Page 35 of A Laird and a Fugitive

Chapter 14

Ryan had found Caroline’s interference earlier in the day rather amusing. He liked that she was so driven and outspoken. They were good qualities that his heir would be well-served to inherit. It was misplaced, of course. Why she doubted his judgment he did not know. Perhaps it was another ill-fated attempt to sow discord within his clan now that he had uncovered her ruse.

Although she did seem vehement in her feelings about her uncle, and the way she reacted when he suggested that she had had something to do with the poisoning of her father would have been difficult to fake. However, he could not trust her yet and needed to keep a careful watch on her.

That night, he went to visit her in her room. She was wearing a beautiful dress that flowed along the shapely curves of her body. The fire illuminated her face, making her appearance even more striking. Attraction stirred within him. He had tried his best to fight it off because the last thing he needed was to become confused.

Taking down the Gilmour Clan needed clarity, and she was his prisoner by opportunity, not his true wife. Yet, his body had other ideas. There was a deep storm brewing that flashed and thundered whenever they were near. The air became intoxicating and he found it hard to concentrate. Every muscle in his body seemed to grow tight, and deep sensations twitched and danced within.

When he was close to her, it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. He had been close enough to breathe in her scent, to see the faint cluster of moles behind her ear, to see the wispy strands of hair brushing her alabaster shoulders. It was enough to drive a man wild, but he was not going to take her by force. That was something a Gilmour man would have done. He wasn’t like that. These weren’t the lessons his father had taught him.

It hurt him that she was a Gilmour. In every other way, she was a fine woman, displaying all manner of desirable qualities in her bearing, appearance, manner, and attitude. And yet, she was the daughter of his mortal enemy, and because of that, her blood would always be tainted.

She rose to meet him in the middle of the room. “I wish to be taken tae yer chamber,” she said.

Ryan was taken aback that she would speak out of turn. He had been used to controlling the rhythm of conversation.

“Ye what?”

“Ye are treating me like a prisoner, nae a wife. I appreciate that ye released my sisters, but I am nae inclined tae lie with ye while I am treated like this. I dinnae even hae a window. Dae ye understand how interminable it is tae be surrounded by dense walls? I want tae feel respected, even if I know ye can never respect a Gilmour.”

“Or a spy,” he growled, watching for a reaction.

Caroline gave him none. She simply turned towards the fire and stared at the flames.

“Ye wanted a wife. Ye hae one. I spoke out of turn taeday, but I wish tae know more about yer clan sae that I can take part in these matters. I was taught well by my Da, of course, about the ways of running a clan. I’m sure I could be of some use tae ye, and perhaps it would gae some way of showing ye that I can be trusted. Because if my Da was killed, then I want tae bring the man responsible tae justice.”

“Even if he is yer blood?”

“If he killed my Da, then he is nae family of mine,” Caroline said.

Ryan regarded her for a few moments. It always impressed him when she stood up to him like this, and he was inclined to grant her request, but mostly because he was growing tired of this room as well.

“Very well,” he said, and then led her out of this chamber.

She joined him in a silent walk to his own chamber. He looked longingly at his bed, and then towards his armchair. This latter object was not comfortable at all, but he wasn’t sure sleeping in the same bed as her was a good idea. He feared his wandering hands might work independently of his conscience and make a liar of him, nor could he take the bed while she rested in the armchair.

Caroline walked into the room and lit more candles, raising the light level. Then, she went to the window and breathed in the air, while surveying the surrounding area.

“I hoped that we might speak candidly, Ryan,” she began. “It seems tae me that we should endeavor tae make the best out of our situation. Ye mae nae respect me at all, but I can be useful tae ye. After all, dae ye think this is gaeing tae end when ye take over the Gilmour Clan? We hae long lives ahead of us. Are ye gaeing tae spend it all hating me?”

Ryan pursed his lips and shifted his weight from side to side. He considered himself an intelligent man, but his judgment became clouded where the Gilmour Clan was concerned. He thought mostly in the short term, wanting to establish dominance over them. He hadn’t thought of the far-reaching effects.

“I dinnae hate ye, Caroline.”

“Ye certainly act that way,” she spat.

“I hate yer family. I hate yer Da. I hate yer clan. But I dinnae hate ye.”

“That is nae as comforting as ye might think.”

She turned to face him. There was a curious look in her eyes. She cast a searching gaze towards him for a few moments, and then shook her head gently, as though she did not find what she was looking for.

“I suppose it’s a comfort tae learn ye are capable of some emotion, at least.”

Ryan ran his tongue along his gums and placed his hand against his chin. Her dress clung to her body in a pleasing manner. It was impossible for his gaze not to run down the path of her curves, following the flow of lustrous hair, wondering about what lay beneath her clothes. Although he tried his best to dispel these thoughts as he hated to be weakened by them, they took on a life of their own and pressed on his mind and his soul.

Caroline had made a startling impression on him the moment they had met, and this only increased the more time they spent together. He had threatened her that eventually she would give into her urges and sleep with him, but secretly that had been projection on his part. For all his talk of being focused on revenge, he possessed urges too; urges that pulled him towards her, that made him want to put his arms around her waist and drag her to bed, to lose himself in her softness, to feel her hair brushing against his body, to feel something warm and tender for a change, instead of the cold and heartless fury that boiled in the pit of his stomach.