Page 13 of Highlander's Runaway Seductress
“Come here,” he ordered and when she came to his side, took her hand holding the carrot and held it to Morag. Her hand was small, perfectly fitted into his own. Damien felt calluses on her hands that matched his, but what made his lips curve was the soft hitch in her breath.
Morag took the carrot and munched on it until Amelie had to relinquish the stump and gasped when Morag’s thick tongue ran over her palm. “Oh!”
Snorting, Damien slid his thumb over her palm. “He likes ye.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever gained approval by a wet lick,” Amelie laughed nervously.
“Stick around horses, ye’ll get more,” Damien snorted while rubbing the horse’s ears. “They’ll spit in yet face, drop a pile of manure on yer feet or even kick ye in yer face.”
Turning her head, Amelie looked away and Damien stepped back, gritting his teeth at the rejection. He had not expected such a simple act to cut him so deeply, but he knew why; his attraction to her was getting deeper than he had imagined.
“I’m worried that somethin’ will go wrong,” she finally uttered.
Scoffing, Damien plopped himself down and rested his back on the stall. “I am nae. I’m sure that the Laird will look at ye once and welcome ye with open arms.”
“When ye went to Dolberry, did ye see a garden with a fishpond?” Folding her skirts under her, Amelie joined him.
He quirked an eyebrow to her. “I dinnae recall seeing such a thing in the village. Ye must be talkin’ about the castle, lass.”
“It could be, in the castle, I suppose.”
Bringing a leg to his chin, Damien laughed. “Never got that far in. The castle was locked tight. Trust me, I tried.”
His words made her begin to wonder what he meant by that, but when he did not elaborate, she brushed it off, as she did with many things when it came to Damien.
“I keep havin’ dreams about the place, but I ken it nowhere around me.”
“Perhaps it is in the castle,” Damien mused, “but the only way ye can see it, is when ye get in.”
She flicked a look at him, hoping that she could build on the tender trust they had between them. She was feeling a bit vulnerable and kept her eyes on her lap.
“I suppose,” Amelie sighed, and picked at her dress. “Do ye suppose he’ll want to marry me off—if I’m his daughter, that is?”
“Cannae tell ye, lass,” Damien shrugged. “I ken he doesnae have an heir, so he probably will. But then, ye will have to make up yer mind if ye want to marry an old bow-legged, humpback shadow of a Laird’s son.”
Snorting, Amelie said, “Why would he have to be deformed?”
“I havenae heard of any Laird’s son in any territory near Dolberry, so I assumed if there was one, they had kept him out of sight,” Damien shrugged.
“Sounds like ye’re jealous to me.” Amelie nudged him.
He cocked his head, “Jealous of what, ye? To a dobber I daennae ken about? Lass, daenae get ahead of yerself.”
After laughing a bit, Amelie sobered, “I am concerned though.”
Damien rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Daenae be. I am sure that yer father willnae force ye to marry a man ye will nae like. He’s been missin’ ye for over a decade and a half, he will never be cruel to ye. If he is, he’s nay worth bein’ a father at all.”
6
The bitterness in Damien’s voice told Amelie that it came from being abandoned as a boy, and she reached over to hold his hand. “I ken I had it bad, but…how horrible was yer childhood for ye?”
He pulled away. “Nae worth talkin’ about, lass. T’would only upset ye.”
“Why do ye nae trust me?” Amelie asked, “I trusted ye on embarkin’ on this venture, why willnae ye do the same?”
Damien’s jaw stiffened, his face darkened, but he sagged back on the wall, looking defeated.
