“Good thing there’s a bed in the room right behind us, then,” Arthur said.
She didn’t look at him, opting instead to turn her attention back to her plate. But he didn’t miss the flash of color that danced along her cheeks as they finished their meal.
The moment they were done, Arthur stood up. He told Marissa to go ahead and lie down, then strode out of the room and looked for a maid to clear the table.
Luckily, he found one quickly. He didn’t recognize her, and he assumed she’d been added to the staff in the five years he’d been at war.
The young woman looked up as he approached where she’d been dusting.
“Me Laird,” she greeted, quickly bowing her head.
“Clear these away,” Arthur grunted, his hands waving to indicate the dishes on the table before them.
The girl nodded obediently, her eyes downcast as she began to sweep the dishes into her arms. He waited while the girl did her job, the air filled with the clinking of porcelain as she cleared away the dishes.
It was only when the dishes had been cleared and the maid had left the room that Arthur turned to face the door to the bedchamber. He eyed it warily, knowing that she was beyond it, nestled beneath the covers of his bed, and the thought made him want to groan.
The entire time he had been sitting across from Marissa, pressure had begun building within him.
He’d told her that he was not a brute, had assured her that he had no plans to take her before their wedding. And he had no plans to go back on his word.
However, none of that stopped the fact that Arthur was still insanely attracted to her. Seeing Marissa with her wet hair, in nothing but her dressing robe, knowing that soon he would be sharing a bed with her.
It was enough to drive him mad.
As soon as enough time had passed that he had regained some of his control, he walked back toward the room.
Warmth washed over him from the still crackling fire, and it popped merrily as if in greeting. As he stepped across the threshold that separated the actual bedchamber from the sitting room, he was encased in shadow.
Only a bit of light from the flames behind him filtered into the room, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.
Marissa was lying on her back, her eyes shining in the dim firelight as she watched him.
“The bed is quite large,” she mused.
Arthur grunted in agreement. Without giving it much thought, he reached down and tugged his linen shirt over his head, baring his torso.
Marissa gasped. “What in the Lord’s name are ye doin’?” she cried. “Put that back on!”
But Arthur did not put his shirt back on. Instead, he merely met her eyes and smirked.
“Did ye nae hear me?” Marissa cried. “Put yer shirt back on right now!”
She recalled his words when he’d promised that he would not do anything until she was begging him. She hadn’t doubted them up until that moment. But now, as an amused and feral grin spread across Arthur’s face, Marissa could no longer be certain.
“I’ll nae put clothes on to go to sleep, wee kitten.” His eyes danced with each word. “I’ve never been able to sleep with clothes on me body, and I’ll nae be changin’ that because we’re sharin’ a bed.”
Marissa sputtered. “But ye promised ye wouldnae do anythin’ until I begged. And I am nae beggin’. In fact, the only thing I’m beggin’ for is for ye to put yer damned clothes back on.”
He paused, and for a moment, Marissa’s heart felt lighter. Would he listen to her? Was he going to tug his shirt back over his head and make her feel a little more comfortable?
Apparently, she had no such luck. Her soon-to-be husband simply shook his head.
“I intend to keep me promise,” Arthur said, his deep voice reverberating through the room. “Just because I’ll be sleepin’ next to ye, doesnae mean I’ll be puttin’ me hands on ye. It’ll all be alright, kitten.”
He’d called her that name thrice in a row, but it had only just registered.
Marissa shook her head, prepared to argue back.
