gift.”
“Probably not, haring off as ye did and making me and Greyfellow tramp through a blizzard after ye, but I’m prepared to overlook that.” He nuzzled her neck again, the stubble of his beard tickling her in a very good way indeed. “Besides, ’tis Christmas, and we all deserve a bit of leeway at this time of year. In any case, I want ye to have it. Ye’ve need of it.”
He trudged back through the snow to Greyfellow and pulled something out of his saddlebag. “’Tis a wee pretty I picked up for ye in Edinburgh last time I was there. They say all the ladies at court have one for winter.”
William handed her a rectangle of rabbit fur.
A puzzled frown knitting her brows, Katherine ran her palm over the softness. “I thank ye, Will, for the . . . er . . . what is it?”
“They call it a muff. There are openings on either side and ye stick your hands into it. Here. Let me show ye.”
Standing behind her, he guided her hands into the dense fur and stayed there, his arms around her, his chin resting on the crown of her head.
“Och, ’tis so soft.”
“And if ye give it a moment, your hands will warm the space and your fingers will be toasty even without gloves.”
“’Tis lovely, Will. And verra fine. But I have nothing for ye.”
He turned her in his arms and drew her close. Then he leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “Let’s away to your chamber and I’m sure if we try hard enough we’ll discover something ye might give me.”
Without thinking about it, she slipped her muff-covered hands over his head, resting the fur against the back of his neck. His scent enveloped her—all leather and warm horse and undeniably male. His dark eyes searched her face, asking for—no, demanding—a response. Katherine tipped her chin up a wee bit.
He brushed her lips with his, a soft, glancing caress. This man had a way of kissing her that made each time feel as if it were the first. As if no one had ever kissed before and he and Katherine were making it up as they went. This time it was as if he were trying to divine her secrets by teasing them from her mouth.
Then, deep and demanding and true, William covered her lips in a hungry bruising. He claimed her, and even though the kiss was rougher than usual, Kat roused to him.
Desire flared to life and she felt herself go soft and liquid in her inward parts. Everything in her responded to his dark summons. Katherine was falling a bit on the inside, tumbling into that place where nothing and everything made perfect sense, and when she did, she knew William would be there to catch her.
She’d do anything for this man.
It would be so easy to rush back to the keep and lie with him. So easy to give him release and take some for herself. So easy to worship him with her body. She’d often thought she needed to esteem either William less or God more, lest she be guilty of idolatry. It was so easy to adore her husband.
But could she do the hardest thing and show she truly loved him?
Love would free him to find another woman who could give him a dozen sons.
With effort, she pulled away. “No, Will, I canna.”
“If ye’re still—”
“Nay, ’tis not that. My courses are ended.” She edged away from him. “And so is our marriage. The sooner ye accept that, the better ’twill be for us both.”
Hurt flicked over his features, but it was so quickly replaced by anger, Katherine couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it. She’d seen Will’s wrath aimed at the marauding Campbells who stole cattle whenever they could and at crofters who were too lazy to work the land he’d assigned them, but it had never been turned in her direction before. She stepped back another pace under the blistering heat of his scowl.
“As ye will, milady,” he said, his voice taut with fury. Then, without another word, he picked her up and deposited her on Greyfellow’s back as if she were a sack of meal. But this time, she wasn’t on the pillion. He’d placed
“Probably not, haring off as ye did and making me and Greyfellow tramp through a blizzard after ye, but I’m prepared to overlook that.” He nuzzled her neck again, the stubble of his beard tickling her in a very good way indeed. “Besides, ’tis Christmas, and we all deserve a bit of leeway at this time of year. In any case, I want ye to have it. Ye’ve need of it.”
He trudged back through the snow to Greyfellow and pulled something out of his saddlebag. “’Tis a wee pretty I picked up for ye in Edinburgh last time I was there. They say all the ladies at court have one for winter.”
William handed her a rectangle of rabbit fur.
A puzzled frown knitting her brows, Katherine ran her palm over the softness. “I thank ye, Will, for the . . . er . . . what is it?”
“They call it a muff. There are openings on either side and ye stick your hands into it. Here. Let me show ye.”
Standing behind her, he guided her hands into the dense fur and stayed there, his arms around her, his chin resting on the crown of her head.
“Och, ’tis so soft.”
“And if ye give it a moment, your hands will warm the space and your fingers will be toasty even without gloves.”
“’Tis lovely, Will. And verra fine. But I have nothing for ye.”
He turned her in his arms and drew her close. Then he leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “Let’s away to your chamber and I’m sure if we try hard enough we’ll discover something ye might give me.”
Without thinking about it, she slipped her muff-covered hands over his head, resting the fur against the back of his neck. His scent enveloped her—all leather and warm horse and undeniably male. His dark eyes searched her face, asking for—no, demanding—a response. Katherine tipped her chin up a wee bit.
He brushed her lips with his, a soft, glancing caress. This man had a way of kissing her that made each time feel as if it were the first. As if no one had ever kissed before and he and Katherine were making it up as they went. This time it was as if he were trying to divine her secrets by teasing them from her mouth.
Then, deep and demanding and true, William covered her lips in a hungry bruising. He claimed her, and even though the kiss was rougher than usual, Kat roused to him.
Desire flared to life and she felt herself go soft and liquid in her inward parts. Everything in her responded to his dark summons. Katherine was falling a bit on the inside, tumbling into that place where nothing and everything made perfect sense, and when she did, she knew William would be there to catch her.
She’d do anything for this man.
It would be so easy to rush back to the keep and lie with him. So easy to give him release and take some for herself. So easy to worship him with her body. She’d often thought she needed to esteem either William less or God more, lest she be guilty of idolatry. It was so easy to adore her husband.
But could she do the hardest thing and show she truly loved him?
Love would free him to find another woman who could give him a dozen sons.
With effort, she pulled away. “No, Will, I canna.”
“If ye’re still—”
“Nay, ’tis not that. My courses are ended.” She edged away from him. “And so is our marriage. The sooner ye accept that, the better ’twill be for us both.”
Hurt flicked over his features, but it was so quickly replaced by anger, Katherine couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it. She’d seen Will’s wrath aimed at the marauding Campbells who stole cattle whenever they could and at crofters who were too lazy to work the land he’d assigned them, but it had never been turned in her direction before. She stepped back another pace under the blistering heat of his scowl.
“As ye will, milady,” he said, his voice taut with fury. Then, without another word, he picked her up and deposited her on Greyfellow’s back as if she were a sack of meal. But this time, she wasn’t on the pillion. He’d placed
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