Page 33 of Married to her Kilted Enemy

Silence fell once more, the tension hanging thick in the air between them. Neither of them moved for some time. Memories of their intimate encounter raced through Maddison’s mind. The guilt she felt at betraying her own vow through the pleasure she had taken from, and given to, the husband she was supposed to hate expanded inside her, tormenting her.

How could I have done it? What was I thinking? He must think he’s won!

Finally, with a deep sigh, Odhrán laid out his blanket and made his bed by the fireside, curling himself into it and laying his head on the pillow with a sigh. Maddison waited and waited, listening for the change in his breathing that would tell her he was asleep and posed no further danger to her that night. It came after a while, the slow rhythmic breaths, and she finally allowed herself to relax.

But for a long time, sleep eluded her as visions of her and Odhrán’s bodies entwined, their hands and eyes and lips exploring each other’s hidden places, played over and over in her mind. She could still feel the dampness between her legs where he had caressed her, and the ache where his fingers and mouth had beguiled her into so much passion. The taste of him lingered on her lips.

How could I have let him dae such things tae me? How could I have behaved so wantonly? And the things I did tae him! Me, still a maid!

Feeling miserable and confused, she stared up at the ceiling as the lamps burned low. Tomorrow would come, she knew, and she had no idea how she would face him after what had happened.

But was it so wrong after all?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Odhrán’s sleep was plagued by strange dreams. In them, he was making love to Maddison, and she was returning his passion with a fiery intensity, their naked bodies entwined, slick with sweat, aroused him, even in the dream. And even in the dream, a warm, buoyant feeling of elation filled his whole being, a feeling that he had secretly yearned for yet had eluded him his whole adult life… it was the feeling of being wanted, of being complete, of being loved.

But that wonderful part of the dream always ended with Maddison changing into a hissing wildcat, scratching and clawing at him with her nails, biting him, snarling and violently pushing him away.

He awoke suddenly at dawn, his mind clouded by the dreams, his manhood stiff and aching. He turned over onto his back with a groan and was mildly surprised to find himself on the floor by the hearth, not in the bed with Maddison as he had dreamt. Instantly, he was burningly aware of her being there, just feet away, breathing gently in her slumber.

All the laughter and loving they had shared the night before flooded vividly back to him. Urged by his arousal, he longed to climb in there with her, to worship her body with his own as he had the night before, and for her to return his devotion.

But cold reality set in at once, dousing his arousal in cold water and chasing away the elation. He pushed aside the blanket and sat up, raking his fingers through his hair. Disappointment, misery, and sense of hopelessness lodged like a ball of ice in his belly.

Hearing a stirring in the bed, he looked over to see Maddison was sitting up too. She yawned and stretched in a manner not unlike the wildcat of his dreams. But then, their eyes locked across the room, and she looked away hastily, her cheeks suddenly flooded with crimson. Her reaction was like a lance piercing his heart.

“Good mornin’,” he murmured with an air of resignation, seeing nothing had changed since her rejection the night before. He got up and folded his blanket, gently placing the blanket and pillow at the end of the bed, trying not to look at her. But she was so alluring, coming fresh from sleep, he could not help stealing glances at her as he went about getting ready for the day.

“Mmm,” she murmured, her face still a picture of embarrassment. His heart dropped further, her continued rejection making things feel so much worse after the elation he had briefly experienced, both the night before as well as in his dreams. True, physically speaking, he felt unusually sated, some of the tension gone from his body. But inside, the loss of the new-found warmth between them felt like a coveted, hard-won prize had been snatched from his grasp at the last moment.

The tension broke between them at the arrival of Joseph and Jessica, who came bearing hot water for washing and a breakfast tray, respectively. The look of relief on Maddison’s face at the interruption stung Odhrán. But he hid his hurt under a stern mask, letting Joseph stoke up the fire and help him to finish dressing for the day.

Once he had dismissed the old valet and was ensconced in the chair by the fire with the breakfast tray laid before him, drinking hot tea, he covertly watched as Maddison drank hers in bed and then got out. Her lithe curves were clearly silhouetted through her shift by the creeping sunlight. Odhrán felt a twinge of desire before she cast him an indecipherable glance and drew the bed curtains with a sharp tug, so Jessica could help her dress out of sight.

A short while later, she emerged clad in a plum-colored, woolen dress with a high neck and long sleeves, as if determined to hide her body from him. He continued watching from the corner of his eye while she sat at the mirror and Jessica brushed out her long, shining, mahogany tresses and pinned them up in loose bun. His heart throbbed to recall how soft her hair had felt between his fingers the night before when he had run his hands through it, and he longed to touch it again.

When Jessica finally left and they were alone again, he tried to take heart, resolving to at least try to win back her support while his cousin was still around.

“Will ye join me at breakfast?” he dared to ask at last, gesturing with his hand at the toasted bannocks which he knew she liked. But she shook her head as she fetched a shawl and wrapped herself in it.

“Nay, I have tae go,” she said, exchanging her slippers for shoes.

“Go? Go where? At this hour?” he asked, bewildered.

“Tae see Alana.”

“Alana? But whatever fer?” he asked in frustration.

“That’s nae any of yer business,” she told him coldly, clearly preparing to leave in a hurry. Anxiety gripped him.

“But what about luncheon? What about Rollo?”

“What about him?” she asked over her shoulder, her hand on the door latch.

“Ye promised tae help me out while Rollo and his family are here,” he pointed out doggedly, “and they’ll be joining us fer lunch before they leave. I would like ye tae be there.”

“Tae defend ye, ye mean?”