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her fingers into the soft folds of his cape to keep from falling off the horse.
As if humored by her action, he broke the kiss, dragging his lips back and
forth across hers until she melted against him. She moaned softly when he drew
back, studying her face intently.
    She bore the scrutiny of his dark gaze. “Why did you do
that?”
    “Because you wanted me to.”
    She smiled, losing herself in his eyes and forgetting for a
moment why she was here and who he was. “Yes, I did,” she said, her voice
barely audible. “What would you do if I wished it again?”
    “I would tell you to remember you are promised to the Black
Scot,” he said in a chilling, unemotional tone.
    His words slapped her in the face with cold, hard reality,
and it took only that one reminder to draw her thoughts up short. She felt too
many things for this man that she should not be feeling. Suddenly she was
terrified of herself, yet even more terrified of him. This was no foppish boy
like the ones she dallied with in the drawing rooms of England. This was a man
in every sense of the word. Suddenly, she felt as if she had stepped off a
cliff and was falling into a bottomless abyss. Her body trembled.
    If she had been on her own horse, she would have ridden
ahead, leaving the tempting reminder of him far behind her. As it was, she
could only feign indifference, praying the heat she felt on her face was not as
red as it felt.
    Ignoring her obvious discomfiture, he said, “Now, tell me
why you seem so accepting of your fate.”
    “Is there a reason why I should not be accepting? Should I
have cause to fear this union?” she asked, fighting to regain her composure.
“Is the Black Scot an animal? Will I grow to hate him?”
    “He is a fair man. One who holds the responsibility for the
welfare of the clan and must act accordingly. He cannot think of what he wants,
but only of what is best for his kinsmen.”
    “He is a lot like the king, then.”
    “Aye, perhaps he is. Why are you so inquisitive about the
Black Scot?”
    “He is to be my husband. Is that not reason enough?”
    “Perhaps you want to find out his weakness, the place where
he is vulnerable.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Are you Delilah, come to cut
Samson’s hair, or Salome, ready to dance for his head?”
    She returned his gaze, praying he would see the truth in her
eyes. “Perhaps I am Esther.”
    “The Jewish girl who became queen of Persia.”
    “The Jewish girl who told the Persian king of a plot against
his life. I am not a seductress or a warrior, m’lord. My motives are simpler
ones and more gentle. It is only a woman’s natural curiosity that prompts my
questions. I have no doses of poison hidden in my jewels, no dagger tucked into
my boot, no code memorized to send the King of England secret messages. Why are
you so hesitant to tell me about him?”
    He shrugged. “What is there to know beforehand? You will
have time enough after you are married to learn of him and his ways. Why is it
so important now?”
    “Because it might help me to be a better wife to him.”
    He looked surprised. “You plan to serve him?”
    She stiffened at the sound of that. “I come as his
betrothed—soon to be his wife—not as his servant. I will be his equal, but that
does not prevent me from wanting to know and understand him.”
    His voice was scoffing. “I ken he would value your
allegiance more than your understanding.”
    “He has that already.”
    The look he gave her was one of open surprise. “Ah, but how
do you know you can trust him , lass? Have you no heard? He is no
called the Black Scot for naught.”
    “Oh, I have heard he picks his teeth with the bones of his
victims…that he drinks the blood of unbaptized babes.”
    “And still you dinna fear him?”
    “He has your trust, does he not?”
    “Aye.”
    “And the trust of his clansmen?”
    “Aye.”
    “Then I have no reason to fear him.” She glanced at him, saw
his worried frown, and smiled. “Trusting