Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(63)

“English chit,” Diocail declared. “I pity the man ye wed her to.”

“You swine.” Katherine drew in a deep breath and looked at Morton. “How much longer must I endure this country?”

“As long as I tell ye to, madam.” Morton sent her a stern warning look.

Katherine played her part, folding under the power of the earl’s gaze and lowering herself before him. When she straightened, she began to pluck at the front of her skirt as though she was nervous.

“So, is it an agreement?” Adwin pressed the earl.

“A poor one, if ye ask me,” Diocail added. “One day in her company, and ye’ll be begging her father to take her back.”

“You cannot expect me to enjoy being taken to your barbaric Highlands,” Katherine informed Diocail. “Savages. The lot of them.”

“Hold yer tongue, woman.” Morton pointed at her. “Or I’ll have ye locked in a bridle.”

Katherine shut her mouth, inwardly cringing at the thought of such a device being used on her. It was a cage of sorts that went over the head, with a plate inserted into the mouth that often included hooks or barbs to cut into the tongue. It would be locked at the back and was often used on women for gossiping.

Adwin let out a bark of laughter. “No’ so happy to be here now… Are ye, mistress?” He reached up and tugged on his bonnet again. “Sorry, my lord, but I can nae hide the fact that I will be well rid of her. Still do nae understand what Rolfe was thinking to try to keep her.”

“He claimed to have wed her.”

Adwin grinned, and Diocail made a show of smothering his amusement. “His father would have his balls first.”

Even though it was part of the charade, Katherine still cringed. Rolfe’s father wouldn’t receive the news of their wedding well. Of course, at the moment it hardly mattered. Morton was much the same. She shied away from thinking that he looked even more arrogant, because circumstances were dire enough without adding to them.

The dress they’d found for her was a sturdy wool one. It was a fine, soft weave that was dyed a dark blue. As she’d come through the court, she’d passed ladies in full court fashion, with farthingales, face paint, and even wigs. Some of them wore a fortune in pearls and gold.

Morton himself was turned out in a fine doublet made of brocade. His buttons were solid gold and his fingernails buffed from being attended. He looked down at her from his throne and contemplated her in exactly the way she’d remembered. As if he was gauging her value.

“Ye can have yer master back,” Morton declared. “And he can go home and tell his father why he is no’ gaining the title I promised. That will be the price for his son’s disobedience.”

Adwin started to argue, but the earl slapped the arm of the chair. “That is the only offer I will make. Take him and go, before I decide to keep them both.”

Adwin made a show of wrestling with the earl’s warning. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet at last, earning a grunt from Morton.

“And tell yer fellow Highlanders what happens to ye when ye try to dupe me.”

Relief moved through her. Katherine looked at the floor to hide the feeling. She didn’t dare allow it to be seen. She heard the outer doors opening, and there was a moment when Adwin and Diocail hesitated to leave her. It endeared them to her, but she couldn’t allow it, so she lifted her face and wrinkled her nose at them.

“At last, I am free of you.”

She made sure to enunciate her words. Beyond the doors, her English accent was clearly noted, earning her as many scowls as curious looks. It was nothing new; neither was being in the Earl of Morton’s power. The doors closed, leaving her facing the man.

“Well, now, mistress, ye are no’ too young any longer.” His gaze lingered on her breasts. “No’ a bit.”

*

“Are ye daft, Adwin?” Rolfe was seething. They’d barely made it off the street and into the boardinghouse before he let loose.“How could ye give Kat to that man?”

“Truth was, it was her idea.”

Rolfe growled, his temper darkening his complexion.

“The best idea we had at hand,” Diocail Gordon added as he placed a bowl on the table. “Ye could no’ have done better.”

“I would never take me freedom at the cost of me wife’s,” Rolfe sneered.

“Thing is,” Adwin replied, “she was right about one thing. The earl will no’ be putting her in chains.”

“And there was no other way, short of divine intervention, that we were going to get ye out of that dungeon,” Diocail added. “So we listened to the lass. It was sound thinking.”

Rolfe wanted to argue more, but his belly was knotted with hunger. While his will was raging, his flesh was needy. Two days without food, and the scent of the stew being served to him was making his mouth water, reducing him to little better than a hound.

He mopped up the last of the bowl’s contents with a hunk of bread. Diocail and Adwin had settled down beside him, the rest of the tables in the boardinghouse empty after they had tossed some silver on the tables to encourage the occupants to leave.

“The lass will be abovestairs somewhere.” Adwin spoke softly. “The earl does nae suspect she is anything except a biddable female.”