Page 27 of The Ruthless Laird's Virgin
The smile slowly faded from her lips as she swallowed hard. “Aye?” She allowed her gaze to move to his chest and take in the lazy look of the simple cotton shirt that opened at the apex of his throat.
For a moment, he simply looked at her with the fire crackling beside them.
Neither of them seemed to be able to move until Callum rose from his seat, his movements slow and calculated.
Eleanor's breath caught.
He crossed the space between them in two slow strides before stopping beside her seat.
He is far too close.
He was close enough for her to catch the scent of pine, leather, and smoke that always seemed to cling to him. Close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“What are ye doin’?” she whispered as she lifted her gaze.
His eyes searched hers. “Makin’ certain that ye are well. I should never have said that about yer brother.”
The excuse was weak, and both of them knew it.
Eleanor swallowed. “I am well, me laird,” she said almost breathlessly.
“Aye,” his voice was dangerously low. “But ye look as though the weight of the world is restin' on yer shoulders.”
Before she could stop him, Callum lifted a hand. His fingers brushed a loose curl from beside her face. The touch was brief and innocent, yet it sent a shiver of pleasure all the way to her core.
This man makes me feel things that I cannae…
Neither of them moved forward or even dared to breathe. The air between them seemed charged with something dangerous. Something neither of them was prepared to name.
Callum's hand lingered for a fraction too long before his jaw tightened again as if he were reminding himself of something. He stepped back slowly, almost reluctantly, as he kept his gaze fixed on hers.
The sudden loss of his nearness felt oddly disappointing to her, yet she was hesitant to admit why that was.
“We should end this meetin' before Iain decides to burst through the door and lecture us both.” The remark startled a laugh from Eleanor.
“Aye, he would enjoy that far too much.” She eased a little, feeling the tension leave her shoulders.
Callum grinned.
The sight stole her breath almost as effectively as his touch had done.
He offered her his hand. “Come, I shall walk ye back to yer chambers. We daenae ken whom we can trust in the castle.”
Eleanor stared at the hand for a moment before placing hers in it.
Callum's fingers closed around hers. His grip was strong, firm, and steady, something she had not expected to feel between them.
I trust him.
She suddenly realized with a start. In all her life, she had never so much as wanted to trust anyone beyond her father and brother, yet here she was trusting the laird that she was pretending to marry.
The grip lingered for a while longer as she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, yet neither of them let go once she was standing in front of him. And for one suspended moment, standing before the fire while the rest of the castle slept, Eleanor found herself wondering whether the greatest danger lurking within Castle Fraser was not Hamish at all.
But the man standing in front of her.
The man she was beginning to trust far more than she should.
