He nodded at her ribbon. “Let it loose.”
“Absolutely not,” she huffed. “It would be untidy.”
“Aye,” he whispered. “That’s th’ point.”
“Halvard…”
He moved before she could finish. His hand, large and rough moved ever so gently, but with precision, behind her neck. Suddenly Elsie found she could not properly breath as his other hand moved toward her hair and tugged the ribbon free in a single smooth pull.
Her hair spilled down in a cascade of golden-brown waves.
Elsie froze.
Halvard’s eyes met hers, darkening with something even she could not mistake. And she felt the knot she had been holding in her very core loosen.
“Much better,” he murmured. His voice was low and rough. “I like it like this. Wild.”
Her pulse thundered so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
“That was improper,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said, eyes fixed on her mouth. He licked his lips. “Most things worth daein’ are.”
Elsie swallowed… hard. “You’re impossible.”
His lips curved up in the faintest, most devastating smile. “And yer blushin’ again.”
“I am not.”
He leaned in, just slightly closer. “Ye are.”
Her breath caught as her heart fluttered wildly, betraying her and everything she’d convinced herself she felt about the Highlander before her.
And all from a few pieces of honeyed bread, and a stolen ribbon. For one breathless instant the world narrowed to only the two of them. For Elsie, his heat, the warmth of his chest so close to hers, the scent of pine and winter wind clinging to his skin as the roughness of his voice lingered in her ear.
She didn’t move, didn’t attempt to clear her space of him. There was something in the way he looked at her, rooting her to the spot.
Then Halvard stilled, something flickering across his expression. It wasn’t anger, nor desire, but rather recognition.
Elsie blinked. It was as if he’d suddenly realized how close they were, and how dangerous it was. He stepped back so quickly it jolted her back into the moment as well. The space between them becoming awkward as he let out a small chuff.
“I should see to th’ guard rotation,” he said, voice rougher than before.
It was a terribly thin excuse, and Elsie could see even he seemed to know it. Confusion tightened in her chest. “Yes, of course.”
“Aye,” he cleared his throat, gaze skidding away from her face as though the simple act of looking at her too long could undo him. “It’s already dark.”
But Elsie knew it wasn’t the night that made him wary. It was her.
Before she could gather a single coherent response, he stepped past her, pulling the distance around himself like a shield.
“Ye should rest,mo bhean,” he muttered, soft almost as if apologizing. “Ye’ve had enough fer one day.”
And then he was gone and Elsie was alone. The only sound that of his boots echoing down the corridor.
She felt strangely bereft at the loss of him, her heart still hammering in the sudden stillness of the study. She pressed her hand to her chest as if the movement would help slow her thundering pulse.
What on earth just happened?
