‘Must you insist on humiliating me at every turn?’ she snapped.
‘Aye,’ Bryce replied, smacking her soundly on the bottom and laughing.
***
The dress was wholly unsuitable for riding, but thankfully, the day was bright with sunshine. Soon they were trotting on the road to Inverness, Maren trying to hold onto the elaborate bun the lass had put her hair into. Bryce seemed in fearful haste to get there, and when they arrived at the bustling town, he had more horrors in store. Maren wanted to take in the lively streets, the grand buildings and the smells and sounds of the market, for she had seldom been to Inverness. But Bryce had other ideas. He deposited her in the corner of a tavern, ordered her an ale and stood over her.
‘I have to leave you for a while. Can you look after yourself?’
Maren sighed with impatience. She was cold, tired and losing her temper. ‘Of course, I can. I am not a bairn.’
‘Good. Now I have to see to a marriage contract.’
Heat flooded her face. ‘What for? I thought it was all just a ruse. You cannot be in earnest.’
His face became grave, and he frowned, looking intensely at her. ‘Why not?’ he declared. ‘Marriage to you would certainly be an adventure, and I find you are growing on me, Maren. Aye, ‘tis strange, but I feel I have known you a long time and I…well, you might ease my loneliness.’ His eyes dipped to her bosom, peeking over the bodice of her dress. ‘And much else besides.’ He smiled and then looked at his boots. ‘I find that once I start looking at you, Maren, I cannot stop. Why is that?’
‘Because you are a simpleton and a lecher to boot. Look here, I don’t wish to be wed, and even if I did, you are the last man in the world who I would wish to marry. You have no interest in me beyond the carnal, and that urge you can ease anywhere. And you don’t even know my full name.’
Bryce’s face fell, and for a moment, Maren feared she had hurt his feelings, but it was clear he had none, for the next moment, he burst out laughing.
‘I was in jest, you little fool. I’ve no wish to wed you either. But, goodness, your face was a picture. Now, I know a fellow called Penry who is in desperate need of coin, so wait here a while and I will see to a marriage contract which will pass for the real thing.’
‘More bribery? Greasing another palm? My word, Bryce, is there nothing you won’t do to get your way?’
‘You don’t know the half of it, lass. You mistake me for a gentleman, but I am even more of a villain than you think.’
The solemnity in Bryce’s voice had Maren’s heart racing. What on earth did he mean by that? And what peril had she now plunged into by trusting this handsome fool?
Bryce leaned in, his cheek brushing hers like a flame sweeping across it. ‘I told you coming with me would be an adventure, did I not?’ he breathed. ‘Now, I forgot to ask. What is your family name, lass?’
‘McEwen.’
‘Well, you need to forget who you once were and become someone else to pass for a well-bred bride.’
‘Easily done, and I have just the story to fool your father.’
Bryce frowned at her. He had absolutely no idea who he was dealing with.
***
The ride to Bryce’s home of Penhallion took them through deep valleys cut into soaring mountains. Thankfully the rain held off, so when they stopped atop a hill, and Bryce turned and said, ‘My home lies just yonder, down below,’ Maren still looked like a lady in her dress with her teased hair.
Throughout the ride, she had steeled herself to face whatever lay in wait at Bryce’s home, but nothing could have prepared her for her first look at Penhallion coming into view between the trees. It was no modest tower house or country manor but a castle with soaring walls, surrounded by a walled garden and backed by miles of dense forest. A brisk wind seemed to whine its disapproval of her deceit, for it picked at Maren’s hair, blew her skirts against her legs and settled into her bones.
What was she thinking to agree to this? A great place such as Penhallion would spit her out in disgust. The people there would look down their noses at her as though she was a slug they found in their cabbage, or a piece of vermin in the bed, to be squashed underfoot.
They halted before the wide gates, and Bryce caught her eye, and with understanding all over his face, he reached out and took Maren’s hand. His palm was broad and a little rougher than expected, as she had always thought gentlemen had soft, white hands, spared the hard work of the poor.
Unbidden, a thought entered her head. What would that hand feel like, slowly caressing her skin? What price would she have to pay the Devil for one more taste of his full, sensual mouth? She gave Bryce a quick glance. He had no paunch, like many of the overblown gluttons amongst the rich. No, Bryce was hard-muscled, lean and virile, drawing admiring glances from any woman who crossed his path. He turned and smiled down at her in what he meant to be a reassuring way. But it had the opposite effect on Maren. Suddenly, she wanted him and almost cried out at the pulse of lust low in her belly. She prayed he could not feel her thoughts through the skin of her hand.
‘Are you alright, lass? You look a little flushed,’ he said with genuine concern. ‘Fear not. I am with you. We can do this, and my father, Jasper, is no ogre. He will not rant and rave at a lass no matter how taken aback he might be at our nuptials.’
Maren was suddenly fearful - of the castle before her and its occupants, the soft feelings stirring inside her towards Bryce, and of her past catching up with her. ‘No. Wait,’ she cried. ‘Please. I did not think Penhallion would be so grand.’
‘We are not so grand, us Cullans. We have few airs and graces here. Now listen. My father will be wary at first, and then he will ask questions and most likely flirt a little, for he cannot hold himself in check around beauty. Pay him no heed, and look to me for guidance.’
‘Bryce, they will see me for what I am. I can’t do this. I want to go. You said I could go.’
