Page 23 of Ruining a Highland Healer
"Would ye like me tae protest more?" Valora asked in a teasing tone, the corner of her lips ticking upwards despite herself. "Because I certainly could."
"Now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I’d rather ye didnae, actually," said Torrin, giving her a smirk of his own. "I think it’s best fer us both if ye gave this a chance."
"Dinnae fash," Valora told him with a soft sigh. "As I said, I have naewhere tae go. I willnae risk me sister’s future or her happiness by tryin’ tae escape."
"If ye did," said Torrin, before taking a short pause, as if considering his next words carefully and whether or not he should say them out loud, "I wouldnae tell yer faither."
Valora didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t even know if Torrin realized the extent of the kindness he was offering by claiming he would cover for her when it came to her father, but she didn’t think he did. No one could understand it unless they knew the man the way she did, and Torrin wasn’t familiar enough with him.
Valora could only stammer out a weakthank yein response. Torrin gave her a sympathetic look—the kind that she was used to receiving from servants and guards whenever her father was particularly cruel to her. It was not a look she cared for; she didn’t want anyone’s pity, but when Torrin looked at her like that, she couldn’t help but think it wasn’t so much pity as it was admiration.
"I must still insist that ye sleep with me, though," Torrin said, and just as Valora was beginning to warm up to him, she was once again frustrated by his stubbornness, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.
"It isnae proper!" she pointed out. "It isnae proper fer me tae sleep in the same chambers as a man I hardly ken!"
"It’s fine," Torrin assured her. "Nay one will ken. An’ if we wed, it willnae matter."
"An’ if we dinnae wed? Everyone in the castle will ken."
"Me people are discreet."
"Well, I snore," she said, as a last resort.
"So dae I."
Valora had to bite back a groan of frustration, but it was becoming increasingly clear to her that there was no way out of this. Whether she wanted to or not, she would have to sleep there, with Torrin, suffering the indignity of it all.
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "But I will sleep on the bed an’ ye will sleep on the floor."
"There’s plenty o’ room on the bed," Torrin pointed out.
It was true. It was a large bed, much larger than what Valora was used to and clearly built to signal wealth to whoever laid eyes upon it. Still, it felt far too indecent to be sharing a bed with Torrin. A room, she could manage, but a bed was a different story.
Torrin gave her an unimpressed look, but only for a moment before he relented with a long-suffering sigh.
"Fine," he said. "May I at least have a blanket? An’ a pillow?"
Valora glanced at the bed, piled as it was with pillows, blankets, and furs to keep its occupant warm throughout the night. She gave Torrin a small shrug as if to say he could help himself and then watched as he grabbed some of the furs, laying them by the fire, a couple of blankets, and a few pillows. By the time he was done, he had all but created a makeshift bed by the fireplace, one that somehow looked much more inviting than the actual bed in the room.
Not that Valora would ever admit that.
"Well… goodnight," she said, and then made her way to the bed without giving Torrin another look. Just as she sat on the edge of the mattress, though, she considered her predicament.
She couldn’t remove her clothes, not in front of him and not while they were sharing the room. She would have to sleep in her dress, no matter how uncomfortable that sounded. Thankfully, it was clean and not the one she had been wearing when they arrived, as the maids had been kind enough to find her a change of clothes.
With a sigh, she removed the slippers they had brought her and slipped under the covers, fully clothed. Behind her, she heard a chuckle, but paid Torrin no mind. Even if he had noticed and even if he found it amusing or perhaps even ridiculous, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction—nor the satisfaction of seeing her in any state of undress.
As she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable despite Torrin’s presence, Valora could hear him in the other side of the room, shuffling around and undressing. She heard the hiss of fabric against fabric, the soft sound of it as it was draped over a chair. She heard Torrin move the furs and the blankets, her sense of hearing amplified as she kept her eyes closed.
She was overly aware of him, of his presence near her. She could hear every little sound, every small sigh—everything that he did as he tried to get comfortable, as though he were right next to her.
She didn’t know how she could possibly fall asleep like this, with Torrin right there. Even if they weren’t interacting at all, even if they weren’t at all close to each other, she couldn’t help but think of him as though he was right there by her side.
But soon, her exhaustion won over everything else and she could no longer fight her fatigue. Sleep claimed her, but it was an uneasy one, filled with nightmares that kept her tossing and turning throughout the night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Torrin woke up thirty years older. Or at least that was how he felt as he stood after a night on the floor. In his youth, he had spent endless nights camping for missions, and even now, whenever an inn wasn’t available, he would spend the night on the forest floor. But he had gotten used to the luxuries of the castle and the inns, his body expecting the comforts of a good bed. The previous night had left him sore and stiff, and he decided there was no better way to get back to Valora for making him sleep on the floor than to wake her up with a ruckus.
