Page 18 of A Temptress in Tartan

Elizabeth lifted her gaze from the fire to look at him in surprise. “There is still so much to—” She stopped, as though suddenly becoming aware of the intimacy of their situation.

Lachlan’s gaze clung to the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the tension in her body as she clutched her hands at her sides, the slight hollow beneath the bones of her cheeks as her lips tightened. And her eyes—as warm as honey on a summer day.

Lachlan jerked his gaze away. “Tomorrow will be another long day of travel.”

With a nod she asked, “How shall we sleep tonight?” Her gaze slid toward the overly large bed.

“The bed looks big enough for us both, wouldn’t you say? I’ll turn my back while you prepare yourself for sleep.” He turned to face the wall. There was no sound for a long moment, then finally he heard the rustling of fabric and smelled the warm, sweet scent that belonged to Elizabeth. He closed his eyes, breathing in the aroma, taking it into himself. As he did, a ripple of desire pulsed through him. Her scent wasn’t the only part of her he longed to explore. He wanted to join with her, to look at her without all her many layers of clothes. He wanted to touch her—to feel the softness of her skin beneath his calloused palms.

He opened his eyes as he suddenly heard nothing but silence. “Are you finished?”

“I am, my laird.” He turned to see her in the bed with the bed sheet pulled up to her chin.

“Lachlan. Only Lachlan. There will never be such formality between us,” he said as he took off his belt and sword, then his boots. He set them atop a chair and removed the brooch at his shoulder, releasing the tail of his kilt. He shrugged off his coat and divested himself of his neck scarf before unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed red, but she did not look away. Instead her gaze caught on the hair on his chest as it converged in the middle and continued downward. He reached for the thick belt at his waist and slowly unbuckled it. In an instant, his kilt fell to his feet, leaving him naked before her. Her gaze went over him slowly. She could have no doubt that he wanted her, as evidenced by his arousal. She inhaled sharply and finally looked away as she nervously worked her lip between her teeth.

He slipped into the bed beside her. “Goodness, but you are wrapped in the sheet. Loose your hands and let me cover myself.”

Instead of releasing the sheet, she pulled it tighter, until he finally pried her hands off the covers and he rolled beneath. For an instant his body touched hers until he pulled away, settling into the rope bed. “There. We are both bedded for the night.” He was acutely aware of her, so much so that every nerve in his body was on fire at her nearness. Her sharp intake of breath when he’d accidentally touched her sent his pulse racing. He struggled to master his desire, willing himself to think of other things . . . like the dangers ahead of them on their journey tomorrow. “You’ve nothing to fear from me, Elizabeth. Turn over and try to sleep.”

Elizabeth lay as still as stone beside him. “Does that mean that you won’t . . . that we won’t . . .”

“I made you a promise.”

She turned to him. The relief on her face faded as she suddenly paled. “The others are expecting us to have a true wedding night.” She sat up and for a moment the sheet dropped, exposing the sheer white chemise through which he could see the small tipped peaks of her breasts. “If there is no evidence of our joining, Mariam will be the first to cry out that I am proved unchaste.”

He sat up and tried to make out her features in the dying embers of the fire. She appeared quite pale in the flickering light. “No one is to say you are unchaste other than myself. Only I have the right to say how you came to me. Let us be done with this subject. Now lie down and get some rest.”

Still she hesitated. “Have you had much experience with women?”

He startled. What was she asking if he was a virgin?

He must have let his surprise register on his face because her eyes went wide as she clarified, “I mean, do you know how women think? Or how devious some of them can be?”

Lachlan relaxed. “I had no sisters and have spent the better part of my life only around men, especially my brothers-in-arms.”

“If you intend to leave me chaste, then might I suggest we find some blood?” She offered her palm as she had the night before. “A small amount will do.”

With a sigh, he rolled to sit at the side of the bed, then stood. He strode to the chair containing his abandoned clothing. He dressed quickly in his shirt and kilt. Finally, he thrust his feet into his boots and turned to face her once more.

“Where are you going? You said we needed sleep,” Elizabeth asked.

“I’ll be back.”

“If I’ve offended you, I am sorry.”

“You are an odd one, Elizabeth. I will grant you that,” he said as he slipped from the room. He managed a smile as he made his way down the back stairs. It wouldn’t do for someone to see him. If they did, his nighttime journey would be all for naught.

But he need not have worried because no one was about. They had either taken to their beds or were still in the great hall. He quickly found what he needed and made his way back to the bedchamber. As he shut the door behind him, he heard an odd sound.

Croak. Croak. Croak.

As soon as he stepped away from the door the sound stopped. “What was that?” he asked.

Elizabeth sat against the pillows, watching him with wary eyes as he approached the bed with a pail. “I’m fairly certain it is exactly what it sounds like—frogs.”

“Someone put frogs in this room?”