Page 36 of Laird of Wrath

It didn’t hurt that he knew their rotations by heart. He knew precisely where they should be and at what time, so he knew to avoid the places with the most guards.

He didn’t want to speak to anyone. He didn’t want to have a single interaction with another person, not when his heart was still pounding and his stomach was still tied in knots from the nightmare.

The quiet did him good. It was precisely what he needed to clear his head, to calm his racing heart. The only light came from the torches, warm and bright, and from the moon that spilled in through the windows—this one colder, fainter, nothing but a whisper of light, but all the more calm for it.

He had half a mind to wander past the curtain walls and into the wilderness where he was bound to meet no one, but he wasn’t entirely blind to the dangers of the night. If the brigands didn’t get him, then an animal might, no matter how small the chances.

What a silly way to die.

The thought brought a small smile to his lips, just because of how terrible it would be for him to meet his end like that, during a careless walk in the woods in the middle of the night.

He was so lost in that thought, so amused by it, that he didn’t see the figure coming straight toward him as he rounded the corner. They collided with twin huffs of surprise.

When he looked down, he saw none other than Rhea—in her nightgown.

“What are ye doin’ here?” he asked. “And why are ye nae wearin’ clothes?”

“Iamwearin’ clothes,” Rhea said, clearly just as shocked to see him there. “What is this if nae clothes?”

“It’s a nightgown,” Callum corrected her. “Ye can hardly call that clothes.”

“It’s thick,” she pointed out.

It was true. The fabric was quite thick, especially for this time of year. And yet, as he looked at it, he couldn’t help but think about what it was hiding—barely.

He was so used to seeing her covered up by so many layers, her gowns and petticoats like an armor around her, that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her no matter how much he tried, mesmerized by the hint of a silhouette he could see under her nightgown.

It was loose around her body, a thick cotton fabric that did a good job of concealing most of her. Only when the light hit her did he see a vague impression of what was underneath it.

He could see the faint curve of her hip where the fabric clung to her skin, then the dip of her waist, where it left a gap between her body and the nightgown, and that was more than enough to drive him crazy with lust.

He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Rhea. He could hardly believe that almost a year ago, he had left her after their wedding night without even consummating their marriage. But he did what had to be done. Now, though… now he had her all to himself, and he couldn’t wait for the day when he would make her his.

If only she wasnae so stubborn.

Had it not been for her request to get to know him better, he would have already pulled her close and kissed her until she melted in his arms. He would have taken her to his chambers, laid her down on his bed, and kissed every inch of her body until she squirmed with pleasure, until she begged him for more. And then, once she asked for it, he would have claimed her, made her his.

Desire coiled tightly in his stomach, pushing away every other thought. But seeing the look on Rhea’s face, it soon faded, replaced by annoyance. She clearly wasn’t happy with his presence there.

“Why are ye out here so late at night?” he asked. “And dressed like this nay less.”

“It’s none of yer business,” she scoffed.

That only made him more suspicious.

Where was she going? Why was she awake? Why was she not dressed like she should have been?

Callum had made it perfectly clear to her that no one else was to see her in her nightgown, and yet here she was, openly defying him.

“None of me business?” Callum echoed, blood rushing to his head as rage threatened to take over. “I’m yer husband. Itisme business.”

“A husband would open up to his wife,” Rhea shot back, never once shrinking from him. If anything, she seemed to stand taller, as if she was trying to measure up to him. He was momentarily too confused by her insolence to remember to be angry with her. “He wouldnae demand answers that she is unwillin’ to give.”

“Why are ye unwillin’ to give me an answer?” he demanded.

“As I said, it’s none of yer business,” she insisted. “Did ye now remember that ye’re me husband?”

What is the matter with her? She was fine at the market!