“Aye,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze, “but I want to.”
Her breath caught slightly, and she said no more as he carried her through the corridors, past watching eyes and whispered murmurs, until they reached her chamber.
The room was warm when they entered, the fire stoked high. James set her down gently, though his hands lingered at her waist a moment longer than necessary. For a heartbeat, he simply looked at her, her disheveled hair, her torn gown, the faint marks of her ordeal, and something fierce and possessive stirred within him. He forced it down, drawing a slow breath, reminding himself she needed care, not the weight of his desire.
A few minutes later, a bath was placed beside the hearth. A tray set on the table with fresh bread, roasted meat, cheese, steaming broth, tea, and a small cup of whisky, the scent rich and comforting.
“Let me help ye into the bath,” he said quietly, reaching for the ties of her dress.
Eloise hesitated only a moment before nodding, her voice soft. “Very well.”
His fingers worked carefully, loosening the fabric, though every brush of his knuckles against her skin sent a dangerous heat through him. He clenched his jaw, focusing on the task, not the way her breath hitched slightly beneath his touch.
“I had never felt sicker, than when I learned ye were gone,” he said.
She looked at him, her expression gentling. “For a moment… did ye think I had left?”
“Aye,” he admitted, his hands stilling briefly. “For one cursed moment, I thought ye had run from me.”
“Nay,” she said firmly, reaching for his wrist. “I would never do that without telling ye.”
He met her eyes, something in his chest easing at her words. “I ken that now,” he said quietly. “And I’ll never doubt it again.”
He finished untying the dress. Eloise turned toward him and let the dress fall to the floor.
He sucked in a sharp breath of air, “Ye are a bonnie, lass. Ye will drive me mad standing there like so.”
“Then perhaps I should get in the bath,” she smiled.
She stepped into the bath with his help, the warm water drawing a soft sigh from her lips as she sank beneath its surface.
“James, it was Mairead,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now. “She arranged it all.”
James’s expression hardened, though he kept his tone controlled. “Aye. I ken that now. She is locked in her chamber, and she will face a reckoning for what she’s done.”
Eloise nodded, though a flicker of unease crossed her face. “I daenae wish harm upon her… but I cannae forgive it either.”
“Nor should ye,” he said firmly.
For a moment, silence settled between them, thick and heavy with all that had passed and all that remained unsaid. James reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering just a fraction too long.
“I thought I had lost ye,” he said again, as though the words still needed saying.
Eloise’s eyes searched his. “But ye didnae.”
“Nay,” he said, his voice rough, “and I willnae let that happen again.”
Something shifted between them then, something undeniable. Without thinking, he leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss was not wild as before, but deep and steady, filled with relief, with gratitude, with everything he had nearly lost. Eloise responded at once, her hand rising to his jaw, her fingers curling there as though she needed him as much as he needed her.
James felt it surge through him again, that dangerous, consuming desire, but this time it was tempered by something deeper, something steadier. He broke the kiss only slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath unsteady.
“Ye drive me to madness, lass,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
Eloise gave a soft, breathless laugh. “Then we are evenly matched, for ye do the same to me.”
He smiled faintly, though his eyes remained intent upon her. “Rest now,” he said, though his hand lingered against her cheek.
