The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(73)

The bottom fell out of her stomach. The coldness of his tone bit into her. Don’t, she told herself, but hot, choking tears sprang to her eyes. Why did he have to act like this? Would it be too hard to give her one little tender look? One nice word to hold on to? Why must he always hold himself apart? The great chief, the great warrior, but what of the man? “Where are you going?”

His jaw clamped down and his mouth tightened. “I do not like being questioned, Christina. As I’ve told you before, I’m attending to clan business. It’s nothing to concern you.”

That was it? That was all the explanation he intended to give her? She knew he didn’t like to be pushed, but she was tired of his secretiveness. She sat up, dragging the sheet up to cover her nakedness. His eyes dipped anyway, lingering for a moment on the round rise of flesh visible above the sheet. But right now the flare of lust only angered her. She wanted more. Her fists balled in the sheets. “You won’t even tell me where you are going? Does a wife not have a right to know where her husband goes when he leaves her for days on end without explanation?”

“Nay, she does not,” he said harshly.

Her eyes widened in shock, getting her first personal glimpse of the cold ruthlessness that made him a vaunted chief and feared warrior.

“You are making something out of nothing,” he assuaged, as if he were speaking to a child. “There is nothing to tell.”

The condescension in his tone stung. She was a plaything, not worthy of his confidences. Apparently, deciding he was done with her, he turned to leave, his back hard and unyielding. Hurt, angry, and confused, she couldn’t stop herself from blurting shrilly, “Is Lady Janet going?”

He stopped in his tracks and then turned toward her slowly, his eyes pinning her. “Why would you ask that?”

Cheeks burning, feeling like muck under his heel, she fought to hold his stare and not to crumple into a ball. “I know who she is,” she said boldly, lifting her chin and daring him to deny it. “I couldn’t help but notice how she is often gone as well.”

His eyes narrowed. Not muck, she thought, a bug under a rock. A silly, foolish, inconsequential bug. “What are you accusing me of, Christina?” His voice was low and even, but she was not fooled. He was furious. This was not a subject a wife should bring up. She was supposed to ignore such arrangements. Pretend they didn’t exist. Pretend she didn’t care. But she did, and the thought of him being with another woman ripped her in two.

“It’s not an accusation,” she said, her voice quivering with the tight ball of emotion in her throat. “Merely an observation.”

“Rest assured,” he said, with a long drag of his gaze down her body. The heat in his eyes incinerated the thin linen sheet that covered her nakedness. Her traitorous skin flushed with awareness, her ni**les hardening to a taut peak. “Seeking another woman’s bed has not yet crossed my mind.” Yet. Her heart tumbled, skewered by a fiery arrow of pain. “Thus far, I’ve been well satisfied in that arena.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

His mouth tightened. “Reassuring you is not required.”

Christina sucked in her breath. He’d put her firmly in her place. She should have known better. She could not force the declaration from him that she wanted. A wife had no claim on her husband’s fidelity. If he wanted to have a leman, he would, and there was nothing that she could do about it. She could not force him to do anything. His will was implacable. The more she pushed, the colder and harder he resisted. But if she didn’t push, how else was she going to break through?

“But—”

“Janet is none of your concern. None of this is any of your concern.” The cold steel in his voice cut her off as decisively as the blade of the sword he wielded with such brute force. “Stay out of it, Christina. I mean it.” His gaze softened just a little. “I have no wish to hurt you, but I will not tolerate interference. Attend to your duties, leave me to mine, and all will be well. Interfere and you will only bring trouble down on both our heads.”

And with that ominous warning ringing in her ears, he turned on his heel and left.

Sixteen

Three days later the tears had dried, but Christina was still smarting from her husband’s blunt set-down. The injustice outraged her. How could he speak to her so harshly? Everything she’d done since arriving here had been to try to please him—even using wanton attempts to please him in bed. One minute they were sharing the most sensual experience of her life, doing erotic, wicked things that she could never have imagined. In those moments, she’d never felt closer to anyone. The next he was firmly putting her in her place. Distancing himself. Shutting her out. Making her feel like a shameless harlot for attempting to win him with her body.

Was passion all he was going to ever give her?

It certainly seemed that way.

She’d dreamed of so much more. If he would just open up a little, she knew it could be wonderful. He was so alone; he needed a little warmth in his life. But it was like trying to chip stone with a needle of bone—exhausting, and doomed to failure.

To Hades with him. The flash of anger surprised her. But if this was how it was going to be—if passion was all he would give her—she was going to take it and find a way to eke out a little happiness for herself.

And that didn’t include sharing him with Lady Janet.