Heat rose to her cheeks, but she held his gaze. His hand tightened slightly at her waist, his thumb brushing faintly against her side, sending a shiver through her. Eloise’s breath grew shallow, her eyes dropping briefly to his lips before lifting again.
“James…” she whispered, unsure whether it was a warning or an invitation.
He leaned closer, just enough that she could feel his breath against her skin, the moment stretching thin with tension. Her heart pounded, every part of her aching with the desire for him to kiss her. For a fleeting second, she thought he would.
Then he stilled, something hardening behind his eyes, and he drew back abruptly.
“We should return,” he said, his voice rough with restraint.
Eloise swallowed, the absence of his touch leaving her strangely cold.
“Aye,” she said softly.
Though her heart lingered with what might have been, if he would simply break down his walls.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
James stood in his study with the quill clenched too tightly between his fingers, the parchment before him bearing only half a letter as ink pooled at its tip. The words refused to come, though the duty behind them was clear enough, summon the allied clans, announce the binding, make the lie real enough to withstand scrutiny.
He exhaled sharply and set the quill aside, dragging a hand down his face as frustration coiled in his chest.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, pacing the length of the room like a caged beast.
He had been meant to be a solution to her problem, a temporary shield against Drummond, nothing more. He wouldn't allow another woman to succumb to same fate as his sister, Jenny.
Yet now every thought bent toward her, every decision tangled in the weight of her presence. He reached for the whiskey andpoured a generous measure, tossing it back in a single swallow as though it might burn her words from his mind.
James… we are nae truly betrothed. And I think it best that I leave as planned.
“She was quick to remind me that night meant nothing to her. I must accept that.”
The memory of her beneath his hands rose unbidden, the warmth of her skin, the way she had looked at him with parted lips and unguarded desire as she released for him.
He braced himself against the table, gripping its edge as if to steady the storm within him. “It meant nothing,” he said aloud, though the lie rang hollow in the empty chamber. He had told himself it was only desire, a moment of weakness, yet the truth gnawed at him with relentless certainty.
It had not been only that, and he knew it. He poured another drink, slower this time, and carried it to the window where the cold air struck his face. Outside, the gardens stretched in quiet beauty.
His gaze settled, on Mairead bent over the beds of herbs, clipping stalks with practiced ease. James stilled, something cold and sharp slipping through his thoughts as memory stirred. He saw again a much younger Mairead, laughing beside Jenny, holding up a dark berry with a curious gleam in her eye.
“This one is dangerous,” she had said then, almost delighted, as she spoke of its poison. His stomach turned now at the recollection, unease settling deep in his gut. Belladonna. The healer’s words echoed in his mind, and his grip tightened around the glass.
“Nay, Mairead isnae capable of such treachery,” he muttered, shaking his head, yet doubt lingered like a shadow he couldnae shake.
He set the drink aside and strode from the room, each step fueled by a need he couldn't ignore. The corridors blurred as he descended toward the gardens, his expression hardening into something cold and unyielding. When he reached her, she turned at once, her face lighting with a bright smile that seemed almost too eager.
“James,” she said softly, straightening as though she had been waiting for him.
He didn't return the smile, his eyes sharp as they swept over her, taking in the faint green stains upon her fingers.
“Mairead,” he replied, his voice low and controlled. “What are ye doing?”
She glanced at the plants and laughed lightly, holding up her shears.
“Tending the garden, as I always have. Ye ken this place is dear to me.”
“Aye,” he said, stepping closer, his presence looming as the warmth drained from the air between them. “I ken many things about ye.”
Her smile faltered, just for a heartbeat, before she recovered, tilting her head with feigned innocence. “Do ye now?” she asked.
