Page 77 of A Healer for the Ruthless Highlander
“Mr. Beaton, me name is Brenda, and I am Kenneth’s maither,” Brenda said, taking a step toward her father and sisters. “All this time, Leana has been our guest, and now I ask that ye be our guest as well. Spend the night with us and rest, and if ye wish, ye and yer beautiful daughters may leave at first light.”
“Faither, that wouldnae be a bad idea,” Irene piped up, apparently realizing that her sister’s captors weren’t bad people. “The horses are exhausted after ridin’ all this way…”
Her father didn’t seem convinced, but it was Leana herself who dispelled his doubts. “Please, Da. I daenae want to leave without sayin’ goodbye properly.”
Her eyes were filled with tears she dared not shed. Her sorrow was so obvious that even her father hesitated for a moment.
“Alright, then. I guess we’ll stay the night,” he relented with a sigh.
Kenneth stepped closer, the world around them melting into a blur as he seized the fleeting moment when no one was watching. The heat of his presence brushed against her skin, sending a shiver racing down her spine. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his voice a low murmur charged with something unspoken.
“Come to me tonight.”
The words coiled around her, weighty, brimming with meaning she couldn’t immediately grasp. Leana’s gaze flickered to his face, searching, desperate for an answer within the sharp angles of his expression, the intensity that lingered in his eyes. But he offered none. Instead, he pulled away, the distance between them growing in the span of a heartbeat. Without another word, he turned, retreating toward the castle, his broad figure disappearing into the dusk.
She remained frozen, her pulse hammering, her thoughts tangled in the request he had left behind—a request she wasn't sure she knew how to respond to.
CHAPTER 25
On the bed,her sisters slept soundly. Leana watched them, realizing that only after they had cried and assuaged their doubts about what was happening did they feel calm enough to fall asleep.
The problem was that Leana herself could not fall asleep. Especially now that she knew this would be her last night at the castle.
For the past two weeks, she had begged Kenneth to let her go, only to learn the hard way that sometimes getting what she wanted was the worst thing that could happen to her.
She did not want to leave this place, much less now that she knew she loved Kenneth, but her departure was inevitable. It was only a matter of hours before she had to leave.
So, she decided to make it a memorable last night, and without delay, she took a candle and marched silently through the quietcorridors, up a flight of stairs, until she finally reached the Laird’s room.
He was awake and waiting for her, the soft glow of the candle casting flickering shadows across his face. His long, dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, the unruly strands framing the sharp angles of his jaw.
The white fabric of his shirt, loose and slightly wrinkled, clung to him in places, accentuating the strength beneath.
As she approached, he opened the door with a quiet, deliberate movement, his eyes locking onto hers—steady, silvery, filled with something unspoken.
He extended a hand toward her, his fingers warm as they curled gently around hers, a silent reassurance, a promise. Then, without a word, he stepped back, leading her inside with a slow, inviting pull.
The candlelight flickered as he set it down on the table, the golden glow reflecting off his gaze before he turned back to her. His touch was unhurried, reverent, as he drew her against him, his arms enveloping her in a quiet certainty.
The night stretched ahead of them, thick with possibilities, and in his embrace, she felt every single one of them.
No word was uttered at that moment. Leana, at least, knew that she had no strength or desire to speak. She only wanted—needed—to give herself to the man she loved, so she was glad that he seemed to be driven by the same desire.
His hands roamed over her body, easily lifting her white nightgown over her head, baring her to his gaze. Kenneth stepped back and took her in, admiring the play of candlelight on her milky white skin.
Suddenly, Leana felt exposed and shy. Her hands moved up to cover her breasts, for she had never stood fully naked in front of a man before. But Kenneth took her hands and lowered them to her sides.
“Nay. daenae cover yerself,” he murmured in a husky voice that melted her insides. “Ye’re beautiful, Leana Beaton. And ye deserve to be admired and praised.”
His words made unfurl in her chest. Her name, or rather the way he pronounced it in that deep, reverent voice, made her feel not like a mere human, but like something divine. Almost like a goddess.
Maybe Maxwell Aitken and Laird Matheson were right. Maybe she was a witch, after all. But if there was any magic present, it was only caused by the desire Kenneth awakened in her.
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bed, kissing her with intensity and passion. Leana’s fingers tangled in his hair. She felt her heart racing, beating so hard that it wanted to break her in two. Her whole body ached with anticipation andnervousness, but never before had she felt so alive, so ready to love and be loved.
Kenneth laid her on the bed and climbed over her. His shirt came off easily, and she took the opportunity to kiss his torso, first biting his broad, muscular shoulders and then trailing her tongue down his chest, feeling the little tufts of hair tickle her.
Her lips traced his skin with devotion, remembering the wound she had healed weeks ago despite his stubbornness.
