Highland Grace by K. E. Saxon

too
old—I still cannot believe my husband ever thought the man
was a decent match for you—he’s pompous, and he’s not the patience
required to raise a lad as active as is your son, Alleck.”
    She spoke the truth, and Jesslyn knew it, but
still she struggled with her dread. “What if he begins to miss his
life in Perth?” The life that no-one else knew of but her. “He may grow to hate me.”
    Maryn put her hand on Jesslyn’s knee. “He’d never do that. You are the mother of his bairn, for one
thing. But for another,”—an impish grin lit her countenance—“I do
believe he likes you well. And you like him. Why else
would the two of you have found yourselves in this situation?” She
sat back. “That alone bodes well for a well-made match. Believe me,
I’ve personal, expert knowledge of such.”
    The smell of burning pottage wafted over to
Jesslyn and she hurried over to stir it once more, but her mind
spun with all her friend had said. Maryn was right. And, besides,
could she really allow another man to raise Bao’s bairn, when its
father had proved his desire to do the deed? And, of course, there
was Alleck. He’d not stopped hounding her to wed the man since
first learning of the possibility days ago. After the fourth
rotation around the pot with the spoon, Jesslyn finally turned to
Maryn and said, “All right. I’ll wed him.”
    * * *
    They were bound in wedlock by sundown. The
celebration of the wedding was deferred until the next day, so the
two were left with the evening and night to spend alone
together.
    And now they stood in the cottage that
Jesslyn and Alleck had lived in prior to moving to the keep. It had
been decided that the newlyweds should have a bit more privacy this
first night, so the cottage had been prepared—supplied with the
essentials for their comfort.
    Jesslyn was as jumpy as a rabbit. She
couldn’t believe she was a wife once more. And to this carnally
charged, darkly brooding warrior-god. He stood with his feet
planted wide and his arms crossed over his chest, just staring at
her. Didn’t he know he was making her even more nervous with that
intent gaze?
    “Bring me the gown you wore the morn I
arrived back here.”
    “Why?”
    “You shall see soon enough.”
    Alarm bells went off in her head, but she saw
no way around giving in to his strange mood. “Al-all right.” She
scurried into her bedchamber and took it from its hook on the wall,
then hurried it to him. She gasped when he ripped it from her
fingers, ripped it from neck to skirt hem. “What are you doing!
Stop!” She tried to take it from him, but he swung it out of her
reach then proceeded to make long shreds in the material with the
blade of his dirk. “You’ll have no more need of this.”
    Her heart pounded so hard, it made a weighted
ball in her throat that she could barely speak around. “Why did you
do that? I told you that was a precious gift from my late brother.”
Her palms began to sweat.
    “’Tis not for you to know your master’s
inclinations. ‘Tis only for you to obey and serve his needs.”
    Her breath caught. “M-my master’s inclinations?”
    “Aye. Your lord and master. And from this
moment forward there will be some changes in your attire and your
demeanor.”
    A high-pitched ringing swirled in her head,
in her ears. “What is this about? Why are you behaving this way—we
are friends, at least, are we not?”
    “Ha! Nay. To look upon you makes me want to
heave my meal. I hate the sight of you.”
    She swayed on her feet. “Then why did you wed
me? I would have wed the steward, or some other suitable match, and
your precious freedom would never have been violated.”
    “Ah, but do you not see? Then I would not
have the pleasure of seeing you grovel, the way my mother groveled
at my father’s feet. And that is the only thing that the likes of
you deserve.”
    She stared at him. Who is this? This is not Bao. Not the warm, strong, gentle Bao she’d
grown a hair’s breadth