The Marriage Contract by Cathy Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page A

another.
    Anne tilted her ear in the direction of the speaker. Two older women huddled together in conference. They were quickly joined by others, many younger than themselves.
    “Men need to have that kind of woman around,” one of them whispered. “A bachelor like the laird has needs.”
    Anne wondered if by “needs” the woman meant the same as “distractions.” She listened harder.
    “A bachelor like the laird needs to find a wife,” the first speaker declared crisply—winning a place in Anne’s heart! “Then we’d have a wee bit of organization and common sense around Kelwin.”
    “Men don’t think of such things,” another observed.
    “It’s still disgraceful.” And they all agreed. “Someone should run those Whiskey Girls off.”
    “You can’t run off the distiller’s daughters,” another told her with a laugh.
    There was a sharp reply, but Anne didn’t hear it, for at that moment a red-headed boy took her horse’s bridle and said, “Do ye need help, Miss? I’m goin’ to be takin’ Beaumains to his stall. He’s ready for a nice rubdown.”
    The horse beneath her shifted his weight as if letting her know he had been patient long enough. He swished his sweeping tail in her direction.
    Anne confessed, “I can’t get down.”
    “Oh.” The lad looked around and hurried off into the crowd to return in a second with a thick log, three feet high, which served as a mounting block. Anne was relieved for the opportunity to dismount with some dignity. Still, Beaumains was a tall horse, and she glanced around to see if anyone had noticed her less than graceful scramble down.
    People were more involved with themselves than the antics of a stranger. The crowd was beginning to disperse. The hunters had returned victorious and there was no longer a reason to linger, save for one last tankard of ale. The people shifted and moved around her, making their goodnights to one another or plans for the morrow.
    With the expediency of the young, the stable lad had walked off with the horse leaving Anne still standing on the mounting block. She felt very alone and out of place. Again she looked to Aidan and what she saw made her eyes pop open.
    He was no longer drinking with Fang. Instead, he was now surrounded by the same women who had welcomed Hugh. The Whiskey Girls. They’d abandoned Hugh without a backward glance.
    One of the Whiskey Girls laughingly messed Aidan’s hair with a bold familiarity that made Anne’s blood sizzle. They were definitely sisters with the same coal black hair and ample, jiggling bosoms which they thrust up at her husband in a decidedly provocative manner.
    Then, the hussy who’d pulled Aidan’s hair took his hand holding the tankard and rubbed it, tankard and all, back and forth across her overflowing breasts, the nipples already tight and hard against the tight material of her skimpy bodice.
    And Aidan let her.
    Reason fled; shyness evaporated, as did her promises made earlier during her pretty speech about allowing him his “distractions.”
    Anne would be damned to be so publicly humiliated. And she didn’t care about his “needs.” Something possessive rose inside her. In a voice as sharp as a governess’s, she said, “Take your hands off my husband.”
    Her words cut through the air. Everyone froze in surprise, including the erring Whiskey Girl and Aidan.
    “Husband?” the Whiskey Girl repeated dumbly.
    “Husband?” the good women of the clan echoed.

Chapter 4
     
    In the ensuing dead silence, Anne reflected that perhaps her announcement had been a bit brash.
    There was naught she could do now. She met Aidan’s gaze with her head high. This was not how she’d wanted to be first presented to his people. But if she didn’t stake her claim, he would send her away without anyone being the wiser.
    She wasn’t being replaced by a tart. And she wasn’t leaving her castle—even if the look her husband sent her way could sear meat.
    Reading her mind, he insolently