The kiss with Keira had brought forth a torrent of emotions and desires he had long suppressed. It was a reminder of the man he used to be, a man driven by passion and recklessness. But he had changed—or at least he had tried to. He had sought redemption, a chance to atone for the sins of his past.
If Keira knew the truth about him, about the shadows that lurked within his soul, she would surely recoil. She deserved someone untainted, someone worthy of her purity and innocence. He knew he should keep his distance to spare her from the darkness that clung to him.
Yet, despite his rational thoughts and the voice of reason screaming inside his head, he found himself irresistibly drawn to her. It was as if an invisible thread bound them, pulling him towards her, closer and closer. He was the moth, and she was the flame—dangerous, mesmerizing, and alluring.
He knew the flames could consume him, yet he yearned to feel their warmth, even if it meant risking the fragile peace he had fought so hard to find. The battle within him raged on, torn between his duty and his heart’s desires. He knew he should keep his distance, but the undeniable pull of Keira’s presence was too powerful to resist.
With a heavy heart, Raphael tried to steel himself against the inevitable. Keira’s presence in his life was a fleeting one, a mere interlude in the grand orchestration of fate.
Only a handful of days remained—fourteen, to be precise—before she would disappear from his world forever. This realization weighed on him, an ever-present ache that gnawed at his soul.
He knew this was a temporary connection, a fleeting encounter that fate had graciously granted. She was a guest in his home, passing through his life like a shooting star across the night sky. He had to remind himself of this fact—the brevity of their time together—lest he allow his heart to hope for the impossible.
Fourteen days more.
It seemed like simply a blink of an eye, but at the same time, an entire eternity, and that was what frightened him.
11
As dawn painted the sky with hues of soft pastels, Keira stirred in her bed, the remnants of sleep clinging to her. Her dreams, when she had finally been able to fall asleep, had been restless, filled with the enigmatic face of Raphael, who seemed to haunt both her waking and sleeping hours.
She sighed, pushing the tangled strands of hair off her face, her mind already occupied with thoughts of him. It was as if his presence had woven itself into the very fabric of her being, leaving an indelible mark on her heart. She couldn’t imagine that a single kiss had the power to do so much. But technically, they had kissed twice. Maybe two kisses were enough to do all of this?
Despite her efforts to maintain a semblance of composure, she found herself succumbing to the allure of his memory. The way his eyes had gazed at her, his voice resonating like a melody in her mind—it all tugged at her heartstrings, leaving her yearning for more.
She wondered what today would be like. Would he be his usual self and pretend as if nothing had happened? Would he try to offer some sort of an explanation as to why he had left so abruptly last night? Or would he simply try to avoid her? She didn’t know this man well enough to be able to predict his behavior, but every fiber of her being yearned to get to know him.
At that moment, a knock on the door interrupted her daydreaming.
“Yes?” she called out.
The door opened, and a kind-looking face of a young maid appeared in the doorway. She greeted Keira with a warm smile. “Good morning, Lady Keira,” she spoke with a thick accent, even more noticeable than her hosts’. “My name is Winona, and I’m here to assist ye in preparin’ for the day.”
Keira returned the smile. “Please, come in, Winona.”
The maid did as she was bid, closing the door behind her.
“I would be grateful for your assistance,” Keira continued. “I was thinking of something simple but elegant. You know, suitable for a casual day at home. I do believe that I have something perfect.”
“Ye ken that the Laird has prepared an entire wardrobe for yer choosin’?” Winona sounded surprised. She waited a moment, then glided gracefully towards the wardrobe, which stood in thecorner of the chamber. She opened the door, and to Keira’s surprise, there were rows of gowns hanging inside, each one more beautiful than the next.
“When on earth did he do this!?” Keira gasped.
“While ye were takin’ a bath,” Winona explained. “He gave clear instructions on how to go about it.”
“He did?” Keira was left speechless at this little display of more than mere hospitality.
“Mhm. Now, if ye will permit me to make a choice.” Winona turned to Keira for one quick glance, and then she deftly selected a delicate morning gown, a soft pastel hue of lilac that seemed to complement Keira’s complexion to perfection. The fabric was fine and light, ensuring comfort as well as style.
“I love it,” Keira gushed, allowing Winona to hang the gown in front of her figure, and then both women gazed at her reflection in the looking glass.
“I do believe it will suit ye perfectly.” Winona also seemed pleased with her choice.
“Your Laird really thinks of everything,” Keira said amusedly. She had to admit that she hadn’t expected this from him.
“Oh, Laird MacCurtney is a fine man.” Winona smiled, obviously in awe of the laird she was working for.
Keira wondered if all the women here were equally smitten by him. Although, she could not hold it against them. The man was indeed a fine specimen of a Scottish Highlander.
