"The things we survive," Killian whispered as a dark smile curled his lip. It was his crooked smirk that chilled her to the bone. Her pulse raced as an awareness flooded her senses. She pulled back, suddenly self-conscious, and felt as if she were trapped in a room with a black bear recently woken by spring.
"Thank ye, Laird MacMillan for yer hospitality," Leah said with a quick bow. "I should go and prepare for me trip."
Leah stood before him, eagerly waiting to be dismissed. Killian didn't say a word but waved his hand, giving her permission to leave. Turning on her heels, Leah rushed for the door as Mason's warning rang in her heart.
Leave as soon as ye can.
3
Leah nibbled on the tips of her fingernails as she frantically paced the length of her dimly lit chamber. Her heart fluttered as wildly as her thoughts. She couldn't help but replay her conversation with the laird as doubt seeped into the marrow of her bones.
"He'll let me go come mornin'," she whispered to the dead of night. The only response was the popping of the fire as it consumed the remnants of the log. "He's the laird, he's already said as much."
Leah argued with herself as the fear brewed and festered within her. She glanced at the window and recalled Laird O'Malley speaking of Laird MacMillan once a great many years ago. The memory was frayed at the edges and faded. It was like trying to read through murky water. Leah grabbed the tip of her braid and fiddled with the loose strands.
"If he would let me go, then why the warnin' from Mason?" Leah asked as she spun about to face the door. The tension swelled in her like a bubble. "I cannae take the chance."
Grabbing her smock from the back of the chair, Leah charged for the door. She held her breath as she reached for the knob. The steel was icy in her palm as she gently pulled the door open. Peering through the crack, Leah expected to find a guard posted. To her surprise, the hall was empty. Gaining a bit more confidence, Leah tipped toed down the hallway, ensuring she was as quiet as a mouse.
"Well now, who are ye and where are ye off to?"
The woman's voice startled Leah. She turned slowly around and flashed an innocent smile at the woman.
"I'm the healer one of the councilmen brought in to see Mason," Leah answered, giving the woman a half-truth. The last thing Leah wanted to do was raise the alarm about why she was roaming the dark castle. "I was lookin' for the kitchen. This castle is just so big, I've seemed to have made a wrong turn somewhere."
The maid arched a suspicious eyebrow and glared at her. "Mason ye say?"
"Aye, the young, infirmed lad," Leah answered. "I was goin' to make him a tea to ease the ache in his chest. But I got turned about."
"The kitchen is that way," the woman said, refusing to mask her disdain for being woken so late.
"Thank ye, and I'm sorry for disturbin' ye, truly," Leah said as she scurried down the hallway. She only breathed a sigh of relief when she turned the corner, and the alarm had yet to be rung.
Muffled, husky voices drifted through the hallway, sending Leah's heart into a frenzy. It was one thing to trick a servant but quite another when dealing with a soldier. Panic shot through her. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run, but where would she go to? She didn't know where to flee or even which room was safe. But what choice did she have? Leah could either stand in the hallway and be caught by the patrolling guards or pray the room she entered would be empty.
As the sounds grew louder, Leah had to make a choice. Refusing to be held against her will, she started back down the hall, checking the doors as she moved. Finally, after the third door, Leah slipped into the open crack and pressed an ear to the door.
The drumming of her frantic heartbeat made it nearly impossible for her to hear anything else. It was the hair rising on the back of her neck that caused her alarm. Leah turned to investigate. Her eyes widened before dropping to the floor.
"If ye were lookin' for a night of passion, ye should have made yer request known earlier," Killian's deep voice purred in Leah's ears. Her breath hitched as she tried not to steal a glimpse of him.
"I…" Leah stammered as she tried for the door, only to have it slip from her grasp. She wanted to shrivel up and die right there. Or melt into the very stones of the castle. Anything would be better than to be in the bath chambers with Laird MacMillan.
"Aye, I'm sure ye have a great explanation as to why ye've come in this particular room," Killian said as Leah heard the sloshing of water crashing against the walls of the wooden tub. "But to be honest, I'd rather nae entertain yer reasonin'."
The Laird towered over her as he emerged from the steam like a Greek god of old. Leah's breath hitched as the temperature in the room rose. It felt as if she'd stepped onto the face of the sun. Curiosity and wonder stroked her fantasies, drawing her gaze back to Killian.
The warrior stood before her unashamedly, baring his all. It was clear he was proud of his masculinity. Each chiseled muscle reflected his strength and demanded respect.
"I was lookin' for the kitchen," Leah managed to choke out as she realized he'd been watching her as she studied him. Embarrassment kissed her skin, causing little tingles of uncertainty to explode under her skin. Leah turned her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Sure ye were," the laird whispered seductively. His dark shadow shrouded her like a blanket. His fingers brushed her neck. It felt as if she would burst into flames at any moment. Killian's breath tickled her earlobe as he leaned in. "I ken why ye came here."
"I can assure ye, Laird MacMillan, ye're entirely mistaken. I simply slipped into the wrong room."
"Or maybe fate brought ye to me," he said as his teeth grazed her ear. A strange and welcoming sensation coursed through her body. The pricks of needles started at the top of her head and trickled down to her toes. It was as if Killian had whispered to the secret parts of her soul.
"I daenae believe in fate," Leah said breathlessly as she warred with the sensation wreaking havoc throughout her. It was as if all reason and wit had been siphoned from her, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell of the woman she was before.
