Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] by Border Wedding Page A

door.
    The chamber was dim despite the glow of several candles. It was chilly, too, without benefit of a fire to warm it. A dark curtain covered the lone window, but curtains framing the cupboard bed in the wall to his left stood open.
    The bed looked empty, so he stepped inside. As he shut the door behind him, he shifted his gaze to his right.
    She stood near a side table. She had taken off the gray mantle but she still wore the flimsy kirtle and the ugly crimped and fluted headdress. The latter looked too heavy for her slender body, as if a sapling bore a too-heavy crown.
    “I thought you would be in bed,” he said quietly.
    She shook her head. “My lady mother thought you would prefer to . . .” She hesitated, but he waited, not moving, just watching her until at last she said, “She thought you would prefer to unwrap me yourself.”
    He liked the pleasantly musical sound of her voice, but her solemnity put him off. He cocked his head to one side. “Do you never smile, lass?”
    “Aye, sure, I do,” she replied, still somber. “But there has been naught today to make anyone smile.”
    “True enough,” he admitted. “Although I did think at one point . . .”
    She met his gaze then, and her lips twitched.
    He saw the twinkle reappear and noted again the beauty of her eyes.
    But she said only, “I was surprised you would speak so to my lord father.”
    “I think you approved, though,” he said.
    “I should not have done that,” she said. “One should not laugh at one’s father.”
    “Nay, but I own that I am occasionally tempted to laugh at mine.”
    “Are you? My mother told me Buccleuch is a fierce man.”
    “He is, aye. I said only that I’d been tempted to laugh. Better sense and stern childhood training always serve to prevent my actually doing it.”
    “Are you afraid of him, then? Should I be?”
    “The answer to both questions is no,” he said. “I respect him, and you will, too. I cannot deny that at times when I was younger I did fear him, but only when I knew I had angered him and deserved punishment.”
    “This will anger him,” she said on a note of certainty.
    He couldn’t deny it. The thought of that anger tightened his stomach, but he could not in good conscience let her believe she should fear Buccleuch. Nor would he lie to her.
    “’Tis true our marriage will displease him,” he said. “But he will ken fine where to place the blame, and he will not lay an ounce of it on you.”
    “It may be otherwise with your lady mother,” she said.
    He hesitated, then said, “I did not think about that. In general, my father’s state of mind concerns me more than my mother’s, but you are right to consider hers. You will spend more time with her than I do, and she is aware that plans are in train for my marriage to a Douglas cousin. She approved of Fiona, because the lass is a kinswoman of hers, too, so this will not please her. She will resign herself to it, though, and she will not be inhospitable to you or to your sister.”
    “You know then that Amalie is to go with us.”
    “Aye, your father told me.” With a smile, he added, “He suggested that I might also have the honor of taking your youngest sister as well.”
    “Mercy, I hope you refused,” she said.
    “I told him I’d liefer not, but I’ll confess I feared he would insist. However, it occurred to him then that your mother might not like to lose you all at once.”
    Again, she gave that solemn nod, and he wondered if he had been mistaken in suspecting she possessed a sense of humor.
    That was the least of his worries, however, because he did not feel the slightest stirring of sexual desire for her. The thought of fondling her or kissing her put him off, especially when she stood woodenly before him, gazing so steadily at him. Her eyes looked darker and larger than before, her lashes longer and thicker than any others he had seen. In truth, she did have beautiful eyes, but he would have felt more comfortable had he