“So tell me, Laird MacLeod,” she continued despite her better judgment. “What is the alternative?”
“Punishment.” His voice was clipped, but she could see it in his eyes, too. The determination to see how farshewould go.
“Is that so?”
“Aye. Ye get punished for being a bad wife.”
Her eyes flashed. “Do ye get off on ordering folks around just because ye’re a big, strong man?”
He chuckled under his breath. “Aye, and I’ll show ye in more ways than one.”
“Ye are too cocky for me liking,” she said, a hint of a smile getting in before she could stop it.
“And ye talk too much,” he shot back.
The space between them had vanished, and she realized it a little too late. Or perhaps shechoseto realize it late. His hand slid to her waist, warm through the fabric and sure. She swallowed ashis grip tightened on her and gasped when he drew her close to him.
Then, he leaned in and kissed her.
She didn’t step back, and he answered that action, or lack of it, with more. As the kiss grew more frantic, she felt his shirt under her fingers and found herself clutching it because the floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
She broke the kiss and sucked in a sharp breath. Her palm stayed on his chest a beat longer than it should, registering the steady thud beneath. That startled her more than the heat between them, and she dropped her hand immediately.
Without another word, she turned away from him and hurried down the corridor, with nothing but her room on her mind.
“Emma,” he called behind her.
She paused with her fingers on a doorknob that wasn’t hers. “Aye?”
He held up four fingers, his eyes steadier than anything. “Four more nights to go.”
Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t give him an answer. She let the smallest, tightest smile settle on her face and then left him there, the corridor growing quiet behind her. Her feet carriedher to the stairs, and she found the hallway to her room empty. She stepped inside immediately and headed straight to the bath.
With her body submerged in the warm water, the tension in her limbs dissipated slowly. She had let things get too far, and that wasn’t her intention. Grateful that Lara had gone to bed, and that she was the only one left to her despair, she gripped both sides of the bathtub, exhaling as slowly as she could.
There was no way that had happened. There was simply no way.
She could still feel his lips where he had kissed her and his hand on her back. No amount of warm water could wash away that feeling, and she hated herself for it.
Unable to settle her thoughts, she sank fully into the tub, feeling the water cover her head.
No, she hadn’t done that.
For the love of God, she hadn’t kissed Jack Barkley.
CHAPTER 11
Four Days to Her Decision
The morning lightspilled across the long table, catching silver and the rims of cups. Steam rose from the porridge and disappeared into the air. Emma sat opposite her mother and tried to listen.
Olivia turned a page in her pattern book. “Ivory would suit ye better than white. And a soft ribbon…”
“Mm,” Emma murmured, her spoon barely moving.
Her thoughts were nowhere near the table. No matter how hard she tried, they strayed back to last night in Jack’s study… the feel of his hand on her waist, the press of his mouth, the tickle of his breath against her skin. Every time the memory came, her stomach would tighten as if bracing for a step she could not see.
“Emma, are ye listenin’?” Olivia asked, shooting her a mild glare.
