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He stared down at her, heat simmering beneath his skin. “Jealous?”

“Aye,” she said.

The world around them faded away. Alisdair swayed them slower, enjoying the brush of her body against his, the scent of her skin, the feel of her curves.

“I didnae like seein’ him touching ye,” he growled low in his chest.

“That sounds remarkably close to jealousy.”

“Ye want me to say it?” He pulled her flush against his chest.

Isla’s cheeks reddened, and he doubted it had anything to do with the fire burning close.

“Have ye forgotten yer rule so soon?” she asked.

Alisdair ran his eyes over her, as if claiming her, before pinning her with his look. “Careful, wife,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to her parted lips.

“I think ye are careful for both of us,” she said.

Alisdair realized that he might not have been careful enough.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

COLD MOUNTAIN AIR

Afew days later, it had become impossible for Isla not to notice the pattern. She could see it even now, at dinner, with just the two of them. Something had changed.

“We can go harvest more strawberries and blueberries to make jam for the winter. Me maither has taught me the recipe, and we have enough sugar to make enough jam for the whole winter,” she said.

Alisdair didn’t even look up from his ledger. “Mm.”

Isla frowned. She wanted to scream, but didn’t. Ever since St. John’s, he had been like this—barely talking to her, hardly acknowledging her. She replayed the whole celebration in her mind.

He had admitted he was jealous and then held her as if he were afraid she would disappear. They had teased each other and bantered and danced and then… this. After that night, he had turned cold.

She felt as if they were dancing a dance she didn’t know the steps to. One step forward, two steps back. The same thing had happened after their outing.

“I have to finish writing to Laird Kerr,” he said abruptly. “Good night.”

“Ye think him neutral in this.”

That drew his attention.

He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. “He is neutral. He’s kept to his lands since before I was born.”

“He’s visited me uncle’s castle four times since spring.” Isla kept her voice even, though her heart was hammering. “Always at night. Always with a small escort, so as nae to be noticed. I served the wine those nights.”

For a long moment, Alisdair said nothing. He only watched her, searching for the lie on her face.

“Are ye sure?”

She nodded.

He furrowed his brow, as if filing away the information.

She bit down on her lip, waiting for him to speak again. She had half a mind to slam her hand on the table just to make him react.

Before she had the chance to move so much as an inch, he dropped his fork and pushed his chair back. “Good night.”