Joan breathed out slowly and shifted her gaze to the furs and linens covering her, almost afraid to look at Cam and see anger there. After a moment, she couldn't stand the silence any more. She could actually feel Cam looking at her, and couldn't bear that either.
"There is wine and cheese on the table by the fire if you're hungry," she blurted, desperate to break the silence.
"I'm hungry," Cam admitted. "Jest no' fer wine or cheese."
Joan glanced at him uncertainly. He didn't appear angry. "Then what would you rather have?"
"You."
"You want me?" she squeaked.
"Aye, ye daft woman," Cam said. Clucking his tongue with impatience, he sat up beside her in bed. "I could no' keep me hands off ye the last two weeks, Joan. Why would it be any different now?"
"I--You're not angry that my uncle made you marry me?" Joan asked uncertainly.
"Nay," he assured her solemnly, tugging the linens and furs down to reveal her shoulders and breasts. Reaching out, he cupped one round globe, allowing his thumb to flick gently back and forth over the nipple as he said in a husky voice that sounded a little distracted, " 'Sides, he did no' make me do anything. I was the one who first said anything about marrying ye."
"But only because you learned I was his niece," Joan pointed out and then gasped as he suddenly bent to close his lips over the nipple he'd been toying with. He suckled at it, his tongue continuing the flicking his thumb had been doing a moment ago and Joan's hands rose of their own accord, one clasping his shoulder, the other cupping the back of his head to urge him on as her body responded to the caress.
Releasing the nipple he'd been nursing, Cam raised his head.
"What does it matter?" he growled as he glanced down and flicked the linens and furs completely off of them both. Raising his gaze, he watched her face as his hand slid down her body.
"We're married." Cam growled and gripped her hip briefly, squeezing. He then shifted his hand between her thighs urging them apart, before finally finding her core.
"Ye're me wife," he breathed, lowering his head so that his hot breath brushed her lips as he spoke. His fingers ran lightly over her warm, wet flesh once, then again before stopping to circle the nub where the pleasure he was raising in her seemed centered.
Joan moaned and shifted restlessly, her body beginning to strain toward the release that she knew he could give her. She was tugging on his hair and shoulder, trying to bring him down for a kiss, but his mouth remained tantalizingly out of reach as he whispered, "And I'm ye're husband."
"Aye," she gasped, her hips shifting and rotating now under his touch.
"Ye'll come to Sinclair," Cam continued, applying a little more pressure and Joan began to twist her head. He was driving her crazy; her release like his mouth was just out of reach and if he would just . . . she stopped digging her nails into his shoulder and reached instead for his staff, relieved to find it hot and hard.
Cam stiffened at her touch, and then abruptly stopped caressing her and shifted over her to settle between her legs.
Joan moaned in relief as he drove into her, even as he groaned his pleasure. Once fully in though, he paused and kissed her, a hot, wet, demanding kiss. Then he broke that off and raised his head as he began to move, pulling partway out of her again.
"God," he growled as he sank back into her. "Ye feel so damned good, and now ye're coming to Sinclair and I can drown in this pleasure every night."
Cam began to move in earnest then, his body pounding into hers. Joan held on to him, her hands clutching his shoulders as he drove them both toward release, but for the first time since their first time together, she wasn't wholly engaged in what they were doing. Some small part of her brain remained separate and wondered about the days. How pleased will he be to have a wife good only for bedding?
The thought ran around and around inside her head until Cam suddenly gasped, "Stop yer fretting."
Startled, Joan focused on his face just as he claimed her mouth again. He thrust his tongue in rhythm with his hips, but also reached between them to caress her again and Joan's worries retreated under the onslaught. Her passion quickly returned to a full burn and it wasn't long before they both cried out their pleasure.
Afterward, Cam pulled up the linens and furs as he shifted to his side. He then caught Joan around the waist and pulled her back against him when she turned onto her side as well. A heartbeat later a small snore sounded by her ear and Joan realized he'd fallen asleep. Envy slid through her. She was suddenly wide awake herself, all sorts of worries crowding her mind. Most of them about how displeased Cam would be when he realized how ignorant and unprepared she was to be his wife. But she was also now fretting about what he'd said. He seemed happy that she was coming to Sinclair because he could continue to bed her, but was that the only reason? Was there nothing else about her that pleased him? And, if not, then what would her life be like when he grew bored with her? It was no better being his wife and watching him bed another than being a discarded mistress watching him move on. Actually, she thought suddenly, being the wife was worse. As a mistress she could have simply moved away and saved herself the heartache. As his wife, she couldn't. She would be expected to bear it she was sure, and Joan wasn't at all sure that she could do that.
"One problem at a time," she muttered under her breath. Annabel and Annella were going to teach her to be a lady wife. She would start tomorrow, Joan decided determinedly, and learn everything she could before they left for Sinclair. That thought made her wonder how long she had before they left MacKay. No one had said, but she was sure they would stay a couple days at least. After all, she'd just met her family, just learned they existed. Aye, they would surely stay a couple days or perhaps a week ere traveling on to Sinclair, Joan assured herself as she finally drifted off to sleep.
"TODAY?" JOAN SQUAWKED WITH ALARM, wide eyes on her aunt.
"I know. I was hoping for more time too," her aunt Annabel said soothingly, patting her hand where it rested on the table. "But Cam is concerned that his family will be worried about him. He says he was originally traveling with his cousins."
"He sent them on ahead," Joan recalled with a frown. She also recalled him telling her that he'd done so because of a tavern wench and felt a twinge of jealousy, which was just ridiculous. They hadn't even met yet.
"Well," her aunt continued, "I gather he told them he would follow in two days. But he said your journey here took much longer than expected?"
Joan bit her lip and nodded. "He was injured when he saved me from those bandits on the road. He slept for three days afterward, and then it took us two weeks of travel to get here."
"Two weeks?" Annabel asked with surprise.
"Aye. We did not travel very quickly," she muttered uncomfortably.
Annabel nodded with understanding. "Of course. He no doubt needed to take it slow while healing from such a wound."
"Hmm," Joan murmured, avoiding her gaze. It hadn't really been his need to heal that had slowed them. All in all the man had healed quickly once awake. In fact, after the first couple days he'd seemed right as rain to her. Certainly, he'd not seemed to have any problem with . . . er . . . vigorous activity.
"Well, Cam is now two weeks later than he was expected. He worries his family will be fretting and fears they may send out a search party. He thought it would be better just to take you home right away and reassure everyone."
"But--"
"Mother!" Kenna's cry interrupted Joan and made her glance around as the young girl rushed up, dark hair flying an
d cheeks hectic with color. "Cook just told me he is preparing food for Joan and Cam's journey."
"Aye, dear, I asked him to," Annabel said patiently. " 'Tis a half day's travel to Sinclair and I thought they may like to stop on the way for a picnic."
Kenna shook her head and turned to Joan, "But ye can no' leave. Ye just got here. We want to get to ken ye."
"It was Cam's decision, not Joan's," Annabel said gently.
"Well he can just change his mind," Annella announced arriving at the table. "We are supposed to show her how to be a lady. We promised."
"I know," Annabel said unhappily. "But what can we do about it? Cam is her husband now and he has decided that--"
"Then I shall ha'e to go with her," Annella interrupted firmly and when her mother looked as if she were about to protest, added firmly, "Father has always said a promise made is a promise to be kept, and we promised we would help her learn to be a lady."
Annabel blinked and then a slow smile slid over her lips. "Aye, he does say that, does he not?"
"He does," Annella said, grinning now.
"Oh, I promise too. I promise too," Kenna said at once. "I can help. Please, Mama, can I go too?"
"Aye, you can," Annabel said, patting her shoulder. "We shall all go. That way we can get to know Joan better and keep our promise too."
Joan watched wide-eyed as they all smiled, then Annella warned, "Father'll be fair froth o'er our all leaving."
"Then he can come too," she said lightly and stood up. "Come along, girls. We must pack quickly else Cam will leave us behind."
Nodding, Annella turned and gave Joan a quick hug, assuring her, "We'll be quick."
"Do no' let him leave without us," Kenna added, hugging her next before rushing after her mother and older sister.
Joan stared after the trio as they bustled away, feeling just a bit dazed by it all. A lady rather than a commoner, married, and an aunt and cousins who were willing to risk the MacKay's wrath to help her . . . and while she didn't know him well, Joan suspected her uncle's anger might be a thing better heard about than suffered or even seen.
Shaking her head, Joan turned to the table and picked up her goblet of cider. So this was what having family was like? The thought immediately made her feel guilty. Maggie Chartres had been her family for twenty years, in fact her only family. And she had been a wonderful woman who would have fought to the death on her behalf she was sure, but life with her had always been calm and peaceful. Even in a healing emergency her mother had remained unflappable. There had never been frantic cries, or whirlwinds of activity, or mini rebellions as the one her aunt and cousins were about to hold on her behalf. This was different. Her life was now different in many ways.