She turned toward the stream, dipping her fingers into the cool water. “It is peaceful here,” she said.
James stepped beside her, watching the way the light danced across her hair. “Aye,” he said. “It is.”
She glanced at him, a hint of mischief returning to her expression.
“Ye bring all yer betrothed here?” she asked.
He gave her a dry look. “Ye are the only one who tests me patience so thoroughly,” he said.
She laughed softly. “Then I shall take that as a compliment.”
They walked a little further along the bank, their steps unhurried. Eloise turned to say something more, but her foot caught on a loose stone.
“Oh!” she gasped as she stumbled forward.
James reacted instinctively, reaching for her, but the motion pulled him off balance as well. They went down together, the grass soft beneath them as he landed over her, bracing himself just in time to avoid crushing her. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Eloise’s breath came quick beneath him, her eyes wide before softening as they met his.
James stilled, his hands planted on either side of her, his body hovering just above hers. He became acutely aware of everything, the warmth of her beneath him, the rise and fall of her full bosom, the faint scent of her skin.
His gaze dropped briefly, tracing the line of her collarbone, the gentle curve of her breasts, before he forced himself to look back at her face.
“Are ye hurt?” he asked, though his voice had lowered to a lusty whisper.
“Nay,” she whispered. “Are ye?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nay,” he said.
He watched her lips part slightly, and his gaze followed without permission. He leaned closer before he could stop himself, drawn by her. For a moment, he nearly closed the distance.
Then it struck him, sharp and sudden, the danger of it, the truth of what he risked.
This isnae real. She is nae mine to touch so.
With a sharp breath, he pulled back abruptly, the tension snapping like a drawn bowstring released. He pushed himself up at once, stepping away as though distance alone could steady him.
“Ye should watch yer step,” he said, his tone rougher now.
Eloise blinked, the moment broken, though something lingered in her gaze.
He reached down and offered her his hand, more carefully this time.
“Up,” he said.
She accepted it, rising slowly. “Thank ye,” she said.
He released her quickly, turning back toward the horses. “We should return,” he said.
“Aye,” she replied softly.
The ride back was quieter, the air between them changed in ways neither spoke of. James kept his gaze forward, though every so often it flickered toward her against his will. He could still feel the ghost of her beneath him, the warmth, the closeness. It stirred something restless, something boiling in his blood. He tightened his grip on the reins. His strong member stirred beneath his kilt.
“Blasted,” he muttered under his breath.
At the gates of Calibroch, he dismounted once more, helping her down with measured restraint this time.
“We’ve returned,” he said unnecessarily.
