Page 23 of Claimed By a Ruthless Scot
Her eyes flashed. “Then what am I? A guest under guard?”
“A stranger,” he replied evenly. “One I brought intae the heart of me lands without kenning who ye truly are. I ken naething about ye, Elaina. And trust,” his voice lowered at the mention of this word, “is nae something I give lightly. Nae tae mention that after what happened tae ye, I also think ye need protection.”
Her hands clenched at her sides. “If I had kent ye meant tae treat me as an enemy, I would never have come.”
“That is nae what I said.”
“It is what ye meant,” she shot back. “I didnae flee one cage tae be placed in another, nay matter how kindly ye pretend it is built.”
The words struck close.
Duncan moved around the writing table then, closing some of the distance between them, though he stopped short of touching her.
“Ye are nae being punished, I want ye tae ken that. Ye are being protected. And we are also being protected. Dae ye understand that?”
“A difference that feels remarkably thin,” she retorted.
For a heartbeat, they stood there, with that fiery tension coiled tight between them, attraction flaring in the very space where anger lived. He could see it in the way her breath quickened, inthe way she refused to step back, even as emotion threatened to spill over.
At last, he exhaled slowly. “If ye wish tae leave, ye may. I willnae stop ye.”
That gave her pause.
“But,” he continued, keeping his gaze steady on hers, “I would rather ye stay. We need a healer. And I believe ye are worth having.”
Her expression hardened. “On what terms?”
“Mine,” he said simply. “If ye remain, it will be under me rules. Ye must accept them.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then ye walk out that door freely,” he replied with a shrug. “Nay guards and nay pursuit.”
Silence filled the space between them, where neither was willing to take a step back, not even an inch.
Duncan held her gaze, aware of the risk he was taking not just for the clan, but for himself. He had faced enemies with less certainty than the woman standing before him now.
“The choice is yers,” he said at last. “I will nae make it fer ye.”
She stared him down, without flinching. And in that charged stillness, Duncan had the absurd, undeniable thought that he had never seen a more beautiful woman or a more determined one. There was fire in her eyes, sharp and unyielding, and something devilish beneath it that promised she would never be easily bent. If anything, she would break a man before she broke herself.
For one mad, reckless moment, temptation struck him hard.
He imagined crossing the distance between them, grasping her by the waist, crushing his mouth to hers until her anger turned breathless, until every sharp word was silenced by heat and disbelief and want. The image was vivid enough to make his fingers twitch.
Yet, he did not move. Discipline, long-honed and hard-won, dragged him back from the edge. He straightened, every inch the laird again, not the man.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, as if unable to hide the battle he had just won.
“I have work tae dae,” she told him, barely moving her lips. “And I willnaehave breakfast with ye.”
Before he could answer, before he even decided whether he should, she turned on her heel and strode out of the study. Thedoor slammed shut behind her with enough force to rattle the shelves.
Silence followed.
Duncan remained where he was for a long moment, staring at the door. Then, slowly, he lifted a hand and rubbed at his chin. A grin crept in despite himself.
“This devil woman will be the death of me,” he murmured to the empty room, feeling equal parts amused and undone.
