Page 36 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

With a shuddering horror, Daphne realized that she wanted the kiss to deepen. She wanted his hand on her spine, her waist, her hip. She let out another shaky breath and slid her hand up his bicep to grip his shoulder.

How did a person ask for such a thing? She’d kissed him before, of course, under the willow tree, but the memories of that night all melted into one wonderful dream, all easy pleasure and comfort. How⁠—

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and demanding.

Daphne gave a yelp, staggering backward. She sucked in a sharp breath and pressed a hand over her mouth.

For an instant, they stared at each other.

Hunter’s face betrayed nothing, neither pleasure nor anger. He only looked at her for a few long seconds and then glanced towards the door.

“Who is it?” he called out, anger lacing his voice.

“Me Laird,” came Magnus’s muffled voice. “I ken ye said later, but there is one important issue we should discuss.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Hunter heaved a sigh.

“Ye had better come in, then.”

The door opened, and Magnus warily stepped inside. He eyed Daphne with curiosity tinged with suspicion.

Daphne folded her hands in front of her waist and forced herself to meet his gaze. She wondered if he could hear her violently beating heart. Worse still was the churning in her lower parts, a throb of desire that refused to fade away easily.

I did nothing wrong, she assured herself. Hunter kissed me. I am perfectly respectable.

Except I birthed his baby. That’s a wee bit less respectable.

“I didnae mean to interrupt,” Magnus began tentatively.

“Ye didnae,” Hunter answered, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms. “What is it?”

Magnus heaved a sigh. “I’ve just received word that two more women went missing at the Leanan Festival. Their families have started an outcry, and folks are blaming the Wolf. Both women were engaged to be wed, and their betrotheds are petitioning us to do something.”

The hairs on the back of Daphne’s neck stood on end.

The Wolf, she thought, fear crawling up her throat. He’s here. He’s nae a myth.

She took a step forward and opened her mouth to ask questions, but Hunter shot her a sharp look.

“Ye can go now, Daphne,” he said. “I’ll have someone escort ye to yer rooms.”

She stared at him, completely taken by surprise.

He’s going to dismiss me, just like that? After he kissed me?

Desire still thumped through her body, pooling lazily between her thighs. She didn’t know what she’d expected to happen after Magnus’ departure. That they would pick up where they left off? She realized with chagrin that she had hoped for that, and it made her feel thoroughly foolish now that it wasn’t going to happen.

She paused, wondering whether it was worth taking the time to make a scene of it. However, Magnus effectively defused the tension by stepping forward and executing a deep bow.

“Lady Daphne,” he greeted. “It is good to meet ye. I hope ye have a pleasant stay here.”

She pressed her lips together, dragging her gaze away from Hunter and fixing it on Magnus.

“I’m nay lady,” she said shortly. “Nae anymore.”

“But ye are a guest,” Hunter murmured. “Magnus, fetch a maid from outside and have him take Daphne to the spare rooms on the gallery floor, the ones for guests.”

“Aye, me Laird.”