Page 13 of Kilted Sins

Enya’s tongue darted out to lick her lips as she leaned a little closer over the table, and Cillian’s eyes followed the movement in a way that had heat pooling in Enya’s stomach. It startled her, this sudden spark of desire, this unfamiliar feeling that overtook her within an instant. Never before in her life had she experienced something like this, but then again, never before in her life had she been alone with a man in a dark room, speaking in hushed voices over a small table.

That’s what it was, Enya decided. It was simply the circumstances and the lack of experience with men that had her heart racing and her breath turning fast and shallow, as though she could hardly draw any air into her lungs. It was only natural, she told herself, that she would feel flustered the first time she was ever this physically close to a man.

It didn’t help that Cillian’s gaze was piercing through her, the grey of his eyes now darker, more mysterious than ever before. Enya couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. She couldn’t read him like she could read others and it bothered her that anything he didn’t want to show about himself was entirely hidden from her.

What daes he want? Why is he lookin’ at me like that?

Enya didn’t know what to make of Cillian’s staring, and so she couldn’t bear it for much longer. Suddenly and without a warning, she stood, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor as she pushed it back, and fled the room without a single word or even a look towards Cillian.

She didn’t stop running until she was in her chambers, behind the safety of her door. Still, her chest heaved and she pressed a hand over it, trying to calm herself.

What had gotten into her? What was it that had upset her so greatly when only a few moments prior, she had been perfectly fine?

At the thought of Cillian, that warmth returned to her body accompanied by a tingling sensation. It didn’t matter what had gotten into her, she decided then. Whatever it was, she had to get over it and soon. Her goal hadn’t changed; all she wanted to do was anger Cillian and force him to reject the marriage proposal, then leave Jura as soon as she could. The more distance there was between them, the easier it would be to forget that night had happened at all.

She simply had to stay focused on her plan. Everything else was bound to resolve itself once she was home.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Agood night’s sleep did nothing to help Enya’s mind clear of all those infernal thoughts. Then again, she could hardly call the sleep she had good, considering how many dreams had plagued her and how many times Cillian visited her in them. By the time the sun had broken through the horizon and she decided to get out of bed, she had hardly rested at all and the last thing she wanted was to face Cillian again.

What if it was too awkward to meet his gaze? Or even worse, what if there was a continuation of the previous night and they ended up once again locked in a trance, the two of them staring at each other until she had to flee once more?

Enya shook those thoughts out of her mind as she stood and dressed for the day. She couldn’t let her fear dictate her behavior, nor could she stay in her chambers all day if she truly wanted to continue with her plan, so she simply took a deep breath, steeled herself, and then headed to breakfast, hoping Cillian wouldn’t be there.

She hadn’t gotten too far when a familiar figure appeared in her path—Duncan, who was wearing a partial armor, a sword swinging carelessly in his hand. When he spotted her, he sheathed it with a smile and then offered Enya a bow in greeting.

“Lady MacLeod,” he said, in that bright tone that seemed so contrasting to his rugged appearance. “Good mornin’.”

“Good mornin’,” said Enya. “I think it’s quite alright fer ye tae call me by me name now. Yer laird already does.”

“Aye, but me laird will be yer husband,” said Duncan.

“I insist.”

“Well, then I shall call ye by yer name if ye dae the same with me,” Duncan said. “Are ye headin’ tae the great hall?”

“Aye,” said Enya. “Have ye already broken yer fast? It’s so early tae be dressed in armor.”

“Nay such thing as too early. Cillian likes tae train early in the mornin’, so we all dae.”

It sounded brutal, training right at dawn, but Enya thought it would be yet another opportunity to anger Cillian. Surely, there would be something for her to do there that would distract him or that would anger him, and she wasn’t going to miss such a good chance.

“I think I will come an’ watch ye, then,” she said, all thoughts of breakfast quickly forgotten. “Is that alright?”

“I’m afraid it will be quite dull fer ye,” said Duncan. “It is even dull fer us. It’s naething like a real battle.”

“Ach, I dinnae wish tae see a battle at all,” said Enya. It was the last thing she wanted, witnessing something so brutal. A training session, on the other hand, sounded perfectly harmless and Enya was willing to do much to be there—though she doubted she would need more than a few sweet words. “But trainin’… I grew up with brothers, and I enjoy watching.”

Duncan gave her a long, curious look, as if to say that he already knew what she was trying to do, but he didn’t refuse. Instead, he only gestured with his arm for Enya to follow him, and once her heart had settled back in her chest, she did as she was told, the two of them descending the stairs and going out into the courtyard.

That time of the day seemed the busiest for the servants, who were running back and forth , doing their chores, but she and Duncan quickly passed them by and headed to the training grounds. This was one of the places Enya hadn’t yet seen after arriving in Jura, and now she could only imagine that Cillian took his training and that of his men very seriously.

A large area had been cleared, fenced in by a low wooden structure. On the ground, the earth seemed compact and solid after so many years of men stepping on it—the perfect place to train, if not the most realistic. The training grounds were surrounded by trees and bushes, and come spring, Enya knew the place would be brimming with the scent of flowers.

As it were, everything was barren. The bushes held no flowers and the leaves had turned brown and fallen around the roots, leaving the trees bare and grey like the sky above, where clouds were gathering as a signal of the oncoming storm.

Enya was tired of those storms, though she knew there would be plenty more as they were in the middle of December. She hoped it would at least snow instead of rain this time; with snow, Jura would look beautiful. With rain, it was simply all mud through which Enya and everyone else had to trudge if they wanted to get anywhere that wasn’t inside the castle’s walls.