The wine arrived,rich and smooth on her tongue. As fine as the wine at the castle. It warmed her blood and loosened the tight coil of anxiety in her chest.
“I never imagined sucha life was possible for someone like me,” she admitted. “A laird’s wife… it seems like somethin’ out of a fairytale.”
“Ye underestimate yerself, lass,”Hector muttered, his voice rough.
They were only a few words,but coming from Hector, they felt like a compliment that sent heat rushing to her cheeks.
When hadanyone ever spoken to her with such respect, such genuine admiration?
Their meal arrived—tenderbeef, roasted vegetables, bread still warm from the oven. As they ate, the conversation flowed more easily than it ever had. Hector told her stories of his childhood, of learning to ride and fight alongside his father. She shared memories of traveling with her own father, of the different villages they’d visited.
“Ye should laugh more,”Hector said suddenly, making her realize she’d been laughing—truly laughing—for the first time since her rescue.
The observation made her self-conscious,but also strangely pleased.
“I’d forgottenwhat it felt like,” she confessed. “To laugh without fear.”
Lightning flashed outside the window,followed by a closer rumble of thunder. The first drops of rain began pattering against the glass.
“What frightensye most about our marriage?” Hector asked, leaning forward slightly.
The candlelight castshadows across his strong features, making him look both dangerous and beautiful.
The wine made her honest.“That I’ll disappoint ye. That the clan will see through me and ken that I dinnae belong. That ye’ll regret yer choice.”
“I willnae,”he declared with such fierce certainty that her breath caught. “And does the marriage bed frighten ye?”
Heat explodedthrough her at his blunt question.
“I…”She took another sip of wine, gathering her courage. “I ken little of such things. Only what I overheard at the tavern, and most of that was crude talk from drunken men.”
His eyes darkened.“It doesnae have to be crude, Gabriella. Between husband and wife, it can be… beautiful.”
The way he said it,low and intimate, made her stomach flutter with unfamiliar sensations. She found herself leaning forward as well, drawn by the magnetic pull of his presence.
“How do ye ken?”she whispered.
“Because I’ve waited long enoughto ken the difference between takin’ and givin’,” he replied, his gaze dropping to her lips.
The storm was intensifying outside,rain now lashing against the windows with increasing force. But Gabriella barely noticed, lost in the spell of his words, the heat in his eyes, the wine singing through her veins.
A brilliant flashof lightning illuminated the tavern, followed immediately by a crack of thunder that shook the windows. The rain had become a torrent, drumming against the roof with savage intensity.
“We cannae travel in this weather,”Hector said, though something in his tone suggested satisfaction rather than disappointment. “The mountain paths will be treacherous.”
Gabriella’s pulsequickened as she realized what he was suggesting. “Surely it will pass soon?”
Another lightning strike,closer this time, answered her question. The storm was worsening, not abating.
Hector glanced toward the windows,where rain lashed against the glass with increasing fury. “How bad are the roads?” he called to the tavern keeper.
The silver-haired manapproached their table with concerned glances. “They’re near impassable now. Several other travelers have been forced to take rooms for the night. I fear the roads are becomin’ impassable.”
“Then we’ll needaccommodation as well,” Hector replied smoothly. “Yer finest room.”
“Of course,Me Laird! We have only one available. The bridal suite—our most luxurious chamber, with a fine view and a warm fire already crackling.”
The bridal suite.
