Sleep? Sleep was fine. She had hoped to sleep as well until he said they would share a bed. Perhaps it was truly all for show.
“Aye. I am finished. Will you stay put whilst?—”
He straightened and walked to the table where he retrieved a length of linen which he brought to the tub, looking his fill as he came. But then he held up the cloth and turned his head. “Out with ye.”
“To the devil with you.”
He huffed impatiently. “We are too weary for modesty, Kenna. Come to me. Now.”
She did as she was told.
He kept his head turned until she was wrapped, then he helped lift her hair from her cocoon before dropping his hands to her waist and pulling her close. He sighed softly. “I will have a final kiss from ye, Kenna. Would ye give it now, or once we are in the bed?”
Her heart leapt. To avoid a repeat of what happened in the meadow, she rose on her toes and lifted her chin. “Now, sir. Kiss me now.”
He laughed as he brought a hand up behind her head and embedded his fingers in her hair, taking his time.
“The hour is late.”
“Wheesht, my wee bird. This is no time for haste.” His smile fell away. His gaze bore into hers briefly, then he pressed his mouth to hers. Again, and again.
She never noticed when he lifted her, only when he pulled away. He set her gently on her feet with the back of her knees against the bed. He moved the cloak and bliaut to the chest, then took up the leine and dropped it over her head. Only when she put her arms through the sleeves did she release the drying linen.
He began to smooth the cloth over her, but she stopped his hands.
“I am no fool, sir.”
He smiled, then nodded and stepped back.
“A lady might sleep better with a blade beneath her pillow.”
“A laird might live longer if she did not.”
“Touché.”
Once she was nestled beneath the bedclothes, he stroked a finger along the side of her bruised face. “God keep ye, Kenna.”
She sobered. “I will keep myself, sir, but thank ye.”
Outside,the winds howled and the rain beat upon the shutters fiercely enough to keep all of Lochahearn awake and wary. But upon the lairds windows, it flailed in vain, for he and his ladyenjoyed a deep and boneless sleep while the fire dwindled and died in the hearth and sentries came and went in their duties.
In the morning, with watery light seeping between slats of wood, Tearloch woke to find Kenna curled against his side for warmth and blankets pulled up to her ears.
Fighting the greatest temptation of his life, and for both their sakes, he crawled silently out of the bed, gathered his garments, and left her to sleep the day away in peace. He knew just how the king should honor such a sacrifice?—
He should get his royal arse to Lochahearn, posthaste!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kenna woke to the smell of food, lifted her head, then opened her eyes. A maid disappeared out the door. A fresh fire began to crackle nearby, but her hand lay on the bed where Tearloch had been. She was alone again.
She closed her eyes and slid back to the far side of consciousness…
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Kenna was once again locked in her room at Carlisle Folly. She needn’t check the door. She knew it had been barred from the outside. She also knew she would never see her brother again if she didn’t climb out the window.
Heights terrified her. Anything higher than the back of a horse, that was. She looked down into the yard behind the keep. The twenty-foot drop seemed more like forty to her, but she had to go. The ledge was easily a foot wide, more than enough for a girl of eight to walk along until she found an open window.
She stopped her greeting for fear her sobs may throw her off balance, then she rubbed her wet palms on her dress. She needed a good dry grip.
