Page 21 of Highlander's Runaway Seductress
Amelie fitted her body into his. “I’m scared about that.”
“Why?” Damien asked, while trying to banish the feelings that soon another man would be hers—it hurt him to his core. He wanted Amelie to be his and only his, but he had to face the reality of who she was. “Is marriage frightenin’ to ye? Daenae ye dream of a most magnificent, handsome, fierce warrior to be yer husband? A knight of the realm, a rich trader? Perhaps even a Laird?”
“I am afraid that if I am Laird Dolberry’s daughter, he might marry me to a man who will ask more of me than I can give,” Amelie replied quietly. “I am only a tavern-maid, Damien. I have little schoolin’ and most women who marry nobility are educated in all sort of disciplines. I ken little about history, mathematics, law, and even worse, what if he wants a woman who will be completely subjected to him? I cannae do that, Damien.”
“Mayhap ye willnae have to,” Damien said, comfortingly, even though he felt all but pacifying. “I daenae think yer father will demand ye marry so quickly. Perhaps ye can tell him yer fears and he’ll understand. I would like to think he would, bein’ that ye have been gone from him for so long.”
Amelie’s body seemed to get less tense in his arms, but Damien could feel that she was not totally at ease. He kept rubbing his hand down her back until he felt that she had fallen asleep. Try as he would, he could not join her in slumber and stayed awake to dawn.
Before she woke, Damien extricated himself from Amelie, grabbed his coat and went downstairs to check on Ben. The old man was sleeping soundly in his little stall, his head resting on the pillow. Grabbing the buckets that the woman had told them about, Damien donned his coat and went to find the nearby spring.
Luckily, the stream was not frozen over, and he managed to fill both buckets from the icy blue waters and carried them back to the barn. Ben was still asleep, and he did not hear any stirring from above, so Damien went back outside to see if he could make a fire and warm the water.
He managed to find dry wood and with effort, got a fire working and created a spit strong enough to hold the bronze buckets. He sat and decided to think about the past few hours, feeling that what had happened between him and her surpassed his wildest fantasy.
A shiver ran through him while remembering how responsive she had been to his touch, how she had chased his kiss and how sweet her cries had been in his ear.
Damien growled lowly in his chest when he imagined that another man—her husband, one of a higher class than he was—would be hearing those soon.
What can I do? I’m just a thief with little prospects. There is nay possibility for me to be with her.
Battling the jealousy, Damien resigned himself into knowing that he had only a few days left with Amelie, and then, he would never see her again. He carried the warmed water back to the barn in time for when Ben was rousing, and Amelie was descending the stairs. He set the buckets down and greeted them.
“Mornin’, ye can wash up when yer ready, but do it quickly,” he said, kindly, “the water willnae keep warm too long.”
“Thank ye, sonny boy,” Ben nodded. “I appreciate it.”
With Ben occupied, Damien went to Amelie and rested a hand on her arm. Dropping his voice, he said, “I’m sorry I wasnae there when ye woke up.”
She shook her head. “Now that I ken why, I understand…” her expressive eyes flicked to him. “Last night was…what was it?”
Pulling his hand away, Damien raked it though his hair, and admitted. “I daenae ken, lass, but I do ken that I hate that it must end.”
Amelie lifted her chin and she smiled unexpectedly. “I appreciate ye saying that,” she said.
Looking over his shoulder at Ben, Damien said. “We’ll talk about this better when we have some privacy. Get washed up and we’ll get on the road soon.”
Nodding, Amelie went back upstairs, and Damien followed her with the bucket. Resting it at the corner, the most stable place in the loft, he left downstairs, but glanced over his shoulder to see Amelie’s dress slipped down her shoulder.
The warm cream of her skin on her back had his hand aching to feel the softness of her bare skin under his rough hands again, but he continued descending the stairs. He found Ben dressing again, with half the five-gallon bucket still filled.
“Clean up yerself, Damien,” Ben said kindly. “Ye must feel dirty by now.”
Grateful, Damien disrobed and used a rag, cleaning his person before dressing again.
“How much bread do ye have?” he asked Ben.
“A lump,” Ben replied. “Nay cheese.”
“We’ll get somethin’ warm before we move off,” Damien assured them. “Broth or stew, I hope, and we’ll buy bread as well.”
“How is the lass?” Ben asked, while donning his coat. “I think ye should start plannin’ how to approach the Laird when we get to Dolberry. I’m sure by now, the poor man has seen scores of women pretendin’ to be his daughter and he must be skeptical about seein’ anyone.”
After tugging his woolen shirt over his head, Damien nodded. “I can see that, but I’m sure—we’re sure—that Amelie is the one. But aye, we do need to find a way to get the Laird to listen to us. I daenae think we’ll see him directly after all the imitations.”
“Aye,” Ben said.
Together, they cleaned up the barn and hitched the horse up with the cart. After Amelie and Ben were settled, Damien went to tell the gracious elderly woman his thanks, then, they were off.
