Free Plaid to the Bone by Mia Marlowe Page A

even-keeled.
    Of course, at the moment, he was thinking about other attributes besides her character. Memories of silken limbs and soft skin made him quicken his pace down the corridor.
    When he flung open the door to his own chamber, the servants were still fussing around his bed. Cait was sitting in the middle of it while her women brushed out her hair, giggling and whispering words of advice. The covers were tucked under her armpits, but her shoulders were bare.
    Except for the pearl necklace, she was naked already. The thought of Cait in naught but her skin gave him an aching cock-stand between one step and the next.
    “Leave us,” he ordered. When the women didn’t scurry away quickly enough to suit him, he thundered, “Now!”
    So much for not being a tyrant, but a man ought not to be tried when he was in such straits.
    The servants bent to snatch up the discarded pieces of Cait’s wedding dress and skittered out of the chamber, dropping curtseys and covering their mouths with their hands to hide their smiles as they went.
    When the door closed behind them with a hollow thud, Adam finally turned back to his bride.
    Cait was not smiling.
    What was wrong now? He’d never felt less welcome to a woman’s bed. And this was the one who ought to have been most receptive to him. She was his wife, for God’s sake.
    Still, the woman was naked when she might have been swathed in flannel up to her chin. He ought to count his blessings, but would it strain her to unbend and give just a bit?
    “Once again, ye have me guessing, Cait.”
    “How so?”
    “Ye greet me bare as Eve in glory, but ye’ve no invitation on your face.”
    “Ye ought no’ be surprised at my state of undress.” One of her brows lifted. “Ye ripped my night shift to pieces, remember? I didna wish to scandalize Grizel by asking her to repair it before we were wed.”
    He chuckled. “That’s probably as well. The old woman did threaten to put an adder in my boot if I gave ye grief. She might think a ruined night shift deserves a visit from a snake.”
    “Grizel would never harm ye,” Cait said quickly. “Dinna say such a thing. No’ ever, no’ to anyone, d’ye hear?”
    That was more of a scolding than he’d received since he was a boy. But Cait was talking to him at least, which was several steps up from the aloof way she behaved at their wedding feast. He sat on the foot of the bed and tugged at his boots. They didn’t slide off as he’d hoped.
    “Some husbands might expect their wives to help them,” he grumbled.
    “Some wives might be dismayed that their husbands are so far gone with drink they are incapable of undressing themselves,” she said in a maddeningly pleasant tone. “But I have confidence in ye, Adam. I believe ye’ll figure out how to unlatch your own buckles.”
    Buckles. That was the problem. He’d have thought of it directly. He bent down, unfastened them, and was able to toe off the boots. Then he undid the leather straps that held his sporran and deposited it on the floor.
    “I’m no’ so far gone with drink,” he said, grateful his words didn’t slur. He might be a bit fuzzyheaded, but he wasn’t drunk.
    “’Tis no matter to me if ye are,” she said. “Of course, it may mean ye’re unable to consummate the marriage. Excessive drink can do that to a man, I’m told. But dinna fret. I’ll prick my finger and leave enough blood on the sheets to satisfy the watchers that everything’s been done as needs to be.”
    Adam stood and unwound his plaid from around his shoulders. In a few blinks, he’d unwrapped it from around his waist and was wearing nothing but his long shirt. Despite the fact that the woman was more irritating than any grain of sand could ever have been to an oyster, he still sported an impressive cock-stand.
    “Ye willna have to prick your finger, lass.”
    He pulled his shirt over his head to stand naked before her and was rewarded by the look of maidenly dismay on her face. He was