Brock held his new wife in his arms, a quiet peace filling him. They had managed to enjoy a peaceful night's sleep at the inn as man and wife. Late morning sun boldly illuminated the room. Brock knew he should have gotten up and roused Joanna from her slumber, but they'd traveled so hard the last few days that she deserved to rest. And he couldn't resist enjoying her like this.She was nestled against him, his arms around her, pulling her tighter to him. Having been inside her, sharing himself with her and she with him, the idea of putting any distance between them now was unfathomable. Merely holding her while his lips occasionally dropped kisses onto the damp curls of her head, filled him with a peace he'd never before experienced and never imagined he would feel.The scars left behind from his father's violence were still there, marring him inside and out. He still feared, deep down, that he would end up like his father, that he also held that cruelty within him. He feared what wo
Joanna was so angry and upset that she was shaking. This was her wedding day! She should have been enraptured, wrapped in her husband's arms, relishing the intimacy of their bed, the feel of the fire from the fireplace and the wine sweetening Brock's lips as they kissed. She was not supposed to be dealing with her bloody stubborn brother and his nonsensical ideas about what was best for her.When she heard the knock, she thought it was Brock and hastily opened the door. Ashton stood there, one hand flat on the doorjamb. She was half tempted to slam the door on his fingers. They shared a long look, a flurry of emotions passing between them.This should have been a happy reunion, Ashton hugging her tight and accepting her kiss on his cheek while she told him how happy she was. But that was never going to be the case. Instead, there was anger, sorrow, and distrust between them, clouding over the sunny memories of their youth together. She'd often heard that siblings could grow apart ove
Joanna and Brock rode in silence for a long while before she spoke."What is Castle Kincade like?"Brock grinned, his mood beginning to brighten. "It sits upon a hill, not a big one, mind, but below it is a loch, with waters as blue as the summer sky. My mother had some gardens built, but they've fallen into disrepair in the years since she died. I have no talent for them, but perhaps you could set them straight.""I would like that very much," Joanna agreed. The prospect of restoring the gardens his mother had once created seemed like a lovely idea. She was also relieved that she would have something to occupy her there. Joanna had never been the sort of woman to sit idly by when she could take charge of something."What was she like? Your mother, I mean."Brock stiffened slightly, and for a long moment Joanna wondered if he would even answer."My mother was tenderhearted. There wasn't an injured animal or wounded person that she didn't try to heal or help. There was a light in
Brock held his breath as he led Joanna into his bedchamber. It was not the official room of the laird of Castle Kinkade. That had been his father's chamber, and Brock would never sleep in that room. It was as though his father's presence still lingered there. But this chamber, the one that had two large windows facing the lake, was his favorite. It had high vaulted ceilings and a large four-poster bed with dark-blue bed hangings. Two overstuffed armchairs faced the fireplace. Joanna moved straight to them, touching the warm fabric with a smile."It's very inviting," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. Lord, he was having trouble keeping his hands off her, but he needed to. He needed to give her time to heal from the first time they were together."I'm glad you like it. If you ever wish to, you may sleep in the other room, although I hope you will stay here with me each night. Would you care to go riding before dinner?" he offered. If they were riding and touring the countrys
Joanna returned to Brock's study before dinner and found Mr. Tate thankfully absent. She'd sensed he was not at all pleased that she was here. Perhaps he didn't like that she was English, or maybe he feared that she was going to reduce some of his responsibilities in the castle. Many men would have jumped at the option to be paid the same for less work, but perhaps it was a matter of pride. Or maybe he saw his duties going to a woman as an insult. She would endeavor to do her best to put him at ease and let him know he was not going to be replaced.I want to help, that is all, and a good lady knows how to run a large household.Her mother had trained her to run a household, and her brother had taught her how to run a business, how to analyze investments, and other important financial matters. Brock's sister, Rosalind, had become a banker, which was rare, though not unheard of. Joanna rather hoped she might do the same once she and Brock had settled into married life.She examined th
Joanna felt the weight of the engagement ring on her finger, but it was not unwelcome. Rather, it was comforting to feel the press of the gold circlet beside her wedding band. She could not believe he had given her a ring that had belonged to his mother. Joy bubbled up inside her as she considered what it meant. He could try to stay distant, but she saw the heat and the longing in his eyes. It wasn't simply physical for himat least, she sensed it wasn't. She had to have faith that she could win his heart, help him realize that he wasn't like his father.We will have a happy marriage, a happy life. I refuse to believe anything else.They entered the dining room, and she gasped. It was stunning. Red satin wallpaper covered the top of the room, and the bottom half was dark with oak paneling. Portraits of noblemen in kilts and women in tartan dresses were interspersed between mounted deer heads and elk antlers. It looked in equal parts a hunting lodge and an elegant dining room, the type
It was still hours before dawn when something jolted Brock from his sleep. He struggled for a moment, the dream of riding through the forests with Joanna at his side still lingering in his mind, before a strangled panting sound caught his attention and drove him fully awake.Joanna!He turned toward his wife, and panic seized him. She was writhing in pain. Beads of sweat dewed on her forehead, and she clutched her stomach as she curled in around herself."Lass, what's wrong?" He pulled the bedclothes back, afraid he would see blood or some evidence that he had harmed her during their lovemaking, but he saw nothing save her legs, which were bent up in a state of agony. He tried to catch his breath as his heart beat a visible pulse under his skin as loud as thunder. She couldn't be ill. No, she couldn't be."Ifeel quitewretched." She leaned over the side of the bed and suddenly vomited. Brock held her, letting her heave as he pulled her hair back from her face and rubbed her back as
Brock spent three days feeding Joanna chicken broth and letting her drink water that had been boiled under Duncan's supervision. The cook was none too pleased, but she would adjust to his orders until he could figure out who was trying to harm his wife. There was a chance that Mrs. Tate was involved too, or the maid. What was her name? Maura? Yes, that was it. He'd rarely seen the girl; she was quiet and kept to herself. Once he discovered who was responsible, as the local magistrate, he would deal with the matter himself.On the fourth day, he lay sleeping fitfully next to her and woke to the feel of her kissing his forehead. He blinked, wondering if he could believe what he was seeing. Joanna was sitting up, her face no longer deathly pale and her eyes neither cloudy nor overbright."Lass?" The word came out hoarse on his tongue since he'd barely spoken in days except for brief words with Duncan."I feel better, so much better." She brushed his hair back from his eyes, and his thr