she only needed to be blond, but he’d been recently appalled by a blond woman, and he wasn’t someone who wanted an ideal, anyway.

But he wanted her.

God forgive him, he wanted her. He imagined her naked legs kicking that dress as she walked, the thin waist with a soft belly, the small breasts with bare nipples—would they be rosy like her lips or darker? he wondered. His cock began rousing again. Goddamn it! He’d just been in the lake where he’d taken care of his appetite for her behind some bushes—and now again? What was he, a goddamn bull?

But it was more than just her body, he knew. Something about her was so different from anyone he’d ever met, and as soon as she entered the surrounding space, he breathed easier, and colors gained vividness and brightness, and sounds became louder.

She came to stand next to him, and he continued looking up at her. He could just reach out, pull her by her legs, and catch her as she fell into his arms.

“Um, Angus,” she said. “Sorry. Lord Angus…”

“Ye may call me Angus,” he said, his voice rasping. He cleared his throat.

She smiled. “Well, then you can stop calling me Lady. Rogene’s fine.”

“Aye,” he said and patted the jetty by his side.

“I only came to say supper is served. Your sister wanted to go look for you, but she’s a little under the weather, so I volunteered.”

Voluntee— What was that word? It probably meant she said she’d go find him.

“Supper can wait,” he said, turning to look at the sky. The first stars were already shining in the east. “I’m nae particularly eager to get back to our guests.”

She didn’t reply, but he heard the rustle of her dress as she sat down by his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he stared at her sharp knees and slender thighs under the fabric of her dress. She sat so close, her dress was touching his hand where he held the edge of the jetty.

“But the guests are eager for you to get back.” She chuckled.

“Are they,” he said and sighed. “They can wait. I’ll have my whole life to attend to their whims.”

He saw her turn to him. “What did she suggest?”

He picked up a small piece of dry dirt and threw it into the loch. A single soft gurgle came from the spot where it went under, and the surface rippled around it.

“I’m nae sure ’tis a proper thing to tell to unmarrit ladies,” he said.

She chuckled. “Ah, come on. I’m not a—” She stopped herself suddenly, and he looked at her sharply. She kept searching for a word as her cheeks blushed, and she looked guilty, as though she’d been caught in a lie.

“Virgin?” he asked, surprised. Then his stomach fell. “Were ye raped while ye were robbed?”

She widened her eyes. “No! No. I wasn’t raped. But…” She straightened her back. “What the hell. Yes, I’m not a virgin, though I’m not sure that’s any of your business, frankly. So, anyway, you can tell me whatever it was you hesitated to tell me.”

He eyed her, and although, being raised Catholic, he expected previously unmarried young women to be virgins, he didn’t think she was a whore as he’d previously accused her of being. Jealousy stung him as he thought of the man who’d made her a woman, and he suddenly wanted to punch someone.

He turned away, cleared his throat—more to distract himself from another frenzy of dirty thoughts about her—and said, “She wants me to lie with her before the wedding. She wants a son. Soon.”

“Oh.”

“She’s nae young nae more, and she’s always wanted a boy. Her daughter is frail, poor thing, so ’tis unlikely she’ll get marrit. I suppose, I’m Euphemia’s last chance to have a legitimate heir.”

She nodded. “And you don’t want to lie with her before the wedding?”