Page 60 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

“Curse my thoughtless tongue,” Gavin said as he stroked Fiona’s cheek. “’Tis far more than merely an arrangement between us, lass. We both know it.”

“You owe me nothing, my lord.”

She spoke the words with such pain in her voice it nearly tore his own heart in two. Logically, Gavin knew he had nothing to feel guilty about. He had not forced her into this position—hell, becoming his mistress had been her suggestion.

Yet there was no denying that their relationship had long progressed beyond a mutually beneficial arrangement. They shared something deeper, something whole and true. ’Twas something that Gavin freely admitted he couldn’t define, yet couldn’t ignore. To do so would be an insult to both of them.

“I fear we’ve gotten ourselves in far deeper than either of us anticipated,” he said softly.

Her eyes fluttered open and met his. She exhaled a weighty sigh, a deep furrow wrinkling her brow. “What do you propose we do?” she asked.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, a courtly, respectful gesture. “Enjoy every minute of it,” he replied.

The following days took on a routine that Gavin found both exhilarating and oddly comforting. Each night, he would tumble Fiona into his bed and make love to her. Nay, with her. Sometimes it was quick and intense, when his ravenous hunger needed instantly to be fed. Other times it was slow and tender and surprisingly even more explosive.

They explored each other’s body with reverence, delighting in discovering what brought the other pleasure. He was insatiable, unable to keep himself from touching Fiona, even as they slept. The heat and urgency he felt whenever he was near her was impossible to control, the feelings that surrounded him as she lay naked next to him indescribable.

Once sated, he would gather Fiona in his arms, basking in a feeling of completion. There in the darkness the conversations would begin—tales of their youth, who had been important and influential as they grew to adulthood, what dreams and hopes had they secretly kept. Who and what had brought them happiness—and sadness.

Gavin told her outrageous stories of his boyhood adventures, exaggerating his antics until her smiles turned to giggles. She spoke of her life as a young girl and the close bond she’d had with her mother along with the inconsolable sorrow she suffered when that good woman died from childbed fever when Fiona was eight years old.

Revealing who they were as children, and later young adults, established a deeper understanding between them. But it wasn’t only the past they discussed. They talked—and argued—about nearly everything—politics, the tyranny of kings, the merits of French wine, and the best way to roast a flavorful haunch of venison.

The one subject they never broached was the future. Gavin wanted to believe it was because they had agreed to live in the moment, but that was only partially true. Looking too far ahead would jeopardize what they shared and he was not prepared to sacrifice this unexpected gift of happiness.

However, as this sharing brought them closer and closer, Gavin grew concerned. He had never opened himself to a woman as he had to her.

His dependency on Fiona had the potential to become a dilemma. He craved, nay hungered, for her day and night. No matter how often he had her, he still wanted more. It was dangerous, precarious, for he worried if his need would ever be truly filled.

Yet when these dark thoughts reared their ugly head, Gavin thrust them from his mind. He was happy now, in a way that had never before been a part of his life. He was no longer alone and isolated, and neither was Fiona. He would relish these rare glimpses of contentment while he was able to hold them in his grasp.

Still, he was not so naive to believe that the future would somehow take care of itself.

Aidan let out a battle cry and swung his heavy sword wide. Reacting at the last moment, Gavin barely had time to avoid a slice to his gut.

“Yer distracted,” Duncan called out from the sidelines, scrutinizing him with narrow, speculative eyes. “First a squire lands a blow that has ye bleeding like a wild boar, and now Aidan nearly opens yer belly with one stroke of his blade. Maybe ’tis best if ye cut yer training short today.”

Ignoring the remark, Gavin lifted his shield. Aidan struck again and their sparring quickly intensified. But when Gavin thrust his sword forward and hit nothing but air, he knew it was time to quit.

Duncan was right; he was distracted. Breathing hard, Gavin stepped back and held up his palm to stave off Aidan’s next attack. Aidan instantly lowered his sword.

“Are ye hungry?” Duncan asked. “Ye dinnae break yer fast with us in the hall this morning. A man can’t put up a strong fight with a growling stomach.”

“I’d wager ’tis lack of a proper night’s sleep that has his lordship so sluggish today,” Aidan snickered.

“I believe ye are right, brother. Yet I must agree that winning the favor of the fair Lady Fiona is worth a few cuts and bruises,” Duncan chided.

“Bugger off,” Gavin grumbled, shooting them both a nasty glare.

The truth was Gavin was neither hungry nor tired, but rather clouded with indecision and inertia. With each passing day, the promise he’d made to the king weighed heavier on his mind. Just last night, after Fiona had drifted off to sleep, he’d reluctantly pulled himself away from the cozy warmth of the bed to once again study the matter. Lighting a candle, he sat at the table in his chamber and peered at the list of potential brides that the king had given him, his mind and gut churning.

That damn list, with names that were no longer letters on parchment. They were flesh and blood women and he needed to make a final decision as to which one of them he would take as his next wife. Aileen Sinclair was the logical choice. They had all agreed. Yet still he hesitated, refusing to make the final commitment.

Time was moving too swiftly. He wanted to halt it, freeze it, keep things exactly as they were right now. Peace and prosperity for his clan, good cheer and laughter in his hall, and Fiona at his side and in his bed. Was that such an unreasonable wish?

Gavin sighed. A reckoning was coming; he knew he could no longer put off making a decision. Robert requested a marital alliance and one did not deny a king. Especially since Gavin knew how important this alliance was for Robert’s cause.

Yet every time he thought of taking another wife, the face that instantly sprung to mind was one of golden, refined beauty. With green sparkling eyes, a broad smile, and a fierce, loyal soul.

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