Page 43 of Ruining a Highland Healer
After a long while, Valora turned to face him, her eyes searching his in the dim light. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed something from him, anything that would make her feel closer to him, more wanted.
When his hand moved ever so slightly closer, in a gesture that was nothing more than a mere twitch of his fingers, but which made them brush against her hand, Valora couldn’t take it anymore. It was as though that simple touch was enough to ignite every hidden desire in her, calling it up to the surface.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
It took a lot of courage for Valora to speak those two words, and then, as they looked at each other in silence, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a mistake.
Torrin hesitated, his gaze searching hers for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers in agentle, tentative kiss. It was soft, tender, little more than a chaste press of lips.
When they parted, he smiled faintly. "I told ye ye’d beg," he teased lightly.
Valora chuckled softly, the sound a salve to the tension that still lingered between them. Then, Torrin pulled her close once more, kissing her again—only this time it was deep, passionate, nothing like the first tentative press of his lips. Now, he wasn’t holding back. Now he was kissing her with everything he had, everything he felt for her, and Valora couldn’t help but lean into it, seek out more, crave to be lost in it entirely.
When they parted, it was as though someone had drawn all the air out of the room. She was panting softly, her breath cut short, but then calmed down as Torrin pulled her close, wrapping her into a loose embrace.
They settled into each other's arms, the long night stretching out before them. And as sleep finally claimed them, Valora allowed herself to believe that this—this fragile, intimate connection—was the beginning of something more.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes, casting soft golden pillars across Torrin’s chambers. He stirred underneath the covers, his eyes fluttering open to the warmth of Valora’s presence by his side. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close in his sleep.
For a moment, Torrin simply lay there, content, not wanting to move or break the tranquility of the morning. His heart pounded in his chest. He had never been one to linger long in the early hours, but waking up like this, with her in his arms, felt like a rare and precious moment. He wanted to get the most out of it.
But soon, Valora stirred, her body shifting to the side as her eyes slowly blinked open, and she looked up at him in confusion. For a passing moment, neither of them spoke, both unsure of where exactly they were, as if the world outside had momentarily ceased to exist.
"Good mornin’," Torrin whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice.
She turned her head to face him, and then, as if some spell had been broken, both of them froze as they realized where they were and what they were doing. They were wrapped up in the sheets, arms and legs twisting around each other in a tangled mess. Before Torrin knew what he was doing, he was desperately trying to untangle himself. At the same time, Valora began to flail around, equally flustered and in a hurry to be untangled from him, but with their combined efforts, all they managed to do was get even more tangled up in the sheets, making it impossible for them to escape. Arms got caught in sheets, legs twisted together, and before either of them could think to stop it, they both fell off the side of the bed with a loud thud.
"I… I dinnae ken how this happened," Valora mumbled, and when Torrin turned to face her, her cheeks a red so bright that she seemed to be glowing from within. "Fergive me."
"Nay, nay, it is I who must ask fer yer forgiveness," Torrin said, waving a hand dismissively as he still tried to untangle himself from the mess of sheets, only for him to drag the covers down to the floor in his failed attempt. In the end, he sat down on the floor with a huff and ran a hand through his hair.
Next to him, Valora was having similar troubles.
Torrin couldn’t help but laugh. What else could he do other than laugh at the ridiculousness of their situation? There they were, two grown adults tangled in the sheets, trying to get free to no avail. Despite the awkwardness of their situation, it was impossible to remain serious.
Valora laughed, too, though softly, the sound barely audible to Torrin’s ears; still, crystal clear, like a bubbling brook. There was something about that laugh, something that filled his chest with a warmth that lingered. The more he listened to it, the more he craved it, like the sweet burn of whisky down his throat.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, finally managing to untangle himself. Then, he walked over to Valora and offered her his hand, which she took after a moment of hesitation. As he helped her up, Valora fixed her clothes in a hurry, smoothing her hands over the fabric in an attempt to appear decent—even though Torrin was anything but. Still, her hair was a mess around her head, her face and eyes puffy with sleep, and no matter how hard she tried to appear decent enough for polite company, it seemed like an impossible task.
But Torrin liked her like that. He liked her soft with sleep, her hair mussed and her eyes still half-closed. There was something intimate about it.
He didn’t even realize when he began to lean in close, drawn closer to Valora like a moth is drawn to a flame. She was utterly magnetic, her mere presence enough to drive every other thought out of Torrin’s mind.
As he leaned closer, so did Valora, tilting her head up to meet him halfway—only for there to be a knock on the door, which opened before Torrin could even respond.
There were only two people who entered his chambers like that, and only one of them was currently in the castle—Noah, who wasso used to Torrin being alone that he never had to wait to be allowed in.
The three of them froze, glancing at each other in equal measures of shock and horror. Quickly, and again before Torrin could utter a single word, Noah left the room once more, closing the door behind him.
From the other side of the door, Noah’s voice called, "Fergive me. I didnae mean to intrude. But I must speak with ye."
Even through the door, his tone was strained, embarrassed, and Torrin couldn’t help but feel the same embarrassment in his gut, his stomach twisting with it. It was foolish—Noah had seen him in much worse situations, and much more suggestive ones, and yet never before had either of them been this embarrassed about it. They had only laughed and patted each other on the back, and moved on with their days.
In the time it had taken Noah to leave the room—those short seconds of fleeing—Valora had fled herself, jumping to the other side of the room and as far away from Torrin as she could. Her entire face and chest were flushed, the tips of her ears burning a bright red, and Torrin didn’t know if it would be better to comfort her in some way or to leave her alone.
He glanced at her for a moment, but she didn’t return his gaze. Then, he approached the door but didn’t dare open it. "What is it?"
