Chapter 16
It was later than she had anticipated when she finished studying the samples. She stretched, blinking her tired eyes. She was certainly feeling the aches and pains of an active day, as well as one spent bouncing around in a carriage.
I’ll just have Betsy bring me some soup. I’m not in the mood for company.
She also wanted to write down her findings before she forgot. She was still surprised that Kayden had allowed her to go to the village. He’d been so adamantly against it.
She could not help but wonder if it had something to do with their time together the night before. Her cheeks flamed every time she thought of it.
His tongue…
Her inner walls clenched at the thought.
The way he had made her feel… she was not ready to go without that. She could only fervently hope that it had not been a fluke.
Her entire body trembled as she recalled how her climax had ripped through her like a hurricane. Her hand rose of its own accord to brush her lips. She flicked out her tongue, swiping it fast across her finger as her body lit up.
Realizing what she was doing, she snatched her hand away and put it behind her back as if that might negate her actions. She shook her head frantically and hurried up the stairs, fiercely hoping that no one had spotted her idiocy.
“What am I doing?” she murmured before flinging herself into her chambers and collapsing on the bed.
She lay there, bosom heaving as she stared at the canopy. All day, Kayden had occupied her thoughts. Even when she was doing something else, he had been in the periphery, waiting to get just a bit of her attention.
“Am I pining over a Highlander? Surely not,” she huffed in disbelief.
She could not believe how quickly her life had changed. Not many weeks ago, she’d left London ready to fulfill a lifelong dream of helping people in need. Now, she was married to a laird and asking herself when she might see him again.
This is ludicrous.
She bolted upright and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the invasive thoughts. She jumped off the bed and crossed to her desk, where she grabbed her journal and a quill and began to write.
I still cannot find the cause of the illness, and it’s frustrating that the symptoms vary so much. I have collected water samples to test. Hopefully, that will help me know more.
I’m worried that this disease has no cure and I won’t be able to help. I’m afraid they might blame—
She stopped writing when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Betsy came in bearing a tray of food.
Lilliana beamed. “Ah, Betsy, what would I do without you? You always look after me.”
Betsy grinned. “I brought you some broth and bread to fill your belly, since I know well how caught up you get in your work.”
Lilliana smiled. “Thank you.” She cast a coy glance at her. “Did you go down to sup, though?”
Betsy gave her a surprised look. “Yes, I did, My Lady.”
“And… was the Laird at the table?”
Betsy narrowed her eyes at Lilliana. “I did see him at his table briefly, yes.”
“Mmm.” Lilliana wondered where he might have gone after that.
Betsy gave a loud sigh. “I don’t understand you, My Lady. You come all this way just to treat people, and your father agrees just because you’re so stubborn about it, but you act like you have to sit around and wait on the Laird to grace you with his presence. Why not just ask for what you want?”
Lilliana stared at her with wide eyes, quite shocked by her outburst. “What? I never…?”
Betsy gave her a droll look. “This is what I mean. He reduces you to a stammering mess. He is leading you by the nose. You shouldn’t stand for it.”
Lilliana blinked a few times, flabbergasted by her maid’s words. “He is not leading me by—” She stopped, recalling how she’d been looking towards the road all day, hoping for Kayden to appear.
Maybe he is.
She heaved a deep sigh. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“There isn’t a perhaps about it, My Lady.” Betsy pointed to the tray. “Now, eat your food, get your strength up, and I’ll draw you a bath. Plenty of time for you to decide what you’ll do next.”
Lilliana smiled. “Fine.”
Smelling like roses from her bath and clad in a soft linen nightgown and matching robe, Lilliana knocked on the door between her chambers and Kayden’s. She waited for a moment, and when no response came, she tried the door.
To her surprise, it was open.
She peered into the room, catching sight of Kayden sitting by the fire, a pumice stone in hand, sharpening his sword while Rua lay asleep by his side.
She stepped into the room, and the dog immediately perked up, turning his head to look at her. He barked in welcome, getting to his feet and walking towards her.
She held out a hand in greeting. “Hail and well met, Rua. I did not mean to disturb your nap.”
Rua licked her hand with gusto, making her laugh. Then he rose on his hind legs, placing his forepaws on her chest to lick her face.
She shrieked in surprise, moving her mouth away from the dog as she tried to lift his paws off her. Then Kayden was there, taking hold of Rua’s collar and pulling him away.
“Apologies for his enthusiasm. He doesnae seem to understand his own strength,” he said, patting the dog on his haunches and then pointing back to the fire.
Rua went back to his spot by the fire and curled up, tail thumping contentedly on the floor.
Kayden’s gaze raked over her from head to toe. He cocked an eyebrow. “What brings ye here at this hour?”
She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I wanted to… thank you for sending the guard with me and for letting Fergus accompany us to the village today. It was much appreciated.”
He gave her a half smile. “I didnae let Fergus do a thing. He wanted to accompany ye.”
“Yes, well, you still provided the guard and the carriage, didn’t you?” She gave him an impish grin.
“I did that, so I will accept yer thanks. Would ye like to have a nightcap with me?” He indicated the bench he’d been sitting on. “I daenae have any wine, but I do have some fine scotch.”
“That’ll do fine,” she murmured as she took a seat.
I could use some liquid courage.
He went to his desk and poured the whisky into two tumblers, then carried them over to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she took one.
“Ye’re welcome.”
He sat next to her and raised his own tumbler in a toast. She clicked her tumbler against his.
“Slàinte,” he said and drank.
“Cheers.”
She grimaced as the whisky burned its way down to her stomach.
“Oh, this is potent,” she wheezed.
He grinned. “Indeed, it is.”
She took another smaller sip. “So, is this something you brew here or…?”
“Nay. We buy it. We daenae make it.”
She nodded, already starting to feel lightheaded.
Kayden stared into the fire, tumbler in hand. She stole glances at him, appreciating how the firelight made his chestnut locks look like burnished bronze. His profile, from his straight nose to his sharp jawline, was thrown into stark relief, looking regal and proud.
He really is a very beautiful man.
“Have ye looked yer fill?” he asked softly.
She jerked, caught wrong-footed. “Oh, what?”
He turned his head to give her an amused smile. “Yer little glances. Have ye seen enough, or would ye like me to light a candle?”
She was glad that the dimness partially concealed her blush as she looked away. “No, I’m fine, thank you. I was just…”
“Just…?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
She could not help noticing how elegantly shaped they were and cursed herself inwardly.
“I was… well, I haven’t really had a chance to look at you. Not really.”
His smile widened. “Have ye nae? Then ye should take this opportunity to look properly. Ye should ken the man ye married.”
She turned and stared boldly at him, cursing herself for noticing how much more handsome he looked with a smile on his face.
How, even hunched, his shoulders took up plenty of space.
His feet, planted firmly on the floor and set wide apart, with his kilt stopping just below his knees, gave her an unconstrained glimpse of his strong calves.
She sighed in despair. “It’s really not fair.”
“What isnae?” he asked.
She really had not meant to say that out loud. “N-Nothing.”
“Come, Lilly, willnae ye tell me the truth?”
She straightened up at the nickname, shocked at how much she liked to hear it from his mouth. “I-I was just thinking that you have no flaws. Not in your appearance anyway.”
He gave a rumbling chuckle, and his gaze darkening, “Ye daenae have any flaws yerself,” he said in a low voice.
She suppressed a shiver before rolling her shoulders back and straightening her spine. “Well, thank you for saying that, though we both know it’s not true.”
He tilted his head to the side. “We both ken? I daenae ken such a thing.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “My father had to send me all this way to find a husband, and you don’t think I have flaws?”
“I ken that the English werenae wise enough to appreciate yer…” He looked her up and down. “… assets. That’s nae yer fault, lass.”
She blinked a few times, her face warming at his words. “Well…” She was at a loss for words.
His knee bumped against hers as he went back to staring at the fire, and she tried to compose herself, feeling his touch like a brand.
“Would ye like me to stand so ye can take a good look at me?” he asked without looking away from the fire.
“Erm, no, thank you.” Her voice came out quite squeaky as she turned a little more so she was facing him, her knee still pressed against his. “I’m fine with what I can see.”
He grinned, turning to eye her. He reached out his thumb and trailed it from her jaw to her chin. “So ye daenae want to see more of me?” he asked softly.
Her eyes widened, and she spluttered, confused by his touch and his words. “I… of course n—” She paused, not wanting to lie. “N-Not at the moment,” she finished primly before downing the rest of her whisky in one go. She moved her knee away from his in an effort to clear her mind.
He took her tumbler, stood up, and went to refill it. She watched him go, enjoying the way his kilt moved as he walked. Her vision blurred around the edges, and she blinked a few times to clear it.
Has the scotch already taken effect?
She was not one for tippling too much, as it was unladylike according to her father, but she did engage in the occasional bottle of port with dinner as well as an apéritif. So, she was rather surprised that one glass of scotch had her feeling so woozy.
I should leave before I make a fool of myself.
She opened her mouth to tell him so, and was surprised at what came out instead. “Tell me about your sister. What was her name? Sorcha?”
Kayden frowned, turning to come back to the bench, his brow furrowed as he handed her a tumbler. “I daenae want to talk about her.”
His shoulder brushed against hers as she sat closer than before. She breathed him in, appreciating the smoky scent of him, the manly musk that clung to his clothes. She leaned towards him, half in sympathy, but mostly to breathe in more of his scent.
“It’s still painful what happened to her?” she murmured.
Again, it was not what she had meant to say.
He clenched his jaw. “It is why I could never trust the English.”
She swallowed, looking down at her glass contemplatively. She swirled the amber liquid before taking another sip, resisting the urge to shrink back from him.
“I understand your antipathy. I do. I have sisters as well.”
“Aye, so ye see why I daenae want Englishmen in me territory.”
She gave him a coy look. “All of them?”
He inclined his head. “Aye.”
She took a deep breath before bending to put her tumbler on the floor. She got to her feet, swaying slightly.
“Well, there is one English person in your territory who has no intention of leaving. You’ll just have to get used to that.” She gave him a dignified nod before swaying towards the connecting door.
Even as she walked away, she could feel his gaze burning into her back.
She opened the door and stepped into her chambers. She looked over her shoulder and was surprised to find him right behind her. He grabbed her arm, pulling her flush against him.
“I didnae say English person, did I?”
He was so close that she could feel his hot breath against her cheek. Her mouth trembled in reaction, and his eyes darkened as he stared at it. Then he pushed her away.
“Ye should go to bed,” he said. “I think ye’ve had enough for one night.”
He reached for the connecting door and closed it. She stared at it, blinking a few times, before she turned and went to her bed.
Collapsing onto the soft covers, she closed her eyes with a sigh. She could still see his piercing blue-grey eyes, piercing her soul as they stood in the doorway. She could not quite understand the look she’d seen there. It was so intent, yet conflicted.
She expelled a loud breath. “The scotch has taken effect. But at least I didn’t make a fool of myself.”