Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Come on."
David's hand was firm on her elbow as he steered her toward the castle entrance. Elinor could feel the blood still trickling down her neck, warm and sticky against her skin. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her, shock making everything feel distant and strange.
"I can walk," she said.
"Aye. And ye can also collapse. I'm nae takin' that chance." His voice was tight, controlled in a way that suggested he was barely containing his anger. Not at her, she knew that much. At whoever had just tried to take her.
They crossed the threshold into the castle. Servants scattered at the sight of them, at David's thunderous expression and the blood on Elinor's neck. Someone gasped. Someone else hurried off, probably to fetch help.
"Me laird."
"Later," David snapped at whoever had spoken. "Clear the way."
He guided her up the stairs with single-minded focus, his hand never leaving her arm. As though he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.
They reached their bedchamber. David pushed the door open and led her inside, finally releasing her to move toward the washstand.
"Sit," he ordered, pointing to the chair near the fire.
"I'm fine."
"Sit, Elinor."
Something in his tone made her obey. She sank into the chair, her hands trembling slightly as she pressed them into her lap.
David returned with a basin of water and clean cloths. He knelt before her, and Elinor found herself eye-level with him for the first time since the attack.
He looked furious.
Not at her, at the situation. At whoever had dared to hurt her.
But still, the intensity in his dark eyes made her breath catch.
"Let me see." His voice was gentler now, though still edged with barely contained emotion.
Elinor tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck. She heard his sharp intake of breath.
"It's nae deep," he said after a moment. "Ye were lucky."
"Lucky." She tried for humor and failed. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Ye're alive. That's lucky." He dampened one of the cloths and brought it to her neck. "This might sting."
It did. Elinor flinched as the cold water touched the cut, the sting sharp enough to make her eyes water.
"Sorry," David murmured. "I ken it hurts."
"It's fine." She forced herself to stay still as he cleaned the wound with careful, methodical movements. "You don't have to."
"I dae." His jaw was tight. "This is me fault."
"How is this your fault?"
"I should have seen it comin'. Should have had better security. Should have—" He stopped, shaking his head.
Elinor watched him work, noting the way his hands shook slightly despite his steady voice. The way his eyes kept darting back to the wound as though reassuring himself it wasn't worse than it was.
"You saved me," she said quietly.
"Barely."
"You did." She lifted her hand, then hesitated, remembering the rules. No touching in private. That's what she'd demanded. "David."
"Third time," he muttered.
"What?"
"This is the third time today I'm touchin' ye." He glanced up at her, something almost like humor flickering in his eyes despite the tension. "When we both ken ye've got a nay-touchin' rule."
Despite the attack, the fear still thrumming through her veins, the sting of the cut on her neck, Elinor felt her mouth curve slightly. "Are you keeping count?"
"Someone has to." He returned his attention to her neck, his touch impossibly gentle as he pressed a clean cloth against the wound. "So ye can figure out how tae… punish me. Because I'm nae plannin' on stoppin'. Nae when ye're hurt."
The word punish sent an unexpected shiver through her. But she pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the warmth of his hand against her skin.
"I don't want to punish you," she said softly. "I want to thank you. For taking care of me."
David went very still. Then, slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Ye dinnae need tae thank me fer that."
"Yes, I do." She held his gaze. "You could have let someone else tend to this. A healer. A servant. But you're doing it yourself."
"Because I wanted tae check it. Needed tae ken ye were alright." His voice was rough. "The sight of that blade at yer throat… "
He didn't finish. Didn't need to.
Elinor understood what he wasn't saying. The fear beneath his anger. The desperation that had driven him across that courtyard.
"I'm alright," she said. "Because of you."
David held her gaze for a moment longer. Then he cleared his throat and returned to cleaning her wound. "We need to bandage this. Keep it clean."
"Alright."
She watched him work, noting the careful way he dried the area around the cut. The gentle pressure as he applied a salve that smelled of herbs. The way his brow furrowed in concentration.
"There." He sat back slightly. "That should dae it."
But he didn't move away. Didn't stand. Just stayed there, kneeling before her, his hands still resting on her shoulders.
"David?"
"Aye?"
"What about the other rules?" The words came out before she could stop them.
"What other rules?"
"The no-kissing rule." Her heart was pounding now, but she forced herself to continue. "You said this was the third time you'd touched me today. But we also have a rule about kissing."
His eyes darkened. "Aye. We dae."
"And right now—" She leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. "Right now, I'm very close to breaking that rule."
"Are ye?" His voice had dropped lower, rougher. "Because it seems like I may be the one tae break it. Is that what ye're waitin' fer?"
"Maybe I am."
"That's nay how the rules work, lass." But his hands tightened on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against her collarbones. "Ye said nay kissin' unless ye deemed it necessary."
"And if I deem it necessary now?"
"Then I'd ask why." He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her face. "Why now? Why here? When ye were just attacked. When ye're still shakin' from it."
"Because… " She struggled to find the words. "Because you saved me. Because you're here. Because I… " She stopped, the truth of it too big to speak, if only for a moment. "Because I want you to."
David's jaw tightened. "That's nae a good enough reason."
"It's my reason." She lifted her chin. "And they're my rules. So I can break them if I want."
"Ye can." His eyes searched her face. "But I need tae ken ye're sure. That this is nae just fear. Or shock. Or gratitude fer nae dyin'."
"It's not."
Something shifted in David's expression. The tension that had held him rigid since the attack seemed to ease slightly, replaced by something warmer. Something that made her skin feel too hot.
"Ye're sure?" he asked again.
"I'm sure."
"Then ask me properly." His voice was low, challenging. "If ye want me tae kiss ye, lass, ye need tae use one of yer favors. Because those are the rules we agreed to."
Elinor's breath caught. One of her favors. She only had one left—she'd used the first for the rules, the second for the room that wasn't a bedroom.
This would be the last one.
But looking at the intensity in David's eyes, and the way his hands were trembling slightly on her shoulders, she knew she didn't care.
"It's a favor," she whispered.
"What?"
"I'm using my last favor." She leaned closer, until their faces were inches apart. "Kiss me, David."
For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Just stared at her like he was memorizing her face. Like he couldn't quite believe what she'd said.
Then his hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her jaw. "Ye're goin' tae be the death of me, lass."
"Is that a yes?"
"Aye." His mouth curved slightly. "That's a yes."
He closed the distance between them slowly, giving her time to pull away. To change her mind. To remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.
But Elinor didn't pull away.
She leaned into him, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. And when his lips finally met hers, soft and careful and impossibly gentle, she felt something inside her chest crack open.
The kiss was nothing like she'd expected.
She'd been kissed before. Brief, stolen moments with boys her father had deemed appropriate suitors. Wet, awkward presses of lips that had left her feeling vaguely uncomfortable and relieved when they ended.
This was nothing like that.
David kissed her like he was learning her. Like every press of his lips, every slight shift in angle, was gathering information. Testing what made her gasp. What made her lean closer. What made her fingers tighten on his shoulders.
He kissed her like she was precious. Like she was something worth savoring rather than claiming.
And when his tongue traced the seam of her lips—a question, not a demand—Elinor opened for him without thinking.
The kiss deepened. Became something hotter, more urgent. David's hand slid into her hair, tilting her head to change the angle. His other hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer until she had to grip his shoulders to keep her balance.
Elinor heard a small sound—a whimper or a gasp—and realized distantly that it had come from her.
David pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged. "Alright?"
"Yes." Her voice came out breathy, strange. "Don't stop."
"Bossy little thing." But he was smiling as he said it, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "Even when ye're askin' fer favors."
"You like it."
"Aye." His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "I dae."
He kissed her again, and this time there was less hesitation. Less careful testing and more heat. His hands moved over her waist, her back, pulling her forward until she slid from the chair onto his lap.
She should stop it, remember that they were in their bedchamber, that things were getting out of hand, that it had started as a simple kiss and was rapidly becoming something else entirely.
But she didn't want to stop.
She wanted his hands on her waist. Wanted his mouth against hers. Wanted the heat and the pressure and the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
"Elinor." Her name was a groan against her lips. "We need tae stop. Ye need tae tell me tae stop."
"Why?"
"Because if ye dinnae, I'm nae goin' tae." His hands tightened on her waist. "And ye've been through enough today without me takin' advantage."
"You're not taking advantage." She pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "I asked you to kiss me, remember?"
"Ye asked fer a kiss. This is—" He gestured vaguely between them. "This is more than a kiss."
"Is it?" She could feel the heat of him through their clothes, could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her palm. "Maybe that's what I wanted."
David's jaw tightened. "Ye dinnae ken what ye're sayin'."
"Don't I?" She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. "I'm not a child, David. I know what I want."
"And what dae ye want?"
"You." The word came out simple, honest. "I want you."
He kissed her again, and there was nothing careful or gentle about it this time.
The kiss was heat and hunger and the release of days of tension. His mouth moved over hers with increasing urgency, his hands sliding up her sides, his body pressing against hers.
Elinor kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his hair, her body arching into his touch. Everything else fell away—the attack, the fear, the rules she'd demanded and the walls she'd built.
All that mattered was that. Was him. Was the way he held her like she was something precious even as he kissed her like he was starving.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, David rested his forehead against hers.
"That was…" He stopped, seeming to struggle for words.
"Yes," Elinor agreed breathlessly. "It was."
"Ye used yer last favor."
"I know."
"Ye sure it was worth it?" There was humor in his voice now, warm and teasing.
Elinor pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "Yes. I'm sure."
And looking at his face—at the way he was smiling at her, open and genuine in a way she'd never seen before—she meant it.
It had been worth it.
Every single moment of it.