But that did not mean he wanted hernow. She was nothing to him, merely a problem to be gotten rid of at the earliest convenience. A fact that, no matter how reasonable, his cock could not seem to understand. Glaring down at the tent it made of his kilt, he let loose a low curse and pushedto his feet. He would go for a walk, he decided brutally, stalking toward the hallway door. A nice long walk in the cool evening air would be just the thing to clear his head—as well as to purge Seraphina from his bloodstream.
But as his hand fell on the latch he heard a heavy thump and crash, then a cry of pain. Acting without thinking, he sprang for the connecting door to Seraphina’s room. Bursting through, he was halfway across her room before he realized what was before him.
Seraphina, in nothing but a towel. But no, she wasn’tinthe towel at all. Rather, it dangled from one fist, held at her throat, draping across her pert breasts and down the length of her front. The fire behind her created a golden halo around her body, highlighting her long legs, the flare of her hip, the swanlike curve of her neck. Every inch of exposed flesh glistened, droplets of water catching in the light and shining like a hundred diamonds.
“By all that’s holy,” he muttered hoarsely, unable to help the words from slipping out. Dear God, she was even more delectable than when she had been, oh so briefly, his.
Her jaw hung open and she stared at him in unmitigated horror. “Iain!” she squeaked. Her fingers turned white-knuckled as she fumbled with the towel, trying to cover herself more fully.
All at once he realized what a perverted arse he was being, standing there staring at her in nothing but what she’d been born in. Blanching, he closed his eyes tight and spun around.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” she cried.
“I heard you cry out,” he hurried to respond. “I thought you were in some trouble, and so I came to offer my assistance.” But even in his agitated state he could hear howfeeble that excuse sounded. He could have knocked first, verifying through the door that she was well before barging in like a stampeding bull.
She seemed to think the same. There was a heavy, disbelieving pause before she choked out, “I stubbed my toe.”
“Oh, I’m… sorry.” Really, could this moment get any worse? But as the seconds passed in horrified silence it did get worse. Apparently his mind had been wiped clean when he had witnessed the glory of her glistening body nearly uncovered, and he hadn’t left when he should have—which was bloodyimmediately. He continued to stand there, his back to her, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and their own harsh breathing.Move, he ordered himself with no little desperation.Walk forward, one foot after the other, through the damn door, and leave her be.His feet, however, felt nailed to the floorboards.
Then her voice rose up, high and strangled. “Can you please leave so I may dress?”
That finally did it. He bolted for the connecting door without another word, closing it behind him with a bang. As he stood against it, chest heaving and body still at painful attention, he looked at his own bed and groaned. With this new image of Seraphina burned into his brain, so much more delicious than the brief memory he had of her from their youth, he knew he would not get any sleep this night. Desperation coursing through his tense muscles, he headed for the hall door and that walk. And did not return for a very, very long time.
Seraphina had not thought that anything good could have come out of the debacle of Iain walking in on her the nightbefore. It had been a nightmare of the worst kind, after all. She already felt horribly vulnerable on this ill-conceived trip north, what with all the emotional baggage that was wrapped up in the maddening Scot she was forced to travel with; being exposed physically had only worsened that feeling. Add into that the expression on Iain’s face when he had looked on her unclothed body, the heat in his eyes that had seared her from the inside out, the rough sound of his voice, as if he were speaking a benediction, and she had not slept a wink that whole night long for thinking of it—nor had she stopped cursing herself for her body’s very visceral reaction to that hot gaze, a desire awakening in her that had been dormant for so long.
But at least not sleeping had meant no nightmares, something she dreaded nightly. To be thrown back into that worst time of her life while she was already feeling as brittle as the shale cliffs that housed Synne’s impressive collection of fossils would have been devastating.
Her night of non-sleep had also provided her ample opportunity to decide how to proceed on this trip, especially after the disaster of the first day. She was through with sitting silent and awkward. No matter that she was not pleased with her publisher for revealing her location to Iain, she had a serial to continue writing, and had been given the unexpected gift—if one could call it that—of plenty of idle time, as well as being in the company of someone whom she did not have to hide her secret occupation from. She would use these next days to the fullest and write as much as she was able to. And if in writing she was given the means to continue her pointed ignoring of her travel companion, so much the better.
And so she had taken her small portable writing deskinto the carriage, and had set about getting as much down as she could. And she had managed beautifully… for all of five minutes.
“I’m sorry again about last night.”
Seraphina’s pen scratched a long, jagged line on the paper at the unexpectedness of Iain’s voice, overloud in the close confines of the carriage. Pressing her lips together, she tightened her fingers on her quill. “Please, don’t mention it,” she bit out, dipping her head lower, hoping he would take the hint that she did not wish to converse further—and especially about something so distasteful to her.
But apparently Iain was not in a hint-taking mood.
“I just wanted you to know,” he continued before she had gotten two words written, sounding gruff and uncomfortable. “I dinnae purposely barge into your room. I reacted without thinking.”
“I understand that,” she gritted, dipping her head even lower, until the stray tendrils of her hair brushed the paper. The quill trembled in her hand, sending a small drop of ink to splatter the page.
“I certainly dinnae intend to see you bare arsed—” he went on, like some mindless runaway horse.
“Iain,” she interrupted with a tight voice, finally looking him in the eye, though her cheeks felt about as hot as the entrance to Hades, “if you say one more thing about last night, I swear I will hit you over the head with this blasted writing desk.”
At which point, of course, Phineas decided to join in.
“I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug,” he squawked, before letting loose a cackling laugh, head bobbing up and down, yellow eye on Iain.
As if in some strange pantomime, Iain turned slowlyto stare at the bird. His eyes tightened at the corners as if in pain, his lips twitching, and Seraphina wasn’t certain if he was trying to stop from laughing or attempting to keep himself from murdering Phineas. When he turned back her way again, his gaze didn’t give away his thoughts about her pet. But that did not mean there was no emotion in his eyes. They were so intense, so focused, Seraphina felt as if they were magnets drawing her in. The tension between them expanded with each passing second until it was almost a tangible thing. Finally, when she was certain she would scream from the strain of the moment, he nodded sharply.
“My apologies again,” he mumbled before, shifting his massive body so it was more or less reclining across his seat, he propped his head against the seam between the squabs and the wall of the carriage and closed his eyes. Within a matter of minutes, soft snores filled the interior.
But no matter that she had finally been released from his gaze, that did not mean she was any less a prisoner. Helplessly she studied his face as she had not dared to since they had reunited. There was still that new harshness of countenance that made her heart cry out; no amount of relaxing would ever take that completely away.
But in this reposed state, with his features softened in rest, there was something of that boy she had loved shining through the rust of anger and cynicism he had taken on in the years since. And seeing that made her heart ache worse than when she had thought that boy gone forever.
Seraphina sighed, finally tearing her gaze away from him and looking down to the damaged page of disjointed writing with disgust. Whatever momentum she had managed to claim had been thoroughly trampled. She took out a new paper, stared down at the blank page with pen poised,willing the words to come back to her. But after some long minutes she was finally forced to admit that she would get no more work done this day. Letting loose a low growl, she packed up her things and placed the writing desk on the floor. It would appear she was in for another long, tense day.
