Page 38 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
“Oh…” she trailed off.
Her face turned that pretty shade of pink, but she ducked her head, turning away from him.
He supposed that was her answer. She couldn’t even look at him now. That was only one step better than her walking away completely.
“Well,” Magnus said, clearing his throat.
Here he was again, scaring her off. He just couldn’t keep himself in check around this woman, always way too eager, too persistent. Could she make herself any clearer?
Once again, he pushed her, put her in a place where she felt uncomfortable, where she wanted to hide from him. Would he ever escape his father’s blood that coursed through him?
Well, he could at least let Ciara escape. She didn’t need to be around him when she so clearly didn’t want to be.
Magnus stood up, putting distance between them. It wasn’t enough, she deserved to be as free of him as possible.
It wouldn’t be possible to avoid her indefinitely, but he could limit their interactions as much as possible. He wouldn’t force his presence on her any more than he had to.
“We dinnae need to interact more than absolutely necessary,” he promised.
He hoped she would be comfortable here, in time, even with his occasional appearances.
“Thank ye for yer input regarding the village women,” he added sincerely.
And then he walked out of the study.
15
“Ineed to get out of here,” Ciara mumbled to Susanna.
The maid was in her chambers, cleaning the chimney, and Ciara was slumped in one of the armchairs. She felt like she’d been trapped in this room for days.
It really had only been a day, but the lack of contact with the Laird had dragged out the time painfully.
She still did not understand what had happened in his study. One minute he’d been teasing her and making her stir, claiming he wanted to kiss her lips again, and then the next he was walking away.
Ciara was unused to the way his attention made her feel, and she’d ducked her head in embarrassment. The best she could assume was that he didn’t want some blushing, inexperienced woman. Especially not one who ran from a merekiss.To end the feud, sure, but not for anything more than that.
Although Ciara still didn’t think that their kiss could really be described as “mere.” Days later, she was still imagining it, picturing the way Magnus had taken her lips so passionately by the lake.
“Go outside, then,” Susanna snapped, interrupting Ciara’s daydreams. “I dinnae ken why ye’re just sittin’ in here again.”
She grumbled a little more, but she was right. Ciara had free rein of the castle and the grounds, and she might as well use it. No use replaying the same moments over and over again in her head.
With new determination and energy, Ciara headed for the gardens. If nothing else, she could take a nice walk. She waved to the guards as she passed and stepped out into the early afternoon air.
The grounds here were spectacular, even Ciara could see that. Following the curved path from the castle, she walked for a while through rows of blooming flowers, the sun warming her face.
Even though she didn’t know the names of the plants, she could certainly appreciate their beauty. Ciara wondered briefly if the gardens were Elspeth and Olivia’s doing.
That line of thought was short-lived, though, because her latest interaction with the Laird in his study was still haunting her mind, despite her best efforts.
She desperately wanted to enjoy the fresh air, untainted by Magnus, but, of course, the universe, or more likely Susanna, was working against her. As soon as she rounded the corner to the stables, she was confronted by the man himself.
Ciara cursed her maid. That woman was a meddler, and she knew everything that went on in this castle. She certainly would have known that the Laird was outside this morning.
Magnus hadn’t seen her yet, but Ciara had a clear view of him tending to his horses. And a marvelous view of his naked back…
At some point in his work, the Laird had lost his shirt, and Ciara was treated to the sight of that expanse of muscle. He reached for something above his head, and she watched, transfixed, as his muscles flexed and rippled.
