Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(43)

“And sending her home with Marcus will even out the debt.”

Rolfe shook his head. “I can nae let her go.”

It was an admission, one Adwin wouldn’t dismiss because he knew Rolfe very well. Adwin still held Rolfe’s gaze for a time before shaking his head. “Well, ye’re no’ the first man to be taken by a lass and no’ able to separate business from yer cravings.”

“And I can no’ refuse to go to see Morton, since me father has ordered it so.” Rolfe inhaled deeply.

“So ye’ll wed her to deny Morton an easy path to claiming her,” Adwin said.

Rolfe slowly smiled.

“Get in one of those tubs, Adwin. Ye know there is naught like a wedding to make the lasses more receptive to a man’s charms after the feast has been finished. A few of Duncan’s housemaids watch ye as if ye’re something they’d like a taste of.”

His captain slowly grinned, a flicker of wicked knowledge in his eyes. He left the bonnet on the floor and unbuckled his belt. “That’s a solid fact, and I won’t have to be worrying about them following me home.”

Rolfe heard his friend shucking the last of his clothing before taking one of the kettles hanging over the fire and pouring the hot water into a tub. Then there was a splash and a sound of male enjoyment as Adwin settled into the bath.

*

It was over so quickly.

Katherine still heard her blood roaring in her ears, while each breath took effort. Her fingers felt like ice, while her body was hot, and her thoughts jumped about like rabbits after a spring rain.

“She’s going to wilt.”

Katherine stiffened and turned her head away from Rolfe to look at his captain. “I will do no such thing.”

Adwin was cleaner than she’d ever seen the man, his shoulder-length hair brushed and tied back, while his bonnet looked as if someone had brushed the dust of the road off it. Even his beard was trimmed and free of crumbs. He tilted his head to one side and fixed her with a narrow-eyed look. “Are ye doing that on purpose? Sounding more English?”

“She’s nervous,” Rolfe answered his captain.

Katherine returned her attention to him.

To her husband.

The word felt odd as she contemplated the look of satisfaction in his eyes. Many would tell her it was lust and the knowledge that he would have satisfaction now that the priest had finished the blessing.

She wanted to believe it was more.

Perhaps she was doomed to be cut deeply in the morning when Fate showed her again how little she seemed to be worth to those around her and Rolfe proved he’d wanted to bed her naught more. But for the moment, she enjoyed the way Rolfe gently captured her hands and warmed her icy digits.

“Nervous.” Duncan spoke smoothly from where he stood near Rolfe. “Nothing a good drink will nae soothe.”

Duncan’s people were enjoying the excuse to celebrate. The hall was full of music and good food. Although the Head of House had been given very little warning of the wedding, the woman had done a fine job in laying out a feast.

“Come, my friend.” Duncan indicated the two chairs in the middle of the head table. It was the place of honor reserved for the laird, but Duncan made it clear that Rolfe and Katherine would preside over the feast.

Katherine shuffled up the stairs, feeling all eyes on her and blushing because she was so ungraceful in the gown she wore. The lessons of her childhood paled against the reality of dealing with a boned farthingale and two skirts that had more fabric in them than anything she’d ever worn.

Two Lindsey women leaned over behind her and tugged the whole ensemble up when she sat down, tucking the fabric around her before two retainers pushed her chair forward toward the table.

“So lovely to see yer mother’s dress being used.”

It was the Head of House who spoke, and she sent a firm look straight at Duncan that made the man pause. Katherine gained a rare glimpse of the burly Highlander being taken down a peg before he masked his emotions and resumed offering the first toast to them.

The music was a fine treat, and servant after servant presented trays loaded with meat, fruit, cheese, and other delights.

Rolfe looked toward her after she stopped eating. “Ye do nae care for the fare?”

She discovered her breath catching. Suddenly, she was unbearably conscious of the fact that he had the right to touch her, and the rather firm knowledge that she wanted him to exercise that right.

He pointed at a platter, and a maid hurried over to carry it to him.

“No, really, I cannot eat another bite.”

“Ye’ve barely touched yer supper.” Rolfe contemplated her plate. “Me reputation could use a bit of a shine from everyone saying I made ye forget to eat in yer haste to get to the bedchamber, but—”

She lifted her hand and delivered a light blow to his arm in reprimand. “Honestly,” she said under her breath. “Keep talking like that, and you will spend your wedding night in the stocks for pride.”

Rolfe grinned at her and pointed at something off to her left. When Katherine turned her head, she caught sight of the clan priest. He had his head tipped back to empty his mug, and when the man finished, he licked his lips, to the delight of those sitting near him. A maid was already lifting a pitcher to refill the man’s mug when he started singing.

“The man seems to feel morality has been well and truly served by our wedding.” Rolfe spoke close to her ear.