Page 59 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
Rhys smirked as he turned and carried the tray carefully back up the winding stairwell.
When he returned, Amara was still half-curled beneath the sheets. The fire was still burning, but it was low. He set the tray down and crossed to the bed.
“Lass?” he murmured, setting on the edge of the mattress with a less than graceful, but soft, thump and slid the tray in between them.
She blinked awake, groggy and blinking against the soft lift. Her lips parted into the barest smile. “Ye brought food?”
He held up the bannocks with a tilt of his chin. “I was raised with manners. Eat.”
She chuckled sleepily and sat up, dragging the blanket over her shoulders. Her eyes flicked to the tray and then to him, and the bannock in his hand. Rhys twisted his arm and present the bannock to her, which she took gently.
He felt a tugging sensation in his torso as he watched her bring the bun to her mouth and take a bite from it. She licked her lips, and every single thought completely left his brain.
They ate together in a remarkably normal silence. She finished the warm bread in her hand, dipping it in the preserves, as he poured them both tea. Life breathed into her, and the rose-colored flush in her cheeks made him feel a sense of relaxation and purpose.
Could do this every day… If she stays…
Amara’s lips curved in the softest smile as she set her teacup down and stretched her arms above her head, lazily and unguarded. Rhys watched as her hair spilled across her shoulders and their eyes connected again.
Should have her to break me fast… lay her down… for the love of God –
His mouth watered as his hand lingered on the bed for a moment longer before he wrapped it around the tray and cleared it away. It was dangerous, how easily he could imagine waking up like this again with her. But if she left after this week, he would be caught up in feelings that wouldn’t ever be reciprocated. Rhys knew he needed to measure his emotions carefully where Amara was concerned. At least until he could convince her to stay.
He turned to look at her once more before making his way toward the door.
“I’ll see ye later then?” she asked, and he could sense the sadness in her voice at his departure.
He nodded. “Aye. Come to me study this afternoon.”
“Somethin' grim, is it?”
“Somethin' important.”
She smirked. “That means grim.”
He left her with that smile still tugging at her mouth, and it chased him halfway down the corridor.
The walk to his council chambers helped cool his head, but not by much. Every step away from her felt heavier than it should have. A night like the one they had just shared muddied things. He wasn’t sure what they were now. He hadn’t claimed her in full, but he had taken her — tasted her.
By the time he reached the north wing, the day had started properly. The halls were busier, voices trailing through doorways, and the scent of iron and hearth smoke filled the air.
The war table waited for him.
So did the men who sat around it.
He squared his shoulders and pushed open the door.
The chamber was stuffy with the weight of early tension and too many bodies in close quarters. Rhys walked to the head of thelong table and stood, hands braced against the wood, watching his men fall back into their seats after what had clearly been a short and restless sleep.
Leighton and Robert sat nearest him, their faces drawn, eyes sharp. Darrow, Gavin, Muir, and old Grant were all muttering among themselves, but their gazes kept drifting his way. Everyone was waiting for the same thing.
A verdict.
“So,” said Robert, folding his arms. “Now that ye have slept on it, and Master Finn is back and breathin’, do we strike while Murdoch’s walls are still low on defense, or nae?”
Rhys didn’t answer right away. He scanned their faces. Loyal men. Fierce. Dangerous when provoked.
It would be so easy to give them the order. Let them loose.
