Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Davina told herself she was calm. Perfectly calm.
She was lying.
Because Baird Kincaid was laughing and the sound was doing something entirely unreasonable to her heartbeat.
“Come on then,” she heard him say, as he guided her down another corridor. “One last room tae see.”
His amusement lingered in the air, making her wish she’d come up with a sharper retort in the solar. But she followed, trying not to think about how his arm warmed her or how the torchlight softened the hard planes of his face.
At the end of the hall, he pushed open a heavy door.
“This,” he said, stepping aside for her to enter, “is our chamber.”
Something got stuck in her throat upon hearing him say that.
Our.
The chamber was unquestionably his. It was large and warm but undeniably masculine, with furs draped over the bed, weapons hung neatly on the wall, and a broad writing table stacked with papers and maps. A great armoire stood open, filled with his clothing.
Her stomach squirmed.
She turned slowly toward him. “Ye’re… serious?”
“Aye,” he said, far too casually for her liking. “I generally am.”
She gestured wildly toward the room. “But… yer things are here.”
He arched a brow. “Where else would they be?”
“And ye expect me tae stay here as well?”
He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, clearly enjoying himself. “Me wife is expected tae share me chamber. It is tradition.”
“Tradition,” she echoed faintly.
“Aye.”
Her brain chose that exact moment to stop functioning. Before she could even form a proper objection, her body acted for her and she turned to bolt.
She barely made it two steps.
Baird moved faster than she thought a man of his size capable of, stepping in front of her just as she spun toward the hall.
She collided with him full force, with her palms smacking against the firm breadth of his chest and her breath catching in her throat.
His hands came up on instinct: one was bracing her back, and the other closed around her upper arm to steady her.
“Davina,” he asked sounding both surprised and amused. “What dae ye think ye’re daeing?”
She stared up at him, feeling her cheeks blazing. “I was simply—”
“Fleeing?” he supplied.
“Nay!”
“Aye, ye were.”
His eyes were very close, sharp and unbearably steady. Her heart thudded so loudly she wondered if he could also hear it. For one suspended moment, the world narrowed to the heat of his hands on her and the rasp of his breath mingling with hers.
It was improper. It was wildly inappropriate. And it made her feel lightheaded.
“I was nae fleeing,” she whispered, though it sounded unconvincing, even to her own ears.
The edge of his mouth curved. “Then what were ye daeing?”
Her reply tangled in her throat.
He leaned just a fraction closer, enough that she felt the warmth of him everywhere. “Tell me.”
Her lips parted. Her pulse pounded. She couldn’t breathe.
She barely managed a response. “Ye startled me.”
“Did I now?” he murmured.
“Aye,” she said, far too quickly.
His thumb brushed her arm before he released her, slow enough to make her skin burn in the place his touch had lingered.
He stepped back just enough to give her space, though his gaze remained fixed on hers. “Nay need tae run, lass,” he said quietly. “I dinnae bite.”
Her face flamed even hotter, and she blurted the first words that came to mind.
“Ye should stop trying tae unsettle me.”
“Why?” he asked, voice threaded with dangerous amusement. “Is it working?”
“Nay,” she lied.
He smiled. She looked away, flustered and furious with herself.
The moment stretched, warm and breathless and far too intimate for a pair of practical strangers.
A moment later, she drew a steadying breath and crossed her arms, as though firmness might help her regain control over her own racing pulse.
“Very well,” she said, trying for dignity. “If we must share a room, then the least ye can dae is sleep on the floor.”
Baird turned his head slowly toward her, disbelief written plainly across his face. “The floor?”
“Aye,” she said, lifting her chin. “Ye can sleep here.” She pointed at the generous spread of furs before the hearth.
His brows rose. “Absolutely nae.”
“Why nae?”
“Because,” he said, folding his arms, “I’m nae a dog ye can chase off with a broom.”
Davina blinked. “I never said ye were a dog.”
“Ye implied it,” he said gravely.
“I did nae imply—”
“Ye pointed at the floor,” he retorted, as though that ended the argument entirely.
Davina sputtered. “That doesn’t imply dog, it implies…” She flailed her hands in the air trying to come up with a good reason. “That ye would move around too much tae share a bed with someone.”
He gave her a slow, infuriating once-over. “I dinnae move that much in me sleep.”
“I dinnae believe ye,” she said primly.
Baird let out a soft huff of laughter. “Ye’ve kent me six hours.”
“Exactly,” she said, gaining momentum. “Nae nearly long enough tae trust ye not tae sprawl across the entire mattress.”
“I dinnae sprawl.”
“Again,” she said, “I dinnae believe ye.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I’m the laird. I dinnae sleep on the floor.”
“Ye’re also me husband now,” she countered, “so surely ye could make one small concession fer me comfort, since this is all quite overwhelming.”
His expression softened before he masked it behind a scowl.
“Ye’re playing unfair,” he muttered.
She blinked innocently. “Whatever dae ye mean?”
“That look,” he said simply.
“What look?”
He pointed a finger at her. “That one.”
Davina’s mouth fell open in outrage, which only made him laugh harder.
“I’m nae daeing a look,” she insisted.
“Ye are. It’s the ‘I’m wee and unsettled but determined tae get me way’ look.”
“There is nay such look,” she pouted.
“There is,” he countered. “And it’s very effective… unfortunately.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “So, ye admit I’m right?”
“I admit,” he said slowly, “that ye’ve managed tae maneuver me intae a corner. But I must remind ye that we are married. And married people sleep in the same bed.”
“It’s still improper.”
“Fer who?” he countered softly. “The saints? The stones? The fleas in the furs?”
“Baird!” she hissed his name, mortified.
He smiled in that slow, dangerous manner that made her pulse stumble.
“Davina… nay one will think ill of ye fer sleeping beside yer husband.”
“I will,” she whispered.
That halted him. “Ye think ill of me already?”
“Nay!” Her voice jumped an octave. “I mean, I think… I think ye fluster me on purpose.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “I dae.”
She blinked, taken aback by his honesty. “Why?”
“Because it makes ye drop the mask.” His voice gentled. “And I like seeing the real ye.”
Her breath stilled. It wasn’t fair that such simple words could unravel her so cleanly.
He took another careful step, close enough that the firelight cut soft gold along his cheekbone.
“Davina… the bed is large. We’ve nay need tae touch, if that’s what worries ye.”
The way he said her name made her insides clench, then release upon a tidal wave of warmth.
“It isnae.”
His brow lifted. “It isnae?”
She cursed her own mouth. “I mean, it is.” Then, she whispered more to herself. “A wee bit.”
He bit back a smile. “We can stay on our own sides.”
Davina hesitated, her heartbeat tripping wildly. He wasn’t mocking her now. He was trying to show her that she would be safe.
“I promise ye,” he said quietly, “I’ll nae cross the line.”
She exhaled slowly. He meant it. She could see that.
And the floor was cold. And she was exhausted. And…
She lifted her chin. “Very well.”
“Very well?” he repeated.
“Dinnae make me say it twice,” she muttered.
It was ridiculous.
It was dangerous.
And she absolutely refused to think about it.
The moment Davina disappeared behind the screen to change, Baird scrubbed a hand over his face.
Marriage. A shared chamber. A shared bed.
He had survived battles, ambushes, winters, and his father’s temper, but nothing had prepared him for that.
He was still wrestling with his own nerves and the grief he was burying in himself for his brother’s death when she emerged, wrapped in a soft night-robe, with her hair falling loose around her shoulders.
She looked even more lovely like this. And the sight of her stopped him mid-step.
She froze too, as if seeing him out of his armor, in only a linen shirt and loose trews, was equally startling.
Baird cleared his throat. “Are ye ready, then?”
She nodded uncertainly. “As I’ll ever be.”
Then she promptly marched around to the far side of the bed and began… constructing something. He watched her for several seconds as she was piling pillows, stacking cushions and dragging every available piece of softness into a barrier down the middle of the mattress.
“Davina… what are ye daeing?”
“What daes it look like?” she told him without looking up. “I’m building a wall.”
“A wall,” he repeated, staring at the ever-growing mound. “Lass, ye’ve brought half the pillows in the keep intae our bed.”
“It’s called strategy,” she pointed out. “Ye as a laird should appreciate that.”
He snorted. “I appreciate many things. But where, in all this brilliant strategy, am I meant tae sleep?”
She paused, glanced at the wall critically, then added another pillow to the top.
“On yer side, of course.”
“There is nae side left fer me.” He gestured broadly. “Ye’ve stolen the entire bed.”
She frowned defensively. “It’s nae me fault ye’re such a giant of a man.”
He stared at her, then burst into a low laugh he couldn’t hold back. “A giant, am I?”
“Well…” She gestured vaguely at him. “Ye are very… large.”
Baird raised a brow. “Should I take that as praise?”
“Nay,” she said quickly. Then, she added. “Maybe. I dinnae ken yet.”
He ran a hand over his face again. He felt that this woman would be the end of him.
“Fine,” he said, giving in with amusement tugging at his mouth. “If ye need a wall, keep yer wall.”
He eyed the remaining sliver of mattress. “A wee corner. Barely large enough fer a cat.”
She pursed her lips. “Ye’ll fit.”
“Will I?”
“Aye,” she said firmly, as if stating a law of nature.
He shook his head but climbed in anyway, taking great care not to disturb her fortress of cushions. He stretched out, only to hit the barricade immediately.
“Davina.”
“Hm?”
“I’m being crushed by yer defenses.”
“They’re necessary.”
“They’re ridiculous.”
“That daesnae make them unnecessary,” she argued, snuggling herself deeper beneath her blankets.
He stared up at the ceiling, fighting a smile. God bless the lass fer distracting him momentarily for his pain. “Keep talking, lass.”
She threw one pillow at him over the top.
He caught it easily. “That one goes on me side,” he said, placing it beneath his head.
A soft laugh escaped her. It warmed something deep in him. Then, silence settled. He didn’t see it as uncomfortable or strained, simply… quiet.
The fire crackled. The wind whistled outside.
He listened to the sound of Davina’s breathing growing softer and steadier.
Baird lay still, staring at the ceiling beams. He’d expected tension, fear and awkward distance.
He hadn’t expected this, a warmth that had nothing to do with the hearth and a woman whose presence somehow made the walls feel less cold.
Eventually, the weight of the day caught up to him, the pain of his loss. His eyes drifted shut. And before sleep claimed him, he felt the bed shift. It was Davina rolling slightly toward him despite her mighty barricade.