My Cursed Highlander (10 page)

And now she wanted him to sing?

Remi started humming a familiar song.

What did he have to lose? Taveon shrugged and drummed a beat against the carriage.

"There once was a maiden fair," Remi began on a high-octave note.

"With curves enough to share," Monroe sang in a deep baritone.

"She danced in the woodland in naught but bare skin. Without worry or care for the men who peeked in."

"Ooohhh," Taveon led them into the chorus. "A one for the laddies whose eyes she blessed, and a two for the men who ogled her breasts, and a three for the warriors she put to the test. For a bonnie lass was she."

"For a bonnie lass was she," Remi and Monroe repeated.

"Then came October faire, and frost took o'er the air."

"No more came the maiden to show her favors. So sad were the men, they sulked through their labors."

"Then alas came July and what graced their eyes was of no surprise. For a bonnie lass was she."

"Ooohhh," all three men held the note. "A one for the laddies whose eyes she blessed, and a two for the men who ogled her breasts, and a three for the warriors she put to the test. For a bonnie lass was—"

"Enough!" Viviana shouted from the edge of the thicket causing the awkward silence to return.

Taveon rushed to aid her, grateful he didn't have to hide his grin as he guided her through the ditch. 'Twas astounding how a tune could lift one's spirits. "Ye gave me your word. Ye could have stumbled."

"I didn't want to interrupt your ditty." Thin black brows flared out at the tips.

"The third verse is even better." Remi opened his mouth, but slammed it shut when Viviana punched her fists onto her hips.

Taveon assisted her back into the carriage and instead of closing the door, which would have been the sane thing to do, he followed her and her sweet citrus scent inside. He closed the door and poked his head out the window, his attention set on Remi. "Tie my mount to the back of the carriage and ride ahead. See if there is a place to bed down for the night."

"Aye, m'laird."

Taveon banged on the side of the carriage. "Keep moving, Monroe."

The sudden jerk of the carriage threw him into the seat opposite Viviana. Her knees, held tightly together, were positioned between his thighs as there was little room inside the carriage. While it might be too soon to hold a civil conversation with her, he intended to try. She was, after all, his wife. The tiniest pressure gripped his chest as he looked into her swollen eyes and realized he didn't want her to hate him.

"I do not need to be entertained, m'laird. I'm quite accustomed to doing nothing."

"Mayhap ye packed the wind pipe."

"I did. Unfortunately it was with my sculpting tools."

"Ouish!" Taveon rubbed his temples with one hand. The woman had a knack for making him feel like an ogre. "Then mayhap we could talk."

She lowered her eyelids and spun her wedding band round and round her finger. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

"The stars, the moon. Any topic will suit me." He leaned forward, wanting to touch the fan of black lashes resting against her cheek.

"The woman in your song. Is that what men want?"

"'Twas just a silly tune. Undoubtedly composed in a tippling house by a band of blootered Scotsmen." 'Twould be the last time Remi led them in song.

"But men are tempted by women of such ilk."

"Temptation is all around us," his gaze locked on the beauty mark beside her pouty lips, "and oftentimes, it is close enough to touch. And difficult to deny." He raised his fingers to her lips, feeling the undeniable lure of temptation right now. He fisted his hand and suppressed the desire to actually touch her. 'Twas too soon.

Viviana backed away, as if she sensed his closeness. "Do you think a man who has succumbed to such temptation in his past, can deny himself of it in his future?"

An alarm went off in his head.

She was trapping him, again. He didn't know how, but she was pulling him directly into the middle of her web the same as she had when she asked him about wanting an heir.

Damn-it-to-Hell!
He had to think quickly. He pressed his back into the velvet settee and studied her question. Temptation. Women. Whores?

They'd had few conversations thus far, but he distinctly remembered her accusing him of romping with drabs. "I believe if a mon takes an oath in a house of God to be faithful, then he is sworn to deny such temptation."

"Pish!" she scoffed and turned her head.

"What is it ye think you know about me, m'lady? Please, enlighten me."

She crossed her arms and raised one brow. "You smell of licorice, m'laird. The same as Radolfo did every night when he returned from the bordello. You were at the bordello yester morn before our wedding, and after you vowed to be faithful in a house of God, you spent your wedding night in a whore's bed instead of mine. I know this because you reeked of licorice this morn when you took me from my home."

He ran his tongue over the licorice still stuck in his back teeth.
Sweet Venus!
His wife was a sleuth. "I'm not your Radolfo, and I did not lay with whores before or after we were wed."

"Then you deny being at the bordello."

"Nay. I do not. Monroe managed to acquire free rooms for us after a few nights with the Grand Madame." He waited for a response that never came.

"Ye dinnae believe me."

"No." She drummed her fingers on her elbow.

"Then ye dinnae trust me."

"No."

"Then I suspect ye are angry with me for sleeping with whores I did not sleep with."

"
Sì.
"

Taveon stared at her. 'Twould be difficult to earn her trust. He doubted few did. 'Twas fortunate she couldn't see his bruised eye. It wouldn't benefit his cause if she knew Lorenzo had him beaten and then coerced him to the altar. He would take that secret to the grave. "Do ye know how long ye intend to hold on to your temper?"

Her dainty chin rose. "At
Spedale degli Innocenti
I once begrudged a maid for spouting lies to Sister De Rosa about Fioretta. I worked with Elena in the laundry for two years, and I never spoke to her again."

Stubborn hizzie!
He had no intention of waiting two years. Taveon leaned out the window. "Monroe, have ye any bones?"

"Aye."

Taveon stretched out the window and collected dice from Monroe then twisted awkwardly to search inside the bench seat for a flat playing surface. He located a wooden trough beneath a wool blanket, returned to his seat, and tossed the two die into the narrow container on her lap.

Viviana reached into the box and studied the dice with her fingers. "I do not partake in games of chance."

"Humor me and roll the dice." A rush of excitement coursed through his veins. He did love a good game, especially one he couldn't lose.

After long moments of thought, Viviana blew a breath and tossed the dice inside the box.

"Ouish." Taveon frowned. He had hoped for a smaller number.

Viviana touched the face of each die with the tip of her finger, counting the pips. "Ten. What does it mean?"

"'Tis the number of days I'll give ye to cool your temper."

"Before what?"

He leaned close enough to inhale the clean scent of her hair before he whispered in her ear, "Before we begin our honeymoon period." He popped a quick kiss on her lips, then existed the carriage.

Chapter 8

Viviana stirred from her slumber and reached for Miocchi. Her hand flattened atop the bench seat inside the unmoving carriage and reality pushed to the forefront. Her world had taken a drastic change to be certain. Normally, she would awaken to Miocchi's cold nose against her palm, but not this day.

A sudden sadness gripped her. Would Angelo remember to let Miocchi out of her chamber? Would he collect the bones from the cook after the evening meal?

Of course, he would,
she assured herself. No good could come out of fretting over Miocchi now.

She sat up and breathed in the scent of cooked meat. The crackle of a fire and hum of conversation awoke her ears. She had fallen asleep before they found lodging and could only assume Laird Kraig decided to save his coin and sleep beneath the sky.

Footsteps approached the carriage. "Good morrow, sweetling. I trust ye slept well." Laird Kraig's voice came outside the window.

"It was a bit cramped, but more favorable than the ground." Which is where she assumed they had slept, if they slept much at all. A salty aroma exploded beneath her nose and her stomach responded with a gurgle. Heat touched her bottom lip, causing her to pull back.

"'Tis still hot."

She was stubborn, not stupid. Having eaten little to nothing the previous day, Viviana felt as though she could devour an entire boar. Her pangs of hunger reminded her of the days she'd suffered trying to please Radolfo. She'd never been the twig he wanted.

"There's plenty. Are ye hungry?"

"I am." She touched his thick forearm and opened her mouth, allowing him to set the bit of meat on her tongue.

He didn't withdraw his fingers. Instead, he caressed her bottom lip with a tenderness that set her pulse aflutter.

"It is good." Her voice cracked. She chewed the savory meat, swallowed, and licked the lips he'd just lingered over. She felt his eyes on her and yearned for the amulet's power so she could see exactly what drew his attention. Was it her lips? Her eyes?

Doubtful. The lusty Scotsman was most likely gawking at her breasts. She supposed he preferred to ogle her in private, which was why he kept the amulet.

"We have oatcakes with cherry sauce as well as hot spiced cider."

Oh, he was cunning. "You intend to soothe my temper with food?"

"Is it working?" he asked with an enthusiasm she thought premature.

"No."

The latch on the carriage door clicked and a warm breeze swept inside. "There is a brook over the knoll. I can take ye there before ye break your fast if you prefer."

He assisted her from the carriage and walked in silence over the hillock until the trickle of water grew loud in her ears.

A tug on her hand slowed her steps. "Do ye know how to swim?" He set a cake of soap and a towel in her hand.

"
Sì.
"

"Remi, Monroe, and I will ready the horses while ye tend to your ablutions. We will make as much noise as possible to ease any concern ye might have regarding your privacy. I located a bell amongst your belongings and will ring it thrice to alert ye before I return."

Laird Kraig had certainly been thinking this morn. Had Miocchi been with her, bells would be unnecessary. "And if I'm not prepared for your return."

"I suspect I will get a glimpse of what is to come in nine days." He placed a chaste kiss atop her knuckles then retreated.

A string of heat drew a path from her knuckles to her breasts. Her nipples sharpened only seconds later.

Oh,
cazzo
! She turned her back to him, cupped her breast, and pushed against her betraying nipple. How could a man she was determined to hate bring her to arousal by kissing her knuckles?

Goliath's footsteps faded, reminding her she had little time before he returned. She kicked off her slippers and worked the buttons of her bodice with furious fingers. Her heart pounded as she pulled her gown over her head and removed her overskirt. Her hands shook, her throat seemed to narrow.

Cease!
She berated herself. This was madness.
He is going to see you naked in nine days.
Why didn't he just force himself on her and be done with it? Why tease her? Why seduce her? She was his wife. He was within his conjugal rights to have his way with her. Luciano taught her that. Her stomach churned with illness just thinking about the repulsive bastard.

Clink. Clank. Jingle.

Her head snapped to the side.

"M'laird... hand Monroe... the tethers," Remi shouted, his every word enunciated and drawn out, "so we... can ready... the horses... on
this
side... of the knoll."

Viviana giggled. She very much liked Remi. He was a gentleman. A rare find.

A slight breeze blew through her sleeveless undertunic and pushed a strand of hair over her face. She clasped the linen and lifted it as high as her thighs.

How long did it take to ready a team of horses? Her insides spun with nerves. Everything about this moment reminded her of the song they'd sung the day before. In truth, she wasn't sure she trusted any of them not to peek.

She smoothed her undertunic back over her thighs and waded into the brook until cool water reached her knees. She dipped the cake of soap in the water, pulled her arms inside her undertunic, and bathed as quickly as possible.

Toweling off didn't dry her undertunic, regardless how hard she scrubbed.

Now what?

The thought of riding all day with wet undergarments pruning her skin was far from appealing. She snatched her gown off the ground and slipped it over her head. Before she fastened all the buttons, she peeled her undertunic over her wide hips and dropped it to her ankles.

A deep inhale set her at ease. She'd accomplished her task without getting caught.