“What kind of danger?”she whispered, hardly recognizing her own voice.
Hector’s eyestrailed down until they stopped at the valley between her breasts. Gabriella gasped, thinking he might reachfor her. Instead, his jaw tightened, and he stepped back, his expression shuttering.
“Go back to yer chambers, Gabriella,”he ordered, his tone almost too casual, belied by the tension in his shoulders. “And dinnae wander around dressed like that again. Unless ye want me to ravish ye.”
Without waiting for her response,he turned on his heel and went back to his room, the door closing with a decisive thud behind him.
10
“Lad,” Hector called to the stable boy, “go to Lady Gabriella’s chambers and inform her that there will be nay ridin’ lesson today. Tell her I have clan business to attend to.”
The boy noddedand scurried off.
Hector stoodin the training yard, his arms crossed as he surveyed the morning mist lifting from the hills beyond.
Better to avoidher entirely than risk a repeat of last night’s encounter.
God’s blood,he could have taken her right there against the stone wall. The way her body had responded to his nearness, the slight parting of her lips—she had been his for the taking. Any other lass and he wouldn’t have hesitated.
Hector rana hand through his hair, frustration tightening his jaw. The women he’d bedded before Caitlyn, and since her betrayal, had been willing, experienced, and—most importantly—temporary. They’d known the rules of the game as well as he did. A night of mutual pleasure, perhaps two, then a clean parting with no expectations.
But Gabriella…she was different. Innocent despite everything she’d endured. The huntsmen had planned to use her body with no regard for her spirit. If he took her now, knowing she was bound for France in less than a month, wouldn’t he be guilty of the same callousness? A different cage, but a cage nonetheless.
“I’m nae one of them,”he muttered to himself, turning toward the castle.
The lass deserved betterthan to be another conquest, another woman he’d taken and walked away from.
Hours later,Hector strode down the corridor to his private study. The meeting with his steward and man-at-arms had been productive but tedious—tallying winter stores, assessing which cottages needed repairs before the cold set in, and planning patrols along the borders.
As he passedthe library door, a soft laugh caught his attention. He paused, finding himself drawn toward the sound.
Gabriella satin one of the high-back chairs near the window, a heavy tome open on her lap. Sunlight streamed through the leaded glass, causing her brown waves to twinkle. She wore a simple, forest-green dress, practical but no less flattering. Her finger traced a line on the page as she read, a slight smile playing on her lips.
Hector hesitated at the threshold,suddenly aware that he was intruding on a private moment. Then, as if sensing his presence, she looked up.
“Laird McCulloch,”she said, starting to rise.
“Stay seated,”he urged, entering the room. “I didnae mean to disturb ye.”
“Ye’re nae disturbin’me.” She settled back, marking her place with a slender finger. “I thought ye had clan business today.”
“Finished earlier than expected.”He gestured to the book. “What are ye readin’ that brings such a smile to yer face?”
She glanced down,a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Highland folklore. Tales of kelpies and selkies. Me faither used to tell me similar stories when I was small.”
Curiosity piqued,Hector set his documents on a nearby table and took the seat opposite her. “Which tale were ye readin’ just now?”
“The one aboutthe laird who fell in love with a selkie.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “He stole her sealskin so she couldnae return to the sea.”
“Ah, that one.”Hector nodded. “Me maither told it differently. In her version, the selkie chooses to stay, even when she finds her skin again.”
“That’snae how most tales go,” Gabriella said, leaning forward slightly. “Usually, the selkie finds her skin and abandons her human family without a backward glance.”
“Perhaps me maither preferred happier endings.”
“And do ye?Prefer happy endings, I mean,” she asked, her voice soft but steady.
Hector studied her face—theearnestness in her blue eyes, the slight tilt of her head. “I’m a practical man. I believe in makin’ the best of what life gives ye, nae wishin’ for fairytales.”
