“So are you, Bridget. If you do not like the term, I suggest you take action to change.”

“You are the one who left me earlier, my lord.”

She used his title on purpose. He was too close, and it was awakening her passion for him. She needed space before she weakened further, before her resolve to follow her mother’s words melted in the flames of need.

“If I hadn’t, I would have taken you up against the wall without a care for how unclean you think you are.”

It was harsh and blunt, but she witnessed the truth simmering in his eyes. He meant each word.

“Then you should back away from me now, before your control is tested beyond your endurance.”

His lips rose into a grin, a teasing glint mixing with the hunger in his eyes. “There is wisdom in your words, but I confess that you often have a way of encouraging me to behave il-logically … Bridget.”

He bent down and captured her mouth with his. His hands remained pressed against the wall beside her shoulders, but that did not lessen the impact of his kiss. It was bold and demanding. His tongue teasing the seam where she had her lips pressed together. His hands left the wall, coming to cup the sides of her face and angle her head so that he might apply more insistence to the kiss. Her jaw opened without thought. Need led her forward, refusing to allow her to ignore the pleasure. She wanted it and reached for him, her hands slipping up and over the hard muscles of his chest to hold on to his shoulders.

The touch was pure bliss. Delight flowed through her and excitement tightened her belly. Her clitoris throbbed and she enjoyed it. Her tongue stroked his, laying with it as the kiss continued.

Someone cleared their throat, a loud sound meant to interrupt them. The hands holding her head tightened a fraction before Curan lifted his mouth away from hers. Her body lamented the loss of his touch, and frustration at the interruption whipped through her. An answering flare of displeasure met her from Curan’s dark eyes.

“Forgive me, Lord Ryppon, but a party is approaching the gate.” Synclair’s voice was gruff.

Curan’s face instantly became a mask of command once more. He turned and placed his wide back directly in front of Bridget. It was a protective posture that struck her as gallant. She was grateful for the small bit of privacy as well, lifting a shaky hand to her lips because they felt swollen and shiny. She did not want the other knight to see her blush.

“What colors are they flying?”

Synclair drew in a stiff breath. His face was unreadable when Bridget peeked around Curan to question why he hesitated with his answer.

“It is the Lady Justina.”

Tension rippled along Curan’s features. A muscle actually began to twitch on the side of his jaw. He was not pleased; in fact the man looked angry.

“The hell you say.” Curan growled out his comment.

Synclair retained his serious expression in the face of his lord’s displeasure. Curan pushed his body forward on quick strides, his boots actually making sound on the stone floor because of how agitated he was. His body was tight with displeasure. He didn’t slow down, and Bridget found herself scurrying to keep pace with his longer legs. Using a doorway that led outside, he climbed the stairs built into the curtain wall. They were steep, making it necessary for Bridget to yank handfuls of her skirt up in front of her to avoid stepping on the fabric.

With the sun gone, the night air was bitter. It blew down from Scotland with an icy touch that sent a shiver along her spine once she stood on the top of the wall. The soldiers welcomed their lord with inclines of their heads while they maintained their posts at the open spaces. The wall was topped with large stones that were equal to the open spaces, providing each soldier with something to hide behind during attack. The men looked at her with astonishment. Curan spun about to shoot a deadly glare at her.

“You do not belong on this battlement, madam. Ever.”

All traces of the playful man who had been kissing her vanished. She faced the impenetrable commander who had taken her from her home. He flicked two fingers, and she felt her forearms grasped from behind.

That infuriated her beyond every lesson in poise she had ever learned. “I can remove myself, my lord.”

Shrugging off the hands, she turned without looking to see what sort of response her words gained her. She refused to care. The man was callous beyond endurance.

Which made it pure torment to know how well he could control that brute strength when they were in private. May was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her hands twisting her apron.

“My lady, you must never go up onto the battlements.”

“So I have just been told.”

The housekeeper was startled, but she recovered quickly, her face becoming stern. “As it should be. Lord Ryppon is thinking of your safety. You cannot take offense at that.”

Bridget bit her lip. Yet another thing that she must not take offense over. God, she was sick unto death of should nots and could nots. The look on May’s face, however, drew her attention.

“What is it?”

The housekeeper tried to herd her through the doorway and into the hallway instead of answering.

“May, I asked you a question. I see that something is troubling you.”

May clasped her hands so tightly her fingers turned white.

“I suppose there is no keeping it from you.” She huffed before drawing in a deep breath and pegging Bridget with a direct stare.”The Lady Justina is … or I should say was … the lord’s mistress.”


Chapter Eight




Bridget felt the blood freeze in her veins. She stared at May and knew that she was gaping at the woman but couldn’t seem to correct herself. The housekeeper looked flustered, wringing her apron between nervous fingers.

“Of course, Lady Justina is a widow, which does not make it respectable, but she isn’t an adulteress at least.” The housekeeper seemed exasperated and at a loss as to what to say further. She sighed before reaching out to pat Bridget on the shoulder.

“I am sure Lord Ryppon will make it clear that you are mistress here.”

But nothing further than that, and she had no one to blame save herself if he sought out another woman’s bed. It was entirely possible that Curan had sent for Justina. Cold and bitter, the truth stuck in Bridget’s throat. The sound of the gate being raised sent a chill down her back. She rubbed her hands along her arms as she felt her skin growing colder.

You could go to his bed …

She could and then what? Discover herself chasing the man as his mistress was now doing? Doomed to be gossiped about even as she hoped for shelter in that same house?

That was the plight her mother was attempting to save her from.

“May, go and tell everyone else to begin their supper without Lord Ryppon. It appears he has a guest to attend to.”

The housekeeper offered a slight curtsy before moving away. She looked relieved to do so, for it was an awkward moment. Bridget breathed a sigh of relief, too. She needed no one witnessing how unhappy she was.

She shouldn’t be.

And still her heart ached. It was there, in her chest, an agony that refused to listen to logic. There was no denying the fact that she was jealous. She wouldn’t be the first bride who shared her home with her husband’s leman.

She was quite sure, however, that she would be the most unhappy out of the three of them.

Supper no longer interested her. The light was fading rapidly and the hallways becoming dark corridors that looked more friendly to specters than the living. Bridget moved toward the wide double doors she had entered the first tower through and watched Curan stride across the cobblestones of the inner yard toward the arriving party. Lady Justina pushed back her cloak’s hood to reveal a face that was quite pretty. Her hair was the lightest blond and her teeth even when she smiled.

Bridget was too far away to hear what they said, but Lady Justina’s features remained radiant. She never frowned or even lost the curve of her lips. She reached out and laid a familiar hand on Curan’s forearm without a care for any stares directed at her. Instead the lady kept her eyes on the man in front of her, just as intently as Marie had done with Tomas.

Bridget turned her back. She did not have the right to watch, not if she intended to leave. Drawing in a stiff breath, she went searching for the supper hall. There would be no escaping without food in her belly. Even if her appetite had vanished, she needed to be practical.

Practical … dutiful … she hated the world and all of its rules. Yet most of all she hated the fact that Curan was welcoming another woman that held the dear, so very dear, option of choosing whom she would lay with.


May bustled about the chamber where she had taken Bridget after supper was finished.

“Of course, we didn’t think to ready a separate chamber for you, seeing as how you are so newly wed, but I run a good house, and everything you need for the night should be here.”

It was a good-size room with a solid door and even two windows that had glass set into them. May pulled large sheets off the bed and handed them to two maids who stood nearby. If there was any dust, Bridget couldn’t see it in the candlelit room. May was clearly not lax in making sure that the maids were cleaning all the rooms assigned to them. More than one lord had returned to a tower that was ankle deep in dirt with a staff that was fat on the coin he had paid them to maintain his home while he was away.

“The bed is strung tight. You’ll sleep well.” May turned back the covers and cast a knowing look at her. “Sleep you’ll be needing come next week, my lady.”