Chapter 11
This was definitely a mistake.
Skye shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Of course, the whole bed was comfortable, ridiculously so, but she had not imagined that having another person in her bed would be so… so… much.
Was Evander asleep? About ten or fifteen minutes had passed since they slumped into bed together, and so far, he had not moved, except to shift onto his side a few minutes ago.
His breathing was smooth and even, but perhaps not deep enough to imply sleep. Her breathing, on the other hand, was quick and ragged. When he had rolled onto his side, he had moved close enough to almost press himself against her back.
Almost.
When he breathed deeply, his chest brushed her shoulders. She could feel the firmness of the muscles beneath his shirt. Heat radiated from his body, pricklingly warm. One shift of his arm, and he could drape it over her waist.
He did no such thing, of course. In fact, he didn’t touch her at all. And yet the inch of space between them felt super-heated, crackling with potential.
Nae potential, she scolded herself, clenching her jaw. What are ye talking about?
She shifted, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird trying to escape a cage. Her gut seemed to clench and roil, a tingling spreading up through her torso.
The sensation was… unusual. Any tension in her gut would usually be indigestion or the side effects of eating something bad.
This feeling was entirely different. There was a sort of anticipatory tingle about it, an itch that refused to go away.
The tingling spread, even inching toward the apex of her thighs, pulsing curiously there.
That was new.
Tightening her jaw, Skye pressed her thighs together, hoping that the sensation would ebb.
It didn’t.
Behind her, Evander shifted, his chest brushing against her back. The touch radiated through her body, and she flinched.
This isnae good.
“Are ye asleep?” she whispered, the words spilling out of her lips as though they’d come from someone else.
Evander gave a quiet exhale. “Nay, I am nae.”
“Good.” She abruptly shifted onto her back. The soft pillow gave way under her, nearly obscuring her view of him.
With the candle blown out, she could barely see him. A crack of silvery moonlight slipped through a gap in the curtains, falling across his face. She could see one of his eyes, fixed unblinking on her.
“Nae asleep yerself?” he murmured, his voice a thoughtful burr in his throat.
“Nay, I am nae. And do ye ken why? Because I am thinking of what ye said earlier.”
“And what did I say earlier?”
“That I would beg for ye. Do ye truly believe that is the sort of woman I am? That I’d beg for any man?”
He blinked, and for a moment, she thought she saw surprise on his face.
He didnae think that was what I was going to say. What did he think I was going to say?
“It was just an off-hand comment, lass,” he responded, amused.
“Nay, I daenae think so. Do ye expect me to believe that ye are so used to having lasses on their knees for ye?”
Where were these words coming from?
Skye managed a panicked gulp at the end. Why was she snapping at him? What was wrong with her?
Is it because I cannae sleep?
Evander stared at her for a long moment. Then he pushed up on his elbow, leaning over her. His eyes glittered in the moonlight. She could smell petrichor and the clean scent of sweat. His breath, sweet with minty—had he been chewing mint before bed?—tickled her cheek.
“Go to sleep,” he said quietly, his voice deeper than before.
Aye, a fine idea, if I could manage it.
“Why daenae ye answer me question?” she heard herself say.
He narrowed his eyes. “Ye want me to tell ye whether lasses get down on their knees for me? Well, ye would be surprised how often that happened. Before I met ye, of course.”
That last comment made her flinch.
“Oh, so I ruined yer life, is that it? I scared away all the women queuing up for yer company, did I nae?”
A muscle jumped in her jaw. “Ye are getting on me last nerve.”
“Daenae avoid the question.”
“Fine. Then I will say nay, ye didnae ruin me life. Ye saved me clan, just as ye saved yer own. That’s good enough for me.”
She folded her arms across her chest and tried not to think about the blood pounding in her ears and pulsing in other places in her body.
“Is that right? So good that ye couldnae even kiss yer bride on yer wedding day?”
The silence crackled. Outside, the moon sailed behind a cloud, cutting off the beam of light. Shadows slid over his face, obscuring her view of his eyes.
“Ye certainly seem to be fixated on this kiss,” he murmured, his voice raspy.
“I am nae—”
“Ye have mentioned it often. So what is it then, lass? Ye want me to kiss ye?”
A flush bloomed in her cheeks. He wouldn’t be able to see her red face in the darkness, of course—or so she hoped—but she could certainly feel it. She swallowed thickly.
“N-Nay, of course nae!”
“Ye daenae sound very sure,” he breathed.
The bed creaked under his weight as he leaned forward. In the darkness, it was difficult to judge distances, so Skye gave a strangled yelp of surprise when she found his face only inches away from hers, the tips of their noses almost brushing.
“I think ye want our wedding-day kiss,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.
All of the moisture in her mouth disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She swallowed dryly and reached forward.
She meant to push him away, of course, to tell him that this was not appropriate and that even though they were wed, they weren’t wed in that way.
Instead, her fingertips grazed his warm shoulders, his skin firm under the thin shirt he wore. Her palm flattened over the centre of his chest. His heart hammered under her touch, heat blooming. The ache in the pit of her stomach intensified.
Then the moon came out from behind the clouds, filling the room with a comparatively light glow.
“What is it ye want, lass?” Evander asked, his voice tight and carefully neutral.
Skye blinked, her breath stuttering in her throat. She pushed weakly at him, and he moved back. He chose to move back, however. She knew that. It wasn’t her pathetic push that had opened up space between them. He had given her that space.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was scrambling, clawing her way out of the bed. The tangled sheets knotted around her limbs, tugging her back, but she stumbled free anyway, her feet slapping on the cold floorboards.
With a muffled whoosh, the candle flared into light, and she turned to see Evander clambering off the bed, his face impassive.
“What is it?” he asked.
“N-Nothing.”
“It’s nae nothing,” he scoffed, folding his arms. The movement made his biceps seem even larger, pushed up against his chest as they were.
The tension in her gut knotted again, and she turned away.
“I daenae ken what I want,” she muttered, half to herself. Abruptly, she began to pace up and down, up and down, her head drooping. “I’m confused. I daenae even ken for sure that I can trust ye, but when ye are next to me, when ye are here, I… I…”
“Ye what?”
She closed her eyes. “I feel safe. But me heart is going like a runaway cart. I cannae breathe, me mouth turns as dry as a bootstrap, I cannae think, I… Do ye think I am scared of ye? Is that what this is?”
His eyes widened, pupils blown wide. In two strides, he’d crossed the room and was standing in front of her. If she leaned forward, she could press her cheek against his chest.
“Scared of me?” he breathed. “The Skye I ken is afraid of nothing. Certainly nae a man.”
“But the feeling… I daenae recall feeling like this before. It’s fear, is it nae? It must be fear.”
Evander barked out a laugh. Leaning forward, his fingertips grazed her chin. Her breath stuttered in her throat. He curled his fingers around her chin, tilting her face up to his.
“Fear? Nay, lass, ye arenae afraid of me,” he murmured. “I can promise ye that. Because I feel just the same, and I am nae afraid of ye.”
Skye blinked, frowning. “Nae even a wee bit afraid of me?”
The corners of his lips twitched as if wanting to curl into a smile. “Nae even a twinge of apprehension, I’m afraid.”
She scowled. “Aye, well, that is because I’m nae trying. Back at me braither’s keep, I had quite the reputation as a wee harridan. I can be scary if I want to—”
He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers without warning, without even a word.
She yelped in surprise, the sound muffled against his lips.
Heat rushed through her, the ache in her chest and between her thighs pulsing furiously, a throbbing kaleidoscope of colors and sensations and feelings she could not name coiling inside her.
Her lips parted, almost without her conscious decision. The tip of his tongue slid over her lower lip, a hot, velvety intrusion that made her gasp again. He swallowed the noise she made, tilting his head to press their lips more neatly together.
Skye’s hands moved of their own accord, her fingers curling over his shoulders, pulling him close. Their chests pressed together, his heart beating in sync with hers. Or was that her imagination?
The ache between her legs thrummed again, and she pressed her hips forward, barely knowing that she did. He gave a low growl, a rumbling deep in his chest.
The room spun, and she found herself walking backwards until her shoulders knocked against the wall. Evander followed, making sure that no more than an inch of space opened up between them. His arm snaked around her waist, thrillingly tight.
For a split second, their eyes met. His eyes were wide and dark with lust, and Skye was sure, entirely sure, that hers were the same.
I want him, she realized in a dizzyingly powerful rush.
When he bent his head to kiss her again, she met him halfway, letting out a faint, breathy sound of wanting.
Lips pressed against lips, hard enough for her to feel a brief sting of pain, the sensation soon smoothed over by a rush of prickling desire.
Arousal tugged at her gut, and she felt foolish for not understanding what it was earlier.
His free hand, the one not on her waist, ghosted over her cheek and down her neck, leaving a red-hot trail of sensation in its wake. Down it went, dancing over the swell of her breasts. She briefly wondered if he could feel her heart hammering.
His palm flattened warmly against her ribs, and she exhaled, pressing against the touch. His hand didn’t stay where it was, sliding further to cup her hip, squeezing ever so slightly. She pressed her thighs together, breaking away from his lips to suck in air. Her lungs burned.
Had she been holding her breath?
Evander tilted his head, pressing a stubbly cheek against the soft skin of her neck. She shuddered, closing her eyes and tilting her head to give him better access.
What came next? She couldn’t work out his next move in her head. Every sensation, every movement, was unpredictable.
His warm palm pressed against the outside of her upper thigh, only a few inches below her hip.
His hand moved, fisting the material of her nightdress.
His fingers moved deftly, pulling up the hem of her nightdress inch by inch.
She could feel a rush of cool air around her ankles, then her exposed calves, then her knees, then there were only a few inches to go before he could slip his hand under the hem, putting his palm directly on warm, shivering flesh, and then—
Abruptly, Evander pulled away.
Skye’s eyes flew open at once, and she let out a ragged breath, disoriented by the loss of warmth and pressure. Her waist felt lighter without his arm. He released her nightdress, letting the skirt drop, the too-long hem pooling on the floor around her feet.
For a moment, he stared at her. With his back to the flickering candle, it was hard to read his expression. He was breathing heavily, however, his chest rising and falling deeply. Was that a tremor in his hands?
He cleared his throat and lifted his chin, but Skye managed to speak first.
“I didnae tell ye to stop,” she whispered, in a wobbly voice that surely could not be hers.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I daenae follow yer commands unless I wish it, lass. Ye might be Lady Bryden, but I am Laird Bryden.”
She reddened. “That’s nae what I meant.”
He glanced away. “I ken what ye meant. But this is a bad idea. It has already gone too far.”
“I daenae… I’m nae upset with ye.”
“I ken. Do ye think I never thought of claiming ye?”
She swallowed dryly, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes as squarely as she could. “Well, I am right here, am I nae?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. For an instant, the air turned still between them. He watched her through slanted, fox-green eyes with a stillness that made her think of a predator about to pounce. Then he let out a ragged sigh, shaking his head.
“Ye are safe with me, lass. Let’s nae complicate things. I daenae want ye to feel as though I cannae be trusted. Trust is in short supply these days. These… impulses that bother ye will ease up soon enough, I’m sure of it.”
The corners of her mouth tugged downwards. “But what about the feelings I described? Me heart racing, me mouth turning dry?”
He gave a quick, mirthless grin. “From what I hear, those are perfectly normal reactions around a man like me. Plenty of women have said so.”
Color bloomed in her cheeks. “Ye are a wretch!”
With a huff, she leaned forward, her hand shooting out to slap him on the chest.
Instead of ducking, he grabbed her wrist in an effortlessly powerful grip, chuckling. “Enough of that, lassie.”
She made to tug her hand free, but before she could, he lifted her arm, turned it upwards, and pressed a quick, close-lipped kiss to her soft wrist.
“It’ll be dawn soon,” he said, letting her arm drop. She drew her wrist back to her chest, almost protectively. “We’ll leave then. Dress and prepare to leave. Neither of us has slept well, but there’s nothing to be done about that. I’ll wait outside.”
He turned away and strode out of the room, leaving her standing alone, staring after him, her heart still pounding.
What just happened? And what on earth is going to happen next? Should I be afraid?
Maybe she should have been.
She was not.