Finally, she pushed the covers aside and lowered her feet to the floor.
Enough. I’m not a terrified child. It’s only weather, and I refuse tae die of hunger when all that’s required is tae find the kitchen.
She grabbed the first thing she could find to throw about her shoulders, the rough plaid blanket she’d earlier discarded and flung over the back of the chair by the fire. It was far too large,almost swallowing her and trailing on the floor as she wrapped it around herself. Her hair was a wild tangled mass on her head. She tried to smooth it, but gave up. What did it matter if she looked like hedgehog? No one would see her. And what did it matter if they did?
She opened the door of her chamber and peeped out. The hallway was cold and dimly lit by an oil lamp on a small stand beside her door. Taking the little lamp in hand, she padded forward slowly, trying not to think about ghosts, murderers, or actual lightning demons – all things her imagination insisted were very real possibilities. She wandered on hesitant feet down one of the passageways, coming to a dead end against a stone wall. She retraced her steps, even more determined to find her way to the kitchen.
What a dreadful, vast, rambling, cold place this castle was, compared to the elegant manor house she’d been raised in. She huffed quietly, consoling herself with the knowledge that soon Halvard’s letter would come and she’d be free to reunite with dear Elsie.
Finally, after what seemed like an almost endless series of passageways, she caught the faint, comforting aroma of hearth smoke and baked bread. She had found her way to the kitchen.
Once she entered, instead of the orderly array of spices and familiar condiments she expected, was greeted by a confusing collection of pots and jars containing unfamiliar dried things, pickles and preserves, conserves of fruit, honeys, jams and pastes.
She discovered an enormous loaf of oatbread in a large tin, and was rummaging through cabinets in search of butter when she heard a rustling, followed by the sound of tiny scampering feet. She let out a little squeal as she caught something moving in the corner. A mouse? She swallowed hard. Or was that simply her imagination playing tricks?
Stomach growling, she resumed her search through the cupboards in the hope of finding something,anythingfamiliar.
It was then a rough hand was suddenly clamped over her mouth.
She gasped, fighting for air. In the next second she was hauled backwards and pinned to the floor, her heart slamming against her ribs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Finally, he’d caught the intruder who’d been creeping around his kitchen. From the footsteps, the shadows, the faint sense of wrongness prickling at the back of his neck, Kenneth had known someone was sneaking about. He slammed the figure to the ground, somewhat taken aback by the familiar sweet fragrance suddenly filling his nostrils.
The intruder struggled fiercely beneath him, small but wild. He tightened his grip, ready to subdue a raider—only for the struggling creature beneath him tobitehis finger.
Hard.
“Ow. Bloody hell—” He jerked back, pulling his hand away.
The figure froze. He knew that scent now – the same delicious aroma of lavender soap that had drifted in the air of Selene’s chamber the night before.
“Selene?”
The cloaked creature underneath him blinked, hair gypsy-wild, eyes wide. Holy hell,it wasSelene.
He released her and opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could speak, she delivered a fierce kick that landed right between his legs.
The world went white, stars fluttered through the void and he collapsed to the floor in an agonized sitting position.
Groaning loudly, he curled himself protectively. “In the name of God, lass,” he managed, his voice a rough, pain-filled croak. “It’sme, damn it. I’m nae trying tae hurt ye.”
She scrambled back two steps, giving an indignant huff, glaring down at him as he slowly hauled himself to his feet.
“What was I supposed to think?” she snapped. “You jumped on me like… like some sort of barbarian.”
Sucking a slow breath through his teeth, he tried not to whimper. “Aye, very well. Ye might have mentioned earlier that ye’ve a bite on ye like a ferret and a kick that would cause jealousy in a mule.”
Despite his pain he noted her cheeks flushing pink most prettily. “I thought ye were an intruder,” he muttered.
God’s blood. He could swear she was trying to hide a giggle.
He looked her up and down and gestured with a weak wave of his hand. “And what in God’s name are ye wearing? Ye look like a wandering hedge dweller. What in the name of every last saint were ye daeing, rummaging through the kitchen like a hungry badger?”
She scowled. “I was hungry. And I couldn’t sleep. And you don’t get to insult my… my cloak while you’re attacking me.” Then, drawing herself up, she snorted disdainfully. “Like a badger, I was searching for something edible amongst all this… this… impossible collection of what you Scots mistake for food.”
Their eyes met and they glared at each other for just a moment too long. His heart flipped and, through the ache and discomfort he felt a faint twitch in his groin.
