Page 67 of Highland Storm

Inside, the cottage was warm and cozy. Lianae had left the fire burning in anticipation of their return. They had ridden long hours and she had arrived weary and ready to repose.

A small table sat in one corner, flanked by two simple chairs. A cot sat in the other corner, along with a small table. Atop that table was an empty ewer and a bowl.

Without a word, Keane set her down upon the cot—a much smaller bed than the one they’d shared at Keppenach—and set about inspecting Lianae’s feet once again, removing first one shoe, then the other. They were still sore, but not nearly as much as before, and Lael had given her a sturdy pair of boots to wear.

As he knelt to inspect the soles of her feet, Lianae wondered how they would sleep. He could not possibly slumber in those chairs, and the bed was so small in comparison to the one they’d left that they wouldst need sleep on top of one another in order to fit.

The thought tripped the beat of her heart, even despite of the fact that they’d slept far closer than this upon his pallet. “I am fine,” she reassured him.

In truth, she was. Compared to but a few days ago, she was quite well in fact. Aside from the grueling pace of the day, the husband who would have little to do with her, a dead sister and long lost brothers, Lianae was perfectly fine.

But as she watched Keane tend her feet, his actions were not those of a man who would loathe his wife, and the realization made her heart beat a little faster…

“’Tis healing,” he said gently. “Ye must keep them clean. Tomorrow, I will ask Lìli to prepare a balm.”

“She needn’t trouble herself for me,” Lianae said breathlessly. Truly, her feet were her very last concern. “I ken there is much to be done.”

To that, her husband peered up, brows askew. “Ye dinna behave much like a princess,” he said.

Lianae arched her own brow, unable to hold her tongue. “Aye, well, aside from your officiousness, neither do ye.”

“Ach, lass, that would be because, in case ye ha’nae noticed, I am not a princess.”

Realizing only belatedly what she had said, Lianae choked on a well of laughter.

“Ye’re a pawky wench,” her husband accused her, but if the fact displeased him, it didn’t appear to be so—not judging by the laugh lines that formed around his sensuous lips.

Lianae’s heart squeezed a little at the return of his good humor.

She was desperately alone and wished not to be anymore. She had ruined everything with her lies… and still he’d managed to show her kindness and affection.

“I would be a wife to you in truth,” she blurted, surprising herself with the request—for that’s what it was.

She was a virgin still, but that didn’t mean Lianae didn’t know how a proper bedding was supposed to be done. She would see their vows consummated rightly, despite that he still believed she carried another man’s child. She wanted so much to say it wasn’t true. But she didn’t know how—not with her mouth. Fire burned in her cheeks at the thought of speaking the words aloud. But she no longer wanted him to look at her the way he did on their wedding night—as though she were unclean. Nay… she wanted him to look at her the way he did when they’d first met… the way he was looking at her now…

But the warmth in his gaze vanished the instant she spied it.

Keane released her foot, and made to rise.

Lianae seized him by the arm, silently begging him not to go.

Keane wanted more than anything to stay… he wanted to kiss her again… but there was a deeper longing that couldn’t be appeased—not now.

Not yet.

Not whilst she carried another man’s bairn.

There must be no question in his mind whose child she would bear. He would raise a son of fitz Duncan, but he would not confuse the truth in his head. If he bedded Lianae now, he would make himself believe the child could be his, and this, he could not do.

“Please,” she begged, and he could see the desire writ upon her face. The unabashed plea tugged at his heart. She was his wife, he reasoned, and after all, if she had wanted to be with the Earl, she would never have lied to the king.

Instead, she had made Keane complicit in her stories, accusing him of things he had only coveted—and aye, he was guilty of it all inside his head. He wanted to bed her that morning in Lilidbrugh.

Who was he fooling?

He wanted to bed her now. And that look upon her face… it made him want to believe she had done everything for the very same reason he longed to kiss her right now…

Because she wanted him.