Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
James stood outside Eloise’s chamber door, his hand lifted, poised to push it open as he had done so many times before. He hesitated. A flicker of restraint crossed his face, and instead, he knocked, once firm but measured.
There was a pause, then the soft sound of movement within. The door opened, and Eloise stood before him, her hair loose and tousled from sleep, falling in soft waves over her shoulders.
His breath caught before he could stop it. “Good mornin’,” he said, his voice lower than intended.
Eloise blinked, clearly surprised, then gathered herself.
“Good mornin’, me Laird,” she replied, pulling the blanket slightly closer around her. “I see ye've learned to knock.”
He nodded once, his gaze lingering a fraction too long before he forced it away.
“I must inspect the village stores today,” he said, his tone shifting back to business. “Ye will accompany me.”
Eloise lifted a brow. “Will I now?” she asked. He gave a slight tilt of his head. “Aye,” he said. “I’ll wait in the courtyard while ye dress.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
By the time Eloise joined him, dressed in a simple but well-fitted gown and cloak, James had already mounted his horse.
If I get close enough to help her onto her horse, I will lose all control…again.
He glanced at her once, approving despite himself. “Ready?” he asked.
Eloise nodded, climbing onto her own mount. “As I’ll ever be,” she said. He gave a small nod, then urged his horse forward, setting a steady pace toward the village below.
The marketplace was already alive when they arrived, filled with voices, movement.
As James dismounted, the villagers took notice at once, heads bowing in respect.
“Me Laird,” one called.
James inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.
Eloise watched the exchange with quiet curiosity. “They respect ye,” she said as they began to walk.
James glanced at her. “They ken I serve them well,” he replied simply.
They moved between the storerooms, James pausing here and there to inspect goods, ask questions, and offer quiet instruction.
“Ye’ll need to store more grain before the rains come,” he told one man.
“Aye, me Laird,” the man replied.
“Ye’re nae what I expected,” she said softly.
James glanced at her. “And what did ye expect?” he asked.
Before she could answer, he stopped at a market stall and picked up a small wrapped sweet. Without explanation, he handed it to her and paid the vendor.
Eloise blinked. “What is this?” she asked.
“A sweet,” he said plainly.
She huffed. “I ken that,” she said. “Why are ye givin’ it to me?”
He shrugged slightly. “Because ye look like ye would enjoy it,” he said.
She stared at him a moment, then accepted it. “Thank ye,” she said, more softly.
They continued on, and he repeated the gesture, bread here, a small bundle of berries there, always without comment.
Eloise began to smile despite herself. “Ye’re full of surprises today,” she said.
He gave a faint smirk. “Daenae grow accustomed to it,” he replied.
She laughed quietly. “Too late,” she said.
As they walked, villagers approached more freely now, greeting Eloise with shy smiles and curious glances.
“Ye must be the soon to be Lady MacAllister,” one woman said.
Eloise hesitated, then nodded. “Aye,” she said. “I suppose I am.”
The woman smiled warmly. “Ye’ll do well here. What a bonnie, lass” she said.
James watched the exchange closely, noting how easily Eloise responded, how naturally she spoke with them.
“Ye have a way with people,” he said as they moved on.
Eloise glanced at him. “I only speak as I would to anyone,” she replied.
“That is precisely it,” he said. She tilted her head slightly.
“Is that a compliment?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Aye,” he said at last.
He found himself watching her more than he intended, how she listened, how she laughed, how she met each person without hesitation.
She fits here, far more easily than I expected. She would make a fine Lady MacAllister.
The thought struck him unbidden. The realization hit hard, and he stiffened slightly.
No. That isnae the truth. It cannae be.
He forced the thought away.
This is a farce. A temporary arrangement. Nothing more. I willnae allow to think beyond it.
“We’re done here,” he said abruptly.
Eloise looked at him, surprised by the sudden shift. “Already?” she asked.
He nodded once. “Aye.”
As they returned to their horses, Eloise studied him quietly. “Ye’re a strange man, James,” she said.
He glanced at her. “And yet ye remain,” he replied.
She smiled faintly. “Aye,” she said. “I do.”
And though his expression remained controlled, something beneath it stirred once more, unsettled, unwelcome, and impossible to ignore.
James studied her for a long moment as they rode the horses, the village fading behind them.
“There is somethin’ else I would show ye,” he said.
Eloise tilted her head. “And what might that be, me Laird?” she asked.
He glanced toward the distant hills. “The loch,” he said simply.
Her face softened at once. “I would love to see it,” she said, her tone unguarded. “But why do ye go through the trouble of showing me all these places? I ken that ye are busy with yer duties.”
“Because I ken that ye miss yer home, so I thought I would show ye mine,” he said.
A bright smile came across her face. For a moment it stilled his heart.
They rode in easy silence, the rhythm of hooves steady beneath them as the land stretched wide and green. When they reached the loch, James dismounted first, offering a hand without thinking. Eloise accepted it, her fingers brushing his as she stepped down.
The touch lingered a fraction too long before she pulled away. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, her gaze sweeping across the still water.
“Aye, the bonniest thing,” James said, though he was no longer looking at the loch.
They walked along the edge, the quiet between them no longer tense but thoughtful. The wind stirred her hair, lifting strands across her face, and without thinking, James reached out and brushed them aside. His fingers grazed her cheek, warm and fleeting.
Eloise stilled slightly but did not step away.
He withdrew his hand slowly. This is fleeting. Remember it.
“How fares yer cousin’s visit?” he asked, forcing his tone back to neutral.
Eloise brightened instantly. “Oh, it is wonderful,” she said. “I hadnae realized how much I missed her until she arrived.”
He watched her as she spoke, the way her eyes lit, the way her smile came easily. It struck him harder than it should have.
“She brings ye joy,” he said.
Eloise nodded. “Aye, she does.”
“She has many questions, though,” Eloise continued, her expression turning slightly amused. “About the bindin’ ceremony, about the wedding… she finds it strange I’ve nay gown yet.”
James huffed faintly. “She is right,” he said.
Eloise glanced at him. “She is?” He nodded once. “If we are to make this convincin’, then we must see it through in all things,” he said. “That includes proper weddin’ clothes. Let us to the seamstress.”
Eloise studied him for a moment. “Ye mean to take me to a seamstress?” she asked.
“Aye, now,” he said.
“Now?” She blinked, then laughed softly. “Very well, me Laird,” she said. “Lead the way.”
They returned to their horses and rode into a different village, closer to the castle.
The seamstress’s cottage sat at the edge, small but bustling with quiet purpose. Inside, bolts of fabric lined the walls, rich wools, soft linens, and finer silks carefully folded.
The seamstress herself, a sharp-eyed woman with nimble hands, looked up as they entered.
“Me Laird,” she said with a quick curtsy.
Her gaze shifted to Eloise, interest sparking at once. “And this must be the new Lady.”
“Aye,” James said. “She requires wedding clothes. Quickly.”
The woman smiled knowingly. “Of course she does,” she said, already circling Eloise. “Stand still, lass.”
Eloise laughed nervously. “I feel like a prized hen at market,” she muttered.
James smirked faintly. “Ye daenae look like one,” he said under his breath.
“Arms up,” the seamstress instructed, measuring tape already in hand.
Eloise complied, though she cast James a look. “If ye laugh, I shall make ye regret it,” she warned softly.
“I wouldnae dare,” he replied, though amusement lingered in his eyes.
The seamstress moved quickly, calling out measurements, muttering to herself as she assessed fabric. “Green would suit ye,” she said. “Bring out those eyes.”
James’s gaze sharpened slightly at that, already knowing she was right. As the seamstress adjusted Eloise’s posture, James stepped closer without thinking.
“Hold still,” he said quietly, his hand settling briefly at her waist to steady her.
Eloise froze for a moment, acutely aware of the warmth of his touch. “I am still,” she said, though her voice had softened.
His hand lingered a heartbeat longer before he stepped back.
“Turn,” the seamstress said, guiding Eloise gently.
A strand of her hair slipped loose again, falling across her face. James reached out once more, slower this time, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers brushed the curve of her neck, and both of them stilled.
“Ye’re distractin’,” Eloise murmured under her breath.
“Am I?” he replied, his voice low.
“Aye,” she said, though she did not move away.
The seamstress cleared her throat pointedly. “If ye two are quite finished,” she said dryly, “I’ve a gown to make.”
James watched Eloise flush, stepping back slightly. James straightened, his expression returning to something more composed.
When it was finished they stepped back outside, the air felt cooler, sharper.
Eloise exhaled slowly. “That was… somethin’,” she said.
James glanced at her. “Aye,” he said. She looked at him then, her gaze searching.
“This is still pretend,” she said quietly.
“Aye,” he said again.
But as they walked back toward their horses, James didn't seem entirely convinced.
They mounted their steeds and continued on the journey back to castle Calibroch. After an hour of riding, James slowed.
“Let's water the horses at the brook,” he said.
They paused by the quiet stream where the water ran clear over smooth stones, the sound soft against the stillness of the hills.
James dismounted first, tying his horse loosely before turning to her.
“Careful now,” he said, stepping closer. He placed his hands at her hips to help her down, his grip firm and steady as he lifted her from the saddle.
He heard Eloise’s breath catching slightly at the contact, though she said nothing. His hands lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before he released her. Heat coiled low in his chest, unwelcome and impossible to ignore.
“Ye’re starin’, me Laird,” she said lightly, brushing down her skirts.
James huffed softly, though his gaze had indeed traced the curve of her waist, the rise of her bodice, the pale line of her throat where the sun touched her skin.
“I was makin’ certain ye wouldnae fall,” he replied.
Eloise arched a brow. “I am quite capable of standin’ on me own,” she said.
“I’ve nay doubt,” he murmured. “Yet ye still manage to surprise me.”
She turned toward the stream, dipping her fingers into the cool water. “It is peaceful here,” she said.
James stepped beside her, watching the way the light danced across her hair. “Aye,” he said. “It is.”
She glanced at him, a hint of mischief returning to her expression.
“Ye bring all yer betrothed here?” she asked.
He gave her a dry look. “Ye are the only one who tests me patience so thoroughly,” he said.
She laughed softly. “Then I shall take that as a compliment.”
They walked a little further along the bank, their steps unhurried. Eloise turned to say something more, but her foot caught on a loose stone.
“Oh!” she gasped as she stumbled forward.
James reacted instinctively, reaching for her, but the motion pulled him off balance as well. They went down together, the grass soft beneath them as he landed over her, bracing himself just in time to avoid crushing her. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Eloise’s breath came quick beneath him, her eyes wide before softening as they met his.
James stilled, his hands planted on either side of her, his body hovering just above hers. He became acutely aware of everything, the warmth of her beneath him, the rise and fall of her full bosom, the faint scent of her skin.
His gaze dropped briefly, tracing the line of her collarbone, the gentle curve of her breasts, before he forced himself to look back at her face.
“Are ye hurt?” he asked, though his voice had lowered to a lusty whisper.
“Nay,” she whispered. “Are ye?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nay,” he said.
He watched her lips part slightly, and his gaze followed without permission. He leaned closer before he could stop himself, drawn by her. For a moment, he nearly closed the distance.
Then it struck him, sharp and sudden, the danger of it, the truth of what he risked.
This isnae real. She is nae mine to touch so.
With a sharp breath, he pulled back abruptly, the tension snapping like a drawn bowstring released. He pushed himself up at once, stepping away as though distance alone could steady him.
“Ye should watch yer step,” he said, his tone rougher now.
Eloise blinked, the moment broken, though something lingered in her gaze.
He reached down and offered her his hand, more carefully this time.
“Up,” he said.
She accepted it, rising slowly. “Thank ye,” she said.
He released her quickly, turning back toward the horses. “We should return,” he said.
“Aye,” she replied softly.
The ride back was quieter, the air between them changed in ways neither spoke of.
James kept his gaze forward, though every so often it flickered toward her against his will.
He could still feel the ghost of her beneath him, the warmth, the closeness.
It stirred something restless, something boiling in his blood.
He tightened his grip on the reins. His strong member stirred beneath his kilt.
“Blasted,” he muttered under his breath.
At the gates of Calibroch, he dismounted once more, helping her down with measured restraint this time.
“We’ve returned,” he said unnecessarily.
Eloise nodded. “Aye,” she said.
There was a pause, brief but charged.
“Thank ye… for the day,” she added.
He inclined his head. “Aye,” he said.
Before anything more could be said, he stepped back and turned away.
“I’ve matters to attend,” he said. Without waiting for her reply, he mounted his horse again.
“James,” she called after him softly, but he did not turn.
With a sharp command, he urged the horse forward, riding out once more toward the hills.
I need distance. I need cool air to rid me of this heat… of her.