Page 37 of The Rogue's Bride
The door opened and a tall, dark-haired figure stepped inside.
Caitrin went cold, dread curling in the pit of her belly. Alasdair was the last person she wanted to see this morning. She’d deliberately broken her fast in here, avoiding the chaos of the Great Hall—and hiding from this man.
Sorcha hurriedly put aside her sewing and rose to her feet, smoothing her skirts. “Milord,” she greeted him with a curtsy.
“Morning, Sorcha.” Alasdair favored the hand-maid with a smooth smile. “Could ye give Lady Caitrin and me a few moments alone, please?”
“Of course.” Sorcha stepped away from the fireside, scooped up Eoghan, and left the chamber.
Silence followed her departure.
Caitrin had thought that Alasdair’s smile might fade once Sorcha was no longer present, yet it did not. He sauntered over to the hearth and took the seat that the hand-maid had just vacated, crossing one ankle at the knee with loose-limbed grace. Then he leaned back and viewed Caitrin with a shuttered gaze.
“Good morning, Caitrin.”
Swallowing, in an attempt to ease the tightness in her throat, Caitrin met his eye. “Milord.”
“I hope ye are no longer upset?” he drawled. “I assure ye I won’t touch ye again.”
Caitrin stared back at Alasdair. She couldn’t believe the change in him. Last night he’d been vulnerable before her. The naked want on his face, the hunger in his eyes had haunted her later as she’d lain in bed, trying in vain to fall asleep. Yet now, he was utterly composed and wore a lazy half-smile as if she amused him.
He was treating her like he had upon his arrival at Duntulm months ago—and she knew why.
He was trying to cover up the fact she’d offended him, wounded his pride.
Caitrin’s breathing quickened as panic curled up within her. She’d pushed him away to preserve her status here, to protect herself and Eoghan—and yet angering him wouldn’t help them either.
Afterward, when she’d been safely back in her bed-chamber, Caitrin had felt wretched over how violently she’d pushed him away. He hadn’t hurt her—in fact, the brief kiss had consumed her—yet she’d shrunk from him. She didn’t blame him for taking offense. She felt the need to explain.
“Alasdair,” she said hoarsely. “About last night … I must—”
“Please, Caitrin,” he cut her off with a lazy wave of the hand. “We don’t need to ever mention it again. Ye made yer feelings clear, and I’ll respect them … I’m not here to talk about that.” He reached under the neckline of the leather vest he wore and withdrew a rolled parchment. “This came from yer father two days ago. I was waiting till Eoghan was better before giving it to ye.”
Caitrin took the letter from him and unfurled it. Then she silently read the missive, going cold as she did so.
Finally, her father had run out of patience.
“I imagine ye knew this day would come,” he observed. The dry tone to his voice made Caitrin glance up, her gaze spearing his. He was still smiling, and it was starting to make her angry. “Ye had better start packing yer bags.”
Caitrin drew herself up, her fingers clenching around the letter. “What if I wish to remain here?”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Yer father wishes otherwise.”
“And ye?”
The easy smile faltered then and his gaze hooded. “I think it’s best if ye leave Duntulm.”
There it was, the anger that simmered just beneath the surface, hidden by an urbane smile and a devil-may-care veneer.
Caitrin quelled the urge to cry, blinking furiously. She loved living at Duntulm. She hated the thought of returning to Dunvegan, of being paraded in front of suitors—of being put back inside a cage.
“When?” she finally managed, the question coming out in a croak.
“Tomorrow. We’ll set off just after dawn.” Alasdair paused here, his gaze boring into her. “But Eoghan will be remaining here.”
Caitrin jerked as if he’d just struck her. Then she lurched to her feet, her embroidery falling to the floor. “No!”
Alasdair slowly pushed himself up off the chair, as if he had all the time in the world, and rose to his full height. He towered over her, but Caitrin lifted her chin, fists clenching at her sides. “Ye will not take my son!”
