Read Online Knight in Highland Armor by Amy Jarecki - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amy Jarecki
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slapped his reins against his steed’s shoulder and led the procession to the stables at the back of the inn.
He bit the inside of his cheek. He detested his behavior last eve. Though Margaret had lain on the bed and submitted to his advances, it still didn’t feel right. Taking a virgin wife like she was a village whore? He would kill any man for committing such an offense. His self-loathing escalated to new heights, first because of Jonet’s death, and now because he couldn’t find it in his heart to give Margaret due respect—tenderness, even.
Though he had a responsibility to procreate, he could not visit her bed again. He vowed he’d not again tread on her honor. She was a highborn lady and he would protect her as member of his house. She would raise his son, and for that Colin must be grateful.
After dismounting, he strode straight to Margaret’s mare. She’d already slipped her leg off the upper pommel of her sidesaddle and braced for a side dismount. Doubtless she had performed the maneuver on her own several times, but no wife of his would be left to dismount unassisted.
Colin reached up and clamped his hands on her waist. “Allow me.” Her midriff was pliable and warm to the touch. On their own volition, his fingers kneaded her flesh, a faint recollection sparked. Their coupling last eve hadn’t been entirely unpleasant.
White lines formed around her pursed lips. “I am quite capable.”
Ignoring her, he lifted. She was so light—far more petite than Jonet had been. He nearly lost her over his shoulder. With a grunt, he steadied himself and recovered, lightly placing Margaret on her feet.
“Thank you, my lord ,” she clipped. The sarcasm in her voice did not go unnoticed. She despised him for certain.
“I apologize if I was a wee bit heavy-handed.” Colin didn’t release his grip right away, befuddled that encircling her tiny waist, his fingertips touched. Beneath the folds of her gown, and most likely due to his own pigheadedness, last eve he hadn’t realized how small Margaret actually was. He could have broken the lass, climbing on top of her and having his way. Colin’s gut roiled. He deserved her cool indifference.
Margaret cleared her throat and eyed him with not a glimmer of amusement. In fact, she looked rather angry. “I can manage from here.”
He snapped his hands away. What in God’s name was he doing standing there like a dim-witted pup? Mayhap it was best for her to be upset with him—at least for now. He cleared his throat. “I’ve arranged for you to have your own room this eve.”
“How fortunate. Please have my meal sent up. I should prefer to eat alone.” With that, she turned on her heel. Chin held high, she strode into the inn.
Colin watched her. That blasted scent of sugared lavender trailing in her wake nearly made his knees weaken—nearly, though he stood firm. This match was going to be far more difficult than he’d imagined, especially if she kept challenging him with those green eyes. Christ almighty, they pierced through him as if she could see through to his soul.
***
Margaret sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair and worked on embroidering a skullcap for baby Duncan while the merriment below stairs rumbled up through the floorboards. Mother had suggested starting the ornate bonnet shortly after the king’s missive announcing her marriage had been received. Embroidery was a dreary way to pass the time, though Margaret enjoyed seeing the end results of her work.
This task, however, seemed more a chore of duty rather than a labor of love. She shifted in the chair, her bottom unholy sore from performing her wifely obligation and then riding all day. She prayed Colin would leave her alone and allow her some time to heal before he came to her again. Margaret shuddered as the voices rose with muffled laughter. She hoped he’d fall into his cups this night and never wake.
Tying off a stitch, she released a heavy sigh.
In all honesty, she would
He bit the inside of his cheek. He detested his behavior last eve. Though Margaret had lain on the bed and submitted to his advances, it still didn’t feel right. Taking a virgin wife like she was a village whore? He would kill any man for committing such an offense. His self-loathing escalated to new heights, first because of Jonet’s death, and now because he couldn’t find it in his heart to give Margaret due respect—tenderness, even.
Though he had a responsibility to procreate, he could not visit her bed again. He vowed he’d not again tread on her honor. She was a highborn lady and he would protect her as member of his house. She would raise his son, and for that Colin must be grateful.
After dismounting, he strode straight to Margaret’s mare. She’d already slipped her leg off the upper pommel of her sidesaddle and braced for a side dismount. Doubtless she had performed the maneuver on her own several times, but no wife of his would be left to dismount unassisted.
Colin reached up and clamped his hands on her waist. “Allow me.” Her midriff was pliable and warm to the touch. On their own volition, his fingers kneaded her flesh, a faint recollection sparked. Their coupling last eve hadn’t been entirely unpleasant.
White lines formed around her pursed lips. “I am quite capable.”
Ignoring her, he lifted. She was so light—far more petite than Jonet had been. He nearly lost her over his shoulder. With a grunt, he steadied himself and recovered, lightly placing Margaret on her feet.
“Thank you, my lord ,” she clipped. The sarcasm in her voice did not go unnoticed. She despised him for certain.
“I apologize if I was a wee bit heavy-handed.” Colin didn’t release his grip right away, befuddled that encircling her tiny waist, his fingertips touched. Beneath the folds of her gown, and most likely due to his own pigheadedness, last eve he hadn’t realized how small Margaret actually was. He could have broken the lass, climbing on top of her and having his way. Colin’s gut roiled. He deserved her cool indifference.
Margaret cleared her throat and eyed him with not a glimmer of amusement. In fact, she looked rather angry. “I can manage from here.”
He snapped his hands away. What in God’s name was he doing standing there like a dim-witted pup? Mayhap it was best for her to be upset with him—at least for now. He cleared his throat. “I’ve arranged for you to have your own room this eve.”
“How fortunate. Please have my meal sent up. I should prefer to eat alone.” With that, she turned on her heel. Chin held high, she strode into the inn.
Colin watched her. That blasted scent of sugared lavender trailing in her wake nearly made his knees weaken—nearly, though he stood firm. This match was going to be far more difficult than he’d imagined, especially if she kept challenging him with those green eyes. Christ almighty, they pierced through him as if she could see through to his soul.
***
Margaret sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair and worked on embroidering a skullcap for baby Duncan while the merriment below stairs rumbled up through the floorboards. Mother had suggested starting the ornate bonnet shortly after the king’s missive announcing her marriage had been received. Embroidery was a dreary way to pass the time, though Margaret enjoyed seeing the end results of her work.
This task, however, seemed more a chore of duty rather than a labor of love. She shifted in the chair, her bottom unholy sore from performing her wifely obligation and then riding all day. She prayed Colin would leave her alone and allow her some time to heal before he came to her again. Margaret shuddered as the voices rose with muffled laughter. She hoped he’d fall into his cups this night and never wake.
Tying off a stitch, she released a heavy sigh.
In all honesty, she would
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