Page 29 of The Shadow of a Laird
He was a big, tough man to be sure, but it would be very unfair of her to let him suffer the discomfort of trying to rest on the cold, unyielding wood with only a cloak to cover himself with. The bed was not likely to be comfortable, but at least it would be warm.
“Ye cannae sleep down there,” she said flatly. “Ye will freeze. We will share the bed.”
“No.” Gavin said the word without thinking; the implications of lying next to Maura were almost unthinkable. How could he have his body pressed against her soft curves all night and stop himself from touching her in any intimate way? It was impossible, and both of them knew it.
Maura turned and looked up at him, and for the hundredth time realised how tall he was, and how he seemed to fill the small space. At that moment, something passed between them, some current of attraction that was palpable, but not acknowledged by either of them.
Maura saw every detail of his face with astonishing clarity; the gold flecks in his eyes, each one of the rust-coloured bristles on his cheeks which had not been shaved for a day, and the fullness of his lower lip. It was a beautiful, but unmistakably masculine face, each feature strong and well-defined, almost as though it had been carved from stone.
Gavin watched as her gaze roamed over his face. Her eyes, stunningly blue, were capable of great merriment or sadness, but now they darkened, full of some other emotion to which hedared not put a name. Her soft lips parted, and she sucked in a sudden deep breath that caused her full breasts to rise and fall. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull her roughly into his arms and kiss her senseless.
The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension, and for a few seconds it was as though they were waiting for something momentous to happen, before Maura abruptly turned away to unpack her belongings. The spell was broken.
Gavin sighed and began to do likewise. It was time to be practical, to establish how they were going to cope with the situation they found themselves in. Gavin spread his cloak on the floor and produced a blanket he had taken from his bedroom at the tavern, then he remembered his cushion. Its soft surface would be the only comfortable thing in his hard bed, but there was nothing he could do about that.
“I still have a wee bit o’ food here,” Maura said. “We willnae get served in the tavern tonight—it’s far too busy.”
Gavin was ravenous, but he agreed, since he was too tired to go downstairs and fight for the last few scraps of whatever food was left that evening. He sat on the floor, deciding that he might as well become accustomed to the discomfort, and let Maura sit on the chair.
They ate their bannocks, cheese, and fruit in silence, shared the last of the ale, then Maura looked around her, wondering how she could get ready for bed in private.
Gavin, seeing her awkwardness, decided to leave for a few moments to give her time to wash and relieve herself, since he was still hungry anyway. “I will see what’s left over downstairs,” he told her. “We might get a few scraps.”
Maura thanked him and sighed with relief when he left. She quickly washed as much of herself as she could, climbed into bed and pulled the thin blanket over herself up to her chin, still absolutely chilled to the bone.
She was absolutely exhausted, but too nervous to even close her eyes. The prospect of having a devastatingly attractive man in her chamber was exciting, but not conducive to a good night’s rest. Yet as she looked at Gavin’s cloak and blanket spread on the floor, Maura realised that she simply could not allow him to lie there; it would be cruel, and it made much more sense for them to keep each other warm in the narrow bed.
He arrived a moment later with two more bannocks spread with butter. “I am afraid this was all I could get,” he said sorrowfully.
“Better than nothin’,” Maura said, shrugging. They ate in silence again, then Gavin picked up his blanket, preparing to lie down on the floor.
“No, don’t.” Maura’s voice was firm as she climbed out of bed and stood up. “Get in that bed, or I will lie down beside ye on the floor, an’ we can both freeze.”
Gavin looked at her face, which was an almost comical mask of determination. Once more, he had a near-overwhelming urge to draw her into his arms, but he resisted it with a valiant effort of will. He looked at the bed, then at the floor, and sighed. Maura was right, of course. It would be madness to lie on the cold wood when he could be snuggled against her warm body, sharing her warmth.
“I hope ye can be good for just one night,” Maura said, her eyes twinkling wickedly. “Or is that too much tae ask?”
Gavin, not to be outdone, said, “I think I can behave well, but what if you find me utterly irresistible and cannot keep your hands off me?”
Maura giggled, and as he looked at her face, alight with mischief, he wondered if he could keep his word; she was almost irresistible.
He picked up the blanket from the floor and draped it over the bed before climbing in beside Maura. The heat from herbody spread from her skin to his, and he closed his eyes, then breathed a sigh of contentment as he laid his head on the pillow beside hers.
“Better?” Maura asked, with a smile in her voice.
Gavin gave a soft laugh. “Yes,” he whispered, but he felt intensely awkward. The bed was against the wall, and to accommodate his large body, he almost had to press Maura against it. As well as that, her closeness was causing his manhood to stiffen uncomfortably, and he knew she could feel it. What must she think of him?
As it happened, Maura was wondering how she could conceal her own arousal from him, since her nipples had hardened into peaks under her dress, so she began to do what she did best—talk.
“What does it feel like bein’ a Laird?” she asked. “Dae ye feel powerful?”
Gavin laughed softly. “I did at first,” he answered. “Then it all just became too much for me. My parents’ death affected me badly, and I fell apart. The rest you know.”
“Did it feel good growin’ up in the castle?” Maura went on. “Did ye have lots o’ toys?”
Gavin laughed again. “I was never short of those,” he replied. “And I had my first pony at the age of six, a little strawberry roan. She was adorable, but the first time I was lifted onto her back, I was terrified. It seemed like such a long way down to the ground! I remember how my hands shook as I held on to the saddle pommel and I screamed to be taken off. But as the days passed, I became used to everything, and I was brave enough to sit on her back while she walked around the stable.
After a while, I took her outside, and then, when I was confident enough, we broke into a trot. As I grew, the ponies became bigger too. My horse now is called Sable, but I doubt I will ever see him again.” His voice was infinitely sad, then heabruptly changed the subject. “What about you, Maura? What was it like growing up in Duncairn?”
