THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

for she’d not keened, yet still she remained remote each time they tupped despite his best efforts. At the time he had no way of knowing that she loved another and thought him a heathen. ‘Twas only when she buried her blade in his back did he come to understand her full loathing for him. And by then ‘twas too late.
    Praise the saints, this new wife is a widow. He’d had his fill of virgins.
    Surely, Isaac had misunderstood Beth’s responses to his questions. Had she not caressed Duncan with gentle hands and cool water whilst he lay fevered and naked as a wee bird? Certainly no virgin would ever do such. And she had shaved him without so much as a nick, which only proved she’d done so in the past for her first husband. That thought—-that she’d gently ministered to another—caused a sudden, inexplicable tightening in his gut. Odd.
    He wet his face and reluctantly pressed the blade to his cheek. Since Beth obviously preferred a babe-like visage over a manly beard, he supposed shaving ‘twas the least he could do for the poor addled lass. She had brought him back from the brink of death, after all.
    As he scraped over his jaw he heaved a sigh.
    He’d never been comfortable, as some men were, enjoying the occasional prime flesh of loose women. Tupping with their ilk ‘twas something he’d done as a lad to gain skill but not since.
    A mature man should, he believed, save his seed for his ladywife, the vessel of a legitimate and fertile womb. But would Lady Beth graciously accept his attention? Or would she, like his last two wives, grit her teeth and pray for the act to be over?
    If he learned her colorful, chaotic thoughts stemmed only from an injury, would she be joyful when she carried his seed, his heir?
    So many questions with no answers.
    Smooth cheeked, he donned the collarless jerkin he’d chosen for this special occasion. Flora had once told him the deep blue brocade enhanced the color of his eyes. He didn’t know whether it did or not, but she’d smiled so perhaps Beth would find it pleasing, as well. And he would have preferred to be physically stronger for this night, but...
    He squared his shoulders and heaved a sigh of resignation. He’d delayed as long as he dared. The deed must now be done.
    ~#~
     
    Finished with shaving her legs, Beth put away the short blade Rachael had loaned her, and started smearing her homemade kelp cleanser on her face. “I hope this works better than it smells.”
    She grinned, her thoughts on Rachael. The poor woman had been wide-eyed thinking the worst when Beth had asked for the knife. It had taken forever to convince her new friend she only wanted to shave, that she felt dirty with a week’s worth of stubble on her body. Rachael, still not sure what Beth was about, had insisted on watching. Her exclamations had almost—but not quite—put Duncan’s plans for the upcoming night out of mind. 
    Beth prayed Rachael’s “flower” plan would work, but what if it didn’t? She had heard some men didn’t mind having sex during a woman’s period, though for the life of her she couldn’t image a woman agreeing to it.
    In his current physical condition, there was the possibility she could out run him. But what if he bellowed for help? Angus and half the world would come running. And if she did manage to elude his men, where would she go? Blackstone was already locked down for the night. From earlier observation she knew Duncan’s nightly precautions would have impressed a state pen warden. She grimaced, and her kelp mask tugged.
      She had no choice but to hope Rachael’s plan would hold Duncan at bay. Ignoring the small voice in her head that screamed, “Run while you still can”, she closed her eyes and splashed water on her face.
      Feeling a tap her on the shoulder, she jumped.
      “God’s teeth, woman! What have ye on yer visage?”
      Beth looked like a startled frog. Duncan’s shock dissolved into laughter when his green-as-grass wife began to blush. God, she had to be the oddest, funniest thing he’d ever seen.
      He gasped for air when she stomped a bare foot at him and pointed to the door. “Out, you great lummox!”
    “Beth, my dear...” He took a deep breath and tried to look contrite, but laughter started bubbling out of his chest again.
    If he didn’t get control, all would be lost, but saints above, what had ever possessed her? He cleared his throat to smother the chuckle hovering behind his tongue.
    Finished with her