naught else to wear.” Bethoc batted her lashes unconsciously.
So this sizzle and crackle between them was not one-sided. He affected her as well. “I can easily remedy that, my lady wife.” He lifted the top of his clothing chest. “After all your tunic and braies are damp.”
She stepped back as he pulled out an undertunic and dress.
“Riona bequeathed these garments to you.” Malcolm noticed Bethoc seemed uncomfortable, unsure, she did not hold her head quite as high.
“Turn your back so I may put them on.”
“You mean you shall wear both? I thought ladies wontedly slept in under garments only?”
Bethoc lifted her firm little chin into the air. “I will be fully clothed if we sleep together. I am no wife to you.”
“But, Bethoc,” he lowered his voice to an overly soothing, too sweet tone, “there is only one pallet.”
“I will lie on a blanket by the fire.” She pointed to the hearth.
“If you wish,” Malcolm said, unable to conceal the trace of amusement in his voice.
Bethoc walked to the hearth and busied herself by adding more logs and kindling. At last, she lit the fire. All of this without one glance at him.
Malcolm dropped the clothes on the floor at her side, causing her to glance up at him. Her green eyes held a dreamy glow in the firelight. Silent anticipation hung between them as amber flames sparked and crackled in the hearth.
Bethoc clutched her arms in front of her chest. “You best lay down. You need to rest.”
“After you, m'lady.”
“Go outside while I change.” She pointed her head toward the door.
“If that is your desire.” Malcolm stepped outside the rath and shut the door. He leaned his back against the upright timber wall of the round house, managing to not open the door and peak, but he couldn’t stop envisioning what she would look like fully nude.
Then he called to the guard Kenneth had sent. “Stay all night, for if she tries to escape it will take both of us to stop her. Forsooth, my Pict wife is a wily one.”
“Yes, Lord Malcolm,” the guard nodded, “I will man my post, I will.”
Malcolm knocked on the door. “Bethoc, are you dressed?”
“You may come in now.”
Bethoc dropped her gaze, hiding her eyes and her feelings from him, as she stooped down and spread out a green and red plaid by the fire. She lay down, pulled blanket over her and cuddled up.
She looked so innocent, sleeping there or trying too. This little Pict would soon learn she was no match for him. He would woo the maid to his bed soon enough. No matter how much she hated him. If in truth that was how she felt.
Malcolm turned toward the fire, he could tell even under the blanket that Bethoc's body stiffened. So she had heard him and she knew there was a guard. Good. Since she realized an escape was for naught, mayhaps she would go to sleep, so he could do the same.
Malcolm lay down on the rush filled pallet, prepared for a long night, for he would have to keep an eye on his new wife. This wasn't the type of life he had dreamed of. When he drowned, his whole life transformed. His new world reached from the black sea bottom to the foamy surface above and no further. He took pleasure in the freedom of the sea. But he was human now and wed to a woman, though she was more. Bethoc was a warrior, wild and free in her own right.
He whispered, “I have to tame you for your own sake. You live on land; you must act as ladies do. You have not the means to flee to the wilds of the sea.” Neither have I, until I find my skin.
She didn't answer. Indeed, she lay so still he thought she must be asleep.
Malcolm drifted off into a familiar dream of an eerie storm-black sky, monstrous lashing waves, and the horrific roar of the blustery wind as he and Kenneth shivered from chill and fright. Both were so young, only ten and five turns of the year. Malcolm and his cousin clutched the sides of the ox-hide coracle as the waves tossed it about. His knuckles