Chapter 7 #3
“The rest of the clan will be here soon to break their fasts,” he said, indicating the window where he’d noticed the early morning glow.
“I’m going to turn in.” Iain’s praise and these men’s easy acceptance of his presence had warmed him, but he expected he’d have much more to do later today. He must get some rest.
“Aye, ye’ll never get away if ye dinna go now,” one of the men told him. “We’ll be right behind ye.”
Calum heard someone coming up the stairs after he reached the upper hallway.
Not one of the men. The steps were too light.
A lass, or one of the younger lads. He waited until they reached the top.
His awareness of what was around him was heightened while he waited for whomever followed him.
The lads he’d been drinking with hadn’t moved when he did, so this was someone else.
The closer the steps came the more certain he knew who was coming up. In moments, her scent convinced him.
Ella. As she stepped up into the hallway, Calum reached out and gently grasped her arm. She stifled a shriek of surprise, then relaxed when she saw him.
“Of course ye kenned I was coming,” she said. “Ye sensed me, did ye?”
He released her arm, confident she wouldn’t run away.
“I heard ye. Smelled ye, too, on the last few steps. I ken the way ye move. Yer gait. Yer scent.” He let his gaze bore into her, and was gratified to see color rise from her chest to her face.
It was a reminder of their walk in the bailey, and of her attempt to disguise herself as Janet.
Of course, she would react as if embarrassed.
But rather than quail under his scrutiny, she stared back and let the corner of her lips lift. “I canna get away with anything around ye,” she quipped.
He grinned, his attention on her full lips. Suddenly, the urge to taste them consumed him. He fought it down. “So ye havena learned yer lesson?” He thought his question would fall flat, since clearly they were talking about Janet, not her.
But she took the bait. “If that lesson has to do with ye, probably no’,” she told him, “though I’m honestly no’ sure which lesson ye refer to.”
This was no place for a private conversation.
Or anything else. He took her hand, and when she didn’t object, he walked with her down the hall away from the stairs, so their voices wouldn’t carry to the men still seated by the hearth fire.
“I’ve spent three cold, dark nights thinking about what ye said before I left,” he told her when they stopped outside his chamber.
His pulse picked up. Would her response be very bad, or very good? Would they end up inside his door?
“And?” She kept her voice steady as she asked the question, but judging by the pulse beating in the smooth column of her throat, her heart must be thundering in her chest.
Calum stopped and turned to face her. “I still care about ye. Still want ye.” He held up his free hand. “Though I shouldna. I still dinna ken what to do about ye. Whether I can trust ye.”
Ella pulled her fingers from his, irritation evident in the crease between her brows. “I’ve admitted my mistake. Apologized. Ye said ye forgave me. Have I no’ earned even a small measure of trust?”
Had she? How would he know if he could trust her, and if she truly wanted him? If she wanted them to become the most important people in each other’s lives, able to live together and love each other, and to build a family and a future together, she would have to tell him. And show him.
Though he knew it shouldn’t, the glint in her narrowed eyes hurt. He’d made her angry, when what he wanted was for her to talk to him, to explain why he was so important to her that she would do what she’d done. “Trust takes time to build. To be earned.”
He wasn’t saying no to her question. At worst he thought she would argue. At best, she might agree to give them some more time together. And admit how deeply she cared for him. How could he convince her?
He gave in to his urge, pulled her in, and kissed her.
Ella froze for a moment, clearly surprised.
He’d never dared such intimacy with her before.
A light touch on her shoulder, or an arm around her waist if she needed support, less like the time he scooped Janet up against his chest to prevent her falling, but enough to show his care and concern.
That was all. He’d never even kissed her hand or her cheek.
Now, she slipped one hand up his chest and cradled the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair.
Her other arm wrapped around his waist and held onto him as firmly as he restrained her.
He’d been right to do this. Kissing her seemed the most natural, most necessary thing in the world.
Why had he waited so long? Her scent filled him, her taste teased his tongue, so he traced the seam of her mouth, all the while feeling his need for her build.
If he didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to.
She was a tempest in his arms, kissing him back as fervently as he kissed her.
She was no untried virgin. But the way she trembled in his arms, he suspected her passion, the heat she was showing him, was new to her.
He had to stop this before they both lost control.
As much as he wanted to pull her into his chamber and kick the door closed, he couldn’t do it.
He would not go from one kiss—their first kiss—to ravaging her minutes later.
He was a better man than that, and she deserved better from him than to treat her like a common harlot.
When he broke the kiss, she sucked in some badly needed air, and desire darkened her gaze. “So, there is a future for us,” she said softly, gratefully.
He stiffened and let her go, suddenly reluctant to cede victory in this skirmish to her. He’d just told her that trust took time to earn. Then he’d kissed her. This was his fault. “Maybe.”
She had passion. That kiss proved it better than any other indication she’d shown him. She’d kissed him back with no reserve. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. And that was very good news.
“Calum, ye just kissed me like yer wound never happened. Like we are still as dear to each other as before, and ye want us to be even closer.”
He couldn’t tell her how much that kiss meant to him. It would give away too much. “Or I kissed ye like I just had my biggest success since I was injured, and wanted to enjoy it. To be rewarded for it. Ye followed me for a reason. That wasna it?”
“Rewarded!” She opened her mouth to say more, and then closed it and shook her head.
Calum tensed, certain he wouldn’t like whatever was coming, but he needed to deflect her from thinking their kiss proved something more than he’d meant for it to. He’d kissed her on impulse. Because he wanted to. That was all.
“I heard what ye told the men downstairs. Ye didna brag. Ye simply told them what happened and accepted their praise with grace. I was proud of ye. I wanted to tell ye that.”
His muscles loosened, and he lifted a hand to trace a finger along her cheek, but thought better of touching her. Despite her kind words, she still looked furious. “Thank ye, then. For that,” he added.
“What are ye trying to do here?”
Her challenging tone sparked his own irritation and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“Perhaps I needed to find out who would kiss me back. Who ye are today? Ella lied to me, but Janet was my friend. Ella ignored my pursuit of her for months, but Janet served me faithfully. Ella is delicate and shy, but Janet is not afraid to touch me. So, which one of you kissed me back?”
Her jaw flexed, and her brow drew down. “Both of us, Calum. Both of us have touched ye.” Her gaze dropped below his waist, and then lifted to his lips. “Both of us kissed ye. I hope ye enjoyed it, for it will never happen again.”
Without another word, Ella turned from him. She didn’t run. She walked, back stiff, insult radiating from her, head held high, and her hands clenched into fists.
For one wild moment, he felt those hands on his body, washing him, turning him, while she murmured to him that all would be well.
Memory? Or imagination? Either made him profoundly uncomfortable in a way that her touch with a different purpose, a more pleasurable purpose, would not.
But the flash of feeling confirmed her assertion that she had indeed touched him while he lay unconscious.
Intimately. His objection to her care had come too late to prevent it.
And she’d still cared about him enough to lie to him.
Enough to kiss him just now with such abandon that he’d been the one to call a halt.
To pull back before they both melted from the heat and succumbed to the pull toward something they weren’t ready for. Sanity prevailed—barely.
He’d angered her. That didn’t bother him, though it should. He preferred her anger to the sadness that she had thrown like a dark cloak around her since they’d first argued. Since he’d first pushed her away.
She’d stood her ground when he challenged her in the herbal.
Even when the healer spoke up to defend her, she hadn’t wilted or turned to the older woman for help.
Her gaze stayed on him, direct and with an element of fury he’d never seen before from the sweet-natured Ella—until, again, now.
He respected that, and recognize that, indeed, the traits he associated with Janet were, and always had been, a part of Ella.
A part she’d had no reason to expose until he rejected her.
Still, he dared not make anything easy for her.
His pride still stung from her deception.
And she had put him off for months, claiming friendship, but not allowing what was between them to grow, to go any further toward a close—and physical—relationship.
He hadn’t blamed her, not after what she’d been through at Ross, and what she’d had to do to gain her freedom from Thomas Ross, starving herself.
What kind of woman went to such an extreme? A woman with more steel in her backbone than most, despite her soft and lovely exterior, that’s who. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to see how strong she was.
When she disappeared down the stairs, he entered his chamber and dropped onto his bed with a heavy sigh.
Her anger satisfied something in him that he did not want to name.
His pride? He’d already admitted to himself that his pride was a weakness.
He clasped his hands between his knees, his gaze on the floorboards between his booted feet.
What did he think he was doing, letting that pride get between Ella and him?
He stood, torn between giving them both time to cool off while he got some sleep, and going after her. He glanced around with distaste at the bed he’d spent so many weeks in, blind, angry, and fearful. He shuddered at the idea of sleeping here any longer. The memories of lying there chilled him.
But dare he chase Ella? He’d be giving in to her.
Before he and Euan went scouting, he’d told her he accepted her apology and forgave her.
He’d meant it as absolution in case he didn’t come back, so that she didn’t carry the burden of what went wrong between them for the rest of her life.
Now that he was back, was his forgiveness still real?
Had he lied to her in the same way she lied to him? For good reason or out of kindness? Was what he’d done any better than what she’d tried to do for him?
No, it wasn’t.
So why wasn’t he halfway down the stairs by now, calling her name?
His damned pride. He couldn’t do it. Not now, not so publicly. And perhaps never, given the wall he just caused her to erect between them.
He collapsed back down onto the mattress and sank his head into his hands, tangling his fingers into his hair. He wasn’t just insufferably proud. Where Ella was concerned, he was a coward.