“Mistress, may I come in?”
All the breath left Saerla in a rush. It felt precisely like she’d been struck in the gut during a battle and she could not speak.
Nor did she move, digging her fingers into the oaken door as if she’d score it. Leave her mark. For an instant her life reeled before her eyes, all the glorious days leading to this one moment. The two paths offered by destiny lying before her. Shut the door. Allow him in.
The moment seemed to stretch out forever while she sought words that would not come.
He spoke before she could in, a harsh whisper. “I should no’ be here. Word has got out that I ha’ been seen coming awa’ fro’ yer door—”
“Aye.”
“Yer sister told ye?”
“Aye.” Was it all she could say? Saerla closed her eyes for an instant, clinging to the door. “I should send ye awa’.”
“Aye. Ye should.” She counted her heartbeats up to ten. “Will ye?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. Monster. Destroyer. A danger to her people and her peace of mind. The man who had worshiped her in his arms.
If she shut the door upon him now, it would be done. He would not appear here again. She need only shut the door.
Her nails dug more deeply into the wood of the panel. Her bare toes curled on the stone of the floor.
“Saerla.” He whispered it, the voice she heard in her ear when he breached her and made her complete. The plea he gave to her when he knelt at her feet. The music she heard in her dreams.
Who was he? That man, or the one who would wrest away the glen she loved?
Sometimes—sometimes a woman had to act on faith.
She swung wide the door.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Rory had beensure she would deny him. He told himself—had told himself repeatedly—that it was her right. She could send him away if she thought it best.
The expression he saw in her eyes when she opened the door declared she thought it best.
And aye, he had prepared himself for the humiliation of it. The frustration. The disappointment. He’d prepared to commit himself to the bleak pit of despair that awaited should she reject him. One so deep he might never crawl up and out of it again.
It might be for the best, if she rejected him. If it ended here. The desire. The madness. He could answer those looks his men had started tossing at him. Get back to the task of conquest.
But she stood there on her little, bare feet with her eyes full of mist and considered him. He could see that, feel it.
Was he worthy of Saerla MacBeith?
Nay, not by a long way. His mind knew that. His heart…
His heart whispered,Please, lass. Please let me in.
As if she’d heard his heart, she suddenly drew wide the panel and did invite him in.
He strode into the chamber that was no longer wholly his own. If she left here, if she went from him, he would not be able to use this place. He would have to find other lodging.
He turned and faced her even as she carefully shut the door behind him. Words needed to be said. Decisions must be made.
He wanted only to hold her.
“Saerla.”
