Page 18 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
“Why?” he said.
Turning to look at him, she said, “I need a mirror tae braid me hair. Me maid usually daes it, and I cannae dae it without a mirror.”
He had seen her lie, badly, the night before, and watching the tiny movements of her face, it was clear she had gotten no better at it that morning.
“Ye really cannae braid yer own hair?” he pressed, wondering if she was going to tell him the truth.
No doubt the mirror had more to do with her vanity than a tool to help her, but he wanted to hear that come from her own mouth.
“I didnae say that,” she said. “I said, I cannae dae it without a mirror.”
“Well, I’m nae going tae waste any time trying tae find a mirror in this place. Here, I’ll help ye. I used tae braid rope as a young lad. I’m sure it’s more or less the same thing,” he said, stepping forward with a smirk.
“What?” she gasped. “Nay.”
His smirk grew wider, for even as he approached her, she still did not tell him the truth. But then, for her to tell him she could actually do it without a mirror, she would have to admit she had lied.
He was now at her back, and still, she stubbornly refused to confess. He grinned to himself.Well, then, I have nay choice, dae I?
“Now, sit still. Let me see if I can remember how tae dae this.”
Of course, he remembered perfectly well, he just wanted to worry her even more.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” she said, her voice now sounding worried. “I’ll just fix it some other way.”
She then began pulling her hair away from him. But Keane took her hands and gently lifted her locks from her.
“Nay, nay. Let me dae it.”
Taking her hair in his hands, he began. He wasn’t lying earlier. He had indeed, braided rope as a youngster, but the soft locks of her hair were a far cry to the stiff, hardened strands he had worked with.
Starting from the nape of her neck, he split her hair into three pieces, and began folding one piece over the other. But it was long, and soft, and kept slipping from his grip.
Huffing with frustration as he continued, Elspeth said, “It is harder than it looks, isnae it?”
He didn’t miss the light mocking in her tone.
“If yer hair wasnae so fine, it would be easier,” he murmured.
“Ye would prefer me hair was as tough as rope?” she countered teasingly.
“Nay, but…”
“Ye would prefer straw then?” she teased again.
Keane couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle. “Aye. Maybe.”
Eventually, and with much frowning, the braid started to come together, though it looked nowhere near as neat as she or her maid might have done. With the soft strands brushing against his fingers, and the closeness with which he stood behind her, Keane found himself rather mesmerized and couldn’t help but gaze at the soft skin of her shoulders and the nape of her neck.
When he eventually finished, he found himself lingering, and tucking the braid across her shoulder, his fingers skimmed the soft skin he had been gazing at only moments before. Elspeth took a slight breath in at his touch, and he watched as goosebumps raised on her body. For a second, there was an electric spark between them, tension locking them both into the moment.
“Well,” she said, standing swiftly and turning to face him. “Thank ye.”
Keane gazed down at her and nodded. “Ye’re welcome.”
Still, he didn’t move, and then Elspeth began to look uncomfortable.
“Right,” he said, shaking himself free from the spell he appeared to be under. “We should go.”
