The footman dipped his head and kept to the side. “Me Laird,” he greeted.
“Aye,” Neil muttered.
The footman reached the landing, and another joined him. Their voices lowered.
Neil walked on. When he passed the next corner, he caught the tail of a whisper.“… the lady and the bairns.”
He kept moving anyway until he reached the long corridor that led to Kristen’s room. The scent of lavender and smoke greeted him. Soon, he got to her door and paused, his hand resting on the handle.
“Ye hate it when ye need something,” he muttered to himself. “Ye hate it like a burn.”
He stood there a moment longer and listened.
The keep breathed low around him. Owls hunted in the dark beyond the wall. A man snored two rooms off and then fell quiet.
Neil closed his hand around the handle.
“A rule is a rule,” he murmured, before slipping inside.
Kristen lay on her side, her eyes fluttering open to the wind that brushed her face. The empty space beside her felt cold, but she kept her breathing even anyway.
Still half dreaming, she reached across the bed for cool linen or a pillow to prop her shoulders. Her palm touched heat instead.
Not just heat.
Skin.
It was warm and smooth, and for some reason, it rose and fell under her fingertips.
Her eyes widened in shock. For a brief second, she saw only skin. Then she saw the curve of a shoulder and the blanket lying low on narrow hips.
The realization that she wasn’t dreaming, that there was a stranger in her bed, slammed through her.
A small sound tore free and sharpened into a scream.
Neil opened his eyes, flinching just a little. “Kristen,” he groaned.
“What in God’s name are ye doing here?!” Kristen yelped, clutching the blanket to her chest.
“Do ye already regret yer rule, wife?”
Her gaze flicked down to the tented linen over his hips. Heat rose to her face, and she tore her eyes away.
“I daenae… I never thought ye would stick to it.”
“They are yer rules at the end of the day, are they nae?”
“Ye never honor rules or vows,” she scoffed. “Nae with me.”
Neil pulled at the blanket. “Kristen, it is too late to talk about this. I did what I had to do so I could protect me braither.”
“By vanishing the night we wed,” she fired back. “By never writing.Five years, Neil. Five years of silence.”
Neil pushed up on one elbow, and the blanket slipped dangerously low over his belly. “Ye think I chose to do that, do ye nae? Ye think I went wandering for sport.”
“Ye could have written to me. Or at the very least to Lachlan.”
They stared at one another in the dim light, both breathing hard.
