— No, he says simply. I’m afraid we both might confuse the forced intimacy of our situation with something deeper. And I’m even more afraid… that it’s not confusion at all.
That answer disarms me completely. For a man known for emotional restraint, Callum has just shown remarkable vulnerability.
— So what do you suggest? I ask quietly.
— I suggest we keep an open mind. Take the time to really get to know each other—beyond the terms of our contract. And allow ourselves to see where this goes, without putting too much pressure on it.
— That’s surprisingly reasonable, I admit. And very measured for someone who just kissed me like his life depended on it.
He smiles—and that smile transforms his entire face, making him look younger, more open… and dangerously attractive.
— I’m capable of both passion and reason, Jane Carter-McGregor. That’s what makes me such a complex and fascinating Scotsman.
— And modest, too, I tease.
CHAPTER 17
CALLUM
There are moments in life when you wonder how you ended up here. For instance, right now, I’m lying in bed, stiff as a board, next to my brand-new wife—who is pretending to be asleep—in a room so quiet you could hear a pin drop… or, in my case, the deafening thud of my own heartbeat.
The wedding reception ended barely an hour ago. A perfectly orchestrated evening, exactly as expected with my grandmother in charge. Delicious food, heartfelt speeches—including Ewan’s particularly mortifying one, where he saw fit to recount the story of my first drunken disaster at sixteen—and plenty of dancing. Jane was radiant all night, charming the guests with her wit and ease, dancing the Scottish reel with a grace that made it seem like she’d been doing it her entire life, even though I know for a fact she mostly learned how to avoid kilts during her lessons.
And now, here we are. Husband and wife. Legally bound. Sharing the same bed on our wedding night.
Our wedding night, which—according to our contract—absolutely does not involve consummating the marriage. And yet, we kissed. A certain part of my anatomy is very aware of that fact.
Jane shifts slightly beside me, her light perfume drifting through the space between us. She’s wearing a silk pajama set—simple, elegant—that stands in stark contrast to my usual T-shirt and flannel pants. I briefly considered investing in something more appropriate for the occasion, but that would have seemed… presumptuous.
Since we slipped into this king-size bed exactly twenty-seven minutes ago—yes, I’m counting—we’ve maintained a careful distance between our bodies. Not so close as to suggest inappropriate intentions, not so far as to feel hostile. A perfectly calculated, professionally appropriate distance.
Professionally appropriate. On a wedding night.
The absurdity of it would probably hit me if I weren’t so aware of every tiny movement she makes, of the rhythm of her breathing—which absolutely gives away the fact that she’s awake. And it’s not like we didn’t kiss before getting into bed. We just quickly agreed it wouldn’t be appropriate to go any further. Which is how we ended up like this—lying rigidly apart in our marital bed.
— You’re not asleep, I say at last, unable to endure the silence any longer.
— Neither are you, she replies immediately, confirming what I already knew.
— I thought you’d fall asleep instantly after everything…
— And I thought you’d be knocked out by all the whisky your cousin Lachlan forced on you.
I can’t help but smile in the dark.
— Lachlan tried, but I’ve built up a tolerance after years of enduring his invented traditions.
— Unlike me, Jane sighs. I think I accepted every drink offered to me tonight. It’s a miracle I can still form coherent sentences.
— You were remarkable tonight, I admit softly.
Despite myself, my mind flashes back to our kisses—and my body reacts.
— Even when I tripped during the traditional dance and almost took your grandmother down with me?
— Especially then. The look of pure terror on your face was priceless.
Jane laughs, a soft, melodic sound in the darkness.
