Page 51 of When the Laird Conquers

“Nothing.” She swallowed. “I just… I just want to say thank you. You saved us today, and I shan’t forget it in a hurry.”

She didn’t know what she had expected, whether her gratitude might lead to another kiss or at least some kind remark, but he simply bobbed his head in a nod and stepped out of the room, leaving her just a little more confused than when he had carried her in from the carriage.

How could he have her in his arms one moment and then leave the next? How could he hold her hand and say sweet things to her, then dismiss her thanks?

Maybe I am the only one who is not happy with how last night ended.

Maybe he was truly content to carry on as if nothing had ever happened. And maybe she would have to learn to accept that.

After all, this was just temporary, even if for a moment she had felt like she belonged here.

19

Gordon could not accept Agnes’s gratitude. If he had, it would have meant that she owed him something, and he did not want that.

Their arrangement was clear; it did not need amendments or anyone feeling like one was indebted to the other. Otherwise, it might never come to an end… and it had to.

There was no other possibility, regardless of how much he had wanted to make another mistake by peeling away the damp bath sheet and sinking to his knees to kiss between her thighs until her screams of bliss chased off any lingering unease.

He could not, under any circumstances, give in to the desire to claim her, to possess her, to make her cry out his name. Not because she was in trouble, but because she wanted more of him. All of him.

Just being alone in that room with her, glimpsing slick limbs poking out of the milky water of the tub, had been a form of torture. One that he did not yet know how to shake off.

She felt so good in me arms.

He growled away his frustration as he marched on toward the makeshift nursery, where he hoped that watching over Lizzy would be enough to distract him from thoughts of her aunt.

“How is she?” Iona asked as he entered the room.

“Hopefully gettin’ some rest.” He wandered to the cradle where Lizzy slept. “I told her I’d watch the bairn tonight.”

The housekeeper rested a tentative hand on his arm. “What happened, me Laird? Is she hurt? Should I send for a healer?”

“Nay, she’s nae hurt,” he replied. “A few bruises.”

The image of Agnes’s bare shoulders flashed into his mind. He had wanted to dip his head and kiss her bruises, only just managing to stop himself.

“I think it’s the memory of it that will take longer to recover from,” he added, before explaining what had occurred at the village. The three dead Englishmen that someone would eventually miss, and he would have to answer for.

If anyone is foolish enough to dare approach me territory.

There was a strange security in being infamous, an added layer of protection to defend his clan and anyone who might wander up and plead for help.

Iona pulled a face. “She must have been terrified.”

“Aye, she was.” He watched the baby sleeping, wondering when he had slept so peacefully. He could not remember.

“Are ye sure she’ll want to sleep alone?” Iona asked in an odd tone.

Gordon shot her a warning look. “She doesnae have another choice, unless ye’re offerin’ to stand guard over her?”

“I wouldnae mind watchin’ the bairn if ye might like to stand guard over her,” Iona countered, feigning innocence.

“She’ll be fine,” he muttered, and walked to the window to look out at the early evening sky.

The sun had not even set yet; the hour still early. It jarred him that it wasn’t dark, when the day had seemed so long already, and the shuttered bedchamber he had just left had been gloomy enough to mimic nighttime.

Should I have invited Agnes to dine with me first?