Page 54 of When the Laird Conquers

She chuckled anyway. “I would not dream of asking.” She paused. “But I did want to ask if… you might stay with me tonight.”

20

“Stay with ye?”

Agnes glanced over her shoulder at Gordon, suddenly shy and wondering what on earth she was doing. He surely had better things to do than watch over her because she had a stupid nightmare that she couldn’t even remember. And yet she wanted him to be with her tonight.

“So that I might feel safe,” she replied with a small nod.

Perhaps the events of the day had struck her harder than she had thought. On the surface, she felt fine, but what if those Englishmen were hiding in her subconscious, waiting for her to lower her guard again?

They are dead. They cannot hurt me.

Nevertheless, they could haunt her.

Gordon frowned, and for a moment, Agnes was certain that he was going to refuse her request, just as he refused to accept her thanks.

But then he shrugged and sighed. “Fine, but I’m closin’ the drapes. Ye’ll nae be able to rest with light comin’ in.”

He extended his hand, and with a nervous breath, she took it.

She discreetly peered up at him as he led her to her bedchamber, admiring his masculinity. It wasn’t hard to feel safe when he was there, his hand holding hers, being the one to guide her.

A little tremor ran through her as he approached the bed, and she thought of how urgently he had kissed her in the tower. Might he kiss her again if they just so happened to be in the same bed together? What if she hadn’t been specific enough about wanting him to stay with her? What if he just stood there like a soldier at the end of the bed?

“Go on, get in,” he instructed, pulling back the coverlets.

Agnes bit her lip as she slipped beneath the comfort of the blankets and linens, her head resting on a soft pillow. She watched him intently as he prowled around to the opposite side of the bed, certain that he was going to join her.

Disappointment furrowed her brow as he lay down beside her on top of the covers, a polite distance between them. Once again, he seemed determined to prove that a self-proclaimed beast could somehow be a perfect gentleman too.

“I’m nae tellin’ ye a story,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Not even if I am curious about the dragon’s response to being told he is an oaf?”

He cracked one eye open again. “He wasnae pleased.”

“Did he eat the lassie?” She smothered a smirk.

“Nay, he didnae. He gave her a pouch of coin and told her to be on her way.”

She chuckled and settled down beneath the coverlets. “Did the lassie accept the terms?”

“Aye, and she lived a long and happy life in a castle somewhere,” he mumbled. “A warrior princess who never bothered the dragon again.”

She imagined there was more to the story, but she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she closed her eyes and willed sleep to come, concentrating on the weight of Gordon’s body on the mattress and the sense of security that his being beside her brought.

But as she began to drift off, her mind filled with visions of those Englishmen: their wild eyes, their cold expressions, the glint of malice as she was shoved aside, how quick it had all been, and how helpless she had been to stop it.

She tossed and turned, twisting this way and that to try and find a more comfortable spot for her racing brain to tire.

It was no good. Every angle held the memories of what had happened in the village. Short of having another relaxing bath or someone knocking her on the head, she figured that sleep would not come again tonight.

“Just rest, lass,” Gordon grumbled. “Ye’ve got nothin’ to fear. I will protect ye and the bairn, so just quieten yer mind and go to sleep.”

She twisted around to face him. “I truly don’t think I can.” She paused, chewing her lip in consternation. “Do you want to play something? That is what I always did back home if I could not sleep.”

“Play somethin’?” His eyes remained closed. “Somethin’ that will tire ye out?”