“’Tis naught but a wee scratch,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in the denial. “Ye are quite forgiven, m’lady.”
She repressed a weary sigh. So, it was to be that way between them? Well then, perhaps, it was for the better. She wrung out the cloth and daubed the dried blood from his skin, cleaning the area as gently as she could. A sad smile tugged at her lips as she managed the chore. Valan’s claim that it was naught but a scratch had not been one of gallantry. He knew his injuries. The arrow tip had barely punctured his flesh and would only take a stitch or two to close, if that. “Ye were right about the wound, good sir. Perhaps I should practice more with Beitris to improve my archery skills.”
He caught hold of her hand and halted her, fixing her with such a fierce gaze she forgot to breathe. “Nay, m’lady. Ye should keep yerself safe within these walls. My men and I shall handle the warring.”
The muscles in his strong jaw flexed, entrancing her until she felt compelled to touch his cheek. He covered her hand with his and locked his eyes with hers.
“Yer boon, sir,” she whispered, unable to help herself. The demons of her loneliness pushed her to touch her mouth to his, and all control left her. How could such a battle-hardened man possess lips so tender and sweet? The taste of whisky and exhilaration filled her as she deepened the kiss.
His arms encircled her, gathering her to the hardness of his chest. She stood between his knees, his muscular thighs flanking her, holding her just as tightly as his arms. He took control of their joining. The flick of his tongue to hers unleashed more of her demons, making her hunger for more.
“M’lady?” Dullis’s high-pitched shout from behind the closed door shattered the spell. “M’lady, are ye ready to retire yet? Ye must get some rest, ye ken? I am ready to help undo yer armor.”
With her fingers tangled in his hair, Elspet forced herself to break their connection. A disappointed gasp left her as she tore her mouth from his. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “I forget myself.” She pushed away and stumbled back, moving out from the intimate space between his knees. Before he could respond, she called out to the maid, “I am nearly finished, Dullis. Seek yer bed. I can manage my armor. I know ye rose well before dawn to help with the baking.”
“Are ye certain, m’lady?”
Elspet closed her eyes in a futile attempt at calming the dangerous storm within. At the very least, she had to keep the raging turmoil out of her voice. Dullis had been with her quite a while. But of late, ever since Herbert’s death, the maid’s attitude toward her had changed. She had become almost defiant. “I am certain, Dullis. I have nearly finished dressing Constable MacDougall’s wound so he can return to his men in the hall.” She forced her eyes open but avoided Valan’s gaze and busied herself with threading the needle for his stitches. She couldn’t trust herself to look him in the eyes after that kiss. “Sleep well, Dullis,” she called out with a glance at the door that was thankfully still shut.
“Sleep well, m’lady. Call out if ye have need of me.”
Elspet bowed her head and waited, counting the maid’s clunking footsteps against the wooden floors as they faded away. After a deep breath, she managed a smile while still keeping her attention locked on Valan’s shoulder. “I think two stitches will do nicely. Possibly even one if I angle it just so.”
“Ye canna pretend that kiss didna happen, m’lady.” The mighty warrior sounded as distraught as she felt.
“Aye, dear sir, I can.” He had no idea how good she was at pretending. She had done it all her life. ’Twas a matter of survival. “Hold still now. ’Twill sting a bit.”
He snorted out a noisy exhale. “Elspet…”
“Yer boon is paid,” she said softly, then tied off the needless stitch and cut it free with her small shears. “Shall I bandage it or do ye prefer yer knave to do so?” From the looks of the pale, thin lines scarring his chest and arms, his provisions knave appeared quite adept at caring for him.
He caught hold of her hands and pulled, gently forcing her to sit beside him. “I canna pretend that kiss didna happen.” His calloused fingers touched the edge of her jaw, then slid into her hairline as he cupped her cheek. His eyes narrowed the slightest bit as his lopsided smile returned. “I commanded my men to leave the women of Clan Maxwell untouched, and yet here I sit, in violation of my own order.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a rasping whisper. “And I would violate it as many times as ye can count, if ye would but permit it.”
“I cannot.” The scars across his muscular expanse of chest anchored her emotions in the oddest way. The reminder of his past battles gave her the strength to refuse him. This man lived by the sword. A mercenary. While his time in her bed would undoubtedly be bliss, once the siege ended, her solitary existence would return with a vengeance when he left her. Even in her desperation, her pride remained intact. To revel in his heated embrace in place of her cold bed would only make the loneliness worse when it came time for him to leave. She wanted more than fleeting pleasure.
“It took me many years to temper my yearnings and adapt to a life alone. I willna put myself through that again.” She rose from the bench and put more space between them. The heat of him, his manly scent, muddled her thoughts, making it difficult to express herself so he might understand. “I willna be a prisoner to my loneliness and lower myself to becoming a passing distraction. Once the English retreat, ye will return to yer Lord of Argyll, and I will remain here. Caring for my people and securing a suitable husband for my daughter.” She carried the basin of water to a bucket in the corner and emptied it. “Perhaps someday Fate will be kind enough to send someone willing and able to stay at my side.”
He slowly rose from the bench and faced her. A pained expression creased his brow. “Ye know I want ye. Hell’s fire, woman, I want ye more than I have ever wanted any woman. But I canna promise to give ye what ye seek because I willna dishonor ye with a lie.”
She closed the distance between them and rested her hand on the center of his chest. She needed the warmth of his flesh against hers, even though nothing more could pass between them. “I thank ye for yer honesty.” The thud of his heartbeat into her touch made her smile. “Ye are a good man, Valan.”
“Nay. I am not.” He touched her face with a gentleness that made her aching loneliness keen for relief. “I dinna ken which will be the greater demon I must choose between—beating the English back with great haste so I might escape this temptation, or fighting the bastards at half strength so I can tarry here all the longer in the hopes of changing yer mind about us.”
“Temporary pleasure can only bring regret.” She spoke more to herself than him. The longer he stayed so close, the more her resolve weakened.
“Or give us precious memories to brighten a cold, bleak day?” He drew her closer still. “If I have learned anything about this life, it is that nothing is guaranteed. Not tomorrow. Not years from now. Not even the next hour. All we have for certain is the moment at hand. Nothing more.”
She wavered, recognizing the truth of opportunities lost, never to be regained. “My cousin, Lady Christiana…” She forgot what she intended to say as he brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek, then stroked her bottom lip with the calloused edge of his thumb.
“The Lady Christiana?” he encouraged while teasing a tender kiss to her temple.
She closed her eyes, holding tight to his forearms to keep from swaying off balance. This battle between her conscience, her pride, and her ravenous need was the fiercest she had ever fought. “Lady Christiana hated she couldna come to my aid all those years ago. But my marriage came to pass before she received word.”
“She has come to yer aid now,” he whispered against her hair. He slid his hands down her back and pulled her close enough to feel the hard length of him even through the leather panels of her armor. “She sent me.”
What harm could come from a single night?Her need’s whisper echoed in her mind with such force, she swore she heard the words out loud.
“One night.” She almost choked on the words. “Just the one, ye ken?”
