Page 35 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
She deserves better.
13
Emma found herself at the threshold of her room, her heart pounding with a blend of fear and anticipation. She thought she had heard the soft thud of footsteps outside her bedroom door, but when she opened the door, she was greeted with disappointment.
The hall was empty, and the hopes she had built up within her diminished quickly. Her mind was teeming with thoughts of Hunter and the way he’d kissed earlier. She rubbed her fingers gingerly over her lips and smiled at how passionate and thrilling it made her feel.
“Hunter?” her voice echoed through the silent corridor and was met with silence.
She leaned against the panel, her hands clasping the wooden surface as she found herself wishing—maybe even hoping—that Hunter was somewhere, lurking in the shadows. That he’d steal into her room under the cover of darkness for another stolen kiss or perhaps something more.
But when she strained her ears to listen for his reply and nothing came back, her heart sank. Eventually, she retreated to her bed, sinking under the covers as she closed her eyes, the sweet aftertaste of Hunter’s kiss lingering on her lips.
As morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, Emma groaned, trying to bury her face deeper into her pillow. Her body ached for more sleep, yet the shrill, excited voice of the servant pierced through her drowsiness.
“Mistress, time to wake up,” the servant said, throwing back the curtains to let the sunlight pour into the room.
Emma tugged at the pillow, trying to savor the last bit of blackness she could get.
“Big day today, do ye nae think?” The woman’s words rang through the room, her joyous energy contrasting sharply with Emma’s fatigue.
Groaning, Emma rolled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as the servant continued to babble on, oblivious to her state.
“Oh, ye’re so brave, Mistress, to marry such a man as the Laird. Suppose he deserves happiness, too, but who would have thought he’d marry?”
Emma bobbed her head and peered through slanted eyelids. She stretched the sleep from her weary, aching body. The trek through the countryside had been harder on her than she thought. And as the evening’s events replayed in her mind, she flushed.
“The Laird’s maither will be wantin’ to see ye. Ye’ve got a lot to plan, I’d say. Oh, a weddin’ in spring is so romantic,” the servant babbled.
Emma rose from the bed and was quickly accosted by the servant eager to get her dressed and out the door. As she pulled on her dress, Emma could only listen to her servant, for her mind was still clouded with sleep. Yet, she found her thoughts buzzing with images of the Laird and the lingering taste of his kiss.
The servant suddenly paused, looking at Emma with an odd mix of excitement and nerves. “Mistress, the Laird’s sister and maither are most eager to speak with ye. Best look sharp wit’ that lot.”
“Weddin’ plans,” Emma said through a deep yawn. “Right.”
“They’ll want to get on wit’ it as soon as ye’re ready. I told them I’d be delighted to help ye this mornin’. After all, it’s nae every day one gets to meet the new lady of the castle,” the servant said, raking a brush through Emma’s tangled hair.
“Ye really dinnae have to do that,” Emma said, taking the brush from the servant.
“Right,” the servant stammered and stepped back. “It’s just I was to get ye up and goin’ within the hour, but I let ye sleep a wee bit later, seein’ what ye’ve been through and all.”
Emma’s eyebrows crowded the bridge of her nose in confusion. “What do ye ken?”
“The whole castle is abuzz about the four ladies that came in the evenin’ and how one’s to marry the Laird,” the servant answered a bit apprehensively.
Emma pulled in a deep breath. She didn’t know what she’d expect come morning. Perhaps she thought the servants would be just as moody as the Laird. But to see them so lively and bubbly made her smile.
“Suppose that would be cause for gossip,” Emma said.
“Oh, indeed,” the servant said. “Now, if ye could just hurry up. The Laird doesnae like it when people are late, and I’m afraid ye’re on yer last minute.”
“Of course, thank ye for yer help this morning,” Emma said as she felt a tinge of panic. “And how is the Laird this mornin’?”
“Dinnae ken,” the servant answered. “Havenae seen him yet. Although I dinnae usually get to. He’s probably in his study or out in the stables, comin’ back from his mornin’ ride. I’m sure, though, he’ll want to see ye soon.”
“Nae likely,” Emma muttered under her breath as the pang of his rejection hit harder in the morning light.
“What was that?” the servant inquired.
