He nodded, loving the way she was observing him, with interest, though she tried to hide it. He was surprised to realize he could easily tell when she wanted a kiss, simply from her expression and the heated look in her darkening eyes. He wanted to sleep here with her again, but knew he would have a devil of a time keeping his hands off her. Last night, he'd been fearful of how bad her injury was. Tonight, she was much recovered, thank the saints, but not enough for physical exertion.
He easily saw her blush in the candlelight. Did she know what he was thinking? He wanted to do naught but pick her up, deposit her on the bed and kiss her until she was breathless. Then make love to her for the rest of the night. But he couldn't. Shoving a hand into his hair, he paced to the fireplace. Seeing it was burning low, he knelt and added two pieces of wood.
He drew in a deep breath and tried to clear his mind of the lust crowding it. "I'd like to head back toDraughonthe day after tomorrow. Do you think you'll feel well enough by then?" He stood and faced her.
"Aye. I have a knot on my head and my shoulder is still sore, but otherwise I feel almost normal. I'd like to go as soon as possible to see how Jamie is."
He could only imagine how it must feel to have a son who might be in danger. "You must be very worried."
"I am, but I trust Lachlan and his brother to help him."
"They will do everything in their power."
Her brows drew together in an anxious frown. "Mayhap we could leave in the morn."
He stroked a thumb gently across her cheek. "Are you certain you're up to it?"
"Aye."
"We'll see how you feel in the morn. In the meantime, get some sleep." He kissed her forehead and inhaled her clean scent of lavender and roses. He wanted to kiss her lips… and every inch of her, but he couldn't. He drew back, bid her goodnight and forced himself to leave the room, unsure if he would get any sleep himself for wanting her.
***
The next morn, Mistress Hillman was in tears at their departure. She'd had the servants prepare extra foods they could eat while traveling, including bannocks, apples, plums, dried venison, hard yellow cheese and bread.
The housekeeper pulled Rebbie aside and spoke in a low voice. "Now,m'laird, you must not let that sweet, beautiful lady slip through your fingers. She is a keeper, that one." She blinked back tears.
"Och, Mistress Hillman, you are a dear." Refusing to respond to her heartfelt words, he kissed her on both cheeks. "I trust that you will keep the castle in order until I return."
"Of course, of course! I'll make certain 'tis spotless."
"I thank you. I'll have supplies sent."
She followed them outside and after she'd hugged Calla one last time, he lifted her to his horse, then mounted himself.
"You remember what I said, lad," Mistress Hillman called out to him and waved her drooping white hanky.
"I will, indeed." He winked.
Aye, Calla was a keeper. He agreed with that. He now wondered if it would ever feel right again to ride his horse alone, without her warmth against his back, and her slender arms around his waist. He stroked her clasped hands.
His father rode beside them, while his retainers and some of Lachlan's who'd stayed to help, rode behind them. Almost twenty, in all.
Multiple times, he asked Calla how she felt and each time she replied that she was well. He hoped she wasn't lying to him, for he was still concerned about her injury.
Rebbie was happy to see they didn't run into Claybourne, nor did any wolves attempt to attack them in the ruin as they tried to sleep that night. He got only a few hours himself, then awoke to the dawn light shining upon Calla's bright hair on the opposite side of the cold fire pit. Unmoving, he watched her sleep for a few minutes, so beautiful with her long lashes resting against her cheeks. The dark circles beneath her eyes told him she'd not had enough time to rest and recover, but he well knew she would do anything for her son, even travel before she should.
Her lovely full lips, relaxed in sleep, lured and tempted him. He'd love to steal a kiss this morn, but didn't know how he could with so many men about. For the moment, 'twas enough to simply watch her.
His heart pounded hard against his chest and the deep yearning he'd felt hints of during the last few days grew to extraordinary proportions.Hell!He didn't like emotions. Didn't understand them. He only knew if he and Calla were alone here in this ruin, he'd pull her into his arms and hold her close, warm her. And he'd be happy, lying on a dirt floor with the Scottish breeze wafting through the open windows. Aye, in that moment he knew, all he required for happiness was Calla beside him.
God's teeth!He'd surely gone daft. He turned onto his back and stared up at the vaulted stone ceiling, grinning like a madman.
Calla.
Did he love her?Damnation, man, don't think such thoughts.
Turning his head, he studied her again, so bonny and angelic in sleep. He inhaled deeply, trying to dislodge the tight, vice-like grip on his chest.
