Page 11 of Her Accidental Highlander Husband

Cam thought Liam’s words were well chosen. He stood and bumped into Lach when he rose as well. They walked side by side to meet their wives.

Lach bowed to Mari and then held out his arm for Kenna. Cam did the same, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Mari. She was stunning.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered and noticed her smile waver. He remembered then that her beauty had turned out to be a curse. Perhaps it was a compliment she no longer enjoyed hearing. “That is to say, you look much better cleaned up.”

Her smile picked up slightly, and she leaned closer to him. “I could say the same of you. You surely smell better.”

He laughed. “As I recall, no one would have confused ye with a rose when you stuck your bosom in my face.”

When her smile fell, he realized he’d gone too far with the jest. He was such a dolt around women when conversation was involved. It was why he only ever took them to bed. He didn’t talk to them first.

Kenna was the only exception, and mostly because she didn’t act all that much like a woman. But Mari was completely feminine. He’d need to do much better.

“Pardon.” He coughed. “Your fragrance was not as off-putting as I made it seem.”

She merely blinked at him for a moment.

“That was no better than what you said the first time,” he muttered to himself as she blinked. Unable to help himself, he tried once more. “Having your breasts in my face was a pleasurable experience no matter—”

“Thank you,” she interrupted. God bless her for stopping him before he made it even worse. But when the silence grew on, he fell victim to discomfort.

“I didn’t hate it, is all I’m saying.” Not at all. He helped her to her seat, allowing his gaze to linger on the curve of her breasts. He noticed how dainty she was. A few inches shorter than Kenna, and smaller too. The gown she wore hung loose on her tiny frame.

He’d heard that thin women were the thing in London. However, in the Highlands, a frail woman wouldn’t survive the harsh winter without putting some meat on her bones. He’d work on feeding her until she was healthy.

He noticed a thin red scar on the cheek facing him. It traveled from the corner of her left eye down to her jawline. He swallowed and let out a steady breath. The scar could have been a result of an injury or accident, but he could see how perfectly shaped it was as it mirrored the line of her face and doubted it had been made without intention.

The bloody duke.

Cam clenched his fork too tightly. The monster was dead and no longer able to hurt Marian.

He smiled at his wife, wondering what other horrors she’d experienced and how he’d ever be able to sit quietly and listen if she chose to tell him. She’d been forced to kill in defense of her own life. Her stories would be unsettling for sure. He’d have to remain calm if ever she shared her past with him.

She caught him looking at the scar, and as if by instinct she reached for her hair, tugging a few strands from the twist.

When he raised his hand to stop her, she winced, eyes closed as if waiting for a strike.

“Settle, lass,” he whispered and glanced out at the hall to see if others had noticed.

“I’m sorry. I told Kenna this style wasn’t at all the thing, but she insisted.”

Moving slower this time, he took her hand and stopped her from destroying Kenna’s handiwork.

“It’s lovely. You are lovely. There’s not a one of us save the little ones who doesn’t bear scars. Wear yours with honor, lass, for only a survivor is able to wear scars.”

She swallowed, and after a moment she nodded and turned back to her food.

As they dined she took tiny bird bites of her meal, then pushed it away when she hadn’t finished half.

“Are you not hungry or is the food not to your liking?” he asked, thinking it odd. She’d been on the run with little money. Surely, she hadn’t had easy access to food. But maybe her palate had grown used to London cuisine and their rough meal of venison and greens wasn’t setting well.

“Truth be told, I am famished. But it’s considered unladylike to eat everything upon one’s plate.” She pressed her lips together and looked longingly at the plate.

He didn’t understand women’s logic, but he did know how to fix a problem when one arose.

“That may be. What do I know?” He pulled her plate closer and dumped more food on it. “There. Now ye may eat only half again.”

She looked up at him with surprise and gratitude, then turned back to the plate, eating what he’d added. This time she left only a few small bites behind.