Chapter 7 #2
She threw out her arms. “Why do ye think? I want to give me daughter the best life possible. I want her to grow up loved, cared for, and wanted—which she is. I willnae deny that me heart sank when I first learned that I was pregnant, but I daenae want her to ken that. A child of her age doesnae need to ken it. It doesnae affect how much I love her, but she will always have doubts. Why do ye think I was so keen to hide the circumstances of her birth from her? She’s too clever to be tricked. ”
A long silence fell between them.
Daphne forced herself to remain silent. It was a trick she knew some lairds employed, staying silent for prolonged periods to keep the other party talking. It was human nature to fidget in a silence and rush to fill it.
Well, nae me. If ye wish to challenge me, Laird MacCrimmon, ye had better bring it on.
At last, Hunter spoke, and she immediately felt silly. He wasn’t trying to trick her; he was trying to gather his thoughts. Or so she hoped.
“I understand,” he said. “But ye must have told her something about her father. About me.” He added the last part somewhat hesitantly, as if he couldn’t quite believe he were saying it aloud. “What did ye tell her?”
Daphne took a moment to respond.
“In truth, she hasnae shown much interest in her father. She doesnae have many friends. She cannae play with the children of Lady Pilbury’s friends, after all.”
“What about yer friends’ children?”
She gave him a tight smile. “I’m a companion. I care for an elderly, sickly woman. Me work takes up most of me time. I use me time off to rest, nae socialize. I daenae have any friends.”
He shifted, sniffing. “Well, that makes two of us.”
“Willow asked once if she had a father. I thought honesty was the best option, so I said aye, she did, and that everybody had a father. I said that he was a good man and that he was traveling, but that we wouldnae see him again, in all likelihood. She accepted this. When she’s older, there’ll be more questions, no doubt, but for now she seems content with this. ”
Hunter took a moment to mull this over, his brow furrowing. “Ye will have to tell her soon about her father. About me,” he corrected. “I want her to ken.”
Daphne let out a breath, pushing her hands through her hair. “But why? We will be leaving soon, once Lady Pilbury is…” Dead, but she didn’t want to say the word. “… finished with this place.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Did I nae tell ye that ye werenae leaving?”
Her temper flared. She took several steps forward, closing the space between them. She was forced to tilt her head back to glare up at him.
“Am I a prisoner, then?” she demanded.
He didn’t seem put off by her proximity. In fact, a slow grin spread across his face. He leaned in so that there were only a few inches between their faces.
“Would ye mind if ye were?” he purred. “It’s a fine prison.”
“A prison is still a prison, no matter if the bars are gold and the cell is prettily decorated,” she snapped. “Ye cannae command me.”
He reached out, his fingertips brushing the point of her chin. The unexpected touch sent fire down her spine, a pool of heat tightening in her gut. She exhaled sharply, her lips parting.
“A man must try,” Hunter whispered, his eyes darkening.
“Must he?” she whispered back.
He gave a brief, flickering smile, tilting his head. “A man can give up, if ye prefer.”
“I think that a man does as he wishes,” she responded, voice hitching in her throat.
He let out a low chuckle. “I think so, too.”
He lowered his head, fitting his lips to hers. Part of her had been expecting the kiss, but another part was completely taken aback. The heat in her belly began to bubble, a sharp pinprick of desire taking hold.
She gasped aloud, the sound swallowed up by his mouth. Automatically, she gripped his forearms to steady herself, feeling corded muscle shift under her fingers.
He made no move to deepen the kiss, simply pressing his lips to hers, tasting clean and fresh, like salt. His fingers pressed into her chin, but he made no other move to touch her.
With a shuddering horror, Daphne realized that she wanted the kiss to deepen. She wanted his hand on her spine, her waist, her hip. She let out another shaky breath and slid her hand up his bicep to grip his shoulder.
How did a person ask for such a thing? She’d kissed him before, of course, under the willow tree, but the memories of that night all melted into one wonderful dream, all easy pleasure and comfort. How—
A knock sounded at the door, sharp and demanding.
Daphne gave a yelp, staggering backward. She sucked in a sharp breath and pressed a hand over her mouth.
For an instant, they stared at each other.
Hunter’s face betrayed nothing, neither pleasure nor anger. He only looked at her for a few long seconds and then glanced towards the door.
“Who is it?” he called out, anger lacing his voice.
“Me Laird,” came Magnus’s muffled voice. “I ken ye said later, but there is one important issue we should discuss.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, then Hunter heaved a sigh.
“Ye had better come in, then.”
The door opened, and Magnus warily stepped inside. He eyed Daphne with curiosity tinged with suspicion.
Daphne folded her hands in front of her waist and forced herself to meet his gaze. She wondered if he could hear her violently beating heart. Worse still was the churning in her lower parts, a throb of desire that refused to fade away easily.
I did nothing wrong, she assured herself. Hunter kissed me. I am perfectly respectable.
Except I birthed his baby. That’s a wee bit less respectable.
“I didnae mean to interrupt,” Magnus began tentatively.
“Ye didnae,” Hunter answered, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms. “What is it?”
Magnus heaved a sigh. “I’ve just received word that two more women went missing at the Leanan Festival. Their families have started an outcry, and folks are blaming the Wolf. Both women were engaged to be wed, and their betrotheds are petitioning us to do something.”
The hairs on the back of Daphne’s neck stood on end.
The Wolf, she thought, fear crawling up her throat. He’s here. He’s nae a myth.
She took a step forward and opened her mouth to ask questions, but Hunter shot her a sharp look.
“Ye can go now, Daphne,” he said. “I’ll have someone escort ye to yer rooms.”
She stared at him, completely taken by surprise.
He’s going to dismiss me, just like that? After he kissed me?
Desire still thumped through her body, pooling lazily between her thighs.
She didn’t know what she’d expected to happen after Magnus’ departure.
That they would pick up where they left off?
She realized with chagrin that she had hoped for that, and it made her feel thoroughly foolish now that it wasn’t going to happen.
She paused, wondering whether it was worth taking the time to make a scene of it. However, Magnus effectively defused the tension by stepping forward and executing a deep bow.
“Lady Daphne,” he greeted. “It is good to meet ye. I hope ye have a pleasant stay here.”
She pressed her lips together, dragging her gaze away from Hunter and fixing it on Magnus.
“I’m nay lady,” she said shortly. “Nae anymore.”
“But ye are a guest,” Hunter murmured. “Magnus, fetch a maid from outside and have him take Daphne to the spare rooms on the gallery floor, the ones for guests.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
Magnus stuck his head out of the door. A soldier appeared at once and received his orders, and just like that, Daphne found herself hustled out of the room, dismissed with courteous determination.
“Oh,” Hunter added as she stepped over the threshold. “Take yer time to settle in, but I expect to see ye at dinner tonight. It’ll take place in the dining hall; anybody can direct ye there.”
There was no chance to object or say anything at all. The door was closed gently but firmly behind her.
For a moment, she was tempted to put her ear to the keyhole, to hear what she could about the Wolf. But the soldier was there, shifting from foot to foot impatiently.
She sighed.
“Lead the way, then,” she mumbled.