Chapter 18
18
A strid lay beneath the heavy quilt, but the heavy fabric did little to thaw the chill that seeped into the cockles of her heart. She let out a long, forlorn sigh, causing Melody to shift beside her. The soft rustle of the sheets was just one more gentle reminder of how Melody was sound asleep and she wasn’t.
She rolled onto her side and stared at the dying fire in the grate as her thoughts drifted to the Laird. His letter, despite it being short, spoke volumes.
Resigned to getting very little sleep, Astrid slipped out of the warm embrace of the blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She glanced over her shoulder at Melody, ensuring that the child hadn’t been disturbed before rising. Melody let out a soft murmur as the mattress shifted.
Astrid pulled her robe over her shoulders and tiptoed to the double doors that led out to the balcony. The moonlight filtered through the window like silver, casting dancing shadows that flickered like memories long since buried. She gingerly pulled open the doors and stepped outside. As she untangled her braided hair, the cool night air wrapped around her, reinvigorating her like a crack in the dead of night.
The world outside was cloaked in darkness, and the stars twinkled like distant fires in the vast expanse of the sky. She leaned against the balustrade, the rough stone cool beneath her forearms, and let her eyes wander over the sprawling hills and the moors. Their silhouettes rose majestically against the inky night. The air was thick with the scent of earth and heather, a fragrant reminder of the land she loved.
The Laird’s letter had stirred a tempest within her—one that raged against the confines of her heart. She hated the fact that her plans with him had been ruined, but at the same time, she was grateful that she didn’t have to go. Her mind was a mess as she warred with herself. If only her head and heart could agree, then maybe she’d know how she really felt about the Laird.
“I have had a most rare vision,” she whispered to the dark.
“Shakespeare. And here I thought he’d bore ye.”
Astrid gasped as she whipped around to find the Laird standing in his doorway. Her lips parted when she noticed that he wore only a thin shirt that barely covered his thighs. She should have turned around—it would have been the polite thing to do. Instead, she stood like a statue, admiring the man before her. She swallowed hard as she tried to tame the wild flutter of her heart.
“Laird McFair,” she whispered.
He was as striking as a tempest. Astrid couldn’t help but notice the way his shirt hung loosely over his chest. The very sight of him shrouded in the silvery light of the moon stole her breath. Heat flooded her cheeks, and before she could think, she turned back to her room, too flustered to think straight.
“Forgive me, I didnae see ye there. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
“Nay,” he answered, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the stillness. “Stay, I’ll take me leave.” He turned his back to her.
“But ye were here first, Me Laird. ‘Tis I who should take me leave,” she insisted.
He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Why do ye nae let yer hair down more often?” he asked, the wonder in his voice seeming to soften his jagged edges.
The compliment had struck her like lightning, causing her to recoil slightly. The vulnerability in his gaze was too intimidating, too piercing. It was as if he could peer into the very core of her soul.
Warmth spread through her body, causing every nerve to feel as if it were on fire. She fought to find the words to mask the unease that seemed to want to settle in her stomach.
“I—” she began, but the words were lodged in her throat, refusing to come out.
The Laird furrowed his brow as his expression shifted from one of admiration to one of concern.
“I didnae mean to cause ye distress,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Really, enjoy the respite—ye’ve earned it.”
“And ye havenae?” The question burst from her lips as she clung to some excuse to keep him there with her.
He paused, his fingers curled around the door frame as if he were debating whether to slip back into the shadows or remain in the moonlight.
“Surely, Me Laird, if anyone should be able to enjoy the night alone, it is ye. I have another place I go.”
“Do ye now?” The Laird arched an eyebrow. His expression was filled with wonder and awe. “And pray tell, where might that be, so I can find ye there?”
Astrid couldn’t help but smile as her hair fluttered freely in the breeze. She reached up and tucked it behind her ear before it could become a tangled mess. “I dinnae think it would be wise for me to tell Me Laird such things.”
“Och? And why is that?” the Laird asked, the corners of his lips twitching.
“How is yer faither farin’ this evening, Me Laird? Is he well?” Astrid asked, purposefully avoiding his question.
The Laird smirked as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He’s managin’, thanks to ye. What ye did for him, it was… I cannae tell ye how many healers have come through and never showed him the ounce of kindness ye did today,” he said.
And there he was once again, no longer the Laird, but the vulnerable boy she wanted to hold and soothe.
“I was only doin’ what I thought was the right thing. I’m glad it worked, but ye must understand that it may nae work like that again. The next time he has another episode… well, it might go the other way,” Astrid warned.
She found herself gravitating toward him. It was as if he were the center of her world and she wanted to be near the source of all her joy.
“Ye’ve seen this before then?” the Laird asked as he mirrored her steps.
Astrid’s heart raced as she tried to concentrate on his question. But it was hard, with half his chest exposed in the moonlight.
“A time or two,” she answered. “Tell me, how many times has he slipped into the past like that?”
The Laird’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him like a weight he’d carry for the rest of his life. “Ye ken, nay one has ever put it like that. He does go back there, does he nae? As if he’s relivin’ everything…”
“Aye,” Astrid answered. “Some of the great men do that. They’ll try to relive some of their failures, and I’ve seen some try to relive their victories. It doesnae matter which side won—the end is always the same. But how often?”
The Laird blinked as if remembering she was there before answering. “Too many. We lost a servant a few years back. Faither forgot what was goin’ on. It seems there was a great battle in the castle, and me maither was nearly kidnapped if it werenae for me faither steppin’ up to save her. He was relivin’ that day, and a servant was in the wrong hallway… Had we kenned back then what we ken now, we could have…”
Astrid’s heart went out to him. He did not deserve to carry that burden. She reached out instinctively, and her fingers brushed against his arm. The warmth of his skin stirred a tenderness within her.
“I’m so sorry. I cannae even imagine what it must have been like for ye,” she murmured, realizing how deeply she wished to comfort him.
It dawned on her that perhaps the reason for his stoic demeanor was due to the weight of his upbringing and the expectations that pressed upon him like the heavy fog that lingered over the moors of the Highlands.
The Laird curled his fingers around her hand and carefully lifted it, studying it with the scrutiny of a painter examining a masterpiece.
Her heart skipped a beat. She was entranced by the way he regarded her, as if she were a rare masterpiece he had been seeking for so long. She held her breath as she watched him lift her wrist to his lips.
He paused. Whether to allow her to feel his hot breath on her skin or to draw her attention to his captivating gaze, she wasn’t sure. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he planted the softest kiss on her skin.
Her heart raced wildly, fluttering like a trapped bird within her chest. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and yet she found herself reveling in the moment rather than retreating. The feel of his lips on her wrist sent ripples of warmth through her that only seemed to ignite a fire deep within her.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “Was it me faither’s failin’ health that brought ye out to the balcony so late?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.
“Nay,” she answered, the word escaping her lips like a vow.
His gaze darkened, drawing her in. She wondered what secrets he could pry out of her sealed lips. Could he read her thoughts?
“Nay, it’s ye,” she admitted, her eyes widening as the truth spilled forth. “Ye’re the cause of me troubles.”
A crooked grin spread across his face, playful and disarming.
“Does me dismay please ye?” she teased, a hint of mischief flickering in her eyes as he gave her a once-over.
“Nae in the slightest,” he replied. “But ye must revel in me dismay, for ye’ve caused a fog to hang above me—a fog that ye seem unable to clear.”
Astrid’s heart flipped as she absorbed his words. She didn’t know if he was teasing her or being sincere. Still, there was no stopping the heat that flooded through her.
The fact that she was able to stand alone with him, out in the open, so exposed… There were no feelings of weakness or a sense of danger. No. She was content to stand before him even though she was wearing nothing but her shift and a robe.
“I offered to go,” she reminded him as she inched closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Do ye wish for me to leave now? I can go… if that is what ye want.”
“I’d rather ye nae say such things,” the Laird whispered as the moon cast a silver sheen over his rugged features.
Astrid stood before him, her heart racing as his gaze ensnared her.
“I thought a dream had pulled me out here, and yet it was nay phantom I found, but ye,” he breathed.
Her lips parted as disbelief washed over her like a sudden spring shower. How was it that he could captivate and bewitch her so?
Her eyes flickered to his mouth, which curled into a mischievous smile that accentuated the devilish glint in his eyes. His hands hovered above her skin, tracing an invisible line that sent shivers through her.
Astrid’s body thrummed as her frantic heartbeat thundered in her ears. A heavy fog shrouded her as her body betrayed her. The heat of her desire pooled deep within her like an eager tide, rising and falling at the whim of the Laird.
With a burst of courage, Astrid stepped closer and claimed his lips with her own. Need and hunger roared inside her as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his.
“What are ye doin’?” she gasped the moment she felt him lift her off her feet and pin her to the wall. The thrill of uncertainty coiled tightly in her belly.
“I want ye to trust me. Will ye?” he murmured, his voice as smooth as the aged whiskey still lingering on his breath.
The question caught Astrid off guard. The Laird hadn’t asked if she could trust him, but if she would . He was giving her the choice—something no other man had done before.
“From the moment I laid eyes on ye, ye bewitched and vexed me,” he said as he rubbed his fingertips over her soft lips. “Ye’ve weathered storms that nay one should have gone through, let alone go through them alone. But I swear I’ll never hurt ye.”
He held her gaze, and the sincerity in his eyes was like a balm to her tired soul.
“Do ye believe me?” he asked.
Astrid closed her eyes and nodded her head. The cool evening air swirled around her but did nothing to stifle the flames burning her alive.
The Laird’s eyes remained on her as he pulled her shift up to her hips. A gasp escaped Astrid’s parted lips as the chilly air kissed her bare legs. Her breath hitched as his fingertips grazed her thigh and traced the curve of her leg.
There was no hesitation, no apprehension, only longing. Astrid stared at the Laird, almost daring him to keep going. As if he could read her like an open book, his fingers found the slit between her legs. Her eyes widened as she swallowed hard.
“Trust me,” he whispered, his teeth grazing her earlobe.
The fleeting sensation caused little goosebumps to rise all over her skin. Astrid tried to get her body to relax, but nothing she could say or do would make it listen.
“I swear, I’ll nae harm ye. Nor will I allow anything to hurt ye or Melody ever again,” he whispered.
Hearing the conviction in his voice felt as if he’d laid the cornerstone of their relationship right there in her heart. She stared at him as the weight of his words sank in.
His fingertip stroked the slit between her legs, taunting and teasing her with each pass. But Astrid’s body was not yielding, not even under the gentlest of touches.
“I cannae,” she managed to say and pushed his hand aside. “I’m sorry. I never should have allowed it to go so far.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizin’ to ye. Ye gave me yer trust, and at the first test, I betrayed ye. Perhaps if ye told me what happened, then we could avoid such touches in the future?”
Astrid shook her head as guilt and uncertainty pecked at her like a starved bird. “I’m sorry.”
“Astrid, please, dinnae go. Tell me what I did or didnae do. I cannae keep goin’ on like this. Ye are drivin’ me crazy. Ye’re hot then cold. If ye would just tell me…”
“I cannae,” she answered, her voice strained with anger as she pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders. Suddenly, she felt too exposed. Too vulnerable.
“And ye cannae keep avoidin’ me,” the Laird interjected as she turned to head to her room. His words made her pause.
“I’m nae,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s me I’m tryin’ to avoid.”
“And how is that workin’ for ye?”
Astrid turned to face him and shook her head. “It’s nae.”
“Then what do we do? Because I cannae have rumors unchecked in me castle, and I’ll nae have a wife who refuses to look at me even though I’m the only one on the balcony wit’ her.”
“Ye dinnae understand,” she said, unable to find a way to explain the gravity of what she was feeling.
“Then help me understand,” he pleaded as he grabbed her wrist, refusing to let her leave. “I want to get close to ye. But every time I try, something always comes up. Tell me, so I can end it.”
“Can ye end Laird Chalium?”
“Aye. If that is what ye ask of me, I’ll do it. If it means that yer torment will end, then I’ll gladly snuff the light out of his eyes.”
Astrid shook her head at the thought of Laird Chalium never coming for her again. It was too surreal.
“Is that what ye want me to do? Because if it is, ye’re goin’ to have to give me a good reason why. A raised voice or a firm hand is nay reason to commit murder. And believe me when I say that I ken the man. I can list hundreds of reasons to take his life, but I want to hear it from ye.”