Reid sighed. “And I should have tried harder to be a better man. I’m sorry ye had to see that, lass.” He looked at her and she saw a sudden uncertainty in his eyes. “I...I dinna wish ye to think badly of me.”
“I don’t think badly of you,” she said softly. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
He looked at her sharply, and a fleeting expression crossed his features, gone so quick she could not be sure she’d seen it. But for an instant she had seen him laid bare, all pretenses gone, and a need in his expression she had never expected to see. Did Reid feel the same way she did? Was he battling to fight this...whatever it was...as much as her?
Her hand was resting on the bed between them. Reid reached out and gently brushed his thumb across hers. His skin was rough but the feel of it made her heart beat a little faster.
She smiled hesitantly. “Friends?”
Chapter 12
“Friends?” Abigail asked.
“Aye,” Reid replied in a low voice. “Friends.”
But in truth, he wanted to be far more than that. The sense of relief he felt now that they were talking again was palpable. The last three days had been miserable and he knew his men had paid for that. He’d been surly and irritable, snapping and snarling at them when he had no right to and his estrangement from Abigail had been the cause.
The expression of horror he’d seen on her face as she’d stood watching him from the ridge above the village had haunted his dreams. So, instead of facing her, instead of having to see the look of disappointment in her eyes, he’d absented himself from the castle as much as possible, leaving before she got up and not returning until late. After all, there were many other villages to subdue and although he’d kept a careful rein on his men, it had still left a sour taste in his mouth.
He knew this was what he’d signed up for, what he’d agreed to when he entered Laird Campbell’s service, but since he’d met Abigail, he’d found himself wanting to live up to her expectations of him.
“Good. I’m glad,” she said. She curled her fingers around his and held his hand gently.
Her hand was small and dainty compared to his calloused paw but it fitted into his hand perfectly. Silence fell again, but this time it was a comfortable, companionable silence. Reid reached out with his other hand and stroked Whitefoot’s head. The dog didn’t stir.
Both hounds had refused to come with him this morning so he’d left them behind—the first time he could remember doing so since they were pups. He’d been annoyed at the time but now he wondered if somehow they had sensed that Abigail would need them more than he would. Whitefoot had protected her better than Reid had and the hound had paid the price.
His stomach churned with worry. If Whitefoot didn’t pull through...
“I hope Clyde and Thomas are all right,” Abigail said. “They stood up to Domnall, you know. You’d be proud of them.”
“Aye, I am,” he replied. “And dinna worry about them—they both have heads as hard as rocks. They’ll be right as rain in no time.”
Abigail nodded. She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair, tied into a braid, was getting messy. She yawned hugely, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Go get some rest, lass,” he said gently.
