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“There was.” She nodded.
“Take off that blasted cloak you’re hiding in and come here.”
“Why?” Her countenance went from gaiety to trapped rabbit.
“You’re still shivering. Your cloak is clearly damp and is just keeping the chill to your body instead of warming ye. I, on the other hand, am very toasty.”
She gave him an incredulous look, her fingers flipping between them. “You realize this will do nothing to improve the control we lack over what happens between us when we are too close.”
“Or it will prove how much restraint we can have.”
Her eyebrows cocked.
“I wouldn’t take advantage of a shivering cold lass, Karta. Ye know that.”
Her head tilted to the side and she sighed. “I do.” She handed him her glass. “Fine.”
She unhooked the clasp on the front of her wool cloak and peeled it away from her body, then draped it off the side arm of the settee. Hesitating for a moment, a shiver racked through her body. It set her into motion and she scooted along the rose damask upholstery until she was next to him.
Close, but only barely touching him. The edge of her thigh was the one point on her body that slightly grazed him.
She wasn’t going to get warm like that.
He handed her glass back to her and wrapped his left arm around her shoulders.
A second of stiff resistance and then she slightly relaxed, letting him tug her tight along his torso. She pulled her feet up from the floor, quickly untying her boots with her free hand and then slipping them and her stockings off. She tucked her toes under her skirts along the back of the settee.
Still slightly stiff, she snuggled into his chest, the cold blanket of her taking over his warmth. She was far colder than he’d guessed. He should have demanded this earlier.
Just as he settled his arm down along her side, she flattened her body as much as she could against his mass, expanding the amount of warmth she could suck from him.
Absurd extraordinary pride flooded him. For all he could never give her, he could give her this. Heat.
Her shivers ceasing, her body went limp along him.
“You were talking of your grandmother—tell me more of her.”
Though her arms were folded and curled tight to her chest, she managed to lift her glass that was wedged between them and take a sip of the brandy. She had to clear her throat before talking. “She died…maybe ten years before I met you. She was everything to me. It was the two of us, always together. Women of grand purpose, she would call us—so silly to the little girl I was. But she was so intelligent.”
A soft smile came to her lips. “And she created these marvelous marzipan candies that were shaped like tiny animals at Christmastide every year. Rabbits, and dogs, and cats, and birds. And then she would hide them throughout the estate. Half of them—the best ones—she would tie strings to that weaved throughout the rooms, and I would follow the strings to find them. It would take days to discover them all and father hated the mess of it.”
Her head shook as her eyes glazed over. “But grandmother, she loved it. Her face when I found one—she was almost in tears she was so happy, because I was so happy—like it hurt her physically to see me laughing and so joyous. I loved each and every one of those candies, those odd little marzipan masterpieces. They were perfect times—those days on Christmas.”
“But then she passed?”
Karta nodded, her head rubbing against his chest. “She did, quietly in her sleep. It wasn’t dramatic. She just slipped away. And with it, my whole world just slipped away.” She paused, taking another sip of her brandy. “And then it was just father and I. And you know how he is.”
Domnall stared down at her dark brown hair, almost black, were it not for the strands that caught amber streaks in the light of the fire.
He did know.
He knew too intimately what a bastard her father could be. How he’d told Domnall not to touch his daughter. How he’d sworne he would tear Domnall down if he kept up his inane pursuit of Karta. How he’d threatened to have Domnall removed from Scotland for good.
But Domnall had never listened to him.
Maybe he should have.
Falling in love with Karta had brought him nothing but grief—not that he could have resisted the indomitable draw between the two of them.
