CHAPTER 16
Evander pausedoutside her room for a moment, drawing in deep, steadying breaths.
He had planned to walk her to the private dining room, but that was a bad idea. A bad,badidea.
Desire thrummed in his gut, loud and insistent.
Touch her,pleaded the voice in his head.It’s the easiest thing in the world. Reach out and touch her. Kiss her. Hold her. Take her.
If he’d stayed a moment longer, that was what might have happened. He might have taken her there and then, tangled up on that ridiculous fur rug spread out before the fire.
He felt sick.
She’s vulnerable. Scared. Her memories are half-missing. And here I am, fantasizing about making love to her. It’s the last thing on her mind.
Even so, the image of her standing there flashed through his mind. He could see her now, etched behind his lids, staring down at the flowers he’d brought her. That thin robe, the one he longed to tear off her body, sagged around her, the low neckline revealing the swell of her breasts.
His throat tightened.
Enough, man. Go dunk yer head in a bowl of ice water. Better yet, dunk yer whole self in a bowl of ice water. Maybe that’ll make ye behave.
With a growl, he pushed away from the wall and strode off down the hallway. There was no time for dunking of any kind, so he would simply have to calm himself.
Well, Lady Helena was meant to join them for dinner in any case, and doubtless any amorous feelings would be thoroughly quashed when shearrived.
When Evander reached his room—the dining room could be accessed through his bedroom, or through a narrow door off the hallway—the servants had just finished laying the table.
Roast pork piled high in the central platter. Bowls of sauces and gravy were scattered around it. A whole roast chicken squattedbeside it, the skin golden-brown and visibly crispy. Vegetables had been prepared, too. Skye’s favorites, on his command.
Boiled potatoes were tossed in oil, salt, and mint, with some chopped up and roasted in the meat fat. There was a pie, a good meat one, and of course, bread.
The servants were still laying the table, and all of them stood back when he entered.
“Well, me Laird?” one maid asked anxiously. “Is it satisfactory?”
Evander ran his eyes over the sumptuous dishes and nodded slowly. “Aye. It’s perfect.”
The servants glanced at each other, pleased.
“There’s a jug of good wine, too,” one volunteered.
He nodded heavily. “That’s good, that’s good. Me question, though, is where is the whiskey?”
The servant who’d spoken before suppressed a smile. “We thought ye would want whiskey. The bottle is out over there. Shall I serve ye, me Laird?”
“Nay need,” he responded, striding over to it. “I’ll do it meself, thank ye.”
He filled half the glass and began to drink. He would need it.
Skye paused at the door, tugging at the sleeves of her red silk dress. She remembered thisgown. She’d complained about it when Evander first bought it, insisting that silk was decadent and red wasnotan appropriate color.Andthe neckline was shockingly low.
Then she’d tried it on, and her mind changed immediately. The dress fit herperfectly. The silk felt like heaven on her skin, and the color made her glow.
I loved this dress,she thought, clutching at the skirts, its delicate daisy-chain embroidery on the very edge of the hem visible only when she walked.Did he remember that I loved it?
Swallowing, she reached forward, tapping hesitantly on the door. Should she just walk in? Was she being foolish?
Too late to think of all that now.
