Page 26 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
Unable to stop herself, Ciara turned back to look at him. She was too attuned to him, too aware of his every move. So, shehadto turn towards him. It was the only thing her body knew how to do around him.
The moment she saw him, she cursed that very fact. He looked positively wrecked. His long dark hair was mussed, and she watched with interest as he ran his fingers through those long strands. For once, his gaze wasn’t trained on her, but there was a sort of crazed glint in his eyes. Had she done that to him?
She felt just as frenzied, but she’d never expected the unaffected Laird to look so… affected.
“If she needs anythin’, she should tell her betrothed,” Magnus bit out, not once looking away from his man-at-arms. The glare he was giving Ewan had Ciara shivering again.
“I just wanted to help,” Ewan replied innocently.
A weaker man would have bowed his head in submission, but he was staring directly back at the Laird, not backing down from the challenge in his eyes.
Ciara watched as Magnus held his gaze a beat longer and nodded. He turned his attention back to her, but she could not stand the full force of his gaze right now. Not when her stomach still fluttered and her skin still tingled from his touch. And especially not after that display of possessiveness.
So, before his eyes could root her to the spot, she spoke.
“Thank ye both. I’m all right though, just a little tired. I think I’m goin’ to retire to me chambers,” she said.
Before either of them could answer, she was striding past them and into the safety of the castle.
“Ciara,” Magnus called out after her, but she didn’t turn back.
* * *
“Maybe it’s better to just keep me distance,” Magnus muttered to himself as he watched Ciara’s retreating figure.
He couldn’t help the way his eyes tracked her until she disappeared completely from sight.
His body ached to chase after her and drag her back towards him, back into his arms and on his lap. But she had practically fled from him after their kiss. The moment she had broken their kiss, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
Magnus had been left sitting on the blanket alone, stunned. For a beat, he had just blinked at the space Ciara had occupied only seconds before. The outline of her body had seemed so clear in his mind still. He had been unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing, or rather what they were no longer seeing.
Had he imagined her? Because as quickly as they’d come together, she’d vanished like smoke into the night. His entire world had shifted towards this woman as they kissed, and she had just disappeared.
He had snapped out of his thoughts, and as quickly as he could, he’d cleaned up the picnic and raced after her. Which had only brought him here, to that pseudo-confrontation with Ewan and Ciara slipping through his fingers once more.
She was finally fully out of sight, safe from him.
If that was what she wished, well, Magnus would respect it. He would watch her and think of her lips, which would be impossible to avoid after tonight, but he wouldn’t touch her again. Not unless she begged him. Maybe someday, she would want him like that again, but he wouldn’t pressure her.
She would still be here, in his castle, and watching her every day would be the sweetest kind of torture. Nothing less than what he deserved, though, for sending her running. It would be his silent punishment. He would watch her every day and never touch her.
What happened?
Magnus had already replayed every second of their kiss as he ran after her, and he was sure he would continue to do so. But he didn’t understand where it had gone wrong, where her passion had turned sour. At what point did those sweet, little moans become something else? Had he misread her interest entirely?
He wanted to regret the kiss, regret that it had so obviously pushed Ciara away, but if that was his one chance to taste her, well then, he was selfishly glad he took it.
Besides, he didn’t think he could ever regret kissing Ciara. Not with the way her lips had felt against his, as if everything had righted itself at that moment.
If he’d hurt her in some way, though, he didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself. He knew what his blood was capable of—his father had demonstrated that quite clearly. And that same evil lived inside him, so maybe the lass was right to run from him.
“Did somethin’ happen?” Ewan asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Magnus had completely forgotten the other man was standing there. Why was he always standing there? Did he need to witness each embarrassing moment of the day?
Magnus felt his face flushing once more and hoped that the darkness of the night would cover it up.
Did somethin’ happen?
