She stood at the vanity, her hands braced against the wood. Her reflection was a stranger. Flushed, undone, her pulse still visible in the hollow of her throat. She didn't recognize the woman in the glass.
Four nights left.
She stared at her own trembling fingers. She didn't know whether to dread them or crave them.
Both, she realized. She wanted them both at once.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Scarlett lay sprawled across her bed, her sketchbook open beside her but untouched. Her hair spilled loose around her shoulders, and though the morning sun streamed through the curtains, she didn’t have the will to move. Her body still hummed faintly, every nerve remembering the night before. When she dared glance at the mirror across the room, heat climbed her cheeks, and she turned quickly away.
The door pushed open without a knock, and Katie slipped in, balancing a steaming cup in one hand and a small satchel in the other. “I thought ye’d still be in bed,” she said with a knowing smile. “Mary claims ye’ve barely stirred, so I brought tea to rouse ye.”
Scarlett sat up too quickly, tugging the coverlet around her shoulders. “I slept poorly; that’s all.”
Katie set the cup on the bedside table and perched at the foot of the bed, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Poorly, eh? Strange, whenthe Laird’s chamber is just on the other side of that door.” She tipped her chin toward the heavy wood that divided their rooms. “Tell me, did he pay ye a visit?”
Scarlett’s hands fumbled with the blanket, nearly upsetting the tea. “Katie!”
Katie’s grin only widened. “Och, I’ve hit the mark. That blush could light the whole hall.” She crossed her arms, trying and failing to look serious. “So, well then? Did he?”
Scarlett huffed, setting her parchment down. “Aye. He came.”
Katie squealed, clapping a hand over her mouth to smother it. “Saints above, and here I thought he’d keep brooding at ye for another fortnight.”
Scarlett turned back to her parchment, pretending her drawings demanded her full attention. “It wasn’t–” She faltered, biting her lip. “It wasn’t what ye’re imagining.”
Katie leaned forward, eyes alight. “Then tell me. What was it?”
Scarlett swallowed hard, the heat creeping higher on her neck. “He said it was one of his nights.”
“And?” Katie prompted, impatient.
Scarlett twisted the brush in her lap. “And… he made me feel things I didnae think possible.”
Katie’s mouth dropped open then curved into a wicked grin. “Did he now? The cold Laird’s got heat after all.”
“Katie, hush!” Scarlett hissed, glancing at the door as though Robert might stride in at that very moment.
Katie ignored her, bouncing on the mattress like a girl half her age. “I knew it! There’s fire in that man. I could see it in the way he looks at ye.”
Scarlett’s throat tightened. “He didnae take me if that’s what ye’re prattling at. He pleased me, but he left before I could…” Her words dwindled to a whisper.
Katie blinked then gave a low whistle. “So he touched ye but wouldnae let ye touch him back? Saints preserve us, that man’s a riddle.”
If he needs an heir so soon, then why did he nae take me?
Scarlett’s voice came softer. “He reminded me of his rule.”
Katie tilted her head. “Rule?” “Aye. That I mustn’t fall for him.”
For once, Katie’s smile dimmed. “Och, Scarlett…”
Scarlett forced a shaky laugh though her chest ached. “Imagine that. A husband warns his wife not to love him.”
Katie said nothing for a moment. She fussed with the gown draped over the chair, her back to Scarlett.
Scarlett shook her head, voice low. “I felt him, Katie. All of him. He wants me, aye, but he’ll never let it be more than that. And God help me, part of me still wants to break through anyway.”
