Page 60 of Laird of Smoke
But Adam knew what to say.“Nay.We came in peace.I thought it might be unwise to greet the Scottish king with an Irish axe.”
“True.”Pitcairn chortled.“It could be considered an ‘axe o’ war’.”
It was a terrible jest.But everyone at the table laughed, Adam most of all, who raised his cup to the laird in a salute.
The rest of the evening went smoothly enough.If Eve misspoke, Adam was there to soften her words.When Adam paid her husbandly attention, she was careful to mirror his mood.
After a few cups of wine, the border between fact and fiction began to blur.The adoration Adam expressed felt real.His words of affection made her heart melt.His warm glances made her blush.The touch of his fingers upon her arm stirred her blood.The press of his thigh against hers seemed right…and comforting…and arousing.
How could it not be real?
After their simple meal of mutton pottage, they shared a dish of blancmange.
Adam spooned a bite of the sweet, milky dessert into her mouth, lowering his gaze to her lips.
It might have been moor muck for all the attention Eve paid it.She was far more intrigued by the soft glow of his gaze.His gentle smile of encouragement.The inviting temptation of his mouth.
Swallowing down the blancmange, she returned the favor, taking the spoon and feeding him.
“Mmm.”
That wee sound seemed to curl around her ear into her brain, bringing every nerve to life.
There was a tiny drop of blancmange left on his lower lip, and it took every ounce of her restraint not to lean forward to lick it away.
Adam recognized the smoke in Aillenn’s gaze.It was raw lust.And it wasn’t the blancmange she lusted after.
The smoldering glance she gave him shot a bolt of desire through him.His eyes darkened.His chest swelled.And betwixt his legs, the beast roused.
In one way, that was good.Healthy lust added authenticity to their claim they were newly married.
But they’d both had enough wine to be careless.And if they got distracted, mistakes might be made.
She was staring at his mouth now.She wanted him to kiss her.
He wanted to.God, how he wanted to.And he suspected she wouldn’t pull away.
But he couldn’t.
Surely it was unseemly to kiss at the table, wasn’t it?
On the other hand, perhaps everyone would assume they were simply enthusiastic newlyweds.
Or they could claim it was Irish tradition to kiss after blancmange.
He took a deep preparatory breath.
Then, before he could close the distance and press his lips to hers, the maidservant Tilda poked her head between them.
“If ye’re ready,” she said, turning her head to speak to each of them, “I’ll send the servants to fetch water for your bath now.”
Aillenn gave a stunned nod.
Tilda smiled.“Would ye be wantin’ assistance?”
“Nay,” Adam hurried to say.“We can manage on our own.”
He remembered the chairs positioned near the tub.The last thing he needed was Pitcairn deciding to “assist” Aillenn with her bath.
