Taming the Highland Rogue. Terri Brisbin
in their chamber. The same papers she needed to search before the wedding on the morrow.
“Mayhap after supper? He will be busy with his visitors.”
As the laird’s wife and as Countess of Douran, her presence would be required at his side until he retired. Knowing his love of celebrating and talking with visitors from all parts of Scotland, Jocelyn knew they would return to their chambers late.
Too late.
“I will think of a way,” she promised.
Connor MacLerie was a hard man; ruthless, some would say. Known as the Beast of the Highlands for too many years, he had changed during their marriage, but not enough for anyone to consider him a man who would give in to the softer feelings when managing the affairs of the clan. Decisions and alliances were made for the good of the clan and not to fulfill the whims and wishes of those under his care…and direction.
Not even hers.
Jocelyn sighed. Sometimes, he did listen to her counsel, but she wished he’d pay more heed to her suggestions. Marriage agreements were her biggest concern.
Since law and custom gave him the right and privilege and responsibility to arrange marriages for those under his protection, Connor saw little need to consult any but the father of the young man or woman involved. That was simply the way things were done. But having been bought as a bride for the MacLerie, she understood the difficulties of the situation for the woman so matched. Then, when she had raised objections to some of the matches he did make and he ignored what she considered clear, logical reasons for not approving the marriages under discussion, Jocelyn understood that speaking directly to him and making her arguments would never work.
Hence her matchmaking scheme.
But without access to the contracts and documents Connor stored in his strongboxes, she would not be prepared for the wedding on the morrow. She had not had the opportunity to examine the marriage agreement that would join Connor’s niece to the young heir to the neighboring clan. Or to see if other arrangements for other marriages had been included.
To learn if her husband had already pledged their daughter’s hand to someone. Jocelyn shivered and caught Margriet’s worried gaze.
Though Margriet’s daughters would not inherit titles or properties, they would be marriage prizes because of their father’s connection to the Earl of Orkney and the wealth bestowed on them from his family. As a mother and another bartered woman who had luckily found love with her husband, Margriet shared Jocelyn’s concerns about their daughters’ future. So, she had agreed to help Jocelyn in this endeavor.
As had Duncan’s wife, Marian, who had a daughter of marriageable age. And with her own Lilidh approaching her fifteenth year, the concerns were even more grave—it would be time to betroth her soon and Jocelyn worried over her eldest daughter’s fate.
The steward sent for her, asking for help with some of the preparations for the wedding feast and so Jocelyn found the day speeding by her with no chance to think on how she could get into the clan’s records. But, as the day passed and the evening approached, the sick feeling in her stomach increased.
She had never, in their nearly two decades of marriage, lied or misled Connor, and her actions now, though for the good of others, did not sit well in her heart. Should she tell him? Would he hear her out or simply blame her actions on her too-soft heart? Worse, would he believe that she did not trust in his decisions?
By the time she saw to everything and climbed the stairs to their chamber, she wondered if she was truly doing the best thing.
Chapter Two
The noise woke him.
The scraping of something along the stone floor dragged him awake and Connor reached for the sword always by the bedside. Reaching out to draw Jocelyn closer, protecting her if necessary, he felt an empty bed. Pushing out of the bed, he gripped the sword before him and moved silently toward the sound. He heard her breathing before he saw her walking toward him from the shadow of the alcove.
“Jocelyn? What are you doing?” he asked, sliding the sword back in its scabbard. He took a candle over and lit it from the embers of the hearth, holding it up to brighten the chamber.
“I could not sleep,” she said, gathering a bed robe closer around her. “I thought to walk but there are too many visitors within the keep.” She looked back toward the darkened corner. “Then I decided to sit over there where I would not disturb your sleep.”
Something was not right.
He walked closer and saw the chair she’d dragged across the floor, waking him…and the strongbox not three feet from there. An unlit candle sat next to the box.
“Is aught wrong, Jocelyn?” he asked, watching her face in the flickering shadows thrown by the candle. He stepped closer and took her hand. “Is there something that is worrying you?”
Jocelyn looked as though she would answer, but then she shook her head, denying what he suspected.
“Is it the bairns?” he asked, waiting for some sign in her eyes of the matter at issue. Though she liked to believe she could bluff, he could read everything in her expressive eyes and on her face.
Their children were long since infants but ’twas their habit to call them such when speaking of them together. He thought Jocelyn tried to stave off the time when they would leave her side and have their own families. If it were so, he would not argue, for he knew she had the softest of hearts when it came to her—their—children. He even delayed speaking to her of his plans to send their youngest son, Adhamh, to foster with the Robertsons, their allies and Marian’s family, in Dunalastair for fear of causing her heartache.
“All is well, Connor,” she said, smiling at him. “Truly.”
She approached him, glancing down and making him realize he stood naked before her. He stepped back, but she followed, her hand outstretched now, reaching toward his chest. “I worry that all the arrangements will go well.” She did touch him then, sliding her fingers across his own nipples and making him hiss at such a caress.
“I worry about Ailsa and Angus and if their wedding day will be uneventful.”
“Do you mean unlike our own?” he asked, trying to lighten the seriousness in her voice now. Connor thought she must be concerned over all the preparations and how they would reflect on his honor as laird and earl. Jocelyn always put him first, ever since their marriage, and it would seem she did so now.
“Ours ended well,” she assured him, still teasing his skin with the tips of her fingers and acting as though she did not do it. His cock responded even as his skin tingled beneath her touch.
“If you consider your falling asleep and then calling me by another man’s name when I did bed you ending well, then…”
He laughed then, for she looked insulted at his words until the true memories of those first nights came back to her.
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