Page 17 of Secrets of a Kilted Seduction

CHAPTER SIX

As soon as the chamber door closed on Angus, Alana turned to Tadhg and pointed at the large four-poster bed dominating the spacious room. “Before ye go gettin’ any ideas,” she said warningly, “if ye think I’m sharin’ that bed with ye, ye must be mad. Ye’ll be sleepin’ on the floor.”

Tadhg shrugged casually, hiding his disappointment, though he had expected her to say something of the sort. “Fine, if that’s how ye want it. But dinnae blame me if the servants get wind that we’re nae sleepin’ together and they realize we’re nae married,” he replied, unbuckling his sword belt and laying it over the back of a chair next to the large stone hearth.

“I dinnae care,” she hissed, taking off her boots and putting them neatly by the door. “Just because we have tae share a room⁠—”

“Like a man and his wife,” Tadhg put in matter-of-factly, heeling off his boots and stretching out his long legs. His body was uncomfortably full of tension that had nothing to do with the long ride, so he went and stretched out on the bed.

“But we’re nae man and wife, are we? And we never will be. ’Tis just a ruse ye thought up and managed tae convince me was a good idea,” she shot back pettishly. She turned back from the door and saw him lying on the bed. Her lips pursed as she rushed over and shooed him furiously with her hands. “Will ye get off there!”

“A ruse that may save ye from bein’ forced intae an arranged marriage,” he defended himself, hurt by her attitude and deciding he could be as stubborn as she was. “And why should I get off? Does the bed have yer name on it? Am I nae entitled tae a rest as much as ye?” He calmly folded his hands behind his head and made himself conspicuously comfier.

“Nae on the bed! I told ye, the bed is mine,” she cried, clenching her small fists, her cheeks turning pink with anger as she glared at him, all of which Tadhg found amusing and alluring at the same time. “Now get off, will ye?”

“Why can we nae share it if we’re only restin’?” he asked, deliberately provoking her by patting the coverlet next to him. “’Tis a big bed. Ye can lie over there, and I’ll lie over here. But only if ye promise nae tae touch me.”

He observed with satisfaction as she screwed her face up in fury and waved her fists at him. “I hate ye, I absolutely hate ye with all me heart,” she spat, her eyes flashing. “I can see ye’re enjoyin’ every moment of tormentin’ me like this! I wish I’d come alone now.”

“Why are ye bein’ so unreasonable when I’m only tryin’ tae protect ye?” he asked, then he looked her dead in the eye and added. “Why, the way ye’re actin’ now, ’tis almost as if ye want me tae ravish ye.”

He had to stifle his laughter then, for she looked ready to explode. To his surprise, she suddenly jumped on the bed and scrambled towards him on her knees. Before he could stop her, she pushed hard with both hands and rolled him violently onto the floor.

“Ow, that hurt, ye cruel thing!” he exclaimed untruthfully, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. A pillow landed on his head with a thump, followed by the coverlet.

“And ye can stay down there!” she declared as her face appeared over the edge of the bed, still pink but now wearing an expression of triumph.

“Talk about a hen-pecked husband,” he goaded her, getting up, taking his allotted pillow and the coverlet over to one of the cushioned settles by the fireplace. Secretly, he admired her fiery spirit.

She folded her arms and closed her eyes as though pretending he was not there. Smiling to himself, he groaned a bit as he arranged his long limbs as the settle allowed, which was not very much.

“This wee chair is hardly big enough fer a tall fella like me tae get any rest in,” he complained. “Where am I suppose tae put me legs? Ye’re small. Should ye nae have the chair after all?”

“Shut up!” she ground out, her eyelids tightly closed.

“But ’tis nae fair,” he said plaintively, gleefully watching her knuckles turn white.

“The floor’s plenty big enough fer ye, ye great lummox. Now, will ye be quiet

before I beat ye tae death with a warmin’ pan?”

“By the Wee Man, such threats of violence comin’ from a wee lassie like

yerself. ‘Tis shockin’.”

She sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. “Right, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m gonnae⁠—”

Whatever it was she was going to do to him, he never found out because their bickering was interrupted by the arrival of a maid bearing a tray of refreshments. She was soon followed by another lugging hot water in a large jug. While directing them to leave their burdens on the large table by the window, Tadhg made sure to flirt with them both.

Alana studiously ignored it, apparently uncaring. After the maids had gone, she hopped off the bed, helped herself to a couple of bannocks and a cup of tea, and then retreated back to her hard-won spot against the pillows. Tadhg had to get up and serve himself. When he had settled back in the chair, a plate of bread, roast beef and some chicken resting on his lap, he turned his attention to Blaine MacIver and the upcoming council meeting.

“What d’ye make of Blaine?” he asked, watching Alana daintily nibling on a thickly buttered bannock.

“Hard tae say,” she muttered with a shrug. “We only met the man fer two minutes, if that.”

“He certainly seemed pleased tae see ye.” He cut off a piece of the beef and ate it.

“Why nae? He’s likely as curious about me as I am about John MacIver. Besides, he greeted ye warmly too,” she replied, pausing to sip her tea.