Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,58
he did, he would be sorely disappointed in finding her here.
At some time, long after the midnight hour, the door to the chamber opened. Yellow light flooded in from the torchlit hallway. ’Twas just enough light to cast the person in silhouette.
“Richard?” she said as she sat up.
Black Richard’s heart skipped a few beats the moment he saw his wife. Sleepy eyed, her hair tousled ever so slightly, his first thought was that she looked like an angel.
God’s teeth, how he wanted her. With every inch of himself he wanted to bury his head into her chestnut hair, to run his fingers across her soft skin, and trail kisses from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His gut told him to be wary; she was first and foremost a MacRay. And even if she weren’t, she was so bloody tiny, he might hurt her unintentionally. His gut, his heart, and the thoughts racing through his mind made not a bit of sense to him. How could he want someone with such an intensity, yet be afraid to touch her?
“I be sorry,” he said with a scratchy voice. As much as he wanted to crawl into the bed and take the next few hours making love to her, he couldn’t find the strength to take that first step. “I shall leave ye to yer sleep.” As much as he couldn’t go to her, neither, he discovered, could he leave.
“Wait,” she said, tossing aside the fur and making her way to the edge of the bed.
She sat for along moment, before sliding down. Feeling around the end of the bed she found her robe and grabbed it.
He saw it then, the hurt in her eyes. “I shall leave ye,” she said through gritted teeth. “And ye shall never find me in yer bed again, m’laird.”
He wanted to hurt her feelings about as much as her person; ’twas the last thing he wanted. “Aeschene,” he said, stopping her forward procession with a hand to her arm.
She looked up at him, furious and hurt, and slightly humiliated. Damn it all!
After what seemed an internal length of silence, where they did naught but look at one another, she finally spoke. “Why did ye marry me?” she asked. Her tone was biting. “Why did ye marry me when ye had the chance not to?”
“I had many reasons,” he replied, keeping his own tone even.
“What were they?” she ground out. “Were ye afraid I would not keep me word when I said I would not tell a soul if ye chose not to?” She gave a slight shake of her head when her question was met with silence. “Well, we ken ’twas not because ye desire me. We ken ’twas not because of my great beauty.”
“The hell it wasn’t,” he answered, growing frustrated with his own stupidity as well as her anger.
Taken aback, she drew her brows inward, looking as surprised as she was puzzled by his answer. “Ye choose now to jest?” she asked him.
“I married ye for many reasons, lass,” he told her, his hand dropping away from her arm. “I married ye because ye were the last vestige of hope I had to bring some semblance of peace to me clan. I married ye because I have lived alone for far too long. I married ye because I chose to. I chose ye because ye are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” ’Twas the first time in many years he had been completely honest with anyone, including himself.
She thought on his words for a short time. “Then why do ye avoid me? Why were ye going to walk away from me this night? I came here, of me own free will, Richard. Yet, only moments ago, ye were fully prepared to walk away.”
She was met with more silence. Truly, he couldn’t understand this insane trepidation he felt when he thought of joining with her.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open, her mouth agape, as if she’d just come to some sort of horrible conclusion. “Och!” she said, touching her fingertips to her chest. “Ye have an injury to yer person! ’Tis nae that ye dunnae want to join with me, ’tis because ye cannae!”
It took the briefest of moments to realize what she meant. Horrified — and a bit insulted — he said, “Of course I can!”
She jumped and took a step back, uncertainty filling her pretty blue eyes.