Chapter 13
Who is that?
Agnes blinked at the man on the shore, who looked like Gordon but could not be. A brother he had not mentioned, perhaps?
Indeed, the man standing there, staring at her, was far more handsome, far less grizzled, and even looked a little younger than Gordon.
“What in the name of God are ye doin’ in the loch, Sunshine?” he growled.
Oh… Oh, goodness, it is him!
She hardly recognized him, but that voice was unmistakably his, and she supposed the eyes were the same. As cold as they were beautiful. A wolf’s eyes.
It was at that moment that she remembered her state of undress. Embarrassed to be so exposed, she twisted around and held her precious cargo in such a way that her breasts were covered.
Although, to his credit, Gordon didn’t seem to be taking in the sight of her bare figure beneath her shift, those grey eyes fixed on her face.
Of course he wouldn’t stare. He is a respectable laird, not some boy who can’t control himself.
With the heat of her mortification staving off the chill in her wet skin, she answered, “I wanted to pick blackberries to surprise Iona with a pie. She mentioned that the best ones grow here by the loch. I was happily gathering them when… I heard a splash.” She glanced down at the tiny creature in her arms. “A hawk must have picked it up, and it must have slipped from the bird’s grip. ”
“What is it?” Gordon asked, his gaze still vigilant in its respectfulness.
“I’m not sure. A fox cub, perhaps.” The creature whimpered in her embrace. “Either way, it is just a baby. It would have drowned if I had not been here.”
His expression hardened. “Foxes kill chickens, lass. If it’s a fox cub, ye should have let it drown.”
“You don’t mean that!” she gasped, instinctively covering the little beast’s ears.
Defiant and forgetting all about her nudity, she marched right up to him and shoved the tiny cub in his face.
“Look at it!” she demanded. “Is that not the sweetest creature you have ever seen? And yes, foxes may kill chickens, but this is a baby fox. It isn’t big enough to kill anything, unlike you. Have you no empathy for another living thing?”
The fox cub, playing its part to perfection, chose that moment to lick Gordon’s nose.
“If you still had your beard, it might have turned away,” she said, stifling a laugh. “Come now, it is an innocent. It probably doesn’t even know what a chicken is.”
Gordon pulled back from the cub, eyeing it warily. “It’s a wild animal, lass. It’s nae a pet. Coo over it all ye like, ye’re nae keep—”
At that moment, a second figure came barreling through the trees and onto the lakeshore.
Remembering her nakedness once more, Agnes moved closer to Gordon, using him as a sort of human shield for her dignity.
There was no way that Keith would be able to see her, with Gordon’s body as broad as it was.
Plus, there was something rather nice about feeling sheltered in the shadow and warmth of him, especially after taking an unexpected dip in that freezing cold loch.
Without removing his gaze from her, Gordon barked, “Leave!”
Agnes blinked at him. He couldn’t be serious. Yes, he had kept his eyes trained on her face, but he could not be so oblivious as to her relative nakedness. Her dress was not so far away, but the man-at-arms would assuredly see everything if she moved to fetch it.
Very well, have it your way. I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Holding the fox cub tightly, she stepped to the side, ready to walk to the boulder where she had left her dress.
Gordon grabbed her and pulled her back in front of him, his voice a harsh rasp as he said, “Nae ye, Sunshine. Obviously nae ye.”
“Oh…” She gulped, feeling a little silly.
But the man-at-arms didn’t seem to realize that the instruction had been for him either, as he stood there uncertainly.
“Is all well, me Laird?” Keith called.
“If ye daenae want me to gouge yer eyes out, ye’ll leave,” Gordon shot back, his voice a thunderous growl. “Now!”
The man paled and whirled around without delay, almost running back into the trees.
Agnes didn’t think Keith had seen anything, but the anger in Gordon’s eyes made her wonder if she was about to be berated for her mistake.
What does it matter to him anyway?
If she was his real betrothed, she could understand it, but this was all a pretense. She was the one who should feel angry to be intruded on while she was merely trying to rescue a poor creature.
“And ye…” Gordon rasped as he took a step back, his gaze roving over her, looking her up and down, taking her in.
She swallowed thickly, her skin hot despite the cold.
At least Keith’s potential glimpse of her would have been an accident. But this… this was outright staring, deliberate and leisurely. Where she came from, such audacity would have warranted a duel to spare her honor, but she supposed she wasn’t in England anymore.
That was the whole point.
Any complaint that burned within her was doused into hissing shock as Gordon suddenly reached for his belt.
What is he doing?
She could not muster the words to ask out loud, her throat tight as he unbuckled his belt.
A long shirt reached to the middle of his powerful thighs, though she thought she glimpsed something behind the thick white fabric: the part of a man that she knew absolutely nothing about, other than the secrets that Christine had mentioned in her journals.
Looking away quickly, her face aflame, she feared what he might do… and anticipated it in the same breath.
So, it was rather a surprise when he stepped close to her and draped the woolen plaid around her shoulders, his hands crossing the material over her front and holding it closed over the figure he had been intently admiring not a moment ago.
Breathless, she peered up at him. He was so very close, probably too close, his breath coming in ragged bursts that stirred a strange, pulling sensation in the pit of her stomach.
As they gazed at each other, he leaned in, as if drawn to the look in her eyes. And though she knew she should turn away or step back, she found she had no control over herself, her head tilting up as he leaned closer still.
Does he mean to… kiss me?
A thrill shivered through her, and she felt herself rise onto her tiptoes.
Gordon stopped just short of the point of no return, his gaze dropping to her chest, where the little fox cub had begun to wriggle in her arms, trying to force its small head out of the heavy plaid.
“New rule,” he said gruffly, his eyes flashing with a threat as he returned them to her nervous gaze. “If another man ever sees ye like this, I’ll kill him.”
“I don’t think he saw anything,” she replied, finding her voice. “If he did, it was not on purpose. And… And we are not really betrothed, so why do you care?”
He tugged her closer, his hand tightening on the plaid.
“Real or nae,” he told her thickly, “ye’re mine as long as ye’re under me protection.
If anyone else sees so much as a glimpse of what I’ve just seen, I’ll put out their eyes and then kill them.
And when I’m done, I’ll add them to me collection in the tower. ”
She shuddered inside the warmth of the borrowed plaid, her mind conjuring a vision of the wooden door from her dream and the fear of what might be behind it.
Surely, he was just toying with her. He wouldn’t really do those things, would he?
“Scared yet, me Lady?” he asked, a smirk on his lips.
Oh…
She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to be able to see those lips, nor had she realized just what a difference it made. There was an expression in his mouth that his beard had hidden, like a mask that he had now lifted.
I think he is toying with me.
Perhaps not about the threat, but almost certainly about the ‘collection in the tower.’ At least, she hoped it was just a jest.
“I…”
She lost her train of thought, too captivated by the shape of his mouth. It was passionate, his lips full, with a deep bow and the smallest scar right there at the corner of his mouth that made it seem like he was on the verge of a smirk, even when he was not.
Raising her gaze back to Gordon’s, her stomach fluttered as she discovered that he was looking at her lips too.
His head dipped closer, the air crackling between them. The nearer he drew to her mouth, the more she found she couldn’t breathe, anticipation swelling inside her, narrowing her focus to him and him alone. He was going to kiss her; she was sure of it now.
And what was more surprising, she was not afraid of it.
This was no horrible nightmare in eerie hallways with a winter storm raging outside. This was a thrilling dream, in broad daylight and out in the open, warm sunshine beating down on them both.
She trembled as his breath tickled her lips. He was so close now.
Yes… Yes…
One more second, and she would feel his kiss.
But then he was gone, stepping back, his hand falling away from the plaid-turned-blanket that enveloped her. The air between them thickened, the electric crackle petering out, smothered by the grim, almost wary look on his face.
“Put that fox back in the bushes where its ma can find it, and go back inside, Sunshine,” he said, his voice flat.
“It might die if I do that,” she protested, her heart racing.
His eyes narrowed. “Do as I say, and stop provoking me. Me rules are there for a reason.”
That’s right; he is not supposed to touch me.
Swept up in the moment, she had forgotten that particular decree.
She wanted to tell him that he had also kept all the curtains closed for a reason, yet when she had walked through the castle that morning, they were all still open.
She wanted to say that he had obviously kept his beard for a reason but had changed his mind on that.
Why couldn’t his rules be changed too, for the right cause?
Instead, she just gave a small nod and walked away, the fox cub safe in her arms.
But as she put distance between herself and Gordon, it was like she had left some part of her back there on the shore where he still stood. An aching need for… something that tugged on her soul, urging her to turn around and go back to him, to satisfy whatever was nagging at her core.
In the end, she didn’t even dare to glance back, fearing she might lose control altogether… and fearful that he might not be watching her go, that he did not feel anything about the growing distance between them.
Worse, that she might never be so close to him again.