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Opening his eyes, he gazed down upon her. She settled closer to him, her eyelids moving as she dreamed, and a little snore escaping her.

He grinned, utterly entranced.

Odin’s bones, this delectable woman was his wife. His wife.

How in hell was he going to keep his hands off her?

Even now, desire surged through him, and his cock grew hard beneath her.

As surely as heather bloomed in the Highlands, they’d share his chamber at Eytone Hall. After all, why would two people so in love that they’d toddled off to exchange vows over the anvil keep separate rooms?

Perhaps he could persuade Berget, his brother Graeme’s bride of only a few months, to move them to a bigger chamber at least. One with a dressing room attached.

Aye, that might do.

He could sleep in there, but he’d have to take care the servants didn’t learn of it.

Shite,who was he trying to fool? Servants knew everything.

He’d think of something. Maybe he’d request another assignment immediately.

Except, he didn’t want Bethea to feel he’d deserted her. She’d struggled enough about their forced marriage. If he took off at once, wouldn’t she feel abandoned and betrayed?

Permitting his eyelids to drift close again, he pondered Sir Walter’s decision to assign Bryston the task of seeing a petulant Etherington to London. Accompanied by six soldiers, Bryston had given a cocky salute, and his mouth quirked into an even cockier grin, had promised to contact Camden the instant he returned to Scotland.

The six mercenaries had received their pay and bonus and had been summarily discharged. None, save Anderson, grumbled overly much. They’d appreciated the relatively easy work and generous payments.

However, as Etherington was in custody and Montieth soon would be, their services were no longer required. In truth, Camden had never trusted the scurvy lot.

Bryston still didn’t know the whole of the tale about Camden and Bethea’s false betrothal and their very real marriage. Camden hadn’t missed the hilarity in Bryston’s eyes and voice, either. He thought fate had trapped Camden. Little did Bryston know how willingly Camden had walked into the snare.

Camden quite looked forward to calling on the Earl of Montieth. And perhaps, breaking the assling’s nose or rendering him a eunuch over what he’d intended for Bethea.

For her part, she’d explained precisely which volumes to remove to reveal the hidden compartment. Camden was confident they’d have no trouble finding it.

What he wasn’t confident about was Keane’s reception in a few minutes.

They neared Bethea’s home, and he gently shook her awake. “Bethea, darlin’, we’re almost there.”

She stirred and slowly opened her eyes, blinking up at him. Still drowsy, her quicksilver gaze was soft and slightly confused. He knew the moment she remembered all that had occurred, and she swiftly sat up.

“Did I truly sleep the entire journey?” she asked groggily as she smoothed her palms over her hair.

“Aye. Ye were exhausted.” He tucked a silky tress behind her ear. “How is yer headache?”

“Och, ’tis gone.” Glancing out the window, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and clamped down with her neat upper teeth. “I dinna ken what to expect.” She sent him a sideways glance. “When they find out we’re married…”

When Keane found out, she meant.

A flush pinkened her cheeks, but she didn’t look away.

“I’ll be right there with ye. I dinna see how anyone can object when they ken the circumstances.” He hoped to God that was true.

Keane might not see it that way.

Eyes wide and uncertain, Bethea gave a small nod.

He despised seeing this vivacious woman trepidatious about facing her family.