Page 20 of Highland Ruse

But it was almost impossible to keep from letting his stare trail up the point of her chin to where a sliver of sunlight glowed against her smooth cheek. Just above the delicate freckle beside her mouth.

He wanted to apologize.

He should apologize.

Staring wouldn’t make it better, though.

He pulled his gaze toward the window of the coach. Several trees blocked the view of the nearby village where Donnan had ventured to purchase more food. Kaid had waited with the women on the outskirts to avoid being seen, but was now regretting the decision.

The coach was too damn small.

Leasa sewed beside Elizabeth, and the quiet pop of her needle going in and out of the fabric scraped over his raw nerves.

While Elizabeth had maintained her polite civility in addressing him, he knew her memory of the previous night would not fade quickly.

And, damn it, he hadn’t even remembered doing any of it.

Donnan had pulled him aside that morning and told him how he’d found Delilah wide-eyed and stiff in Kaid’s arms. Apparently he’d had a nightmare, and the lass had tried to help.

He’d rewarded her by holding her captive in his bed.

He clenched his jaw until it felt as though it would seize up.

While he didn’t remember having done it, he did remember the dream he’d had, and then the comfort he’d felt.

It made him even more ashamed of his actions, but he could no sooner pull them from his mind than he could pull his heart from his chest.

He could recall the dream with far too much ease—the floral scent of her curling around him like a summer breeze, the softness of her words, a whispered strength in his ear. She was there with him, a beautiful warrior parrying the stab of painful memories.

His gaze drifted back toward her once more.

He wanted to sketch her.

The careful line of her cheekbones, the curve of her lips, those long, velvety lashes.

If only there were a bit of charcoal in his hand and a square of parchment in front of him. He rubbed his thumb over his fingertips to assuage the growing desire. He would draw later, while she slept. Before the contents of the vial worked their magic over his restless mind.

It was then he realized she was staring directly at him, her gaze unflinching. He cleared his throat and looked away.

“Is there something you wish to say?” she asked.

There was—he wanted to apologize to her for having trapped her at his side when she’d meant only to help, and thank her for what she’d done. He wanted to see how much he might have said in his valerian-induced haze.

He hated that he didn’t remember.

He glanced toward Leasa whose head was bent over her needlework. Speaking of the compromised position in which he’d placed Elizabeth would hardly be prudent in front of her maid.

“Outside.” He indicated the door.

Elizabeth gave a quick nod and leapt up with an eagerness she didn’t bother to mask. Perhaps she too was tired of being confined within the coach. After only two days, he felt as though it were squeezing him in a box of stale air. He couldn’t imagine having endured it as long as she.

Once outside, they both took a grateful moment to draw in the fresh air. The forest around them was thick and left the breeze heavy with the sharp scent of pine.

“I want to talk about last night,” he said.

Dappled sunlight and shadows from the trees above played over her bonny face. “I do too.”

“I dinna mean to—”