“I told ye,” he decided gruffly, averting his gaze.“I’m a protector.”
She sighed.“I understand.Truly I do.”She moved forward, taking his right hand between her own and speaking earnestly.“But I swear to ye, Adam, I don’t need protectin’.I’ve been on my own for a while now.I can protect myself.Ye have to trust me.”
He’d held his breath from the moment she’d taken his hand.Her skin was soft, warm, comforting.And the way she was gazing at him now—with sympathy and reassurance—made his heart flicker with affection.
“Besides,” she added with an enigmatic smile, patting the back of his hand before releasing him, “how do ye know his advances were unwanted?”
Her offhand remark hit him like the blow of Brand’s lance, straight in the gut.
Was she attracted to Pitcairn?She’d said she wished to secure a husband before her father could drag her back to Ireland.Did she think Laird Pitcairn might be that husband?
It was troubling.
Pitcairn might be handsome.Rich.Young.
But the laird had a reputation for philandering.A sharp tongue with servants.And a reckless love of gambling.
He was completely wrong for Aillenn.
“’Tisn’t true, is it?”he asked her.“Ye don’t have feelin’s for Pitcairn?”
She shrugged and turned away from him.“What does it matter now?Ye’ve already told him ye’re my husband.”
Eve smiled a secret smile as she sauntered toward the table and poured water from the pitcher into the basin.
Adam was jealous.He might be a master of disguise.But when it came to his emotions, he was as transparent as glass.
She soaked a linen rag and began dabbing at her face and neck.
Why his jealousy pleased her, she wasn’t sure.Perhaps it was because it felt like it gave her the upper hand.Like she was in control.Even if her heart wasn’t so sure of that.
Whatever the reason, it also gave her a wee thrill to know her flirtations with another—even if they were feigned—bothered him.It meant that he might have feelings for her.
It was a foolish hope, she knew.Utterly ridiculous.Completely inappropriate.What good were such feelings when she was a nun?
While she mused in silence, wiping away the dust of the road, she heard the crackle of peat as Adam stirred the fire behind her.
“I’ll take the floor here,” he murmured.
“What?”She whirled to face him.
“The floor.I’ll sleep beside the fire.”
“Absolutely not,” she decided.“The lodgin’ wasyourdiscovery.Ye should take the bed.”
“Don’t be absurd.I’m not goin’ to sleep on a goose-down pallet while an Irish princess beds down on the floor.”
His offer was kind.But it offended her nun’s sense of charity, humility, and fairness.
“I can’t possibly accept your offer,” she said.“Ye protected me from outlaws.Managed to procure us horses and lodgin’ for the night.Sacrificed yourself so I wouldn’t fall into the burn.”She shook her head.“A soft, warm bed to sleep in is the least I can give ye to show my gratitude.”
What she really wanted to give him was a soft, warm bed withherin it.But that was only her wayward thoughts racing astray like a runaway steed.Besides, she noted he’d carefully omitted the option of sharing the bed.To a man who claimed his chief duty was protection, she supposed such an arrangement was unthinkable.
He grunted in dissatisfaction over her decree and gave the flickering peat on the hearth one last prod before coming to his feet.
“Ye’re a stubborn lass, aren’t ye?”
“Me?”She didn’t think she was stubborn.She merely stood her ground when she knew she was right.
