“When I return,” he said, stepping in even closer, forcing her to tilt her head up to keep looking at him, “we will finish what we began in the attic.”
Darragh’s promise was warm and sure, and he watched as a shudder worked its way through Amelia’s body. Her breath stuttered, and her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, fanning her impossibly long lashes against her cheeks. A sympathetic reaction slipped through his own form, the heat of it gathering in his groin.
There was something below it, too, that he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was gone much too quickly for him to decipher it, but it left him feeling as though there was something wrong. Perhaps not with her but with the day. With the situation.
Amela took a deep, steady breath, her chest expanding with it, expelling the last of whatever uncertainty he’d picked up on. Then, as she exhaled, she smiled and said, “Win yer hunt first, Me Laird.”
* * *
Darragh’s gaze was heavy on her, adding to the pressure that was collecting between her legs. She didn’t think the slickness there was just because of the heat or the low buzz of anxiety. The exposure that was fueling her fear seemed to only make her reactions to his proximity sharper.
She was sure he was going to say something else. Whatever was growing between them felt much too large to ignore any longer. Already, he’d promisedmore, and she was done denying her own desires.
A horn sounded, followed by another. They blared over the conversations and laughter, harmonizing as they announced the imminent beginning of the great hunt. As the horns faded, the creaking of leather filled the space in the air they left.
Riders around them began to move, and Darragh mounted his mare in a smooth, practiced motion. It was impressive, but Amelia was too busy looking for the nearest escape route. She looked up at him, her eyes wide as she poised herself to leave.
Above her, Darragh watched. The understanding that flashed across his features when he realized what she was doing didn’t grate at her the way it once would have. Instead, embarrassment flooded her system.
“Stay inside the walls,” he said, his voice low but somehow carrying over the growing rumble.
“Aye,” she said solemnly.
They held each other’s gazes for another long moment. Then, as the pandemonium became too much for her to bear, she turned away. More carefully than she thought she was capable of, she slipped through the moving horses, somehow managing to keep from getting stomped on in the process.
Tucking herself against the wall, Amelia took deep, steadying breaths. As she watched the men begin their surge through the gates, she brought her hand to her chest. The fluttering there wasn’t only because of her mad dash here, nor the proximity to such violent, masculine energy. No, her mind seemed to be stuck on the explosive energy she’d just felt.
She longed to blame the intensity of the prior moment on her fear, but she was well past that. How often before had she come away from him with her heart racing? Had she not allowed him to touch her in her most intimate places?
I’d be a dobber to pretend there isnae somethin’ about Darragh that makes me heart race. And I’m too weak to resist it.
As her breath slowly returned, Darragh led the second wave of riders through the gates. He rode his horse with the same ease that he had when they’d gone beyond the walls together. The men followed him with the kind of trust that only competent leaders could command. It wasn’t something asked for but earned.
Even that mare of his trusts him with everythin’ she has.
She kept her gaze on him, letting her hand drop to her side. Even as more riders exited the walls, Darragh was the only thing she saw. The distance did nothing to diminish his strength, his silhouette looking like something in an exaggerated painting rather than a real-life man. It was enchanting, and letting herselffeelcloser to freedom than anything else had.
The courtyard cleared out quickly, and the quiet they left in their wake was deafening. She could hear the way her heart skipped a beat. Her breaths were loud in her eardrums, too.
Darragh’s figure finally crested the hill and was swallowed by the darkness of the tree line. A full-body shiver ran through her when she closed her eyes, and his image was still burned into her eyelids. The memory of his voice, his lips…
I shouldnae be thinkin’ like this in broad daylight.
It took her a significant effort to get herself together. No longer hot under her collar nor suspiciously sweaty places she shouldn’t mention in mixed company, she turned around. She’d done what she’d been asked, and she’d been given something to look forward to.
The castle will be quiet for the rest of the day.
Lifting her head away from the path in front of her, she saw a rider lingering in the courtyard. The staff seemed unbothered by his presence, but something about his form felt familiar. Far too familiar.
Silver hair caught the sunlight as he dismounted with controlled movements. She realized as she took a step closer that his eyes were fixed on her. Cold recognition flashed in his sharp gray eyes.
Nay. Nae here. Anywhere but here. Anytime but now.
His gaze narrowed, pinning her in place and sending her back to when she was nothing more than a wee lass. Her knees shook now, the same way they had then. Only this time, she wasn’t being scolded for breaking a vase nor ignoring a rule. Whatever was coming, it was so much worse, and she had no one to protect her.
“Well now,” he called, his tone sending icy tendrils of terror through her. She tried to make her foot move, but she couldn’t, not whenhewas stepping ever closer. The triumph in his voice when he spoke again was enough to make her stomach turn. “If it isnae Amelia Mackenzie.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
