Page 44 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
She walked to the door, but passed before opening it.
“Ye wish her gone, me laird? Then let it be so. But if ye mean to keep her here, then ye need to start showin’ her the O’Donnell hospitality that I ken ye remember from yer own parents.”
And with that, she left him alone.
Rhys stared at the broken stag. At the maps that no longer mattered. And then wondered when, exactly, he had started losing control of everything around him.
Night melted into day, and Rhys hadn’t slept a wink. And the tray that he balanced in one hand seemed heavier than it had any right to be.
Amara hadn’t come down to break her fast, and so he took it upon himself to bring the food to her. William and Myles remained downstairs, as did Nina.
The morning had already bled halfway through, and yet no word had come from her room. No sound. No movement. And the tray from last night stayed in the place where Nina had left it just outside the chamber door.
He lifted his free hand to knock. Twice.
Silence.
He cleared his throat. “It’s Rhys.”
Still nothing.
He tried the latch. Unlocked.
When he opened the door, the first thing that struck him was how dim the room was. Curtains drawn, fire low. Amara stood by the window, arms crossed, her back to him. Her long hair was tangled at the ends. The gown she wore was the same one that he saw her wearing the day before, only it was creased and half-fallen from one shoulder.
She didn’t turn.
“I brought food.”
He placed the tray on the table gently. The scent of the fresh bannocks, spiced parsnips, and sweet porridge filled the room.
Her voice came at last. “Is this some sick idea of an apology?”
Rhys didn’t answer right away. “It’s just food.”
“Aye, that’s clear.”
He watched her shoulders rise and fall.
“Ye havenae eaten since yesterday.”
She finally turned, slowly. Her face looked pale against the soft light filtering through the curtains. But her chin was high and defiant.
“Daenae have much of an appetite left after bein’ manhandled and left alone somewhere in this place.”
He sighed. “I dinnae manhandle ye.”
“Ye pinned me to the wall, Rhys.”
“Ye seemed to like it just fine,” he shot back, and immediately regretted the heat in his voice.
Her nostrils flared. “Even if I did, what difference would it make? I’m still clearly a burden to ye.”
Rhys ran a hand over his jaw. “Eat somethin’, Amara.”
She turned back toward the window. “I’m nae hungry.”
He stepped forward. “Ye need to eat.”
