Free The Marriage Contract by Cathy Maxwell

have managed to see your clan prosper. But Tiebauld, you cannot serve two masters. The time will come when you must choose sides.”
    “When the time comes, I will,” Aidan said soberly. And it was coming soon. He sensed it. Deacon was right. He’d restored his family’s estate, but it could be destroyed again with one wrong decision.
    Suddenly, the weight of it all was too much for him. He started toward the stairs. “I’m to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Deacon would sleep in the great hall, as was his preference. He lived in fear the English would come hunting for him because of his and his brother’s rebel activities and wanted to be ready to run. He’d confided once his greatest fear was being trapped by the English in his bed. He’d considered it humiliating.
    If Aidan wasn’t careful, he’d be living with the same fears, although there had been a time when he’d been full of fire, like Deacon. He’d proved his mettle though building, hunting, and wenching.
    Now, although he still enjoyed the three activities, he often found more solace in his bath with a good book. He was changing, he realized, climbing the stairs. The anxious young buck was fading and in his place was a more mature man questioning the meaning of life and his own place in the world.
    Thoughtfully, he proceeded down the hall, slowing his step outside the guest room door. Anne was probably fast asleep.
    For a moment, he shook his head. He loved his sister, but she’d attempted to bully him too many times. Granted, this trick was the most outrageous one yet. He’d ensure Anne didn’t suffer for it with a nice financial nest egg, one large enough to assuage his conscience.
    He couldn’t help admiring Alpina’s choice of debutantes, though. Anne had spirit. She’d make a man a good wife—as long as he wasn’t the man.
    On that thought, he went to his room. Openingthe door, he found his bath waiting for him in front of a cozy fire. The water would be tepid by now, but it didn’t bother Aidan.
    He undressed quickly and climbed in. He had sacrificed a good part of his fortune on repairs to Kelwin and rejuvenating the livelihood of his clan…but baths and French-milled soap were guilty pleasures from his London days he could not give up. He loved the sensual feeling of rich lather against his skin. No matter how hard he tried to economize, the homemade soaps were not the same.
    He was puzzled to find his soap already soppy wet. He hoarded it carefully and didn’t like the idea he might be sharing it with Norval. It would be another item to discuss with the servant in the morning.
    He washed the blue paint completely from his person and reached for the linen towel always kept on the chair beside the tub. It was gone.
    Aidan swore softly. What had come over Norval? He never forgot the details of Aidan’s bath. No matter how drunk he was.
    Rising from the tub, Aidan snatched up the shirt he’d discarded and dried himself off. He hung it on the chair to dry.
    He’d hang Norval by his thumbs in the morning. Right now, he wanted sleep. In two steps, he fell face down on the rumpled furs. Ready to drift off tosleep, the thought crossed his mind he’d like his sheets changed more often and the bed made up every day, too.
    He reached for the bed covers to pull around him—and discovered he was not alone. Someone was in bed with him.
    For one paralyzing moment, he feared it was Roy.
    He rolled over and found himself staring into a pair of sea gray eyes. “Anne?”
    She swallowed and nodded.
    Aidan jumped out of the bed, pulling a red fox skin off to wrap around his waist for modesty. “What the bloody hell?”
    Anne scrambled to sit up. Dressed from neck to toe in a heavy white cotton nightgown, she was the very image of how he’d imagine a young gentlewoman, no virgin, would dress for bed. Her soft, straight hair had been brushed until it shone and then pulled back into a neat braid. Her eyes were