His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (best mobile ebook reader .TXT) 📗

while Storm strolled out of the hall, Phelan right behind her. It was a long moment before he could rouse himself enough to do anything. Picking up a tankard of ale, he tossed it into Kate's face, watching with no sympathy at all as she spluttered and wakened. He wondered how he had ever managed to bed her and ruefully admitted that lust gave little thought to the character of the vessel in which it spent itself.

"That bitch hit me," wailed Kate as she struggled to her feet unaided.

"Ye struck her first," Tavis pointed out in an icy tone. "I think it best if ye go home on the morrow." He strode out of the hall, oblivious to the curses Katerine screeched after him.

He went to his chambers to wash up. Although he spent every night in Storm's bed, he had not moved himself in with her for reasons he did not fully understand himself. Just as he slipped into his robe, Janet quietly entered his room, shutting the door after her and leaning against it.

With her hair loose and dressed in a diaphanous gown, Janet was beautiful, but Tavis was unimpressed. "What do ye want?" he growled.

"Ye shouldnae be so rude to your stepmother," she purred as she moved toward him. "I thought ye might be ready for a change from the squabbling bairns ye have bedded o' late."

" 'Tis only Kate causing the uproar, and she will be gone come the morn," he said coldly, not reacting in any way when she pressed her full curves against him.

"Ah, Tavis, how soon ye forget," she murmured, trailing kisses over his jaw. "Do ye not yet want to retaste the passion we shared that night?" Her hands slid inside his robe.

Grabbing her by the wrists, Tavis flung her away from him. "So ye claim, but I cannae recall any."

" 'Tis the guilt ye feel that tries to erase the memory. Ye must not feel so, Tavis. Your father hasnae been a husband to me in many a month." She tried hard to touch him again.

Stepping around her, Tavis opened the door. "Ye are still his wife. Good night, Janet."

Clenching her fists in anger, Janet watched him leave. Time was running out. Katerine had failed to keep Tavis from the Eldon girl, who seemed to have bewitched him. Despite the fact that Colin was but a heartbeat from death, Tavis still clung to his chivalrous ideals and would not succumb to her enticements. Janet strode out of the room, deciding that it was time to urge events along.

Storm glanced at Tavis when he entered her room and sprawled on her bed. He lay on his stomach, watching the card game she and Phelan were playing on the floor. There was trouble written upon his handsome features, and she could read an inner torment in his eyes before he veiled his look. Telling herself she was a fool to feel so did not lessen her concern for him. The anguish she sensed in him became her own.

"Did Kate fail to wake up?" she asked idly as she played her card.

"A dose of ale served the trick. I left her raining curses upon my head. She leaves on the morrow. I cannae tolerate her shrewishness another day. She has become tedious beyond bearing."

"That is not what troubles ye, is it?" she asked softly, meeting his eyes.

"Nay, but it will pass."

"Will it? I have seen this trouble in your eyes before. It oft helps to talk about it." She continued to meet his gaze, noticed his hesitancy and said softly, "Is it Janet? She desires ye. 'Tis plain." A small frown crossed her face as she watched him pale slightly. " 'Tis not your fault if she does."

"Is it not?" he replied in an agonized whisper. "Mayhaps I have given her encouragement. Why wouldnae a woman desire a man that has taken her to his bed? Disgusting, is it not? God's teeth, 'tis near to incest."

Silently Storm shook her head, her eyes wide. "Nay. Nay, I cannot believe that of ye."

With a groan, Tavis turned onto his back, wondering why he was revealing so much of himself, his secrets. "I dinnae want to either, but there is no ignoring the fact that I woke up with her in my arms about six months past, both of us naked. I cannae e'en use my drunkenness as an excuse. Drunk or nay, I shouldnae have lain with my own father's wife. 'Tis hard to ken that I am that much of a bastard."

The card game was forgotten as Storm climbed up on the bed to look into Tavis's face. She could not believe him the sort to cuckold his own father, drunk or not. She frowned as her suspicions grew. If he had been with Janet, Storm could not believe he had instigated it. It was probably small comfort, but she could not stand to see him so tormented. His next words increased her suspicions.

With a harsh laugh, Tavis said, "An I maun suffer for my pleasure, 'twould be nice an I could remember taking it. An I had a good time, I might understand it more."

"Ye do not remember taking your pleasure with Janet?" Storm asked.

"Nay, only waking with a sore head and my arms full of a very naked stepmother." He sighed. "I have tried to recall that night, but it willnae come. Mayhaps 'tis too painful. I would rather forget it."

"Ye have not forgotten enough, though. I think ye should try to recall the whole night."

"I cannae," Tavis growled. "I try and I come up against a wall. Leave it, Storm."

"Nay, I cannae," she mocked him. "Something is not right." She reached to untie his robe.

"Eager are ye? Hadnae ye best send Phelan away?" He grinned when Phelan giggled.

She ignored both of them. "I am going to help ye recall all that happened that night. Get beneath the covers and lie upon your stomach. I have the strongest feeling that ye have been