Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her skirt, an angry voice that sounded a lot like her father’s telling her everything that would go wrong if she did. Finally, she settled on murmuring, “If I tell ye and ye daenae send me back…” She swallowed hard, blinking away the mistiness that had begun to gather along her lash line. “… then it is ye who will be in danger.”
Me father’s become so underhanded to ensure his legacy carries on. I cannae predict what he’ll do.
Darragh said nothing but simply looked at her. He was waiting for an explanation, but she couldn’t give it. Not like this, at least. She turned her back on him, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“Cannae ye see?” she asked, her voice thick with more emotions than she could possibly name. “There is nae answer I can give ye that doesnae ruin someone.”
* * *
The words hit like a well-aimed punch. Amelia stared at the opposite wall, her fear slipping through, no longer tempered by anger. Her behavior, the constant attempts at escape, was her way of protecting not only herself but everyone around her.
Slowly, he took one measured step toward her. Then another. She stayed where she was, still standing her ground despite the way her fists trembled at her side. Her shoulders stiffened, but she showed no other signs of resistance.
Two strides later, he was standing directly behind her. An inch closer, and his chest would be pressed against her back the same way it was every time he rode with her. He leaned in, keeping a careful distance between the two of them.
“Amelia,” he said, his voice low. When she didn’t respond, he leaned in even closer, his lips nearly touching her neck. “Amelia.”
A long, shuddering breath slipped past her lips. Her head turned ever so slightly, almost as if she was presenting the milky expanse of skin to him. He didn’t think she even realized what she was doing.
“Ye’re nae a prisoner in me keep, Amelia,” he said, his words making a slight shudder run through her. Still, she didn’t pull away. “And I swear nae one will harm ye under me roof.”
She hesitated for a beat, then, her voice even softer than before, she said, “I overheard ye speakin’ with yer man-at-arms at the seamstress.” She drew in another deep, fortifying breath. “Ye said ye would send me back to where I came from.”
Darragh stilled, remembering the open door, the woman going in and out of the shop. He softened as he said, “Then ye only heard the last of it. I said I would find where ye belonged, so I could see ye safe. Not so I could hand ye back to someone who would harm ye.”
He turned her around, following her when she took a step back toward the table. When she didn’t pull away further, he reachedup, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His hand came to a rest on her shoulder, his thumb resting against her rapidly beating pulse.
“I willnae give ye to anyone who doesnae deserve ye,” he said, his careful touch drifting down the line of her neck.
Possessed by feelings he’d been trying to ignore since he saw her in the light at the seamstress’s shop, he grabbed her hand. Slowly, his eyes locked on her face, he brought her wrist to his lips. He pressed a reverent kiss there. At her sharp intake of breath, he placed another on her palm.
Amelia’s body relaxed with her next exhale, the tension she’d been carrying since he met her melting away. He leaned in, his face near her neck. When she tilted her head to the side, he kissed her there, too.
“Darragh,” she murmured breathlessly.
The sound of his name on her lips, whispered like a prayer, snapped something in him. He put his hands on her hips, guiding her back toward the table. His face was still buried in her neck when he picked her up, settling her on the edge.
He shifted quickly, moving away from the warmth and her lavender scent. His mouth came down on hers with desperate hunger. She kissed him back, and his hands drifted up higher, his arms coming around her torso.
The sharp, pained gasp she let out snapped him from the spell. He let go of her, stepping away as if she’d burned him. There was nothing he could do to hide the shock on his face.
“Gods… I hurt ye,” he muttered, horrified that he’d lost control of himself for even a single minute.
“No—” she said quickly, her breath uneven. She barely hid the wince that came each time she pulled air into her lungs.
He took another step back, forcing his composure back in place. “It willnae happen again.”
The last thing he saw before he turned around and left the room was Amelia reaching out toward him, a look of wonder on her face. That dangerously tempting expression followed him even after the doors of the great hall shut behind him. She didn’t look like she wanted to run, and that made the thoughts in his head even more complicated.
I swore that I would protect her, that I wouldnae let her be hurt under me watch. That includes pain from me, too.
Chapter Twelve
Amelia woke from her fitful sleep long after dawn had broken. As she pushed herself up, the laughter and conversation from the keep’s residents filtered in through her window. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she slid out of bed.
The only thing she’d been able to think about since supper last night was the way that Darragh’s lips had felt against hers and the gentleness of his touch. It was so unexpected, and she was now even more confused about this man. Her mind had screamed at her to push him away, yet her body had arched into him. Even after he’d left the room, something primal had longed to follow him and demand they continue.
“I daenae even recognize meself,” she scoffed under her breath, mindful of the guards outside her door. “Perhaps I’m goin’ mad. I must be. Nay person is meant to be caged for so long.”
