Page 62 of Desiring the Highland Laird
“You didn’t,” she said quickly. “I was thinking of my sister. She’s a chatterbox. I was thinking how much she would dislike the silence and try to come up with something to talk about to fill it.”
“Chatterbox?” He tilted his head to one side in question.
“You know. Someone who likes to talk a lot.” She waved a piece of cheese in the air as if that would explain it.
“Ah,” he said, giving a nod of understanding. There was a long pause, then he said, “I dinnae thank ye.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For taking care of me before.”
She wasn’t certain, but she thought a bit of pink colored his cheeks, as though he had never had a woman care for him the way she did. She didn’t do much, if anything.
“You mean cleaning your hands?”
“Aye.”
Now it was her turn to flush. She didn’t know why she did it but something inside her made her want to do it. When he returned to the chamber with that look of grief on his face, she was compelled to do something. A small kindness that would ease the pain of his loss, though she knew from experience nothing would ever ease the pain of losing a parent to an untimely brutal death.
She fiddled with a piece of bread. “Oh, that wasn’t anything special. I wanted to help.”
“It meant a lot to me.” His gaze pinpointed her with a smoldering look that made her want to squirm.
But she didn’t. She remained standing still, her heart doing a weird thud in her chest she had never experienced before. She reached for the cup of wine and drained it, then ate more cheese and bread to keep from getting totally drunk.
“I’m glad I helped,” she said around a mouthful.
He moved from his side of the table toward her. Heat washed over her as he neared. She was unsure what he meant to do, so she remained perfectly still as he approached her. He reached for her hand, taking it in his once again. Something he was doing more and more and something she was starting to like more and more.
“Ye did more than help.”
“I did?” She blinked up at him, her pulse racing at rapid speed. She was sure he was able to see it pounding.
“Aye, lass. Ye dinnae ask questions or make demands of me. Ye were there for me when I needed ye to be.”
“Well, I…” Her words trailed off. She paused, swallowed hard. “I wanted to be there for you.”
His other hand reached for her, resting on the side of her neck. His skin was warm and wonderful against hers. Her head tipped back as she looked up at him. He towered over her by several inches. She never thought she would like to have a manso much taller than her. Until now. A breath shuddered out of her as she licked her lips. His gaze landed there, then back up to hers as he leaned in. Closer. Closer still.
Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her. Soft, sweet, short. Way too short. It was nothing more than the brush of lips against hers. But enough to let her know she wanted more of that. She resisted pulling him to her and mashing her mouth against his because that wasn’t the ladylike thing to do. She realized that in the medieval world things were different. So, she allowed the brush of his mouth against hers.
Then he released her and walked away. Leaving her standing there, alone, in the kitchen with her heart racing and her blood pumping and desire flooding her.
“Bloody hell,” she murmured. She snatched up the remaining cheese and bread and decided to head back to bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After her midnightexcursion with Callum, Evie headed back to bed, climbed under the covers and pulled them to her chin. She was cold but she was too tired and too lazy to get up and make a fire in the hearth. Instead, she burrowed deeper under the blankets and curled into a tight ball. She had no idea when she finally dozed off.
She awoke at the sound of a light knock on the door, followed by the scraping of it as it opened. Faint morning light pressed against the windowpanes, not yet slashing into the room. The sun wasn’t high enough.
“Och, lass, ye let yer fire go out.”
Sleepy-eyed, she yawned as she sat up, still fully buried under blankets. Roslyn set about building a fire in the hearth.
“You don’t have to do that,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.
“I do if ye wish to bathe,” she said without turning around.
