Page 17 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
“Dinnae tempt me,” she warned, though her tone lacked true venom. She sighed, wringing out her hair. “All right, ye can turn around now.”
Finley turned slowly, his grin still plastered across his face. He gave her a once-over, though his eyes lingered far too longfor her comfort. “Ye look… refreshed,” he said, his tone almost playful.
“And ye look like ye’ve been dragged through a peat bog,” Edin shot back, folding’ her arms. “Perhaps ye should be the one takin’ a bath now.”
“Funny ye should say that,” Finley replied, stepping further into the room. “I was just thinking the same. Though, I imagine I’ll nae get tae soak as long as ye did, seein’ as we’ve got places tae be and trouble tae avoid.”
Edin rolled her eyes. “Aye, well, let me get dressed, and I’ll leave ye tae it, although ye seem tae think it’s acceptable behavior tae stay and watch.”
Finley chuckled, leaning against the bedpost as she began collecting her clothes. “Dinnae worry, lass. I’m nae nearly as modest as yerself. If ye wanted tae stay, I’d hardly protest.”
Edin shot him a glare that could’ve turned milk sour. “Out,” she said sharply, pointing toward the door.
He held up his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “All right, all right. I’ll step out. Ye’ve made yer point.” He moved to the door, opening it slowly. “But dinnae take too long. I’d like tae be clean before the sun’s up again.”
Edin waited until the door shut behind him before letting out a breath.
Then the door creaked open again, just a little bit; enough to reveal half of Finley’s face and the glint of his mischief-filled eye.
Edin felt her cheeks burn with heat as her temper flared. “What are ye daein’? I told ye tae leave!”
“Aye, and I did,” he said, laughing softly. “But what are ye goin’ tae wear, then? Ye’ve nay clean clothes, lass.”
“Mind yer own business, Finley!” she snapped, marching toward the door with every intention of slamming it shut in his smug face.
But just as her hand reached the handle, his arm slid through the gap in the door, holding something out toward her — a neatly folded set of clean clothes.
She stopped in her tracks, her frustration giving way to surprise. For a moment, she could only blink at the offering, not quite believing he’d thought of such a thing.
“Ye’re welcome,” he said, his tone light but sincere, before pulling his arm back and closing the door behind him, properly this time.
Edin stared at the door, her grip loosening on the handle as she stood frozen. A soft groan escaped her lips as she turned away, shaking her head. The man had an uncanny knack for setting her nerves on edge, but she couldn’t quite tell if it was irritation or something else entirely that lingered beneath the surface.
“Infuriatin’ fool,” she muttered under her breath, though the sharp edge of her tone had dulled.
She pulled on the dry clothes, the fabric soft against her freshly washed skin, and ran a comb through her damp hair. The warmth from the fire was pleasant, and for a moment, she considered staying in the room a bit longer, just to enjoy it. But the thought of Finley standing outside the door, probably tapping his foot with impatience, made her dismiss the idea.
Once she was ready, she opened it and found him lounging against the wall, arms crossed.
“Took ye long enough,” he said, pushing off the wall and giving her a once-over. “Feelin’ better?”
“Aye, I am,” she replied shortly, stepping aside so he could enter. “And I’ll leaveyetae it.”
Finley laughed, heading into the room and closing the door behind him. Edin lingered outside for a moment, her thoughts drifting. She couldn’t decide if Finley’s infuriating nature was a help or a hindrance, but one thing was certain — he was never dull.
She made her way downstairs. The inn was still quiet, save for the occasional clatter of pots from the kitchen. She approached the innkeeper's wife, who was setting a fresh loaf of bread on the counter.
“Could ye draw another bath?” Edin asked, her tone polite. “Me companion’ll be needin’ it.”
The woman nodded and bustled off without a word, leaving Edin to settle herself at a small table near the fire. She stretched her hands toward the warmth, but despite the heat, her mind wandered to thoughts that made her cheeks flush anew.
Finley in the bath.
She tried to shake the thought, but it persisted, a mischievous itch in the back of her mind. What would it have been like if their roles had been reversed? If she’d been the one to stumble into the room to find him lounging in the steaming water, all careless ease and that infuriating smirk?
Her eyes drifted to the crackling flames. The warmth from the fire did little to ease the strange chill in her chest, the unsettling memory of him in the cold, drenched to the bone. She remembered his broad shoulders half-submerged in the water, the waves pulling at him. His hair, dark and damp, clinging to his neck in wet strands.
Would he have been just as smug, teasing her for her reaction, if she entered the room? Or would he?—?
