“I ought to shoot you for this,” she mumbled, then more tears appeared. “I told Adam he made me wish I had shot him. Oh, but men are abom-abommmniible.”
Kiernan halted in tugging off the second sleeve and looked at her. “Why didn’t you simply marry him, Phoebe?”
“Abomb-abomnbe—”she frowned ferociously as if it were his fault she couldn’t speak. “Abob-abib—Oh! Horrid! That’s what you all are.”
He pulled the sleeve off, then, standing, stripped the dress from her. She shivered in the chemise. Kiernan tossed the dress onto a nearby chair, then gently pushed her back onto the mattress and sat beside her. He ignored her breasts, straining against her chemise, the nipples dark beneath the fabric, and reached behind her. Kiernan brought her to a sitting position, hugging her to his chest as he attempted to free the covers she sat on.
“I’m not in the mood for this.” She jammed her forced between her breasts pressed and his chest.
He continued to struggle the blanket beneath. “I would suggest, then, keeping your hands to yourself.”
She gave a halfhearted swipe to his chin. “Self-defense,” she mumbled into his neck.
“God help me.” He slipped a hand beneath her buttocks and lifted her enough to free the covers.
Phoebe batted at his arm. “I’m not interested in your attentions tonight.”
“My dear,” he said, laying her back onto crisp linen sheets, “as much as I might like to, I am not in the habit of taking advantage of women who are deep in their cups, even if the woman is my wife.”
Phoebe’s eyes popped open. “Wife,” she said as her hand went to her mouth and she belched.
“Phoebe,” Kiernan said sharply.
“Oh dear,” she said through another belch.
Kiernan whirled and, spying the object he was searching for sitting near the nightstand, scooped it up and faced Phoebe.
“By heavens,” she cried, “not the chamber pot again.”
He dropped to his knees, hoisted her into a sitting position and shoved the pot under her nose.
Phoebe shook her head. “Out of the way, Ashlund.”
Kiernan started to argue, but she scooted to the edge of the bed and shoved to her feet. She dropped to her knees and it was clear her stomach would not be put off any longer. Kiernan once again shoved the chamber pot in front of her. She grasped its edges and vomited.
Laughter abruptly echoed in the hallway outside the door.
“Damnation,” Kiernan cursed as the laughter grew louder. The entire male population of Brahan Seer had decided to congregate outside their room.
Phoebe retched again.
A loud pounding sounded at the door. “Bhalgaire!” said John, a man from the village. “Ye canna’ escape us.” Shouts of agreement went up and more pounding followed. “You may be anxious to see the lassie, but you won't get off so easily.”
“Too late, lads,” Kiernan called.
More laughter. “It’s never too late,” another voice answered in between Phoebe’s gasps. “Now open the door. We won't look.” At this, raucous guffaws abounded and were mingled with more bawdy comments.
Phoebe leaned over, her head nearly touching the chamber pot. Kiernan placed a hand on her head to steady her. She pushed him away, but ceased such efforts in favor of once again gripping the chamber pot and heaving into it. The noise outside the room abruptly stopped.
“What in God’s name are you doing to her?” came the calm voice of his childhood friend David.
“Go on, now, lads,” Kiernan urged. “You’ve done enough damage for one night.”
There was a pause, then, David said, “Sounds to us as if it is you who have done the damage. What’s wrong?”
Kiernan looked down at Phoebe who, though breathing heavily, had ceased retching. “Nothing,” he called.
“There are fifteen of us, at least. We can easily break the door.”
Kiernan sighed. “Will you be all right, Phoebe?”
She shot him a sidelong glance that could only mean she might be all right, but his future good health was uncertain. He rose and went to the door. He unbolted the door, then quickly stepped outside.
Kiernan caught sight of his father at the back of the crowd before saying, “Enough, lads, she’s simply celebrated a little too vigorously.”
The men’s eyes widened and somewhere in the middle of the group someone said, “You don't mean she—”
“Drunk as a skunk?” put in another.
Kiernan didn't miss the twitch at the corner of his father's mouth and was certain the duke was thinking that this was merely the first of many ways in which Phoebe would repay Kiernan for waylaying her coach.
“Never saw a woman who could hold her liquor,” said David.
“Don’t be too sure about that,” Kiernan said. “From what I saw, she drank quite a bit before retiring, and the decanter of brandy in the bedchamber was nearly empty when I arrived.”
John frowned. “Not natural for a woman to drink so much.”