Page 45 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
Everything unspoken between them seemed to flicker in his dark eyes as she caught him watching her.
“Did I make trouble fer ye by speaking up fer Tyra?”
Taking the poker to stoke the fire he gave a short laugh. “Och. I daresay ye didnae make Harris love me more.”
She gave a tiny groan as he took the seat beside her and reached for her hand. “Lass, ‘tis of nay moment. Nothing ye could say or dae would make a difference. Ye and I both ken he sees me as an obstacle in the way of his objective. Tae rule over Clan MacNeacail as the husband of the Lady Tyra.”
She nodded, giving him a shy grin. “I think it is time we took tae our bed.” Of late, she’d found that lying close to him, hearinghis deep breath in sleep, feeling the warmth of his body and breathing in his earthy scent, all the daytimes worries fell away and she felt safe and protected.
They went about the bedtime ritual they’d become accustomed to.
Edmund folded back the covers and placed the bolster in the center of the bed while she slipped behind the screen and changed into her night shift.
Then, as Annora slipped between the sheets and rolled onto her side, he unbelted his kilt, and climbed into the other side of the bed.
They lay side by side, and she found herself longing for him to reach across the divide and place a hand on her shoulder, her arm, or any part of her.
He huffed loudly and snuffed out the candle.
As they descended into darkness she asked, in a small voice, “Daes something bother ye?”
He hesitated a moment before speaking again. “Aye, Annora. There is something.”
“Oh?” Her stomach lurched. Was he aching for her the way her whole body quivered and ached for his touch?
“Methinks it is all very well tae be bewitched, but it’s nae at all comfortable. I have a most intolerable yearning to clasp ye in my arms again as I did before.”
Her heart gave a giant leap and she could not resist a soft giggle at his words and the very thought of his strong arms about her again.
“Hmm. I dae believe I feel that bewitchment too.”
She ventured a hand across the bolster and ruffled his hair. He seized it and pressed it to his lips.
Oh, sweet, soft touch in the darkness!
He released her hand and she slowly withdrew it.
“Goodnight, Edmund.”
He growled. “Ye make it difficult lass.”
After a fitful night swimming with dreams of soft red lips, and the touch of silky skin under his fingertips, Edmund woke, sweating and aching. He slipped unnoticed from the bed, leaving a sleeping Annora, her waves of fragrant yellow hair spread deliciously on the pillow, her dark lashes shadowing the porcelain skin of her cheeks, her breathing soft and even.
Dammit.
There was still much he wished to learn about who he was. He had a growing sense of pride as he learned more of his father. Laird Baldur was, it seemed, fair and just, with a warmth that had earned the respect and love of his people. He was a strong leader, yet he was not a tyrant.
That his looks were similar to his father’s had come as a revelation. That discovery had, somehow, brought him closer to him.
The Elders had earned Edmund’s deep respect with their wisdom and their quiet, good-humor. He was slowly warming to the idea of traveling in Baldur’s footsteps. After yesterday’s experience with the shepherds and the other villagers, he was no longer daunted by the idea of administering justice to his clansmen.
Yet, regardless, he was only too aware that every move he made was surveilled by the Elders, and, no doubt, trusted members of the household staff and select guards.
And that brought him to the conundrum of Annora. He had no stomach for the deceit he was spinning and was questioning his own judgment in having brought her here. The strength of his protective sense toward Annora, conflicted with his growing desire for her. He was, indeed, bewitched, and accepting this sent his thoughts wheeling in confusion.
Needing to settle the whirling thoughts in his head, he donned his kilt with all speed and tiptoed out of the chamber. He made his way down the stairs and headed toward the hall, intending to break his fast.
Tormod was seated at the long table alongside Gilleasbuig and, to Edmund’s surprise, both men were in earnest conversation with Laird Harris.
