Page 48 of Tair

Sleeping was the last thing Lucy wanted to do right now. “Can we talk for a bit? I need to clarify some things about today.”

“You got your stories about the cluet. That nag nearly trampled you.” Tair dried his arms and face with a length of linen before he came over to her. “We facked.” He gave her a push toward the bed. “You’re weary. Sleep.”

He seemed to be completely unaffected by what had happened, which was depressing. “Will you at least let me say something?”

He reached out to her face, making her flinch. All he did was wipe away a tear that had run to her jaw.

“You regret what we did?” he asked, keeping his palm against her cheek.

Lucy didn’t need him to be understanding, because that was when the laird was at his most dangerous.

“You’re right. We had sex, and it’s not a big deal. Never mind.” As he snapped her shackle around her wrist she said, “I’m not tired. Unchain me and I’ll go for a walk, and then come back.”

“’Tisnae the time for a wench to flounce about the keepe alone.” He sat down on the ticking beside her. “You need sleep.”

She glared at him. “You’re not the boss of me, you know.”

“You need sleep,” he repeated, brushing her hair back from her brow, “as do I. Take your rest in my arms, and you shall ken but sweet dreams.”

He wanted to seduce her again, Lucy thought, and then something reckless and contrary inside her made her scoot over to give him room. As soon as he stretched out beside her she cuddled closer, not caring if he read anything into it. His warmth and strength wrapped her in a cocoon of safety, and when he pulled her on top of his chest and began slowly stroking her hair she sighed with pleasure.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Lucy asked as she grew drowsy.

His hand moved from her hair to her back. “You’d rather I beat you as I did Dorchad today?”

“You beat up Dorchad?” Lucy was impressed in spite of herself. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m laird. I may beat anyone.” He looked into her eyes. “Even stubborn wenches who refuse permit me my rest.”

Tair always tried to act like a bad guy, even when he joked with her. “You’re not a man who abuses women, or you’d have done that already.”

A chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “True men dinnae beat women. Only cowardly facks use their fists on the weak and helpless.”

Lucy lifted her head. “What about men who throw women over their shoulders?”

“’Tis a compliment I did thus to you. You’re no’ a feather.” As she started to scowl he kissed her lips. “’Twas toss you over my shoulder or on the ground.”

Lucy wanted to bite him, but Tair considered that foreplay. “I take back what I said at the spring. The rest of the clan may be good guys, but you’re a bad man. A very bad man.”

He uttered what sounded like a wordless agreement and tucked her head under his chin. “Close your eyes, or I shall prove you right again.”

Exhaustion already had her drooping, and she couldn’t summon the energy to roll off him. He shifted her legs by nudging them between his thighs, and then sighed. The warmth of his breath sieved through her hair and caressed her scalp, and his hands never stopped rubbing those slow, wonderful ovals on her back. Lucy wanted to purr like a cat, she was so comfortable. Maybe that was why she finally told him about Justin.

“He would have murdered me the day I came to you,” she told him. “I had a vision where I saw what would happen if I stayed. I didn’t make any wish to come here. The cluet brought me to your time to fulfill someone else’s wish—I think.”

His hands went still. “When we find that facking rag, shall you wish yourself back to your time?”

“I don’t know.” A few days ago she would have said absolutely, yes, the minute she touched the enchanted fabric. Now she wondered if the life she’d left behind would be snuffed out by Justin or someone else like him. “Maybe the only way I can live is to stay here.”

“Then stay.” He rolled, putting her on her back, but remained beside her rather than on top of her. “Stay and be mine, wench.”

Her eyes stung, making her blink a few times. “You know Dorchad won’t like that. Neither will Sgathan and Cath.”

“They’re no’ the boss of me,” he said, mocking her earlier chide.

“You’re immortal, but I’m not, remember?” Lucy watched his face, but his expression didn’t change. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Never shall I,” he promised.