“Hmmph.” She obviously wanted to know what brought Cochburn to the castle, but David saw no good reason to share Cochburn’s plans with her—and plenty of reason not to.
“Odd, his coming and going in the night,” she said, though she must have read David’s silence. “What did he want?”
Why did she persist? Had she found a means to send word of his activities to her brothers? Or worse, was she spying for the Blackadders? Perhaps she only pretended to share his contempt for her former husband and his kin. True, the women servants treated her with disdain, but David had seen how the men looked at her. With little effort, she could have any one of them eating out of her palm.
“What is your interest in Cochburn?” he asked, keeping his tone even.
“I’m merely curious,” she said, which told him precisely nothing.
“We’ve more pressing matters than Cochburn to discuss…” He cupped the back of her neck and dropped his gaze to her mouth. “…or not discuss.”
He felt her giving in to the powerful pull of the attraction between them as he leaned in.
“But I want to be the sort of wife who is a good helpmate to her husband.” She spoke in a husky voice and her eyes were drifting closed.
“I’m certain ye can be verra helpful in many ways that we’ll both find exciting,” he murmured when his lips were nearly touching hers, “but ye needn’t concern yourself with Cochburn.”
He was so close that he could almost taste her kiss when she shoved her hands against his chest and jerked away. Before he knew it, she had slid off his lap and was halfway out the door.
Damn. What happened?
He was still staring after her long after she slammed the door.
***
Alison was so upset that she kicked the door after she slammed it. She had hoped for a very different marriage, but apparently Wedderburn wished to keep her in the dark as much as Blackadder had. Would she be reduced to listening at doors and bribing servants to have any notion of what dangerous schemes he was involved in?
Ach, it was so unfair. If a man committed treasonous acts, his wife and family suffered for it. Lands were forfeited, reputations tarnished. No one knew that better than a Douglas.
And she wanted to be more to her new husband than a convenient bedmate. He had pretended to listen to her advice about his brothers, but then he deliberately attempted to divert her from the subject of Cochburn—and very nearly succeeded.
As she marched down the stairs, she came to a decision. He said he would wait until she was willing. Well, she would use what little power she had and not give herself easily to David Hume, Laird of Wedderburn. He was a confusing man, alternately intimidating and seductive. Regardless of which side he showed her, she would not give in until he gave her what she wanted.
She did not fool herself that it would be easy. When he put his mind to seduction, he was hard to resist. But no matter how much she thrilled to his touches and kisses, she would make him wait until she was not just another woman to him, not just a body he had a right to use. He could take her against her will if he chose.
But, damn it, if he wanted her willing, David would know who she was when he was inside her. It wouldmatterto him who she was.
He would wanther.
CHAPTER 19
Alison regretted her display of anger, fearing what her punishment would be. If she had slammed the door and walked out on Blackadder like that, he would have chased her down and pulled her back by her hair.
She shook her head to clear it—she would not permit herself to spend one more moment recalling the despicable things Blackadder had done to her. If God was just, he would burn like his bed.
To avoid Wedderburn, she spent most of the afternoon in the kitchens discussing menus and checking food stores with the cook, who had grown less surly now that their supplies could be replenished.
“You’ve outdone yourself with this stew,” she said, after taking a taste from the spoon he held out.
His permanent frown eased into what was probably a smile for him. Winning him over was not as difficult as she thought, and she regretted not trying harder sooner. Blackadder had made such a mouse of her.
“We’ve plenty of beef, thanks to these Humes,” the cook said with a nod of approval.
Alison knew better than to ask where the beef had come from. One did not ask that in the Borders, where cattle thieving was a point of pride.
The cook turned to shout another order at one of the kitchen maids. “Fetch more onions, ye lazy lass.”
The kitchen was growing busier, with pots bubbling and the kitchen maids scurrying in preparation for the evening meal. Alison was reluctant to leave the safety of the undercroft, but she could see she was getting in the way.