Chapter 6 #2
"That daesnae mean I have tae like it."
David was quiet for so long she thought he might have fallen asleep. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder, warm through the thin fabric of her shift.
She froze.
His hand. On my shoulder. Warm. Heavy. Real.
Every nerve in Elinor's body came alive at once. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering so loudly she was certain he could hear it.
"What are you doing?"
"Helpin' ye relax."
"By touching me? That's does the opposite of relaxing to me."
Liar. You're a liar, Elinor Royse. Because some traitorous part of you is already melting under his touch.
She hated that part. Hated how her body betrayed her, how the tension she'd been carrying for days seemed to drain away under the gentle pressure of his thumb.
"Is it?" His thumb moved in a slow circle, finding a knot of tension near her neck.
The sensation shot through her like lightning. Not pain—something else entirely. Something that made her want to lean into his touch instead of pulling away. Her father's hands had only ever brought fear. Edmund's had promised possession. But David's...
David's hands feel different. Safe. Gentle. Like he actually cares.
"Stop," she whispered, though the word lacked conviction even to her own ears.
"Dae ye really want me tae?" His voice was low, intimate in the darkness.
No. God help me, no.
The realization terrified her more than anything that had happened that day. She didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to keep touching her, wanted to feel those calloused fingers work away every knot, every fear, every memory of hands that had hurt instead of healed.
She broke off as his hand moved lower, following the line of her spine. "You promised you wouldn't touch me."
But even as she said it, she felt herself softening, her body betraying every wall she'd tried to build between them.
The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of her chemise, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound that would reveal just how much his touch affected her.
He paused, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Well. I promised other things. But I didnae promise nae tae touch ye at all. That would be a rather difficult promise tae keep, considerin' we're sharin' a bed."
"It’s a favor." The words came out in a rush. "I'm using a favor to make you get off this bed right now."
His hand stilled. "Are ye sure?"
She didn’t reply.
"Sharin' a bed with me is really so terrible?"
"Yes!"
"Even though I'm nae goin' tae hurt ye? Even though all I'm daein' is helpin' ye relax?"
"You're not helping me relax." She couldn't admit what his touch was doing to her. How her skin felt too hot, too tight. How every place he touched seemed to burn.
"I'm what?" His voice dropped lower, taking on an edge that made her shiver. "Tell me, lass. What am I daein' tae ye?"
"Nothing."
"That's nae an answer." His hand moved again, sliding from her back to her hip. "What would ye dae if I touched ye here?"
"David."
"Or here?" His fingers found the curve of her waist, barely grazing the skin through the thin fabric.
"You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldnae I?" She could hear the challenge in his voice. Feel the warmth of his breath against her neck as he leaned closer. "Ye're me wife, Elinor. Me wife. That gives me certain rights."
"Rights that I'm telling you not to exercise."
"But ye havenae used yer favor yet. Nae really." His hand splayed across her stomach, warm and solid through the chemise. "Ye started tae. But then I asked if ye were sure. And ye didnae answer."
Elinor's breath caught. His hand was heavy on her stomach, his body a line of heat at her back. Every instinct told her to pull away. To use the favor and make him sleep on the floor where he couldn't touch her, couldn't make her feel things she didn't want to feel.
But another part of her, a part she didn't want to acknowledge, wanted him to keep touching her. Wanted to know what would happen if she let herself relax into his warmth instead of fighting it.
"This is yer last chance," David stated, his voice rough. "Dae ye want tae use one of yer favors just tae make me sleep on the floor? Or would ye rather save it fer somethin' that matters more?"
"This does matter."
"Daes it?" His thumb traced a slow circle on her stomach. "Or are ye just afraid of what might happen if ye let me stay?"
"Nothing will happen."
"Are ye tellin' me? Or yerself?"
Elinor closed her eyes. Her heart was racing, her skin flushed. She could feel every point where his body touched hers—his chest against her back, his legs tangled with hers through the blankets, his hand warm on her stomach.
She should use the favor. Should make him move. Should protect herself.
But she thought about the days ahead. About facing the Duke of Albany. About building a life with this man she barely knew. And she thought that maybe, maybe, she needed to learn to trust him. At least a little.
"No," she whispered.
David's hand stilled. "Nay?"
"No. It's not one of my favors." She forced the words out. "You can stay in the bed. It doesn't affect me at all."
She turned then, deliberately pulling away from his touch. Rolling onto her other side so her back was to him again. Creating distance, even if it was only a few inches.
Behind her, David laughed. It was a low, knowing sound that made her face burn.
"Ye say it daesnae affect ye," he murmured. "But I think if we lit some candles, I'd find ye blushin' from head tae toe."
"Go to sleep."
"Bossy little thing, arenae ye?"
"David."
"Hmmm… I like the way ye call me name. Temptin’."
"David."
"Aye, aye. I'm goin' tae sleep."
She felt him settle back, felt the mattress adjust to his weight.
"Ye're already carin' fer yer husband's wellbeing. That's very sweet of ye, lass."
"I don't care about your wellbeing. I just want you to be quiet."
"Sure ye dinnae." His voice was warm with amusement. "Good lass."
Elinor bit her lip, refusing to respond. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how those words affected her.
Good lass.
As if she were something to be praised. Something to be gentled.
She told herself she wasn't blushing.
She told herself she definitely wasn't thinking about what might have happened if she'd said yes instead of no. If she'd let him keep touching her. If she'd turned in his arms instead of away.
Behind her, David's breathing evened out. He fell asleep quickly, the way soldiers did, taking rest when it was available because it might not be later.
Exhausted, she fell asleep right after.