She turned to move away. What was the point, arguing with someone who gave nothing in return? She had to remember that there wasn’t anything true between them, at least not anything that she hadn’t invented in her own mind. Hadn’t her sisters been telling her for years that her little flights of fancy would just end with her hurt?
Before she could go far, however, a hand caught around her wrist. Ciaran turned her back toward him and kept tugging until she was close enough to rest her hand on his chest. Her fingers hesitated above the hard muscle of his torso until the flicker of pain crossed his expression and her hand moved as though of its own accord to rest right above the thrumming of his heartbeat.
“My family and yours…” He paused to clear the gravel in his throat. “They are allies, aye. But I dinnae ken if that means we are allies, Eilidh.”
She had a sudden sympathy for Martin, for how pleased he’d been at hearing her say his name. A tremor went through her when she heard Ciaran growl her name that way.
But, like the young guard, she would be daft to make more of this than it was.
Still, she did not pull away, and he did not release her.
“Do ye wish to be my ally?” she asked softly.
A bittersweet smile quirked at his lips. “I dinnae wish to be your enemy.”
It was not lost on her that wishing did not always make things so, not in times of war. She half longed to snatch her hand away; her fingers practically burned where she touched him. Her pulse came fast; a breath caught in her throat.
And then, when she couldn’t take it any longer without risking bursting directly into flames, he finally, finally let her go.
Their gazes were the final thing to separate.
“Good night, Eilidh,” he said after a long, long moment in which Eilidh felt almost as hot as when they’d been standing close together.
She huffed out a breath andforcedthe spell to break.
“Good night, Ciaran,” she whispered.
They turned and left one another. But as Eilidh undressed back in her chamber and got herself into bed, she swore she could still feel the tingle in her fingers where she had touched him.
6
Eilidh woke feeling restless, as though she’d been plagued by dreams she couldn’t quite remember. She decided on the side of pushing the strange mood from her mind. She’d always been a person who loved the mornings, and today was a new day.
A day in which, she vowed, she was not going to be swayed by fancies.
Yes, she thought, putting a pep in her step as she headed down to break her fast. Therewassomething good to be gotten from this whole… mess with Ciaran Gunn. He had finally convinced her of the thing that her sisters had not managed to instill in her in eighteen years of life: there was no good to be had from letting her imagination run wild.
This resolution lasted right up until she entered the dining hall.
“What are ye doing here?” she demanded archly.
Ciaran paused with a bite of food halfway to his mouth, which even Eilidh found to be atouchdramatic.
“I thought I was the injured one,” he said, lowering the spoon in a manner once again—unbelievablydramatic. “But perhapsye took a blow to the head as well? I’m Ciaran, Ciaran Gunn. I’ve been staying at this Keep.”
She scowled at him, and the annoying pestgrinnedat her.
It was that smile, cheerful and downright playful, that broke her resolution. Because, all of a sudden, she could see it. She could see him staying here in the same way that Arran had stayed after he’d become an ally to the Donagheys and Buchanans. He could train with the men—no doubt they could learn a great deal from the legendary warrior—and maybe a friendship would bloom, as had happened with James and Arran.
And when he wasn’t training…
Well, possibly he could be friends with Eilidh, too. And perhaps, the next time there was a feast, he would walk her back to her rooms to prevent her from being bothered by overeager lads. And if they found a shadowy spot once again, perhaps he would touch her wrist. And maybe they would?—
She cut off her thoughts. She was not notnotdoing this. She had just decided she wasn’t doing this fanciful nonsense any longer. She wasn’t about to let a crooked smile and a pair of gleaming emerald eyes trick her out of that resolution. What was so special about green eyes, anyway? Davina had hazel eyes, and they’d never once set Eilidh to dreaming about them!
“Are ye going to try to murder me?” Ciaran asked in a quiet voice.
This startled her. “I—what?”
