Chapter 11
Leona hadn’t slept.
She’d tried. She’d crawled into bed, pulled the covers up to her chin, and willed herself to find oblivion.
But every time she closed her eyes, she felt him.
His hands on her body. His mouth on her throat.
The way he’d pressed against her, hard and demanding, making her feel things she’d never imagined.
The ache between her thighs had kept her awake for hours, pulsing and insistent, a reminder of what had almost happened. What she’d wanted to happen, propriety be damned.
This changes nothin', he’d said.
Liar.
Everything had changed. She’d felt it in the way he’d touched her, heard it in his ragged breathing, seen it in his eyes before he’d shuttered them.
Whatever this arrangement was supposed to be, business, temporary, or convenient, it had become something else the moment his lips had found hers.
When dawn finally broke, painting her chamber in shades of pink and gold, Leona was already dressed. She’d chosen a riding dress of deep burgundy, practical but flattering, and braided her hair in a crown around her head. Her hands had trembled as she’d worked, and she’d had to start over twice.
Stop being foolish, she’d told herself sternly. It was just desire. Physical need. It didn’t mean anything beyond what their bodies wanted.
But her reflection in the mirror had called her a liar, too.
Now she stood in the courtyard, the morning air crisp and cool against her flushed cheeks, giving Rufus last-minute instructions while trying very hard not to think about the man she’d be spending the entire day with.
“And ye’ll listen to Hamish?” she asked for the third time, smoothing down her brother’s collar with fussy hands. “Nay arguments, nay complaints?”
“Aye, Leona,” Rufus said, his tone caught between exasperation and affection. “I’m nae a bairn. I ken how to behave.”
“I ken ye do. I just…” she trailed off, uncertain how to explain the nervous energy thrumming through her. “I want ye to be safe.”
“I’ll be safer here than I’ve been in months.” Rufus squeezed her hand. “Stop worryin' about me and try to enjoy yerself. Ye deserve a day without lookin' over yer shoulder.”
If only it were that simple.
Nyx chose that moment to materialize from wherever she’d been lurking, winding between Leona’s ankles with a rumbling purr. The cat had taken to life at the new castle with surprising ease, claiming Rufus’s bed as her own and terrorizing the kitchen staff into providing extra scraps.
“And ye’ll keep yer beast close?” Leona asked, crouching down to scratch behind the cat’s ears.
Nyx’s response was to hiss, a warning sound that made Rufus laugh.
“She doesnae like being called a beast,” he said. “Ye ken that.”
“She is a beast,” Leona countered, but there was affection in her voice. As if to prove her wrong, Nyx headbutted her hand, demanding more attention. “A contrary, difficult beast who only shows affection when it suits her.”
The cat purred louder, pressing into Leona’s touch with shameless pleasure.
“See? She likes ye fine when ye’re nae callin' her names.” Rufus gathered Nyx into his arms, and the cat settled against his chest without protest. “We’ll be fine, Leona. Both of us. Go.”
Leona straightened, smoothing her skirts with nervous hands. “I should wait for the Laird. It would be rude to…”
“To what? Stand in his courtyard, waitin' for him like a good little bride-to-be?”
The word ‘bride’ made her stomach flip. “Rufus!”
“I’m just sayin', ye daenae have to pretend with me.” Her brother’s expression softened. “I saw how ye looked at dinner last night. How ye both left lookin' like… well, like somethin' had happened.”
Heat flooded Leona’s cheeks. “Nothin' happened.”
“Leona.”
“Nothin' that matters,” she amended, which was somehow worse because it was the truth.
It had been just physical. Just need. It didn’t mean anything.
Liar, her traitorous heart whispered.
Before Rufus could press further, the sound of boots on stone made her turn. Murdock emerged from the keep, Skye trailing behind him like a small shadow. The sight of him made Leona’s breath catch.
He’d dressed for riding in dark trews and a tunic that stretched across his broad shoulders, his sword belted at his waist. His dark hair was damp, as if he’d just bathed, and the morning light caught the strong planes of his face, the scars she’d tended that first night.
Their eyes met across the courtyard, and she felt that now-familiar jolt of awareness. Heat and hunger and something deeper that terrified her.
He looked away first.
Murdock had seen her the moment he’d stepped into the courtyard.
How could he not? She stood in a shaft of early morning sunlight like something out of a painting, all dark hair and pale skin and curves outlined by a burgundy dress that made his mouth go dry. The memory of those curves pressed against him, soft and yielding, made his jaw clench.
He’d barely slept. Had tossed and turned for hours, his body aching, his mind replaying every sound she’d made, every gasp and whimper.
When he’d finally dozed off near dawn, he’d dreamed of finishing what they’d started.
Of tearing off her dress and tasting every inch of her skin.
Of burying himself so deep inside her that neither of them could tell where one ended and the other began.
He’d woken hard and aching, his sheets tangled, her name on his lips.
This was going to be a very long day.
“Da?” Skye tugged on his hand, pulling him out of thoughts that had no place in a courtyard full of people. “Are ye listenin'?”
“Aye, wee one.” He crouched down to her level, forcing himself to focus on her rather than the woman who was currently laughing at something her brother said. The sound made something tighten in his chest. “What did ye say?”
“I said ye need to bring back sweets from the village. They make the best tablets, and I havenae had any in ages.” Skye’s brown eyes were wide and pleading. “Please?”
“Aye, I’ll bring back sweets.” He tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “But ye need to promise me somethin'.”
“What?”
“Ye’ll listen to Hamish. Ye’ll be good to the maids. And ye’ll be gentle with the…” He paused, catching sight of the black cat in Rufus’s arms. The beast’s yellow eyes fixed on him with what could only be described as feline disdain. “With the kitty.”
As if summoned by his words, Nyx hissed. A long, drawn-out sound that made Skye giggle and Murdock’s lips twitch despite himself.
He glanced at Leona, catching the way she pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. And failing. The sight of her fighting laughter, her green eyes dancing with mirth, did something dangerous to his carefully maintained control.
“I’ll be gentle,” Skye promised, though she was still giggling. “Even though I think she doesnae like ye, Da.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Murdock muttered, rising to his full height.
The cat hissed again, as if it understood and took offense.
“Be good, aye?” He rested his hand on Skye’s head, the gesture achingly tender despite his gruff tone. “I’ll be back before dark.”
“Have fun!” Skye bounced on her toes, her excitement palpable. “And when I grow up, I’ll go to festivals too! And I’ll dance and eat sweets and stay up late!”
Before Murdock could respond, Leona moved closer. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could smell heather and sweetness, close enough that his body responded immediately.
“There’ll be nay dancin' without me,” Leona said to Skye, her voice warm. She crouched down, bringing herself to eye level with the girl. “When ye’re old enough for festivals, I’ll teach ye all the dances. I promise.”
Skye’s face lit up like the sun. “Really?”
“Really.” Leona held out her pinky. “I swear it.”
Skye linked her pinky with Leona’s, sealing the promise with the gravity only a child could muster. “Ye have to keep it. Pinky promises are sacred.”
“I ken that,” Leona assured her. “I never break me promises.”
Murdock watched the exchange, something shifting in his chest. Something warm, dangerous, and utterly terrifying.
His daughter looked at Leona with such open affection, such trust. And Leona looked back with genuine warmth, not the forced pleasantness of someone trying to curry favor, but real care.
As if Skye mattered to her. As if this promise wasn’t just empty words, but something she intended to keep.
When Leona straightened, her eyes found his.
They stared at each other for a beat too long, awareness crackling between them like lightning before a storm.
He saw color bloom in her cheeks, watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips, and had to force himself to look away before he did something foolish.
Like pull her into his arms in front of everyone.
“We should go,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than intended. “It’s a fair ride to the village.”
“Of course.” Leona’s response was proper, formal. But he heard the slight breathlessness beneath it, the way her voice wavered on the second word.
Hamish emerged from the stables, leading two horses. Murdock’s massive black destrier, Thunder, and a smaller chestnut mare that one of his sisters had left behind when she’d married. The mare was gentle and well-trained—perfect for a lady.
“Yer mounts, me Laird, me Lady.” Hamish’s eyes danced with barely suppressed amusement as he handed over the reins. He leaned in close to Murdock, his voice pitched low. “Try to keep yer hands to yerself on the road. Wouldnae want to scandalize the villagers.”
“Hamish,” Murdock growled in warning.
“Just saying.” His man-at-arms grinned, then turned to Rufus with a much more serious expression. “Come on, lad. Let’s get ye to the trainin' yard. We have much to cover today.”
Rufus handed Nyx to Skye, who immediately cuddled the cat close despite its protesting meow. “Be safe,” he said to Leona.
“Always.” She kissed his forehead, the gesture so natural it made Murdock’s chest tighten. “Take care of our beast.”
“She’s nae our beast; she’s his,” Rufus said, nodding toward Murdock with a grin.
“I didnae agree to that,” Murdock said flatly, which only made Rufus’s grin widen.
He helped Leona mount first, his hands spanning her waist as he lifted her into the saddle. The contact was brief, proper, necessary. But feeling her warmth beneath his palms, hearing her breath hitch when he touched her, made heat spike through his veins.
Their eyes met as he released her, and the hunger he saw in her gaze nearly undid him.
Control, he reminded himself savagely. Ye need control.
He mounted Thunder in one fluid motion, settling into the saddle with practiced ease. The destrier shifted beneath him, eager to run, but Murdock held him steady.
“Ready?” he asked Leona.
She nodded, her hands tight on the reins. “Aye.”
“Da!” Skye called out as they turned toward the gates. “Daenae forget the sweets!”
“I willnae forget,” Murdock called back.
As they rode through the gates, Murdock glanced back once. Skye stood in the courtyard, waving enthusiastically, Nyx draped over her shoulder like a small, furry cloak. Hamish had his hand on Rufus’s shoulder, already talking animatedly about something. His home. His clan. His life.
And beside him, riding toward the village, was the woman who’d somehow become part of it all in the span of days.
The woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.
The woman who was supposed to be temporary.
Murdock faced ahead, his jaw set with determination. Today, they’d play their parts. Smile for his people. Convince everyone that this betrothal was real.
And he’d try very hard to remember it wasn’t.
Even as every fiber of his being wished otherwise.
They rode in silence at first, the morning sun warming their backs, the fields stretching before them in shades of green and gold. The clip-clop of hooves on the packed earth was the only sound, rhythmic and soothing.
But the silence between them was anything but peaceful. It crackled with tension, with unspoken words, with the memory of what had happened in his study.
Murdock kept his eyes on the road ahead, acutely aware of her presence beside him. The way she sat her horse with natural grace. The way the morning breeze caught strands of her dark hair, making them dance. The way her dress clung to her curves with every movement.
He was in so much trouble.
And the worst part? He was beginning to think he didn’t want to escape it.
Not anymore.