Chapter 9 #2
The gaze she gives me is shy and vulnerable, as if she’s afraid I’ll leave her after I’ve given her pleasure.
She’s mine. I won’t ever leave her. It will be my duty in life to ensure she’s well cared for, no matter what.
I’m surprised at the vehemence of my reaction. I never expected to feel this way about her like I do. Hell, if I’m honest, I never expected to feel this way about anyone.
Like she’s special to me. Like I need to protect her from the harm that can come from both our friends and enemies. They’re equally dangerous.
I want to protect her from the harm that can come from anywhere. She’s so vulnerable, so innocent.
Not anymore.
I close my eyes against the rush of emotion when I think about what this means for us. We’re far more than captor and prisoner.
I need to prove to myself that I can control myself, though. That I won’t lose all self-control with her, that I’m an honorable man who will do what I say and not take advantage of my power or position.
So I take her by the hand and bring her to my bedroom.
“Get some rest,” I tell her, pointing to the bed. “I have some work to do.”
She looks to me from below hooded eyes, clearly aroused by my command over her.
Still holding my gaze, she nods, bows her head, and walks to my bedroom, all perfect grace and feminine allure with her naked curves and unadulterated beauty.
I stifle a groan as she sways her hips, her full breasts swinging with the effort of walking unencumbered.
I stifle a moan as I follow behind her. I take one corner of the bedding and fold it down, then pat the clean, crisp white sheet beneath it to welcome her to lie down. She obeys, climbing into the bed and laying her head on my pillow. She breathes in deeply.
I stalk back to the entryway, find her mobile, and come back to her. I kick off my shoes, then slide into bed beside her and hand her her phone.
Jesus, what I’d give to hear her voice.
I have so many questions for her.
“Why were you in the church the night we found you?”
Her fingers fly over the keys. I was seeking respite from my brother.
Her fucking brother. I text her.
Dougal Reilly.
She nods.
“What had he done that caused you to seek refuge?”
He hit me because he was angry I took his money.
I frown. “You had good reason?”
She nods.
“I see. And MacGowen knows your brother occasionally hits you.”
Frowning, she types a response.
Aye, Father knows my brother hits me, but it isn’t occasionally.
Christ.
“It’s all the time, then?”
She nods, and turns her face away from me.
I’ll fucking kill him.
“Do you live with anyone else?”
“You live with your parents.”
A sharp shake of her head and a frown.
No, sir. I live with my mother and brother.
Fuck, I like that, the way she defers to me, and the way she relays bold, honest truth.
I nod.
“That’s enough questions for now, but I’ll have more later. You’ll join us for supper this evening, so I’ll have you be sure you’re well dressed for the occasion.”
She nods and yawns widely, then rolls over on her side.
I roll over beside her and yank the blanket up over my shoulders. When her breathing steadies, her naked body pressed up to my fully-clothed one, I close my eyes, weariness settling over me. My breathing grows even with hers, and I fall asleep beside her.
I wake sometime later, conscious that I’ve slept and some time has passed. She’s still sleeping restfully beside me, but now her hand rests atop mine. I close my eyes, relishing this moment of perfection. How she feels. Her pretty, enchanting scent.
I yawn, and she stirs beside me.
“You awake?”
She nods.
My cock is hard against her arse, and if I didn’t know any better, she’s pressing her own arse against me in silent plea.
I find her hips, her legs, her pretty belly, and slowly drag my fingers lower still. She parts her legs, welcoming me.
I cluck my tongue at her. “Never been touched before, have you?”
She shakes her head.
“Love how eager you are.”
To my surprise, she flips over, rolling right into my space. She places a palm on my chest and her eyes meet mine.
“You’re lovely, you know that?” I say, tipping my finger under her chin. “More beautiful than I ever noticed before. You’re fucking stunning.”
She smiles, and when she does, her whole face lights up.
I’d be willing to bet no one's ever told her that before either. How did I find this woman? In Scottish folklore, we have a rich tradition of mystical creatures, gods, and goddesses, and I can’t help but wonder now where she came from or why she’s here.
She looks down at her phone, and a moment later mine buzzes with a text.
You seem very angry and stern, but beneath that rough exterior, there’s a gentler heart.
I stare at my phone for long minutes before I reply, unsure of what to say or how I should.
I didn’t used to be so aloof and angry all the time. I have pleasant memories from my childhood, and even adolescence, of a more carefree time.
That was before Tavish was taken from us.
That was before the weight of responsibility of being head of the Cowen Clan fell to me. Before I had to answer to damn near everyone for every single action I take or don’t. Before the safety of my family rested on my shoulders.
I put my phone down when another text comes in. This isn’t supposed to be interrogation of me, but the other way around. She’s turned the tables.
“We need to get ready to go downstairs,” I tell her, pointing to her pile of clothes in the other room. “Get a pair of leggings and a sweater. It’s a chilly day out there.”
Her face falls, as she folds back the blanket and gets to her feet.
“Why do you look so sad?” I ask, as she swings her legs over the side of the bed. And fuck, what gorgeous legs they are, long and tapered and fucking gorgeous.
She doesn’t answer, not even a text, but I want to know. I walk over to her side of the bed, place my hand on her shoulder, and press her back down on the bed. Her eyes come to me, wide and fearful, and I hold her gaze.
“I asked you a question, Cairstina, and I expect an answer.”
She shrugs.
She doesn’t know, or she doesn’t want to say?
I pick up her mobile on the bed and place it in her hand. "Answer me."