“Get dressed,”he commanded, cutting her off.
His gaze swept over her,noting the fabric of the nightgown the servants had found for her. Like the other garments she’d been given, it was serviceable but far from befitting a woman staying in the Laird’s wing.
“We leave in fifteen minutes.”
She blinked up at him,confusion plain on her face. “Leave? Where are we goin’?”
“To the village.Ye cannae continue wearin’ the same clothes I got ye when ye first arrived at the castle. I willnae have ye keep wearin’ just a few dresses in me home.” He crossed his arms, planting his feet squarely in the corridor. “Ye need proper clothin’.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes,followed swiftly by apprehension. “But I dinnae need anythin’.”
“This isnae a request, lass,”he said, his tone brooking no argument. “Fifteen minutes. Wear the blue dress ye had on before.”
Without waiting for a response,he turned on his heel and closed the door. He ignored the memory of their kiss that had haunted him these past days—the way her soft lips had parted beneath his, the sweet taste of her mouth, how she’d melted against him with such eager surrender. The memory of her breathy moans, the way her fingers had tangled in his hair, how perfectly her curves had molded to his harder frame.
Most torturous ofall was remembering the heat that had blazed between them, the way she’d pressed her hips against his, innocent yet instinctively seeking more.
The phantom feelof her body beneath his hands still burned through him at the most inconvenient moments, leaving him aching with want and the unexpected urge to see her dressed as befitted her beauty.
Hector strodeacross the courtyard toward the stables, his jaw clenched as he fought with himself over his true motivations.
I’m being practical.This is all simply a matter of clan dignity.
The lass would be seenby his people, and it wouldn’t do for her to appear as an unbefitting guest at the castle. His reputation as a laird demanded that all under his protection be properly cared for.
But even ashe rehearsed these reasonable justifications, a darker truth whispered in the back of his mind. There was something primitively satisfying about the thought of clothing her in garments he had chosen, fabrics he had paid for. Of seeing her draped in silks and velvets that proclaimed, without words, that she was under his protection—his to provide for, his to?—
Nay.
He dismissedthe thought before it could form fully. This was about propriety, nothing more. He refused to examine the possessive heat that coiled in his chest at the image of Gabriella adorned in finery that bore the subtle mark of his claim.
Noah waitedat the castle entrance, already seated atop his horse and ready. He gave a respectful nod as Hector approached. “I thought it best to accompany ye, Me Laird. There’ve been reports of strangers in the area.”
Hector nodded,appreciating Noah’s foresight. The men hunting Gabriella might still be searching for her, and he wouldn’t risk her safety.
“I will be ridin’with the lass for her own protection,” Hector said, laying a hand on his stallion’s muscular neck.
Noah’s mouthtwitched with the hint of a smile. “As ye wish, Me Laird.”
Hector narrowedhis eyes at his friend’s barely concealed amusement. “Have ye somethin’ to say, Noah?”
“Nae at all,”Noah replied innocently, though his eyes held a knowing gleam. “Just observin’ that ye seem particularly invested in the lass’s safety.”
Before Hector could delivera suitable retort, he caught sight of Gabriella approaching hesitantly from the castle. The blue dress he’d specified outlined her figure, even as it hung loosely on her still-too-thin hips. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid, highlighting her delicate bone structure.
“Ye didnae take too long,”he commented, pleased despite himself. Punctuality was a quality he valued.
Her eyes darted nervouslyto Noah, and she stopped several paces away, almost shrinking back toward the castle.
Hector observedthe way she angled her body, as if trying to keep him between herself and Noah. The wariness in her stance reminded him of what she’d endured. She still didn’t trust men—and with good reason.
“Ye remember Noah, lass?”Hector asked, gesturing toward his man-at-arms. “Noah’s me right hand and most trusted man. He’ll be accompanyin’ us as protection.”
Noah executed a bow,keeping his distance. “Me Lady.”
Gabriella inclinedher head slightly but didn’t speak. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her skirts.
“Ye have nothin’to fear from Noah,” Hector added, his voice low enough so that only she could hear. “He’s sworn to protect everyone under me roof—especially those I’ve vouched for.”
