Page 37 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
He could think of a dozen other things he’d rather be doing… and most of them involved his betrothed and her sinful lips. Even now when she was chastising him, all he wanted to do was cross the space between them and taste her again. His desk mercifully blocked him from doing that.
Because amidst it all, they still hadn’t talked about their kiss and the way she’d run from him.
“I want ye to show a little emotion,” she urged, a teasing smile still on her face. “Let them see somethin’ besides yer blank mask.”
“There is nothin’ else.”
Ciara rolled her eyes. “There is, I’ve seen it.”
“Well, I should be apologizin’ to ye, then,” he replied blandly.
Her tinkling laughter rang out. Magnus hadn’t been joking, but he loved the sound regardless.
“Why do ye nae let anyone see ye?” she asked, her tone turning serious.
Magnus rolled his eyes. “Nae everyone grew up in a lovin’ family like yers.”
The Laird was used to doing things himself, taking care of things for his mother, and keeping his mouth shut about everything else. It wouldn’t have done either of them any good for him to be… emotional.
But of course, Ciara was already shaking her head at him. “That may be true, but at some point, everything becomes yer own choice,” she replied. “Ye canchooseto be different than he was.”
“This conversation reminds me of somethin’,” he grunted.
“Aye, aye, all right.” She laughed. “I hear ye, I willnae repeat meself.”
With a sigh of relief, Magnus took one last sip of his whiskey. Maybe this would be the end of their conversation as well. He regretted that it would send his betrothed away, but he’d planned to spend the evening alone anyway—might as well get started on that.
To his surprise, Ciara pulled out the chair across from his desk and plopped down in it with a loud exhale.
“What are ye doin’?” he asked.
Rolling her eyes, she replied, “Sittin’ down.”
“Why?”
“Mind pourin’ me one of those?” she asked, instead of answering his question.
Still reeling, Magnus stood up to get another glass for her. Why was she staying? With his back to her, he took a deep breath. She was staying.
Instead of returning to his seat, he crowded the space next to his betrothed. Her breath hitched, and he smirked down at her. With her seated like this, their size difference was even more noticeable.
Standing over her, he slowly poured her a large glass of whiskey. She turned to watch him, and he couldn’t help but wink at her. He heard her breath stutter once more.
When he finally stepped back, Ciara took a large sip of his favorite whiskey, sighing when she felt it burn down her throat. He watched her throat with interest as she gulped. He was starting to like whiskey even more…
From his seat, he reached out for her glass. He turned it so his lips touched the same spot and took a healthy sip.
“Ye didnae want yer own?” she stammered out.
“Maybe I just wanted to feel yer lips against mine in some way,” he said before he could second-guess himself.
“I…” She shook her head. “Ye… ye’ve already done that.”
“Aye, and I didnae get enough,” Magnus admitted, holding her blue gaze.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He promised he wouldn’t push her again, but he needed to know. Did she feel the same pull towards him? Was that why she sat down? He didn’t think he could take another night of questioning everything between them, not when he already had so much else to question and agonize over.
Answers, that was all he needed, and then he could act accordingly.
