Page 18 of When the Laird Claims
I want him.
The thought registering was enough to bring her to her senses, and she added pressure against his chest with one hand, increasing the distance between them slightly. To her surprise, Arran stepped back easily, his green eyes searching her face for something that she did not know. Everywhere that he had touched her felt overly warm, and the room itself was dizzying.
What have I just done?
“Forgive me,” Arran muttered with a softness that she did not know his voice could possess. She could not even bring herself to move as he took another step back and away from her. “Please get some rest, Victoria.”
There was no time even to try to think of a reply, or to ask him to stop, or to kiss her again, before he left the room.
8
There was no telling when sleep finally came for Victoria. She did not sleep well, but she knew that she must have rested at least a little bit because one moment the sky was dark, and the next the sun was filling the room with a warm light through the small window in their room. Somebody had rekindled the fire at some point in the night, and she had been oblivious to that part, too, it would seem.
“Arran?” she croaked, sitting up.
She was alone in the room, his place by the door abandoned.
Did he light the fire? Is he coming back?
Her face was still sore from crying, her lips still tingling from where the Laird had kissed her… and there was a warmth between her thighs that said she must have been thinking about that kiss for far longer than she realized. Dreaming of it.
What is that?She turned her wrists over, noting the fresh layer of cream. It had dried some, but there was more there than she had applied.
“Arran?” she called a little louder.
She attempted to sit more upright, her body sorer than she anticipated from the long ride yesterday. The blankets felt heavier on her legs… oh, but it was not blankets after all.
A dress was resting on top of the bedding where her legs had just been. She could not help smiling at his thoughtfulness. She supposed that if he needed to prove his point about being a man of his word, this was a very good step in the right direction for that. But it was strange to her how a man could be so sweet and such a brute at the same time.
It was a very pretty dress, shades of tan and brown in a thicker material that would be best suited for traveling. Elements of green throughout the pattern reminded her of Arran’s eyes. Had he chosen this color on purpose? Did he think that it would just look best on her? Perhaps it was just the first thing that he had found, and she was giving him entirely too much credit? She did not wish to think that this was the case.
Eyeing the door, she tiptoed closer to it, pressing her ear against the wood and listening for signs of life. All the noise seemed to be coming from downstairs. Though there was no telling if it was breakfast or lunch that they were having. Her stomach growled uncomfortably, and she was forced to realize that she had missed dinner the night before. In all the excitement and stress,she had not eaten any of the stew that the innkeeper’s wife had brought up.
But at least it was unlikely that she would be interrupted while changing at this rate. Slowly, she undressed, exchanging Arran’s light shirt for the weight of the dress, taking her time.
I could run. This might be my chance.It was unlikely that she could slip past the stairs without being noticed; that was true, but perhaps she could slip from the window? She did not like pain and certainly did not relish the prospect of the fall from this height, but it was unlikely to kill her… at least she assumed so.
If she returned, then she would be stuck with the Earl, which would be awful, but at least she knew that her sister would be safe. If Charles had already returned home and found her missing, then her father’s estate was going to be the very first place that the Earl went looking for her, demanding answers. But her father deserved whatever was coming to him. If she went with Arran’s plan and allowed him to take her to Scotland… she would be responsible for a man’s death, and her family’s name and reputation would be ruined.
The scandal sheets would relish the story of how a bunch of brutish Scotsmen kidnapped me on my wedding day. Although, I do wonder what they would say about my betrothed fleeing like the coward he is.Still, Charles would not suffer. Men usually emerged from scandals unscathed. He would, of course, play the victim and rally as many men behind him as he could muster. Though that part of the plan troubled her the least. She did notthink that he would be able to hold a sword in Arran’s presence. Or any of Arran’s men, for that matter.
In either case, one thing was certain—she should not kiss the handsome highlander again. He was her kidnapper, for god’s sake!
Yet, she found herself bringing her fingers up to her lips, pressing against the soft pad of her full bottom lip and remembering what it felt like, the rush that it had given her. There was no way that she would be able to deny that. At least not to herself. Out loud, she would say whatever it was that she needed to say.
It was almost worth being kidnapped for,she mused, smiling at the vivid memory of his mouth on hers, his body hard against hers, the urgency of it.
The door opened, and Victoria nearly jumped out of her skin. She felt as if she had been caught red-handed doing something highly inappropriate and could not seem to steady the way that her heart thudded erratically against her ribcage.
“Ah, ye are awake. Good, the dress fits,” Arran said bluntly, looking anywhere but where she was standing.
Was he avoiding her? It almost made her think that she had dreamt the whole thing. There was something about his entire demeanor that hinted that he was not the same man now that he had been last night. But perhaps she was reading too much into it. What was she expecting—that he would come in here andscoop her up into his arms? Had she not just told herself that this was something that could not be allowed to happen?
He placed a small knapsack on the bed. Though it was then that she noted he was wearing a wholly different shirt under his tartan. He scooped up the one that he had allowed her to borrow and wadded it up in his hands.
“There’s somethin’ for ye to eat in there. We have time for ye to have some tea before we leave, but we need to get movin’ as soon as possible.”
Right. She supposed that made more sense than handling this like the exchange that it was. She could see it for that now, even if it did not settle right within her bones.
