In his guest chamber, Rebbie sat by the fire while he sipped a wee dram of whisky and gazed at the flames. His earlier conversation with Calla ran through his head and her image taunted him. She was so beautiful, but looked worried much of the time. He hoped he'd eased some of her fears. Of course, he wouldn't want anyone else to know about their prior meeting, other than Lachlan. Rebbie couldn't hide the truth from his friend.
He hoped he could spend more time with Calla the next day, but he would have to be careful and avoid raising suspicions from the others.
His door creaked. Frowning, he turned to find the young Lady Elena slipping into his room wearing naught but a smock and dressing gown.
He shot up from the chair, thankful he was still fully clothed. "What in blazes are you doing in here?"
"Oh!" Backing against the closed door, she pressed a hand to her chest. "My laird… Rebbie… I but wished to see you for a moment."
"Not here. You must leave immediately." He moved toward her, intent on removing her bodily if he had to. No way in hell was he going to be caught in a compromising position and be forced to marry her.
"Wait!" she begged.
"What is it?"
"I but wondered…." She looked at him hopefully.
He narrowed his eyes. "What did you wonder?"
She leapt toward him and flung her arms around his neck. His small whisky glass went flying as he caught her and held her away from him, but she'd already locked her hands behind his neck.
"Are you mad?" he demanded through clenched teeth. After opening the door, he tried to unclasp her fingers without breaking them.
"Kiss me," she whispered fervently, pushing her face closer to his.
"Nay. You must leave now." Turning his head aside, he attempted to disentangle himself from her without injuring her.
Once in the corridor, he pushed her away and held her at arm's length. "Go back to your own room," he ordered while trying to keep his voice low so as to not wake anyone.
A movement at the end of the dim corridor caught his attention. Who was that? A servant? They slipped away.
"Go," he told Elena again, then went back into his chamber and closed the door. He looked about for the piece of wood to bar the door but found none. Nor did he have the key for the lock.
"Damnation."
He dragged a sizable chest in front of the door. That should keep her out well enough. He never thought he'd have to block his door here atDraughon. Damn the lass. He released a harsh breath, then spotted the broken crystal glass on the floor. He picked up the pieces and deposited them safely upon a table.
Dropping into the chair again, he shoved his hands into his hair. What the hell was he going to do? He should break the contract and leave, go home to Castle Rebbinglen. But… if he did that, he might never see Calla again. Obviously, she would go with Lady Elena.
Though he knew he was daft for it, he wanted to remain near Calla a bit longer. Something about her haunted him. He needed to know her story. Since they'd come face-to-face again that morn, he could think of little else. After that night they'd spent together years ago, he hadn't wanted to let her go. That was why he'd searched for her. He'd wanted a hell of a lot more than just one night.
He'd stayed at that damnable inn for a week, hoping each night she would return in her black cloak, looking anonymous and mysterious. But she hadn't returned. Nor had he caught a glimpse of her on the streets ofStirling, or in any of the other inns. She had vanished.
He'd enjoyed theirbedsport, but that little ache in his chest told him 'twas something more which fascinated him. Her gray eyes often held a shadow of sadness… loneliness… perhaps even desperation. But when he distracted her and made her smile, she forgot all about it. Her eyes would light up like silvery, sparkling frost and he just wanted to stop and stare.
Hell, what was he thinking? He didn't even know her. Not really.
After removing his clothes, he lay in bed awake a long while, mulling over his quandary. He must have fallen asleep in the wee hours, for he was shocked awake the next morn when someone rudely pounded on the door. Gray morning light gleamed through the narrow window.
"What the devil?" he muttered, sitting up.
The pounding resumed.
"Who is it?" he growled, rising from the bed.
"Barclay," the man outside the door snarled.
Hellfire.Rebbie squeezed his eyes shut. Had Elena told him she'd been in his chamber last night? That manipulative little brat! "You will have to wait until I'm decent."
