“Who’s there?” she called, her voice still rough with sleep, though it carried a note of wary command.
The latch lifted without answer, and the door swung open before she could protest. James stepped inside as if the chamber were his, his gaze finding her instantly.
Eloise gave a small squeal, clutching the blanket tighter as she snapped, “I am nae decent, ye brute!”
A slow smirk curved his mouth, though his eyes remained cool and assessing.
“It doesnae matter,” he said easily, closing the door behind him with a quiet finality. “I’ve business with ye, and as ye agreed, ye’ll obey me commands.”
Eloise drew herself up, chin lifting despite the flush rising to her cheeks. “And ye agreed to nae lay a hand on me,” she shot back, her voice sharp with indignation.
He stepped closer, looming over her. She held her breath. The heat of his body enclosed around her. His scent, a manly mixture of whiskey and Earth, flooded her senses. She felt her heart drop to her stomach as he inched closer.
Does he mean to kiss me? But he promised.
James brushed past her toward the center of the room.
“Daenae fash yerself,” he said over his shoulder, his tone dry, “I’ve nae interest in touchin’ ye, only speakin’ with ye.”
She turned quickly to face him, her grip tightening on the blanket as she followed a few steps behind.
“What couldnae wait till I was properly dressed?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him.
James glanced back at her briefly, one brow lifting as he replied, “Time isnae a luxury we have, lass, nae if we’re to make this farce hold.”
Eloise bristled at the word, her voice cooling as she said, “Then speak plain, for I’ve little patience for riddles this early.”
He nodded once, folding his arms as his expression sharpened. “I’ll be tellin’ the council about ye today,” he said, his tone firm, “so we’ll need our story set straight before a word is spoken.”
Eloise stilled slightly at that, the weight of it settling in. “And what story is that?” she asked carefully.
“The betrothal is sudden,” James said, pacing once as he began to lay it out. “I’ll say ye were found in the stables, which is close enough to truth, since the guards already saw ye, we cannae lie about that.”
Eloise frowned faintly, though she listened closely as he continued. “I’ll say yer strength caught me eye, that ye spoke boldly, and I offered ye marriage on the spot as I had never met a woman like ye.”
She let out a soft, incredulous laugh and lifted a brow at him. “And they’ll believe that, will they?” she asked, skepticism plain in her tone.
James gave a short huff of amusement and shook his head. “Nay, they’ll suspect it well enough, but they’ll nae challenge meopenly if I stand firm.” There was a quiet certainty in his voice that made her pause.
“I’ll tell them the wedding is set for four weeks' time,” he went on, his tone measured now. “That gives us space without drawin’ too much pressure.”
Eloise shifted slightly, the blanket slipping before she caught it quickly, her fingers tightening as she adjusted it.
He stepped closer again, his expression sharpening as his tone dropped. “And hear me on this, there’ll be nay mention of Laird Drummond to anyone, nae a whisper, do ye understand?”
Eloise held his gaze, the seriousness in his voice cutting through her irritation. “Aye,” she said quietly, though there was no lack of resolve in it. “I understand well enough.”
Silence lingered a moment, though it was not entirely comfortable, nor entirely tense. Eloise became suddenly aware of her state once more, the thin chemise beneath the blanket offering little protection from the awareness of his presence.
It was the first time she had stood so before a man, and though she told herself to feel only indignation, something else stirred beneath it…strange, unwelcome, and entirely new.
She shifted slightly, pulling the blanket as if to shield herself from both the cold and her own thoughts. “Ye’ve a habit of bargin' in unannounced? Am I to expect this often?” she said atlast, her tone edged with annoyance to cover the flush moving across her cheeks.
James’s brow lifted slightly as he closed the space between them. He looked her up and down, “And ye’ve a habit of forgettin’ whose castle ye stand in. I'll do as I please.”
She bristled at that, stepping forward despite herself and pressing a finger in his chest. “I’ve forgotten nothin',” she said sharply, her eyes flashing. “Only that I expected a measure of decency.”
Hard. His chest is like a rock.
