Page 15 of Highlander's Runaway Seductress
“But—”
“Go see him, lass, and get ready to travel too,” Damien ordered, and Amelie, at a loss of what more to do, gave in, uttered a few parting words and left to the inn.
Halfway, she kept wondering what Damien meant by asking her if she was real—and she realized, it could be that he had been dreaming of her. how tortured he looked in the dream, he was clearly in distress, why would his first action upon waking be to kiss her?
The more she thought about it, the more she failed in finding an answer. The best she could do was to leave it alone.
* * *
Damien knew he was in trouble and his precarious position had come into blaring focus earlier that day when Amelie had woken him up from a dream of her. When she had touched him, Damien had woken confused and believed her to still be a dream—and so, had felt no restriction in kissing her.
It was only when the press of her lips—her warm lips—had connected with his mind that Damien had realized his error. Now, he was not sure he could face Amelie knowing what had happened, and he hated himself for being such a coward.
But she had kissed me back too.
The anger at being a spineless rat soured his heart more than he cared to admit and his mood darkened with the day dimming to night. He wanted Amelie to trust him, heneededher to trust him, and he wanted to do the same with her, but would she accept that he was attracted to her?
Having an infatuation for Amelie was dangerous because there was no room for any romantic connection to grow—despite that, Damien had long ago resigned himself to knowing that romance was not for him. With who he was and what he did to survive, the mere concept of having a loving partner was dangerous thinking.
Besides, what do I ken of wooin’ a woman? Amelie looks like the sort to crave tenderness and affection…emotions I hardly possess.
He forcefully kept his attention trained away from Amelie, stubbornly stewing in his anger and self-castigation while driving them into the hills of the highlands. Amelie would not understand that he did not believe himself worthy of affection, and it would probably be best to let it stay that way.
It was not what he wanted but developing any affection for her more than he needed, was not going to end well for him or for her. He hated it, hated how he had suddenly found himself shrinking away from a few simple words, but he knew it was for the best.
Perhaps, in time, Amelie would realize it too. A Laird’s daughter had no business being with a man like him—someone who could never be what she needed. She needed a man who lived a noble life and had not dabbled in the crimes he had.
I cannae keep her away from her life and her future.
* * *
He still hasnae looked at me this mornin’.
They left the inn in the grim grey of dawn, a shade that mirrored the dismal feeling in Amelie’s heart. They were heading up into the flood plains of Tarradale and snow was drifting down. An end of her blanket was wrapped around her head, lower face, and her shoulders. Her eyes were down on her lap while her hand grasped her gold pendant under the blanket.
What if he is goin’ to pay me nay mind from now on?
Worriedly, her thumb rubbed over the barely-there engraving on the pendant. She shot a look to the back of Damien’s head that was stubbornly trained ahead. Mister McLowe was asleep in the bed using his pack as a pillow, fully oblivious of the tension between her and Damien. Her heart ached a little, and she feared it would grow worse if he did not speak to her soon.
She wanted more of him, but then, Amelie felt wary of him. Despite her inexplicable attraction to Damien, she felt guarded around him. The little she knew of him and the detached, mysterious air around him made Amelie a little suspicious of him too.
If I dinnae trust him, why did I agree to this journey with him? I couldnae give up the chance to find me birth family, that’s why.
The plains of Tarradale merged into the hills of Stewart territory lands. The snow was falling harder and just as she brought up the courage to ask Damien to find a place for them to wait out the snowfall, Mister McLowe stirred.
“Damien, son,” he said weakly. “Would ye find us a shelter for this flurry isnae goin’ to get lighter?”
“Aye,” his reply was muffled.
He spurred the horse into the forest and deeper while she kept an eye on the darkening sky. Under the cover of the trees, the snowfall slowed until the thick cover above mostly stopped. Damien found them a little copse where he tied the horse to a lower tree branch.
The weak sun streamed through the tall branches of the spindly elms and evergreens, and from the thickness of the brambles, she could hear the trickle of water. The grass sheltered from the snow was thick enough for the blankets to be laid on them.
“Ah,” McLowe sighed, as he rested on them. “Me weary bones can rest now.”
“I’ll make a fire,” Damien said.
Amelie looked up, “I’ll come with ye.”
