Right.
She was still sprawled across Kieran’s chest, all but wrapped around him.
Hardly the behavior of a lady.
Good grief.
How had she abandoned thoughts of Simon so quickly? Was it only two days ago that she received his letter, asking her why she had not returned with the Gillespies?
She carefully pushed upright, staring down at Kieran, studying his face. His whiskers were even longer now. But the dark stubble only highlighted the sharp angles of his jaw and the slash of his cheekbones.
Yes, he was handsome.
Yes, she felt a strong pull of physical attraction to him.
Those things may have drawn her to him in the past—may have even been the primary reasons why she married him—but lust and physical longing were insufficient for her now.
Moreover, the comfort she felt with Kieran was not the same as what she experienced with Simon.
Simon offered her solace and safety without complications, without restraint.Avoidance, Kieran had called it. But was it truly avoidance? Or merely a lack of weighty obligation?
By contrast, Kieran’s comfort was laced with portent. Itrequiredthings of her—effort and dialogue and midnight confidences.
Though he had been right. There was relief in talking about their shared past.
She felt . . . lighter after their conversation the night before. Like the pressure within her chest had eased slightly.
Perhaps talking through her pain had some merit.
Not, however, in Kieran’s bed at one in the morning. Or even whatever time it was now.
She winced at the impropriety of her behavior.
A glance at the clock atop the mantle told her the hour was still quite early, despite the cheery sunlight streaming across the rug—the reality of being so far north and approaching the summer solstice.
She needed to leave. If a servant caught her in here, her hard-won reputation would be in tatters. She might be forced to accept Kieran as a husband, regardless. How comical that she insisted on having a chaperone only to steal into a gentleman’s bedchamber in the dead of night.
She looked down again at Kieran as she eased away.
That might have been a mistake.
He appeared younger in sleep, hair tousled and askew. She could clearly see the boy he had been—wide-eyed and bold. She even had vague memories of him as a youth. Though her father had never brought Kieran into their home, Eilidh had seen him occasionally when she and Mamma would visit Papa’s ship. At six years her senior, he had seemed sophisticated and worldly, walking across the deck with swagger in his step.
Kieran had been a child when her father had taken him on.
What happened?she wondered.What forces led you to be in my father’s care at such a young age?
Why did she not know?
Kieran opened his eyes then, as if the weight of her gaze had pulled him from slumber.
A slow smile wreathed his face, his pale blue eyes electric in the morning light.
“Now this is a bonnie sight.” He reached up to touch her hair, his gaze going soft with wonder. “How I’ve missed waking up beside ye.”
He said the words quietly, as if almost to himself.
Eilidh flinched.
