Page 21 of Her Accidental Highlander Husband

“Good,” he said, though something didn’t sit quite right.

Wasn’t this what he’d wanted? A way to stay clear of marriage to a woman who might make demands of love? Mari didn’t want that any more than he did.

And that was a good thing.

A very good thing.

Chapter Nine

Marian spent the night tossing and turning. At the first hint of light, she was out of bed and off to find something to keep her mind busy.

The night before, she and Cameron had come to an agreement. A marriage in name only. Except, they were sharing a room, a bed, and a life.

While she agreed they couldn’t expect love from their accidental marriage, she had to admit—to herself at least—that she was interested in what might eventually happen between them…physically.

And that shocked her to no end. After the physical nightmare she’d endured with the duke, how could she possibly be open to willingly share her body with a man? It made no sense, even to her.

And yet, she could not deny it—she’d felt something warm and pleasant flare within her when Cameron MacKinlay lay next her in the dark.

The idea of lying with him as a wife intrigued Marian in some deep, long-hidden part of her. But the risk remained too great. Her husband, as large and imposing as he was, could break her far more easily than Blackley ever had. Maybe violence didn’t simmer on the surface with Cameron, but at some point she would displease him, and his patience would snap.

What then?

Slipping into the kitchen, she found the women busy with preparations for the morning meal. Kenna wasn’t there. She must have given in to Lachlan’s pleading that she rest until after the babe was born.

The other women—older than Marian and Kenna—offered her a smile as she hovered near the door, unsure of how to help. As a duchess, she’d never stepped foot in the kitchen, much less helped the staff.

Even as a girl she’d never been allowed to linger in the kitchens as Kenna had. Marian had been confined to her training and lessons, forgoing fun in order to secure a future with a nobleman.

She could only imagine what her father would say to find out she’d been handfasted to a Scot. And not even a laird. The thought gave her a flicker of happiness.

She was free to be who she wanted to be. No longer forced into the rules of being the laird’s daughter or contorted into her role as duchess. She could simply be Marian.

Or Mari.

Cameron’s simpler name for her made more sense in her new life. She had been reinvented, living a simpler, easier life.

From now on, she would be Mari.

“Would you be able to help crimp the tarts?” Espath—if she remembered correctly—asked as if knowing Marian—Mari—needed prompting.

“Of course.” She offered them a smile and took her spot, eager to be of help.

This was her home now, and she longed to fit in. Her life as Duchess of Endsmere had been lonely. Only Lucy had ever spoken to her like a real person. The other staff had kept their distance, either because they felt the duchess wouldn’t embrace their relationship, or from fear of reprimand from the duke.

Mari let out a breath and took to her task. She was free. She was making friends. And she was safe.

As long as she did nothing to anger her new husband.

Though from the scowl on his face when he opened the door and ducked into the kitchen, she worried that might not be possible.

“Mari? Can I speak with ye outside?”

She glanced to the other women for help, but they offered nothing more than soft smiles. “Yes. Of course.”

He stayed her with a hand and pointed. “You might bring a few of those with you?”

The women tittered, and Espath grabbed up four of the finished tarts and wrapped them in a cloth. Handing them over to her with a wink, she said, “Have a good morning.”