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“Oh, Lachlan.” And just like that, she was in the shelter of his arms, feeling protected from every harm in this world. She did not shy away from burrowing in his taut heat, inhaling his pine and sandalwood scent.
“When I recalled you crying in the barn, I had this urge to…wipe him from the Earth.” His rage came off in droves.
Her head cricked up to him. “I know.” She patted his biceps trying to calm him. “I know.” Silent communication vibrated between them. “We’ll sort this out.” She smiled faintly.
“No! We’ll eliminate this damned problem,” he said fiercely.
“Yes, but try to keep your head clear,” she coaxed.
“That’s the difficult part.” His head lowered inches more to dive in her eyes.
“You can do it,” she reassured him.
Gradually, the sense of safety gave way to a whole different kind of smelting. Moira made an effort to catch herself before her weakness drove her to do something she should not.
Like invite him to share her bath.
Good gracious! Would she ever stop having these heated thoughts about him?
Disentangling from his alluring body, she put distance between them. “Good night,” she said for lack of anything better.
He nodded before she turned and entered her chamber.
In an old-fashioned night rail and a wrap, Moira watched as the maids removed the tub she had bathed in minutes previously. Gratefulness bloomed in her for the luxury presently provided by the giant located in the next chamber. The maids, the fire wood, even the new tub that had appeared out of nowhere.
There was no delaying it, she would have to face the night ahead despite what the day had dished her.
As the last maid left, ready to close the door, Moira lifted her gaze. The giant stood there starkly handsome in a clean shirt, tartan, and hoses. He dismissed the giggling girls with a wave of his large hand.
“Is anything the matter?” she asked, her eyes gobbling the damp hair falling on his brows, the chiselled jaw sporting an evening stubble framing his sculpted lips. The same she had savoured not twenty-four hours ago. The memory stirred her.
Still standing in the threshold, his fists braced his tapered hips. “I’m not letting you fall asleep alone.” Deep, his voice reverberated in the most secret corners of her.
“What, you think I’m a fragile damsel in distress?” A hint of ludicrousness in her expression.
“No.” His dark gaze bored into hers, too smouldering for comfort. “And that’s the point, you’ve been too strong for too long. You can afford to lean on me for the time being.”
His last expression was the deceptive one. This temporary arrangement was proving to be more than she had bargained for when she had the original bad idea of abducting the McKendrick monument. And she did not want to get used to his presence or his support even if they soothed her in the same measure they tempted every cell in her body. He would leave soon enough to plough his usual fields, so to say.
But she sensed the giant would not budge on this. And she did not want him to if she was honest with herself.
She sighed. “Fine. A few minutes won’t make any difference.”
A step inside, and he closed them in the chamber, increasing the impression of intimacy to the umpteenth degree.
“Good.” He jerked his jaw toward the bed “Tuck yourself in, I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”
Problem being, there were no chairs in her spartan chamber. Only a bed and little else. She slept merely a few hours a night and spent most of her days between the manor duties and the study. Which meant she saw no reason for more furniture here.
“Want me to turn my back?” he asked to her surprise. He was not known for his gentlemanly behaviour, and she still had to remove her wrap before lying down in the sheets.
“I’m not wearing anything beautiful nor luxurious.” He must surely have seen more alluring women wearing lacy things that covered much less.
The look he cast her contained an oddness she did not understand, even preferred not to, in fact. Despite their…interactions, the physical ones, she was a hundred percent certain she would be his last choice should he not be acting as her fake betrothed.
The thought stung.
To disguise it, she opened her wrap to display her very common and unrefined night rail that surely did nothing for him.
