They ended on the stone landing, with his hand beneath her head and his elbows braced against the floor on either side of her.
Aaron let out a soft laugh. “Daenae tell me this is how ye scream,” he muttered, his breath uneven with disbelief. His anger had vanished.
Edith hissed, wriggling as though she could free herself from underneath him.
“I didnae scream,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing with frustration as he laughed. “I daenae consider meself a damsel in—” She stopped, her eyes flicking over his face. Her expression softened slightly.
Damn me.
Aaron went still. She was beneath him, her hair spread across the stone, her chest rising and falling unevenly against his. Her hazel eyes were wide. Not with fear, but with something else entirely.
He should have moved. He was aware of that with absolute clarity. The right thing to do was to stand up, put some distance between them, and say something cold enough to restore the order that had just been disrupted.
He knew all of that.
He looked away from her eyes. A mistake. Because his eyes drifted to her mouth.
His breath caught as he breathed in that wild lavender scent that had haunted him for days, consuming him.
Edith’s lips parted slightly as she drew in a breath to say something—probably something that would have snapped him back to his senses—but he kissed her before she could.
Her lips were soft. A sweet taste tinged his tongue as she parted them slightly, and soon, she was kissing him back with just as much fervor.
Her arm came around his neck as she slid her tongue into his mouth, and he felt everything inside him tighten at once.
Her kiss sent something through him that he could not name, worse than jealousy or anger, and he dove in deeper, kissing her hard until her breath broke against his mouth.
Hell.
Edith pulled back slightly, her hazel eyes piercing deep into him. Her breathing was uneven, her lips parted as though she were still trying to understand what had just happened.
Then she frowned slightly.
“Ye told me to behave meself,” she said.
Aaron stared at her, something restless shifting in his chest.
“Nae when it comes to me,” he replied.
Edith’s brows drew together faintly, as though he were a puzzle she did not understand.
Aaron exhaled sharply through his nose, breaking the moment before it could turn into something deeper. “Perhaps I want ye to misbehave after all.”
Then pushed himself up in one swift motion, stepping away from her before he could do something he would regret later.
“Me Laird?—”
“Leave it,” he cut her off. He had not meant for the words to sound like an order, but they did.
He turned back down the corridor in the direction of the Great Hall, not daring to look back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Heaven help me,” Edith whispered, releasing a heavy breath.
She lay stiffly in bed, staring up at the dark canopy above her. Even in the dimness of the chamber, her eyes caught a faint seam in the overhead fabric that she’d never noticed before.
She groaned softly, turning onto her side in frustration.
