The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [69]
She twisted about to look at him and her hair tumbled over his belly and chest. “Didn’t I do it right?”
He looked into her beautiful Sherbrooke blue eyes and tried to smile—not much of a success that smile, but he tried. “I’m a man, Joan, and it’s difficult for me. Now, no more questions. Settle here, against me, and let’s go to sleep.”
She nestled against him, her palm over his racing heart. She said nothing. Finally, his heart began to slow. She kissed his chest, then said, “I’ll try to do things properly, Colin, and touching you with my hands and my mouth is quite nice, really, for you are so splendid. But this other business of your body—you are much too large, surely you must realize that. It won’t work, you have already seen that it won’t. I’m sorry, but there it is.”
“You’re a ninny who doesn’t know anything.” He kissed her nose, then squeezed her more tightly against him. “I should prefer it if you removed that ridiculous nightgown.”
“No,” she said after several thoughtful moments. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“Colin?”
“Hmmm?”
“Will you bed other women when you return to Edinburgh?”
He was utterly silent. “Do you believe I took a mistress while my first wife was alive?”
“Certainly not!”
“Well then, why would you believe I would sleep with another woman whilst wedded to you?”
“Men do, I know, except for my brothers. They’re faithful to their wives because they love them very much. I hope you are more like them than all those other men who have no honor. On the other hand, you don’t love me. So it is a question.”
“Will you seduce any men while I’m gone?”
She hit him in the belly, and he obligingly grunted. Then her hand smoothed over where she’d hit him, her fingers splaying downward to touch him, and then he did moan. “No,” he said, his breath hard and deep. “Don’t, please.”
She drew her hand away, and he was both relieved and hated it.
“Why did your aunt Arleth say you’d taken a mistress while your wife was still alive?”
He didn’t answer her but said instead, “She doesn’t much care for me, as you will discover, since you’re my wife and you now live here. I don’t know why.”
“One could believe her, you know,” she said, “except it’s obvious she doesn’t know how you’re made. I know how large you are, I know how a woman would look at you and want to run. That is, you’re beautiful, Colin, but as I told you, that part of you that—”
“It’s called my sex, Joan.”
“Very well, your sex, Colin. What woman could possibly want to do that willingly? It would have to be your wife and thus she’d have to do it.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. “You will see. Yes, you will see.”
“Are other men even larger than you?”
“How do I even attempt to answer that question? I’ll sound like a conceited sod if I say no, certainly not, and I’d bludgeon my own male pride if I said yes. I haven’t seen all that many naked men, actually, particularly when they’re aroused. Nonetheless, you don’t know anything about it. You will learn, however. Now, go to sleep.”
She fell asleep before he did. His mind was filled with visions of Robert MacPherson, and the bastard was plotting his demise. He also thought about his very innocent wife, who had no qualms at all about asking him questions about his male parts with the utmost candor. It was amusing, really. He’d never met a girl like her in his life. Ah, and the feel of her mouth on him—it was enough to make a stoic man cry.
He really didn’t want to leave her just yet, but there was no choice. He had so much to do, and he simply refused to put her at risk. She would be safe here. MacDuff had told him MacPherson was in Edinburgh, far from Vere Castle. Yes, she’d be safe here, and he would be able to track Robbie MacPherson down and make the ass see reason, that or kill him. At least he wouldn’t have to worry that his wife would try to protect him and attack MacPherson herself.
When Sinjun went downstairs the following morning, Colin was already gone. She stared at Philpot, the Kinross butler, and said blankly,