Page 30 of Twelfth Knight’s Bride

His hands gripped her arms, and his brow, tight, drew together over his eyes into an angry scowl. “Stop.”

She shook her head. “I’m a foolish lass, even to consider a MacDonald who forced—”

“Aileana. Stop.”

Her fingers slowed. Then stopped. And she blinked her eyes to stave off the mist, her gaze bouncing around but not landing upon him.

“My man was out of line this morn. My folk were nay at Urquhart when we made this agreement, and they ken no’ my true reason.”

“Then what is your true reason?”

His jaw tightened as words seemed to tangle on his tongue and then die before passing his lips. The muscles beneath his ears bulged as he gnashed whatever his reason was into submission, and his hand migrated up to her cheek to palm it. He swallowed, and his tender touch induced a tingling of gooseflesh over her skin. “We agreed ye’d stay until Epiphany.” His brow softened. “At least give me that.” His thumb began gently caressing her cheek, and her belly twisted with frustration and warmth. “The Aileana I ken isnae a coward who runs and hides when there’s work to be done,” he said more softly.

“Did ye forget the way in which we met?” she muttered.

He expelled a relieved breath. A smile tugged unexpectedly at his lips, dimpling one cheek. Blast it, but she, too, felt her mouth mirror his. She’d certainly run fast and hard to evade him back to Urquhart. His eyes dipped to the tiny concession of truce quirking up her lips, and his thumb swept softly over the pad of flesh as his fingers still gripped her cheeks, splaying into her hair, his eyes watching his thumb’s caress.

“Aye, lass. And a fine game of cat and mouse ye played.” He chuckled. “But I still tracked down the confounding lad who stole my foodstuff. And when I look upon ye, here, at Tioram, I cannae help but think that mayhap I was meant to discover him.”

She swallowed. Her fingers drifted to her stomach, to the swirl of butterflies that once more fluttered in her belly at the desire and relief upon his face and the confusion that once more twisted her heart—to desire the enemy’s affection, to desire to be home among her people, where she was wanted. And the worry she felt for her people while she indulged in the frigid yet generous hospitality here.

His hand dropped, and he moved to the bed, picking up the hem of the blue velvet and severing his tingling connection. “Do the gowns Brighde loaned ye nay suit?”

“They’re beautiful. But the seamstress just finished her measurements, and the blue gown requires assembly, and considering I was alone, I was in a quandary as to what to do so decided to put on my old gown.”

“Why did yer maids nay assist?”

A scowl turned down his lips, and he strode back to her. He took up her face in his hands once more, cupping her cheeks gently in his roughed palms.

“Anag and the others are well into their meals. Have they ignored ye?”

Aileana clamped her mouth. She would never tattle. How on earth could she expect women to wait on her hand and foot?

“I’m sure they had many tasks to do, and I nay fault them,” she replied.

Sunbursts of energy erupted on her skin beneath each point of his contact. It wasn’t the touch of a nàmhaid. And such gestures were beginning to feel comfortable. As if he was used to holding her so.

But his jaw, clenched tightly, whitened his lips, and so suddenly Aileana knew he suspected what had happened.

“I shall fetch them immediately—”

“Please, do nay.”

“I assigned them to ye,” he insisted.

“Ye cannae possibly understand, Jamie. If ye fetch them, it will seem as if I complained. And they’ll only dislike me more. Ye cannae force them to like someone. How am I supposed to win any points of favor with them if ye demand they serve at my beck and call?” Her eyes held his, then she began lacing up her back again, determined to finish dressing, and turned to face the crackling hearth. “I do nay fault them for their anger.”

“I do. It’s misplaced upon ye,” he retorted, his voice soft and low, and his hands coming to rest upon her shoulders.

“Is it, though? I thieved from ye. They might no’ ken that, but I’m still guilty.”

“Because ye were desperate,” he argued.

She looked back up at him, her eyes widening; her lips parting once more, then closing as an ill-timed smile curved her lips. “Have we truly reversed positions? I justifying why I ought to be in trouble, ye justifying why I should nay be?”

He grinned with resignation, then shook his head. “Confounding, is it nay? Here. I’ll help ye dress for supper,” he said, flicking her laces playfully.

She froze. The fire popped and hissed, drawing her attention to the intrusive silence.