Chapter Twenty-Two
Alex knew marital bliss couldn’t last forever. Not with such a headstrong wife as Lucy. Nevertheless, he thought it might last longer than the two short weeks during which it seemed he could do no wrong and she was the Goddess of Love made flesh.
Now, knee deep into their first serious disagreement as husband and wife, he was having trouble remembering why he had been so eager to marry. His Goddess of Love had become a difficult and irritating woman.
“I said no.” He continued walking with purpose toward the stable, Lucy hot on his heels.
“Why?”
“Because I said no.” Alex nodded a curt good morning to his Uncle Fergus. He chose to ignore the smirk on the man’s face. Evidently, his uncle found his connubial difficulties amusing.
“That’s not a reason,” she said, tugging at his coat.
He whirled around to face his shadow. “It should be reason enough.” He had spoken too sharply. His wife’s perfect face crumbled. “I’m sorry, love. I didnae mean to speak so harshly.”
Too late. Tears welled in her eyes. Lucy pressed her lips together and tried valiantly to fight them back by looking sideways and breathing through her nose. He never knew what to do when women cried.
“Please dinnae weep. It willnae change my mind. It’ll just make me feel like a jackass.”
She harrumphed and folded her arms. Apparently, she agreed with his self-assessment.
Alex bent his knees and leaned his head sideways to look into her eyes. “Will you forgive me?” Tears having abated, she became petulant. He could handle a petulant Lucy.
“I don’t understand why I can’t come along with you on the hunt,” she said, still refusing to look at him.
“I told you.” He remembered to maintain his patience. “We’ll be gone two, maybe three days. It wouldnae be proper to bring a woman along with a group of men. We’ll be sleeping rough and—”
“I don’t see anything improper if I’m with my husband. Many women accompany their husbands on such excursions. I know I won’t slow you down. You said yourself my riding lessons have been going well. I can manage Apollo fine. And I’d be an asset. I’m handy with a bow. Plus you promised you would take me on a hunt. Don’t you remember?”
“That was different. That was just the two of us. Look…” He searched for a new way to explain things to her. “I will take you hunting, just you and me, but this hunt is men only.” He shifted, not wanting to admit the real reason, yet all the while knowing she wouldn’t relent until he did. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “It would be difficult for me, ken? To be the only one who brings his wife. The men would think I couldnae go anywhere without—they’d think you had me by the—they’d say I was hen-pecked.”
To his relief, understanding washed over Lucy’s face. “Ooooooooh.”
He straightened and assumed what he thought was an air of command in an effort to regain his dignity, one fist jammed on his hip, the other resting casually on the hilt of his dirk.
“We can’t have that.” She stepped close and retied his stock.
“No?” he asked, a little unsure.
“No. We can’t have them thinking you’re not a real man. Not after you proved your manhood so ably in our marriage bed.” She batted her eyes at him.
Good. He had made her see reason, albeit at the expense of his pride.
“I’ll miss you, you know. The bed will be very cold at night,” she said, pressing the length of her body to his.
“I’ll miss you, too.” His response to her had become automatic. One arm circled her shoulders. The other slid down her back and rested on her right buttocks.
“I won’t have your big warm body to curl up with.” Her clever hands slipped inside his coat. He moaned involuntarily. “Will you think of me when you’re out there sleeping alone in the cold?”
He closed his eyes and smiled. “Mm-hm.”
She whispered in his ear. “Will you remember that lovely thing I did that you liked so much?”
Alex felt his soldier spring to life and opened his eyes to look at his wife. Just moments ago she’d been a burr in his side. Now she was a vixen. “Aye, I’ll think of it, if you like.”
“Will you do that thing and pretend it’s me?”
“What? Are you talking about—” He glanced around in case anyone was listening. “Are you talking about self-abuse?”
“I wouldn’t call it abuse. I thought it was quite nice.”
“I cannae do that with Magnus sleeping not five feet away from me.” He was shocked he was even having this conversation with his wife.
“I’m going to think of you,” she said. “And pretend you’re doing it to me.”
“Touch yourself, you mean?” He spoke too loud and Lucy placed a finger on his lips.
She gave him a wicked smile and nodded.
“You cannae do that. You need me to do that,” he said, feeling a proprietorship over his wife’s sexual pleasure.
“Well, you’ll be gone. What else am I to do?” She sounded quite innocent.
“I forbid you.”
Lucy tilted her head to one side. “Really? How do you plan to enforce that command, master?”
So choked with frustration, his words backed up in his throat, and nothing came out but incoherent sputtering sounds. The back of his neck went up in flames. He released his wife and rubbed his neck while pacing back and forth in front of her. He made several attempts at a response using hand gestures, but still, no words. At last, he took a deep breath and let it out in defeat.
“Christ, woman. Go get your things and meet me at the stable.”
“Peter’s already packed my things and saddled Apollo.” She took his face in her hands, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him. “Thank you, husband. I love you.”
He watched her skip away and called after her, “I love you, too,” then shook his head and mumbled, “Ye wee bizzum.”