Chapter 12 #2
He lifted the letter towards her and the parchment slipped from his fingers as she took it. Silence followed, broken only by the faint lapping of water in the tub. He saw her eyes scanning the words, the same ones that had burned through him only moments ago.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but steady. “I’ll respond tae mw braither.”
Aidan’s jaw clenched. “And what will ye say?”
“That is between me and him.”
Her hair was still loose, heavy and damp, spilling over her shoulders. A single droplet slid down the curve of her neck and vanished beneath the collar.
His pulse lurched. He shouldn’t have looked, but the image from before lingered behind his eyes, sharper now for the memory of what lay beneath the robe. Pale skin, the line of her shoulder, the faint rise and fall of breath. The kind of vision that could undo a man if he let it.
He tore his gaze away, every thought in him turning to ash. She was Tòrr’s sister. And yet all he could think of was the way the morning light had touched her skin as though it belonged there.
“This concerns me as well,” he said, the words coming harsher than he meant.
Her head lifted sharply. “Daes it?”
“It daes if ye’re thinkin’ o’ marryin’ a man who nearly cost us our lives.”
She turned to him fully now, eyes bright with defiance. “And what business is that o’ yers, me laird?”
He faced her then, because he couldn’t stand not looking at her. “Ye ken well what business. Tòrr asked me tae speak wi’ ye. I gave me word I would.”
“And ye always dae what ye’re told?”
Aidan took a slow breath, fighting the heat rising in him. “When it comes tae protectin’ those under me roof, aye.”
Her arms folded over her chest, the movement drawing his attention before he could stop it. He tore his gaze away, forcing his eyes to the floor. “Damn it,” he muttered, half to himself.
Catherine’s voice was soft, but sharp as glass. “What is it tae ye what I dae?”
He met her eyes “Ye’re under me protection.”
“Because I’m yer best friend’s sister,” she said, her tone cutting.
Aidan’s hands curled into fists. He took a step toward her.
The space between them shrank until the scent of her filled his lungs.
Her lips parted slightly, though she didn’t back away.
He didn’t answer, because she was right to ask—he was standing there, watching her, when every piece of sense in him told him to turn and walk out.
Her eyes searched his face, as though trying to read the thoughts he refused to voice. “So that’s what I am tae ye then? An obligation. Yer friend’s sister. A duty ye have tae fulfill.”
“Dinnae say that.”
“Why nae? Is it untrue?”
Aidan’s control finally slipped. He turned fully, closing the distance between them in two strides. “Because ye’ve nae idea what ye’re sayin’,” he said, his voice low and rough, threaded with something darker than anger.
“Then tell me,” She challenged, breath catching.
He stared down at her, the heat between them thick enough to taste.
Steam coiled through the air, wrapping around them like a living thing.
He could see everything: the quick rise and fall of her chest, her pulse beating hard at the hollow of her throat, a rhythm that pulled at something primal inside him.
“Ye’ve nay idea what ye’re daein’,” he said again, softer this time, though the warning had no strength left in it. He shut his eyes, drew a ragged breath, and forced himself to step back. The movement hurt. His body rebelled against it. The pulse in his throat pounded like war.
“I shouldnae have come here.” He reached for the handle, his voice rough. “And I’m sorry fer barging in. Fer seein’ ye like this.”
She exhaled, something unreadable passing through her eyes. “I suppose that means we’re even now, then. Since I saw ye the other night.”
He froze. “Dinnae refer tae that night.”
“Why nae?” she asked, tilting her head, the faintest trace of a smile playing at her lips. “Daes it make ye uneasy, me laird?”
He turned back slowly, his expression unreadable. “Because I’m tryin’ nae tae remember.”
“Tryin’,” she repeated softly. “But failin’.”
The world narrowed to her eyes, her breath, the distance of a single sigh. His heart pounded once, hard enough to hurt. Then he straightened, stepping back as though from the edge of a cliff.
Without another word, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.
In the corridor, he pressed a hand against the stone wall, his breath unsteady.
What in God’s name are ye daein’?
He’d known temptation before. He’d been weak to beauty, to warmth, to the pull of a woman’s voice.
But this was different. Catherine wasn’t some tavern flirt or visiting widow.
She was Tòrr’s sister. The girl he’d sworn to protect.
The one person he could never have. And yet, every time he looked at her, something in him shifted. Something dangerous.
He’d told himself he could control it. That it was only attraction, something fleeting. He’d conquered worse habits in his time. But this didn’t feel like lust. It felt like hunger, old and bone-deep, a wanting he couldn’t name.
He straightened, dragging a hand through his hair. He’d promised Tòrr he’d keep her safe. He couldn’t betray that for anything. Not even for the way she looked at him.
He took a slow breath and forced himself to walk away, the sound of her voice still ringing in his head, soft and defiant all at once. He told himself it would fade. That it had to.
But even as he stepped back into the cold light of the corridor, he knew he was lying.