Page 216 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Is it? I see the way he looks at ye.”

Her heart beat painfully fast. “All men see is lust.”

He grunted. “I am still vigorous enough to understand and recognize desire when I see it.”

“Grandfather!”

“Dinna’ act like a thirteen-year-old virgin. Ye were married eight years, and I made sure ye understood the reality of life from the time you were a child. He wants you, which is to his credit. Many men would blame a woman for what happened to ye and hold a grudge. ‘Tis not so with St. Claire. What will ye do if you find yourself pregnant with his brother’s child?”

Rhoslyn drew a sharp breath before catching herself.

Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “Ye are no’ already carrying his child, are you?”

“I am no’ pregnant,” she snapped.

“Have ye had your flux?”

She stared in horror. “That is none of your business.”

He gave a succinct nod. “Just as I thought. ‘Tis time ye got down to the business of bedding your husband.”

“Business? Is that how ye see my marriage?”

“In this case, yes. You did no’ marry the man out of love.” His expression softened. “I say this for your own good. You canna’ allow what happened to paralyze you. You could have done worse than Talbot. Ye could have gotten a man like his brother.”

She shuddered. Worse, his brother could have succeeded.

When Rhoslyn neared the stables that afternoon, male laughter coming from the side of the building caused her to slow.

“Go on, lad, you can catch her,” came a deep English voice she didn’t recognize.

Another round of laughter went up, even more boisterous than the last. She crept forward and peered around the edge of the building. St. Claire and several of his men stood facing the far side of the building. Sounds of a scuffle ensued, and St. Claire threw back his head and laughed. Rhoslyn startled at the sound of his rich laughter amongst the guffaws of his men. Although she watched him in profile, she noticed a softening of the normally hard lines of his face. He looked ten years younger.

His broad shoulders shook with laughter. “Have you not the bollocks to tame her, lad?”

“Is that how you let a female treat you?” a third said, and more laughter erupted.

“She willna’ obey me,” a young male voice replied.

Rhoslyn recognized John Forster’s voice, eldest son of the most prominent freeman who worked their land.

“You cornered her,” a large man said. “Now you must bring her to heel or she will never obey you.”

“Show her who is master,” another said.

“Give her a good swat on the rump,” one said. “That will teach her you mean business.”

“That never works,” another said. “Mount her, lad. Do not give her a chance to get away.”

A hard bump against the wall was followed by a woman’s cry.

“Ina, I didna’ mean to hurt ye,” John said. “Hold still, damn you.”

The sound of a body knocking hard against the wall came next.

Rhoslyn froze.

Some of the men darted from view around the building.