"I'm nae." She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "It's warm in here. The fire is too hot."
"The fire's been burnin’ at the same temperature all evenin’." He watched her squirm with pleasure. "Just admit it, lass," hesmirked. "Ye're startin’ tae see me as somethin’ other than the monster that won ye in a bid."
"That's a low bar tae clear."
"But I'm clearin’ it. That's progress."
She made a frustrated sound and moved to rise from the bed. "I should check on…"
His hand shot out, catching her wrist. "Stay."
"Why?" But she didn't pull away.
"Because we're married. Because we share this chamber. Because runnin' away every time things get uncomfortable willnae solve anythin'."
"I'm nae runnin'."
"Are ye nae?" He pulled gently, and she lost her balance, tumbling back onto the bed and landing across his legs. "Every time we have an actual conversation, every time somethin' real happens between us, ye bolt like a frightened deer."
"Maybe that's because there shouldnae be anythin' real between us." She tried to sit up, but his hand on her shoulder kept her in place. "This is a political arrangement, naethin' more."
"Is it?" He shifted, her weight settled on his thighs. "Because that paste ye made suggests otherwise."
"That paste is practical medicine."
"That paste is ye carin' despite yerself." His hand moved to her waist, holding her steady when she tried to rise. "And it daesnae have tae scare ye."
"Ye dinnae ken what scares me."
"Dinnae I?" He was close enough to see the rapid pulse in her throat and her chest. "Ye're terrified that if ye stop fightin' long enough tae actually see me, really see me, ye might find somethin' worth stayin' fer."
"That's nae true." Her breath caught as his free hand moved up to cup her face.
"Is it nae?" His thumb traced the line of her jaw. "Tell me I'm wrong, lass. Tell me ye feel naethin' when I touch ye like this."
She stared up at him, her eyes wide and conflicted. "Tòrr, I cannae."
His thumb traced the line of her jaw. "Dinnae run," he whispered.
"I'm nae runnin’. I'm being sensible." Her voice was breathless. "Yer ankle."
"Me ankle's fine." It wasn't, but he didn't care. Not with her that close, her hands pressed against his chest for balance, her lips parted in surprise.
"This isnae… we shouldnae dae this."
"Probably nae," he agreed. But he didn't let go.
Her breathing had gone shallow, her pupils dilated. He could feel her heart racing beneath his palm where his hand had somehow found its way to her ribs.
"Tell me tae stop," he said, his voice rough.
"I—" Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and his gaze followed the movement. "This is a terrible idea."
"Aye. Then tell me tae stop."
But she didn't. She just stared at him, conflict and want warring in her expression. He leaned in, giving her every chance to pull away. Their lips were a breath apart when he saw something flicker in her eyes. Fear, or perhaps desire, he couldn't tell which.
Then his better judgment finally caught up with his desire.
