Chapter 10
It was just a kiss.
Perhaps if she reminded herself of the simplicity of that action, she might be able to get over it faster and function like the composed lady she had been the hour before.
Settled.
Unscathed by the force of Ruaridh’s passion.
Except it was not that simple, and she suspected that there was no going back to the woman she had been before he had claimed her lips.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could still feel his strong arms around her, pulling her into his heady embrace, taking her lips with his, drowning her in the eroticism of his touch.
She was addicted. He was going to be her life’s worst addiction, and somehow she could not bring herself to care.
It was easier when it was just a line in her list
Kiss a gentleman.
It was supposed to be that easy, a simple lock of lips. Except she should have known that when it came to Ruaridh, things were hardly simple. After all, her life had taken a bizarre turn since she met him.
When she had first written her list, she had pictured stealing a kiss from a gentleman in a darkened corridor at a ball.
She had certainly not imagined that she would be sharing that kiss with a Scottish laird in broad daylight, their wet skin sliding against each other as their passion carried them away.
A minute longer in his arms, and she would have locked her arms around his neck, desperately trying to climb his body and get closer to his delicious heat.
It didn’t help that she suspected that he would have welcomed it, making that delicious sound at the back of his throat that did things to her core.
She fanned her face frantically in the hope of dousing the flames growing in her body and quelling the blush that was now turning her as bright as a tomato.
She admitted that this was no one-off event and that having the memory of his taste meant that the next time she was alone with him, she would be immensely pressed not to drag him in for a kiss.
Heavens! Now it made more sense why it was easy for many gently bred ladies to give themselves to ruin if they had felt a fraction of what she had shared with Ruaridh.
She should be troubled by how easily she had turned a wanton for him simply because of a kiss.
Instead, all she could think about was that it was not enough.
While he kissed her, his hands had roamed her body, sparking pleasure and desire where they went, though she felt him holding back despite the obvious evidence of his desire for her.
She suspected that if he hadn’t done that, they might have ended up in a tangled heap on the grassy bank of the loch, giving rein to the passion that had been driving her crazy for weeks, uncaring if anyone found them.
In a castle of this size, they would have certainly been found out.
If they were not found out while they still clung to each other half-dressed, in the throes of passion, the residents of the castle would definitely put two and two together and come up with five when she eventually came back with grass stains at the back of her dress and tiny pieces of foliage and sand in her hair.
It would be equal to announcing their tryst if she returned that way. A scandal, to be sure.
Even though Highlanders were less sensitive to topics of that nature, she was an English lady through and through.
She should be horrified at the thought of being embroiled in such a scandal.
Instead, all she could think about was how it would be worth it if she experienced the pleasure she so deeply craved in Ruaridh’s arms.
This was surely proof that she was going out of her mind, except she could not dredge up the appropriate feeling of worry.
There were very few remedies for impending obsession, but one temporary remedy existed—distraction.
Since it seemed that the subject of Ruaridh was anathema to her peace of mind, she turned her mind to another innocuous subject—Keira, his daughter. Who also happened to be her friend, whom she had all but abandoned as she became engrossed in her preoccupation with Ruaridh.
Violet had decided to look for her after she got herself out of her cold, wet clothes, which were already drying on her skin, cooling her in the process.
When she stepped into her room, it was to find Ona efficiently making her bed, her brow furrowed in concentration. She waited until the maid tucked down the blanket and smoothed it before speaking.
“Ona,” she greeted with a smile.
The maid turned around, her eyes widening in horror when she took in her ruined dress.
“It would seem I require a warm dress for today,” Violet said, gesturing helplessly to herself.
“It would seem so. What possessed ye to go swimming on a cold morning as this?” Ona exclaimed, stepping close to unfasten the sodden mess.
At a loss for words, Violet smiled ruefully. She shivered lightly as the chill seeped into her skin.
“Ye will catch yer death if ye keep this up,” Ona warned quietly.
That did not seem likely, not when Ruaridh had a habit of swimming in the buff, and if Violet joined him, she could count on him to keep her warm, especially if she was granted a repeat of that kiss.
Of course, she could not tell Ona that, if she did not wish to see her convulse in shock and outrage. The maid already had her work cut out for her if she wished to get the stains out of the once-beautiful nightdress that was now on a sodden heap around her ankles.
Stepping out of it, Violet asked, “I needed a challenge. Do you think you’ll be able to salvage it? I hate to see it ruined.”
“Daenae worry, I will do me best to clean it. A spot of good scrubbing, and it will be as good as new,” Ona said with a smile that definitely looked strained.
Violet did not blame her. It would certainly be a nightmare for any laundress to get rid of the stains on that nightdress. It wasn’t as though she had many to use since she hadn’t come with any luggage.
Perhaps she should have thought about that before deciding to dive into the loch.
“Ye daenae have to worry about the it, miss,” Ona added, as if she had read her thoughts. “’Tis from Grannie Ava, and she has far too many. She willnae miss this one. Besides, this one is a bit out of fashion.”
Watching her closely, Violet sought proof that she was lying to calm her nerves, but Ona’s expression was earnest, as if she believed what she told her.
For her sake, Violet hoped she was right. She did not intend to start her relationship with her future grandmother-in-law on the wrong footing. She giggled at the odd family relationship.
From the little she had heard of the lady, she seemed like someone whom she could befriend. After all, they both had good taste in fashion. Many a great friendship had begun with even less.
“I have drawn ye a bath,” Ona said, folding the dress to set it aside. “It sat for a while waiting for ye. Ye should hurry before it becomes cold.”
“Thank ye,” Violet murmured, moving towards the tub at the edge of the room that had a wooden board in front of it to protect her privacy. She set the obstruction aside before stepping into the tub.
A sigh escaped her lips as the warm water embraced her cold, aching body, a welcome contrast from the frigid water of the loch. Tipping her head back, she enjoyed the sensation of the warm water lapping at her skin, relaxing aching muscles, and washing away the dirt of the outdoors.
She was about to drift off to sleep when Ona came to wash her hair. If the maid noticed the sand in her hair, she showed no sign of it, simply focusing on washing her hair and scalp clean until it was tender.
Soon, she stepped out of the tub, drying her skin before accepting Ona’s help to don a crimson dress that contrasted quite beautifully with her skin and hair color.
“Old Lady McLeod and wee Keira might still be breaking their fast in the hall. If we hurry, ye might be able to join them,” Ona said as she styled her hair in a thick braid that fell down her back.
Looking at herself in the mirror before her, Violet definitely looked beautiful. Ona had done wonders with her hair.
“You have done very well with my hair, Ona,” she praised with a smile, coaxing a blush from the maid. Then she got up and smoothed her skirts. “I have to leave now if I hope to meet the ladies at the table.” She moved to leave the room and closed the door behind her.
She descended the stairs, and when she stepped onto the landing, she saw that the hall was almost empty, except for a group of men sitting at the far end, devouring the remnants of their breakfast.
Grannie Ava and Keira were seated at the other end, on the raised dias, where the high table was. It was strictly reserved for friends and family.
With a smile of recognition, Violet approached the table and heard Grannie Ava teasing Keira.
“If ye want to grow big, ye have to eat. Unless ye daenae want to get yer pony,” she was saying to the girl, who was stirring the porridge in her plate with a mutinous expression.
“I do want to grow big, but I daenae care for porridge,” Keira replied with a pout.
“And what does bonny Keira want?” Violet asked, cutting into the conversation.
“Violet!” Keira exclaimed, happiness transforming her face into that of the sweet girl she knew. “Ye came to join us?”
“Yes, I have. Unless you do not want me to?” Violet asked, smiling at Grannie Ava in greeting before taking her seat.
“I want ye to,” Keira said eagerly, her face bright with excitement. “Cook makes very delicious meals.”
This was something Violet already knew: the cook at Castle McLeod was a wonder, and she had been a beneficiary. It was one of the things that had made adjusting to her new home easier. So, the girl’s refusal to eat had no bearing on Cook’s skills.
“If ye say so,” she replied, schooling her expression into a serious one. “Why don’t you want to finish your food? You certainly need it.”
Keira’s face fell, her spoon dragging across her plate. “I daenae like porridge.”