His voice brought a chill to her as she remembered Bridget. Her eyes watered again, but she pushed it back still.
“Ceana?” he called. “Are ye alright?”
Ceana didn't know what to say. She wasn’t alright, and that much was obvious. Torcall would see through her, but she couldn’t tell him about Bridget. She wasn’t a weak lass who needed comforting.
“I wanted to say I am sorry for the way I acted last night,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
Torcall’s face was impassive, and he said nothing.
“My actions last night were nae right, and I am sorry if I made ye feel uncomfortable.”
Still, Torcall said nothing. He would not apologize if he didn’t mean it. Neither would he pretend to be angered if he wasn’t.
He hadn’t regretted any of what had happened—or almost happened--the previous night. For the first time, he was grateful that the kiss had been stopped. It would leave a bitter taste if he kissed a lass that regretted it—especially when he would have enjoyed it.
“I hope this will nae affect our friendship,” she was saying. “I do realize that I can come off as pushy a’times. ‘Tis no excuse--.”
Torcall blocked out the rest of her words, trying to decipher the intent of the apology. Was she sorry because she had almost kissed him or because she thought she made him uncomfortable? The second thought almost made him laugh.
What man rejected the advances of a pretty woman? Ceana was a pleasure to look at. He had watched her for months. It seemed to him that one day, she was a little girl with pigtails who he couldn’t have been bothered with. The next day, she was a gorgeous woman with alluring dark brown eyes and curves that weren’t hidden even in her long dresses.
He had watched her—what man hadn’t? However, the first time they had spoken, she had been so open and ready to speak to him that he had been deflated. It was obvious that she had been so open with him, not because of who he was, but because that was who she was. Despite the obvious innocence that encircled her, everything about her was flirty.
The way she smiled displayed her full lips. She knew how to make a man ache to suckle on them. When she tossed her long red hair over her shoulders, he knew for certain that she knew just what she was doing.
He had watched her talk to other men and had seen how glued they were to her. Although she wasn’t bubbly with them, the signs were there. She knew what to do to each man. She didn’t act like she noticed either. It was a perfect combination; seductive, smart, and aloof.
“Ceana,” he said, stopping the tirade that was still going on.
“Aye?” she answered him.
Torcall could swear that her lips trembled the tiniest bit.
“I have nae regrets about this previous night,” he said to her reassuringly.
“Oh.”
“Aye,” he said. Was it possible to get her to be herself again, he wondered? “I enjoyed being that close to ye. Whatever happened—and whatever would have happened because ye wanted it,” he paused and looked her in the eyes- “and because I wanted it. Do nae forget.”
She nodded and smiled, but it was barely there. It was obvious to Torcall that the heat that had been around them the previous night would not return anytime soon.
“Come,” he urged her, “sit.”
She walked to him with only a slight hesitation and sat beside him, making sure to gather her skirts respectfully.
However, she was stiff, and he was certain that he saw her lips tremble again.
“What did ye come here to do?” he asked her.
“What?” she asked.
Torcall arched a brow. Hadn’t she been listening?
“What did ye come here to do?” he repeated.
“Nothin’ really,” she shook her head, and there was silence again.
She had gathered the hem of her dress in her hands and was squeezing. Her knuckles were so white that he wondered why she was gripping it so tightly.
