The Laird’s Runaway Bride (Charmed by the Sassenachs #1)

Chapter 9

9

As Effie, her new lady-in-waiting, sat behind her on the bed and undid the plait that had been carefully woven into her hair, Amelia stared straight ahead. She could not make sense of what had just happened between her and Arran, or rather, what hadn’t happened. What had he married her for, if not to get her into his bedchamber? Was there more to this than she knew? Did he not want her? And if he didn’t, why had he kissed her like that in the carriage?

“There we go,” Effie murmured, as she gently tugged away the last of the knots in her hair from the busy day that had just passed. Effie, a year or so younger than Amelia herself, had been introduced to her by Mairead, who seemed to sense that the two women would get on well, and sure enough, they did. Though Amelia didn’t yet know Effie particularly well, she got the sense that the younger woman was warm and open, and, at least, far less confusing than her new husband happened to be. She reached for a brush on the edge of the bed, and began to run the bristles through her hair gently.

“Much on yer mind?” she inquired. She must have been wondering why Amelia was in her own room, instead of laying with Arran that night. Amelia nodded.

“Ye can talk to me about it, you know,” Effie remarked. “I might no’ look like it, but I know how to keep my mouth shut, when I’m called to.”

Amelia chewed her lip. Could she really talk to this girl about what was happening between her and Arran? She was sure she would have been exposing something about him he might not have wanted anyone else to know. What would people think of him if he wasn’t willing to take his bride on the first night they were wed?

“Have you ever lain with a man?”

The words escaped Amelia’s lips before she could stop them. As soon as she realized what she had said, she went to pull away from Effie, mortified that she had allowed herself to come out with that.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I?—"

“Dinnae worry yerself, hen,” Effie chuckled as she planted a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. “You can ask me.”

Amelia leaned back, glad at least she wasn’t facing Effie, who would have been able to see the blazing red of her cheeks after saying something so bold.

“Aye, I have,” Effie continued quietly. “Most of us low-born girls have. Though I’m sure that’s something you ken little about.”

Did she think she was some kind of… aristocracy? Amelia was nothing of the sort. Her father might have laid claim to some land, but he wasn’t exactly a duke or a prince. Amelia shifted slightly, marginally uncomfortable with the suggestion, but decided not to argue with it for the time being.

“What was it like? The first time?” Amelia pressed her. It was better for her to know, she decided, than it was for her to keep guessing. As the oldest sister herself, she had no other girls she could talk to about this. She could hardly have asked her mother what it had been like when her father had lain with her for the first time. The mere thought of it was enough to make her wrinkle her nose with disgust.

“It was… difficult,” she remarked carefully. “I didnae really… well, he didnae really know what he was doing, and neither did I, though the two of us stumbled our way through it.”

She chuckled at the memory, and Amelia managed to smile. That had to count for something. It wasn’t abnormal to not have any idea what it was like to be with a man, was it? She was meant to be saving herself for her marital bed, it would have been strange if she had come in knowing all there was to know about the world of… physical relationships.

“Did you… did you like it?”

She knew it was a prying question. But Effie didn’t seem opposed to answering her, and she needed to know all she could before she eventually fulfilled her wifely duties for the Laird. She shifted on the spot as she thought of it, what it might be like; his hands on her, his body moving on top of her, his eyes blazing down into hers as he kissed her…

“Aye, I did,” Effie replied, and Amelia could hear the smile in her voice. “And I came to like it more and more each time it happened after that. It’s like anything, you ken? You learn more about it, you get better at it, and becomes better and better each time.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Amelia mumbled, mostly to herself, but Effie caught the edge of her words too. She squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

“Aye, you’ll be fine,” she promised her. “When ye’re with a man, as a woman, you’ll… you’ll find that things just fall into place.”

“And what about the Laird?” she asked her, turning slightly to face her. “Do you know if he’s ever… been with a woman before?”

“I’ve no idea,” she admitted. “The Laird, he… keeps to himself, you ken? That’s why everyone was surprised when…”

She trailed off, stopping herself before she could come out with the rest of her sentence. She inhaled sharply, as though sensing that it wasn’t quite right for her to hear what she had to say. Amelia got the feeling she already knew where her mind might have gone.

“When he said that he was getting married to me?”

“Aye,” Effie confessed. “I hope you’ll no’ take it as harm, my Lady, but nobody expected the Laird to take a wife. Not so soon, at least. He must have fairly seen something in you, to have married you so quickly.”

But he doesn’t want to take me to bed. Amelia didn’t say it out loud, but it crossed her mind. Effie seemed to sense what was on her mind.

“I’m sure he’s just tired tonight,” she remarked. “It’s been a long day for the both of you.”

“I know,” Amelia agreed, trying to keep her voice light. She didn’t want to sound let-down by what had happened, nor did she want for news to reach the Laird that she had been glad they hadn’t shared a bed that night. If anything of what her father’s advisor had said had been true, then she would have been sensible to do all in her power to keep herself on his good side.

She hesitated before she spoke again. Was it fair for her to ask Effie what she knew of Arran’s reputation? After all, she seemed to have worked here for a while, and everything about her said that she was totally comfortable in being here. She showed no fear or doubt or compunction at her line of work, though perhaps she knew better than to let someone like Amelia see it.

Something she’d had to get used to, Amelia supposed, given that she was the Lady of this place now. She loathed the thought of people doffing their caps and tugging their forelocks around her, intent on proving themselves her most loyal servant, but she was sure she’d have to grow accustomed to it.

Pressing her lips together, she pushed the thought from her mind. What her new husband was capable of, she would find out in due time. For now, she should have been glad that he wasn’t intent on forcing himself on her when she wasn’t sure what she wanted. There were many men, including the one her father had planned for her to marry, who wouldn’t have given her such kindness.

But kindness was hardly something she associated with Arran, not after everything she had heard about him. And the way he had kissed her and gripped her, the stirring hardness beneath his kilt… Could that kind of want reside in a kind man?

She supposed, one way or another, she would soon find out. Though what exactly that meant for her, she did not know.

Even if some deep, dark part of her wanted to find out.