Page 46 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
He halted as if she had yanked on a leash, his back to her. With those three small words, it seemed she had managed another impossible feat: she had surprised him.
18
Doughall knew he should leave without another word, knew that he should not turn to acknowledge Freya’s gentle plea, much less obey it. It was not that he wanted to punish her with his absence when she clearly wanted him to stay, but that he did not trust the sweet tone of her voice. It was the sort of voice, the sort of entreaty, that could weaken a man.
I’m already bound—what can be the harm in indulgin’ her just this once?
Slowly, he turned. “I cannae stay, lass.” His voice was softer than he had meant it to be.
“Nae even until I’ve fallen asleep?” Her honey-brown eyes were filled with too much hope. He would have been a monster, indeed, to dash it.
He grumbled and walked back to her, dragging the chair from the writing desk with him. Setting it next to the bed, he sat down.
“Sleep then,” he said gruffly.
Shelaughed. She actually laughed, clapping her hand over her mouth as her pretty eyes twinkled. Her spectacles were still in his study, forgotten on his desk, but it seemed that she could see him well enough.
“Ye willnae hold me?” she asked as her laughter ebbed.
“Nay,” he said simply, not trusting himself to be so… intimate with her.
What he had just done was intimate in its own way, but holding someone while they fell asleep, wrapping them up in his arms, was an intimacy beyond anything he was prepared to offer. It was the behavior of two people in love, and that was something his heart would never be capable of feeling. It would be crueler to pretend.
Freya plumped the pillows behind her and pushed herself up into a sitting position that suggested she had no intention of sleeping.
“I usually read to tire meself,” she said shyly. “But as ye’ve banned me from yer library, ye’ll have to tell me a story instead.”
“Do I look like a storyteller to ye?” He sat back in the chair, balancing one leg on the knee of the other.
She shrugged. “Ye look like a man with many tales to tell, which is more or less the same thing.”
For reasons he could not explain, her words prodded at something in his chest, stirring up a sadness he had long fought to push down and bury deep.
How was it possible that she knew it was there? How could this woman see through him so clearly? Had her brother told her something about his history?
“If ye’re goin’ to play silly games, lass, ye can find yer own way to fall asleep,” he said, getting to his feet. “Alone.”
“Why did ye say ye wouldnae marry or sire children?” Freya blurted out, her hand raised as if to stop him.
Doughall hesitated for a moment and sat back down in the chair with a heavy thud. He could see what this was now—a mild interrogation from a worried bride. Somehow, he could stomach that better than her being able to see through the rawest parts of him.
“I dinnae choose to do the things I ken I willnae be good at,” he replied evenly. “Nay one does if they can avoid it.”
And I wasavoidin’ it rather well ‘til ye came shamblin’ along.
He rested his elbow on the armrest and supported his head with his hand, feeling a little weary himself. The bed looked alluringly comfortable, and he did not doubt that she would feel warm in his arms… but he would stay where he was, at a safe distance from any temptation.
“Ye were worried—areworried—that ye’ll fail at marriage?” she said, one eyebrow raised as if she had not considered that before.
“I wouldnae use that word,” he remarked.
“Which one—‘worried’ or ‘fail’?”
Irritation bristled below his ribs. “Neither.” He paused, leveling a cool gaze at her. “Once we’re wed, ye should ask fewer questions.”
“Why do ye think I’m askin’ ye now?” She dared to smile. “We’re nae married yet, and I suspect it’s a bride’s duty to at least get to ken the man she’s about to marry. It wouldnae be wise nae to.”
Doughall wished he could argue against her logic, but whether it was a matter of skirmishes, battles, council discussions, or clan troubles, it was a foolish laird who did not gather as much information as possible before making a decision. Having never intended to marry, he had not considered that the same might be true of a lady.
