He squinted into the darkened room and spotted the mound of a person beneath the coverlet, three dogs beside her. That was a surprise.

Arran leaned down and quietly removed all but his plaid and his shirt. He padded over to the bed, pulled his shirt free of his plaid, and then, with hands on his hips, he stared down at his wife. The dogs lifted their heads and began to beat their tails against the coverlet. He signaled them down and ushered them out of the room, then returned to the bed.

She lay on her side. A thick braid of her hair spilled behind her like a rope. Her face was buried in a pillow and her limbs, covered by the bed linens, seemed to be folded at strange angles. It was strange finding her here like this—she’d never slept a full night in his bed without being commanded to do it.

He stripped out of his shirt and plaid, leaving them where they fell, and lifted the bedsheet to slide in beside her. He moved to her back, draping his arm across her abdomen. She was wearing a silk chemise that felt like water to his hand, and her hair was fragrant, as if a vine of clematis had curled around his bed. Her small, supple body was invitingly warm, and he was suddenly and unwelcomingly filled with longing. A desire to protect. To keep, to hold.

“Where were you?” she murmured sleepily into her pillow.

“Minding things.”

“Do you have a mistress?”

Arran sighed impatiently. “No. I’ve been unfailingly and uncomfortably and some say foolishly loyal to the marriage vows I made before you and God, aye?”

Margot shifted onto her back and blinked up at him with lids heavy with sleep. She smiled softly and touched a lock of hair on his forehead. “Truly?”

“I would no’ say so were it false. There has been no one but you since we wed. Can you say the same?”

She touched the tip of her finger to his lips.

“Before you answer, I will caution you against falsehood,” he said, and lightly bit the tip of her finger before pulling her hand down. “Dermid has been near Norwood Park since you left, aye?”

“Oh, indeed he has,” she said with a sigh. “Someone is always watching me. I will be entirely honest, but you will not like my answer.”

Bloody hell. He steeled himself. “Go on, then. Donna trifle with me.”

She looked him in the eye. “Shortly after I returned to Norwood Park, I allowed a gentleman to kiss me.”

Arran frowned. He waited. Surely there was more to it. “Who?”

“Does it matter?”

“Aye, it matters,” he said, catching her hand and keeping her from touching him again. “Who?”

“Sir William Dalton,” she said, and pulled her hand free. “I shouldn’t think you’d know of him.”