Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(42)

Intimate…

Yes, that was the correct word, or at least when such feelings were sanctioned by the Church. Katherine came to a stop near the table, looking down at the contract. The black ink on the creamy paper would serve to legalize her relationship with a man and take it from murky, slanderous terms such as fornication into the realm of holy wedlock.

One a sin, the other a duty.

Rolfe was correct: if she refused, she was a coward. Frightened of her own gender and unwilling to embrace everything that being a woman meant. That knowledge burst upon her as she stood there, looking past the table to where the bed was.

It would have been simple for him to claim her, and not many would have reprimanded him for it.

She was English. Her blood deserved to suffer recompense.

Rolfe wasn’t that sort. She smiled as she contemplated his character. His nobility was more than a word spoken by men who didn’t care for the struggle it might take to uphold it. Rolfe embodied it.

She dipped the quill and signed her name on the bottom of the contract. Only after she’d laid the quill aside did she realize she’d held her breath.

The ink was shiny at first, slowly drying as Katherine smiled at the sight of her name.

Embrace her fate?

Indeed.

That was exactly what she would do after all.





Five


“Yer father is going to have yer balls cut off,” Adwin warned.

Rolfe reached for a lump of soap and started to wash his chest. “He might curse me, but he’d no’ want to see his bloodline ended by castrating me.”

Adwin had been worrying the edge of his bonnet. He stopped and threw the wool hat to the ground in frustration. “Ye are no’ going to talk yer way out of anything, Rolfe. Yer father will no’ forgive ye for wedding an English lass.”

Rolfe slipped down in the tub until he was submerged and came up as water went streaming down his face. He wiped it out of his eyes before working the soap into his hair. “If me father was so worried about it, he should have arranged a match for me.”

“And that is how ye repay yer father’s kindness in no’ swearing ye into a contract with a woman ye’ve never laid eyes upon?” Adwin reached down and scooped up his bonnet with a motion full of repressed anger. “Ye’re fortunate beyond measure to have a sire who thought to let ye have a look at the fillies before deciding on one for ye to marry. He has them brought up every summer, and ye know it well.”

Adwin put his bonnet back on, glaring at Rolfe.

“She’s the one I want, the one I crave.”

Adwin’s fingers went still as he locked gazes with Rolfe. The chamber was silent for a long moment before Adwin let out a snort.

“Ye would settle on an English lass.”

Rolfe went back to working the soap into his hair. “Is no’ marriage for alliances?”

His captain gripped his wide belt and scoffed at him. “Do nae think I don’t know ye are just saying what ye think will gain ye me compliance.”

“True.” Rolfe sent his captain a cocky grin. “But I’ll admit, I do nae want to be known as the man who gave Morton what he wanted, when he demanded it. There is only one way to ensure he can nae wed her to someone else for his gain, and that’s if I take her as me bride before he knows about it.”

Adwin fought it, but he ended up grinning in response. “The earl does make a fair number of demands when it comes to us Highland clans.”

“He does,” Rolfe agreed. “And I am no’ going to have him thinking I will be less difficult to bring into his plans than Marcus MacPherson was.”

Adwin’s grin widened. “No, we can nae have that. Still, it’s a dangerous game. The earl is a Douglas and will nae be duped easily, nor will he be fool enough to not see exactly what game ye are playing.”

“That’s why I’m wedding Katherine before I ride down to meet the man. I want him to know the McTavish will not be dancing to his tune like those who inhabit his court.”

Adwin’s expression became serious. “He might still dissolve the marriage, consummated or not—or worse yet, clap ye in irons. The truth is, the girl’s family has no’ agreed to the match.”

“Aye, I thought of that meself.” Rolfe slid down and submerged his head to rinse the soap from it. When he came up and wiped his eyes free of water, Adwin was waiting for an explanation. “So I hope Marcus shows up soon to attend the wedding. I sent him word of me plans.”

“Ye did…what?” Adwin was back to throwing his bonnet onto the floor. “He’s as likely to kill ye as give ye his blessing.”

“With the MacPhersons, it’s one and the same.” Rolfe leaned forward and started washing his feet. “But it beats being fool enough to ride down to Morton with Katherine, hoping the earl plans to treat the McTavish well.”

Adwin made a low sound under his breath. “The earl has no liking for the Highland clans, and that’s a well-known fact.”

“So,” Rolfe continued, “better my father’s displeasure over what I’ve done than returning home with naught.”

“But…” Adwin was stroking his beard. “Ye do nae have to wed her. The contracts would do the trick.”

Rolfe looked toward his captain. “She did keep us from having to fight the bloody Gordons.”