Rogue Scot (Brethren of Stone 4)

She gave a sleepy smile. “Still here?”

“It’s my cabin, so yes.” He chuckled.

“Oh right,” she joined him in the laugh, rubbing her cheek on the top of his head.

He pulled her onto her side so they pressed together. “Are ye ready to get married today?”

She stiffened, her body pulling away from his. “Today? Does it have to be today?”

He kept kissing her neck, reaching her ear. “I took yer maiden head last night. Even now a child could be planted inside ye.” His arms tightened about her, drawing her closer. “We’re good together. Last night was…”

“Divine,” she murmured, grasping his shoulders. This should be her dream come true. He was strong, handsome, capable, and by all accounts, successful. He was also like the stone that ships wrecked against. Hard and unmalleable. Not at all what she’d had in mind. In her passion last night, she’d agreed to marry him but in the light of day, she doubted her decision.

Yes, he sparked passion and yes, he made her feel safe. But…she’d lived under a tyrant for far too long. She didn’t want another.

A frantic knock came at the door. “Captain,” Mary’s strangled voice choked out. “Captain I need help. It’s Bridget. She wasn’t in our room. Please.”

“It’s all right, Mary,” he called back and jumped out of bed, pulling on his breeches.

Bridget couldn’t help but notice his sculpted body, the length of his… She forced her thoughts to the present situation. “I’m fine, Mary,” she called as she started out of the bed to dress as well.

An eek sounded from the other side of the door. Matt crossed his arms as his eyebrows rose. “Ye’re not helping your cause if ye didn’t want tae marry.”

She looked to the floor, beginning to pull on her clothing. He was right. She looked back over her shoulder as he pulled on his shirt. Gads the man made her melt. Which caused her to stop, her head cocking to the side. What wore away at rocks? She supposed one could hammer them, chipping away but water also changed them, wore off the edges over time. Could she be water in her marriage?

There had been no changing her father. He hated her and her mother. But Matt. He was different and so was their relationship. Hard as he was, there was genuine affection between them. That had to count for something.

It wasn’t the match she’d wanted but for Mary’s sake, she should try. Besides, marriage to Matt had its advantages. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to marry. I simply pointed out we needn’t do it today. Don’t you want to find my dowry first? You could buy a mine with it, or half of one. How much does a mine cost?”

He chuckled. “That money is yers, lass. I’ll not touch it. Ye earned every penny I’d say, living with yer father.”

Her hands, which had been pulling up her corset stilled as she turned to him. Because never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned a man turning over her dowry to her. She stood for a moment more before she raced across the room, wrapping her arms about his neck and pulling his face down to kiss every inch of it.

He squeezed her middle lifting her for a moment before he set her back down and began lacing her corset for her. “Let’s get out there and explain before Mary loses her faculties.”

Then he buttoned his own shirt but he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Now, are you ready to be Lady Sinclair?”

She nibbled at her lip. She was actually doing this. She was going to marry a man made of granite.

* * *

Matt watched Bridget explain to Mary what had happened last night. At least that’s what he assumed she was doing. Their whispers were too soft to hear but he watched as Mary’s drawn brows lifted and a smile graced her lips. Then she threw her arms about Bridget. “We’re saved.”

Bridget gave Mary a light squeeze and a tight smile. “We are.”

Matt winced. He’d strong-armed her into the marriage. Used her desire for him against her.

Turning away, he started for the deck. The first mate would see to the ceremony and, in the meantime, he’d see about getting water for a bath. He couldn’t change what he’d done. To do so, would only make her situation worse. And he’d already made up his mind. But he could make her as comfortable as possible. Her phrase last night flitted through his thoughts. In a cage. Was that what he was doing? Making her more comfortable in her cage?

Climbing the ladder, he found the first mate and then set about pulling out of the harbor and continuing their journey south. The storm had left a good headwind and as he looked at the maps, he realized they might re

ach Heron Island by the afternoon.

He saw several sailors carrying buckets of water to his quarters. Bridget was about to take a bath. Naked.

The thought made him weak and he dropped the compass he’d been holding. No wonder he was marrying her. The bloody woman bewitched him.

But he followed the line of buckets heading down the hatch. Not that he needed to follow them. With the largest quarters, he’d had the tub sent there. Standing in the hall he waited until the last man left the room holding empty buckets.