Highland Warlord - Amy Jarecki Page 0,46
as husband and wife, yes?”
“We are,” he said, his voice husky.
“Um…” She traced a finger along his forearm, the friction making him all but shiver. “What about when we sleep?” she whispered, checking to ensure the others didn’t hear.
There was one thing he hadn’t planned for—sleeping arrangements. But holy Moses, the lass had a knack for disarming a man. Of course, the first response that came to mind was to ask if she wanted to bed him. Lord knew he’d wanted to bed her so badly that he’d been hard ever since she set foot in the camp in Selkirk Forest. Hell, he’d been hard since he’d first set eyes upon her at the coronation. But his unsated lust aside, the lady did have a point. James slowly swiped his mouth, trying to come up with an appropriate reply until he recalled the night they’d spent in the tent when traveling from Scone.
“Err…ah…you’ve slept beside me afore.”
“Not exactly. As I recall, Coira slept between us.”
“Well…” A wry grin played on his lips. “Since you’ve left your lady’s maid at the priory, you’ll simply have to control your urges, m’lady.”
As a look of complete shock crossed her face, she thwacked him on the arm.
Unable to keep a straight face, James threw back his head and laughed.
“Sir James!” she chided.
“Och, lass. Surely you must realize if you cannot trust me, then there’s no hope whatsoever.”
Then he looked away and cringed. More importantly, could he trust himself?
***
By the time they turned onto the old crofter’s lands, the sun had become an enormous orange globe on the western horizon. Ailish shaded her eyes, but it was so bright she could barely discern the outline of the cottage.
As the wagon veered, she spotted an elderly gentleman leaning on a pitchfork.
“Finlay of Galloway?” asked James.
“Depends on who wants to know.”
James reined the horse to a stop and hopped out. “I’m Sir James Douglas, son of—”
“Ye mean to tell me the Black Douglas is here in the flesh?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“That’s what they’re calling ye.” The crofter grinned, showing more missing teeth than otherwise. “From Glasgow all the way to Carlisle, I reckon.”
“Truly?”
“Are ye the savage lord who razed his ancestral keep?”
James scratched his black beard, his gaze darting to Ailish. She gave him a reassuring nod. This fellow was obviously awed. “I am. And your son is one of my best men.”
Finlay pounded his pitchfork onto the ground. “Bloody oath he is.”
“The good man is a leader in my camp.” After shaking Finlay’s hand, James signaled for the others to dismount. “We need a place to bed down for the night—for my men and my wife.”
Stopping herself from gasping, Ailish folded her hands and tried to look wifely. She hadn’t expected their ruse to start quite this soon. But then that’s what they had agreed.
The man gave her a quizzical onceover. “If you’re out to raid an English garrison, why have you brought your wife along?”
“Just gathering information at the moment,” said James, helping her down. “We’re taking these pelts to market in Carlisle to raise some coin. And ye ken women at the mention of a market.”
Ailish gaped. “I beg your pardon?”
Finlay rolled his eyes as if all women were afflicted by some market-day ague. “I reckon it is a good thing you’re not going to Carlisle to put the castle to fire and sword, because that old fortress is impenetrable.”
“So I’ve heard,” said James. “We’d be obliged if you allowed us to bed down in your stable’s loft.”
“Och, there’s no chance I’ll allow the wife of the Lord of Douglas to sleep in a musty old loft. The pair of ye can take the bed in my wee cottage. I’m certain ’tisn’t anything as grand as what Her Ladyship is accustomed to, but it provided comfort for my wife and me over the years.” Finlay crossed himself. “God rest her soul.”
A sudden swarm of butterflies swarmed about Ailish’s stomach. “Nay, nay, we couldn’t possibly—”
“’Tis very hospitable of you,” said James with a bow of his head.
“Excellent.” Finlay picked up his pitchfork. “I’ve a lamb pottage warming. Stable your horses and we’ll have a wee bite to eat.”
Chapter Fifteen
After the evening meal, Ailish had insisted on cleaning the wooden bowls, though in truth the pottage had been so good there wasn’t much left to clean. She considered asking Finlay to go to Selkirk Forest to help Friar John with the cooking.
“There was more meat in my bowl of pottage than I’ve had in a