Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It had only been a coincidence.
The east corridor ran adjacent to Martin’s chamber, and Aaron had business near the Great Hall. He had merely taken the quickest route. Or at least, that was what he told himself.
He looked through the partially open door as he reached the healer’s chamber, and the sight ahead immediately stopped him in his tracks.
He blinked.
Edith was standing in front of the healer, her palm pressed flat against his chest. Martin took her other hand and guided it to her bosom.
Aaron clenched his jaw. His irritation flared at how much it unsettled him, and yet he did not move away from the door.
I cannae believe it.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides as Martin leaned closer to Edith, whispering something that caused her to close her eyes.
Edith had never been nearly as relaxed as she looked around him, and the thought alone soured something in his gut.
He pushed the door open without thinking, the heavy oak swinging inward with a sharp bang that echoed through the chamber. He hated the sound of it as soon as it left his hand.
“Edith.”
She started violently, turning at once. Her eyes widened with guilt as they met his. Or perhaps fear.
Aaron could not tell which irritated him more.
He crossed the threshold, his gaze lingering on her. His eyes flicked to Martin’s hand around her wrist, darkening.
“Ye’re done here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Edith blinked. Something in her expression shifted at once. Her brows drew together slightly, her initial shock giving way to something he could not read.
His chest tightened as she turned back to Martin.
“I thank ye, Martin,” she said, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “I will come back.”
Aaron almost scoffed.
His frown deepened as Martin inclined his head, unfazed. “I look forward to it,” he said.
Perhaps in yer grave.
The thought came uninvited, and it irritated him even more because it made no sense at all.
He was Aaron Gallaway. He was not the sort of man to think ill of people without cause.
He prided himself on being unflappable, the sort to never indulge in foolishness like jealousy and possessiveness.
And yet his anger boiled over as he watched Martin hand Edith a book with a smile that was completely uncalled for.
He reached for her hand and pulled her away, only to regret it.
Damn me.
He released her just as fast and turned toward the door, threatening—not hoping—in a corner of his mind that she would follow him.
The silence that settled between them was nearly too thick for a knife to slice through.
He walked down the east corridor, his pace far too fast for someone heading in the opposite direction from where he needed to be. He could hear Edith behind him, though her much slower steps only served to madden him further.
She had not made a single attempt to explain herself since they left the healer’s chamber. She had not apologized either.
He stopped abruptly and spun around.
“Ye forget who ye are.” His voice was low and controlled, but his words were sharp. “Fooling around in me castle while ye carry me name.”
“I daenae carry yer name,” Edith retorted, her tone as cold as ice. “Nae truly. That was the agreement.”
Aaron paused. He could not let the matter rest. He did not even think to try.
“Ye were in close quarters with a man,” he said, his eyes narrowing with disdain as he remembered what he had seen. “Me betrothed, dragging me image through the mud.”
Edith’s eyes widened, and her face turned slightly red. “A healer,” she corrected him, her eyes flashing with anger. “And he was teaching me. As ye promised.”
Aaron scoffed. What he had seen was beyond teaching, and her reddening cheeks were not helping him believe otherwise.
“There are boundaries,” he said. “And ye will respect them.”
Edith’s expression sharpened. “And what is it ye think ye saw?” she bit out. “Something improper?”
Aaron did not answer immediately.
He had been thinking it. But admitting it would feel too ridiculous, so he looked away.
Edith let out a sharp breath and stepped closer to him, raising her chin so their gazes met again. “We did nothing wrong, and ye ken that,” she said. “And even if we had, it would be none of yer business. Would it?”
Aaron felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. Admitting concern would be admitting that he cared. But he didn’t. He was certain that he didn’t.
“It would.” He said the words despite himself. His voice was quieter now. More dangerous. “While ye are under me protection, it is very much me business.”
“Protection,” Edith scoffed loudly. “Is that what ye call it?” She took a step closer, only a foot away from him now. “It sounds more like possession.”
His blood boiled at her words, but his anger was now beyond that. He was angry at himself—at his inability to leave her right there and walk away as he normally would.
“Careful,” he growled.
“Or what?” Edith challenged.
The silence that followed was too charged. Too tense.
Aaron stepped back. “Daenae forget the terms,” he said coldly, and she winced.
“The same goes for ye,” she shot back.
Then she brushed past him, walking away as quickly as she could.
But she did not get far. Aaron caught her arm after only a few steps, turning her back toward him and holding her just one step above him in the narrow stair passage.
“I should remind ye, Edith,” he said quietly. “That ye’re supposed to stay by me side. Only.”
“And I should remind ye, me Laird,” she hissed, “that I’m to be a free woman after one month.”
“A month hasnae passed.”
“But it will,” she replied. “And when it does, I willnae wait to leave yer keep for good.”
Aaron’s chest tightened.
“I cannae wait to see ye leave,” he said, the words coming out colder than he’d intended. And yet his grip on her arm tightened instead of loosening.
Edith winced. She tried to pull away, tugging stubbornly against him.
“Let go of me if ye—” She broke off as her foot slipped on the step, and she stumbled.
A small cry left her as she fell, and Aaron reacted instantly, though he was not fast enough. They went down together, rolling over a few short steps. Aaron wrapped his arms tightly around her sides, taking the brunt of the fall.
They ended on the stone landing, with his hand beneath her head and his elbows braced against the floor on either side of her.
Aaron let out a soft laugh. “Daenae tell me this is how ye scream,” he muttered, his breath uneven with disbelief. His anger had vanished.
Edith hissed, wriggling as though she could free herself from underneath him.
“I didnae scream,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing with frustration as he laughed. “I daenae consider meself a damsel in—” She stopped, her eyes flicking over his face. Her expression softened slightly.
Damn me.
Aaron went still. She was beneath him, her hair spread across the stone, her chest rising and falling unevenly against his. Her hazel eyes were wide. Not with fear, but with something else entirely.
He should have moved. He was aware of that with absolute clarity. The right thing to do was to stand up, put some distance between them, and say something cold enough to restore the order that had just been disrupted.
He knew all of that.
He looked away from her eyes. A mistake. Because his eyes drifted to her mouth.
His breath caught as he breathed in that wild lavender scent that had haunted him for days, consuming him.
Edith’s lips parted slightly as she drew in a breath to say something—probably something that would have snapped him back to his senses—but he kissed her before she could.
Her lips were soft. A sweet taste tinged his tongue as she parted them slightly, and soon, she was kissing him back with just as much fervor.
Her arm came around his neck as she slid her tongue into his mouth, and he felt everything inside him tighten at once.
Her kiss sent something through him that he could not name, worse than jealousy or anger, and he dove in deeper, kissing her hard until her breath broke against his mouth.
Hell.
Edith pulled back slightly, her hazel eyes piercing deep into him. Her breathing was uneven, her lips parted as though she were still trying to understand what had just happened.
Then she frowned slightly.
“Ye told me to behave meself,” she said.
Aaron stared at her, something restless shifting in his chest.
“Nae when it comes to me,” he replied.
Edith’s brows drew together faintly, as though he were a puzzle she did not understand.
Aaron exhaled sharply through his nose, breaking the moment before it could turn into something deeper. “Perhaps I want ye to misbehave after all.”
Then pushed himself up in one swift motion, stepping away from her before he could do something he would regret later.
“Me Laird—”
“Leave it,” he cut her off. He had not meant for the words to sound like an order, but they did.
He turned back down the corridor in the direction of the Great Hall, not daring to look back.