Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The storm raged on beyond the doors as Eleanor hurried into the cabin and shut the door behind her. Her hair was soaking wet, and her clothes clung to her skin like wet rags.
“Ye are either very brave or a fool to be caught in a storm like that,” Callum drawled from the bed.
Stiffening instantly, Eleanor felt her spine go rigid as she slowly let go of the handle and turned away from the door.
It had been a full day since she had come to the cabin, and she had attempted to avoid the laird as much as she could.
Looking around the cabin, she suddenly became aware of a very important absence.
“Has Fiona nae returned?” She placed her hands behind her back and almost leaned against the wood with her palms.
For a brief moment, she considered going back outside and braving the storm. Her mind quickly changed, however, when a flash of lightning lit up the dark sky outside.
The laird’s eyes raked over her body as if he were taking in every inch of her. “Nae, but I wouldnae worry about her, Fiona kens these lands better than any man in the highlands. She would have taken shelter somewhere safe by now.”
Her heart began to race as her breathing deepened.
Alone in the cabin with the laird? And for how long?
She swallowed hard as rain lashed against the windowpane above his bed, threatening to burst through if conditions got any worse.
The laird shifted slightly on the bed as if he were trying to get a better angle to view her. He still wore nothing more than the simple, thin animal skin over his loins.
Heat crept up the back of her neck, making her avert her gaze as the skin slipped ever so slightly, revealing a portion of his thick, muscled thigh from the side. She cleared her throat and pushed herself off the door as she headed toward the fire that was crackling peacefully in the hearth.
There was nothing that she could think of saying to him, even though he had implied she had been a fool. The sky had not been clear when she had left the cabin for a walk, but she had thought that she would be able to make it back in time before the storm broke. She had been wrong.
A heavy silence filled the cabin behind her as she held her hands out to the flames, coaxing the warmth into them.
“Ye will want to take off that dress…”
Eleanor’s eyes instantly widened as she curled her fingers into her palms and held her breath.
What do I do now?
Her pulse raced with every uneven beat of her heart as she slowly turned back toward the bed. “I beg yer pardon?” Her voice was thin and frail despite the courage she had attempted to muster.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk that caught her off guard. “I am nae sayin’ what ye think, lass. Ye should change yer dress before ye catch a cold.”
Shame flooded her cheeks with heat as she drew her lower lip between her teeth, wishing that the floor would swallow her whole.
Allowing the smirk to linger on his lips, Callum held her gaze. “Ye surprise me, lass, for such a fine woman from Edinburgh, ye certainly have an adventurous imagination.” He winked at her.
Eleanor’s cheeks caught fire, making her face burn hotter than the fire behind her. “I… I didnae…” She struggled to find the words to defend herself. The truth was that she had been thinking exactly what he was implying.
“Ye didnae what, lass? Ye Didnae think that I was askin’ ye to…”
She cut him off sharply. “I didnae!” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling more foolish than she had after being caught in the storm.
Amusement danced in his eyes as his smirk broadened into a teasing smile.
“Daenae, look at me like that,” she said, almost in a huff.
“Like what?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Like ye find the situation amusing.” She averted her gaze again when he turned onto his side and propped his head up on one hand.
Can he nae put on some clothes?
She almost began to tap her foot in irritation as she pushed the image of his toned abdomen from her mind. Why did he need to be so handsome? If she had been trapped in a cabin with anyone else, she would not have minded. Yet this man made her feel things that she refused to acknowledge.
“But I do find it amusing,” his voice drew her thoughts back to the present conversation.
Stealing a glance, Eleanor noticed how he had drawn the animal skin a little higher on his waist. Was he trying to be modest while still teasing her?
Laughter rumbled from his chest, deep and warm, catching her off guard as she dared to look in his eyes again. “Why are ye laughin’?”
He shook his head in amusement. “Ye make me laugh, lass. I think the next few weeks will be… interestin’ to say the least.” His smile remained fixed in place, almost unnerving, sure of what he was saying.
A sudden chill ran over her arms, reminding her of the wet clothes that were still clinging to her skin.
She was soaked through right down to her shift.
If there had been another section in the cabin, she would have already undressed, but she refused to compromise herself and her reputation just because of a little chill.
She shivered again and wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off the persistent cold that lingered despite the fire.
Outside the cabin, the storm raged on with sheer, unremitting force, making the trees beyond the window sway under the force of the wind.
Callum nodded toward the only cupboard that stood at the other end of the cabin. “Fiona keeps her spark clothes in there. I am certain that ye will find something that will fit,” his voice lacked the amusement from before.
Glancing at the cupboard, Eleanor hesitated.
It would be nice to be warm again.
She quickly shook the thought off and sidled close to the fire. “I daenae need to change, the fire will warm me soon enough.” She moved her hands up and down her arm before glimpsing the puddle of water where she had been standing.
Shite.
She was wetter than she had even realized; it would take more than a few hours for the fire to dry her off.
Rolling his eyes, Callum allowed his smile to fade.
“I am nae a monster, lass. Ye cannae stay in those garments.” He pushed himself up on his elbow and shifted away from her until he was facing the wall behind him.
“Get dressed before ye catch yer death of a cold. Ye are nae good to any of us if ye are nae here to play yer part,” his voice was gruff and low.
Eleanor swallowed hard as she looked back at the cupboard.
It certainly would be nice to be dry again.
Against her better judgment, she unfurled her arms and hesitantly made her way toward the cupboard.
The doors creaked slightly as she opened them, making her glance over her shoulder to see if Callum was peeking.
He lay on his side as if he were sleeping. The light of the fire glinted off the muscles of his back where scars formed a map. She turned slowly back toward the inside of the cupboard.
Fiona kept her linens and clothes as neat as the rest of the cabin.
It did not take Eleanor very long to find a simple grey dress of humble fabric and a few pieces of cloth to fry herself with.
She hazarded a glance back over her shoulder again before hastily beginning to undress.
The fire's heat instantly warmed her skin as her sodden dress, corset, and even her shift lay in a pool at her feet.
She hurriedly dried herself off and slipped the dress over her head. She still felt naked with no undergarments, but it was the best she could do for the time being.
A wave of relief washed over her when she turned to see Callum’s back still facing her. “I am dressed now,” she said as she used the damp piece of linen to dry her hair.
His back remained rigid, and for a moment, Eleanor wondered if he had fallen asleep. He stirred slightly. “At least ye willnae get sick.” He turned with great effort, wincing from lying on his wounded side.
Feeling guilty, Leanor stooped down and gathered her discarded clothes. “Are ye still in a lot of pain?”
Callum swallowed hard and eventually lay flat on his back. “Aye…” His voice lacked any of the teasing or humor that had been there before.
Eleanor hurried toward the fire, busying herself with hanging her garments in front of the hearth. She knew she needed to help him, but she had wanted to keep as much distance between them as possible.
A soft groan came from the bed, forcing her to turn around as she saw the way he struggled to lift a cup of water to his lips.
Shite.
She swore internally again as she realized that she could no longer keep the distance between them.
With her garments hanging over the railing of the fire in front of the hearth, she made her way over to the bed and placed her hands over his, feeling the warmth of his skin under hers as she helped her lift the glass to his lips. “Here, drink,” she said softly.
Callum’s eyes darted to hers with shock, but he accepted her help without protest before lying back on her bed. “Thank ye,” he managed to utter through another wince. His face seemed pained as he shut his eyes, as if he wanted to say something more, but did not know how.
Glancing to the side, she noticed the jars of oil that Fiona had left beside the bed. It would be time for more, but she had wanted Fiona to do that instead of her.
The laird groaned painfully again and moved his hand to his wounded side.
I have nay other choice.
She took a deep breath and reached for the oils, her hands trembling slightly from uncertainty. Why was she so nervous when she had already rubbed oil in Fiona’s presence?
I wasnae alone then.
The clay jar felt cool beneath the tips of her fingers as she upended the pot and poured a small amount of oil into her palm. She replaced the jar before slowly beginning to rub her hands together.
“What are ye doin’?” Callum’s eyes instantly shot open as he looked at her hands.
“Yer are in pain, I have to use more oil before Fiona returns.”
He seemed slightly uncomfortable at her suggestion as he shifted, but said nothing more.
Eleanor finished warming the sweet-smelling oil between her palms and gingerly pressed her hands against the skin of his chest.
He is so warm.
She slid her palms over the taut skin, using the tips of her fingers to knead in the oil as she worked her way toward the wound.
Callum groaned again, lower this time and with less conviction of pain.
He is enjoying this.
She realized with a start as heat flooded her cheeks. Her hands trembled slightly again as she continued to work her way across his skin. Every fiber of her being wanted to pull away, not because she hated what she was doing, but because she was scared of what it was making her feel.
“Yer hands are workin’ magic, lass, Ye should have been a healer.” He groaned softly this time, a sound that resonated from deep within his chest and rumbled in his throat.
Saint preserve me. Does he even know how he sounds?
She drew her lower lip between her teeth and turned her head to the side, looking at the thatched ceiling and anywhere else that was not on his body. Her hands moved slowly, going down the planes of his chest and exploring the contoured muscles.
The fire in the cabin seemed to burn even hotter than it had before as the fabric of the dress whispered against her skin.
Callum lay still beneath her hands, his breaths coming in ragged motions as his chest rose and fell. “Lass…” He moaned to her as his eyes slowly opened.
Eleanor’s fingers slowly worked their way back up, stopping on his pectoral muscles as she looked into his eyes.
The look that she saw there astounded her.
He looked utterly content with the world, as if he could fall asleep at any moment.
She almost felt as if she had misjudged him before.
He was not a barbarian or a thief, but a laird who could experience different emotions just like she could.
“Me laird…” She began softly, feeling the need to apologize to him for her own misjudgment.
“Ye two seem to be gettin’ along quite nicely,” Fiona suddenly spoke up from behind them.
Jumping back, Eleanor almost yelped from fright. She felt as if she had been caught red-handed as she began to stutter. “We were just… I…”
Fiona raised her brows and smirked. “Ye were just obliging the laird with some pain relief, I assume?” Her eyes moved to the clothes hanging by the hearth and back to Eleanor, who was wearing one of her dresses.
Heat crept up the back of her neck as she took a deep breath and straightened.
“I got caught in the storm and needed to get out of my wet clothes,” she explained as calmly as she could, reminding herself that she was innocent in all of it.
She looked out the window where the storm had begun to calm, yet Fiona seemed as dry as a bone.
When had the storm even begun to ease? She had been so caught up in tending to the laird that she had not even bothered to check the rain.
“I assumed that as well, lass,” Fiona chuckled under her breath as she came into the room with the basket swinging over her arm.
Eleanor turned back to the laird, who was smirking at her from the bed. The look in his eyes told her that he knew very well what Fiona had been thinking, but he was not about to correct her at all.
Men!
She rolled her eyes and turned back toward the fire, utterly exasperated with the situation at hand.
She walked over to the fire and began to turn her garments.
The man was utterly infuriating with his teasing, yet there had been a moment during the massage when she had seen him as more than just the stubborn laird she had found beside the road. He had become human to her.