She hoped that if she repeated it enough times, she would actually believe it. She reminded herself of her practical nature, the well-constructed plans for her life, which she didn’t really like but needed to adhere to, and the responsibilities that lay ahead. Yet, the fluttering in her heart seemed to disregard the logical arguments.
As she delved deeper, she realized that dismissing her feelings so easily was harder than she had thought. It wasn’t just the allure of the castle or the romance of the Scottish Highlands—it was Raphael himself.
She wondered what it would feel like to have him kiss her only once, to have his lips on hers, to sense that delight that she had only read about and heard from her friends.
She got up, walked to the window, and looked out into the night. The moon cast a gentle glow over the Scottish landscape, illuminating the beauty of the Highlands. Keira tried to gather her thoughts, compartmentalize the flutter in her heart and categorize it as something inconsequential.
One kiss would not change the real state of affairs. It might even make things worse. What if their kiss was something she would want more of, something she would not be able to live without? No. It was better not to try something so dangerous at all.
With a sigh, she made a mental vow to remain steadfast in her determination. She would push these feelings aside, place them in a locked box, and carry on with her life as planned.
She convinced herself that she could control her emotions, and that rationality would prevail. She just needed to silence this little rebellious voice inside of her, and she knew just the trick for that.
In a bid to quieten her restless mind and perhaps find solace in a glass of whiskey, Keira decided to make her way to the dining hall. Clad in her nightgown, she ventured out, assuming the castle would be empty at this late hour. After all, everyone had retired to their respective bedchambers. She was probably the only night owl unable to get a good night’s sleep.
As she stepped into the softly lit corridor and approached the dining hall, her footsteps echoing lightly, she noticed a figure seated at the far end of the table. She gasped silently when she saw him, her lips parting, her eyes widening, and her cheeks flushing.
He was there, bathed in the warm glow of the fire that kept the room warm, lost in thought, a glass of whiskey in hand. She hesitated, considering retreating, not wanting to intrude. But before she could turn away, he looked up, catching sight of her.
Raphael had never seen such a stunning woman immersed in the soft glow of the flickering candlelight, wearing nothing buta silk nightgown that clung to her curves in a gentle embrace, accentuating her silhouette to perfection. The fabric was adorned with intricate lace that traced delicate patterns across her decolletage, hinting at the allure beneath.
The gown featured thin satin straps that traced the contours of her shoulders, leaving her collarbones delicately exposed. The neckline dipped slightly, offering a glimpse of her neck and the curve of her clavicle, adding a touch of temptation to the ensemble. As she stood there before him, the silk whispered against her skin, a gentle rustle that seemed to beckon the senses.
Raphael found the sight of her breathtaking, a sudden rush of desire that caught him completely off guard. Her attire, most certainly a mistake in judgment thinking that everyone but her had already retired to their chambers, held undeniable sensuality, a quiet invitation that stirred something inside of him, something that had been slumbering for a very long time.
Keira’s gaze met his, a mix of vulnerability and courage. She was unapologetically herself, embracing her femininity in the quietude of the night. The air seemed charged with an unspoken tension, a connection that defied words but spoke volumes in their exchanged glances.
“I… I’m sorry for the intrusion, Laird MacCurtney,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I just couldn’t sleep and thought a glass of whiskey might help me with that.”
Raphael, his gaze never leaving hers, smiled warmly, a reassuring presence in the dimly lit room. “No intrusion at all. I find the night has a way of stirrin’ thoughts, drawin’ us to quiet corners. Please, have a seat.” Then, he added, “And dinnae Laird me. Raphael is fine. We’re all friends here, nae?”
“Yes.” She smiled again, more confidently.
He liked her confident smiles, although her timid ones were equally alluring, those same ones that appeared when her cheeks were flushed, when her mind was thinking exactly what his own was thinking. What he didn’t like was the thought that she was hisfriend,but he tried to push that to the back of his mind.
He watched her as she settled into a chair, after which he poured her a glass of whiskey. He brought it over to her in silence, offering it with his fingers firmly gripping the crystal glass. He knew what he was doing, although it was a dangerous game. Very dangerous. But it was the middle of the night, and he had already had two glasses himself. He could barely control the desire that was oozing out of his every pore.
Their fingers briefly brushed in the exchange of the glass. Just a fleeting touch, but he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had had this effect on him. He swallowed thickly, pulling away. It was safer for them both to keep their distance from each other, both physically as well as emotionally.
“Have you known Joan’s husband for a long time?” she asked, holding the glass as if in an effort to hide behind it.
He grinned at the attempt. The setting around them was far too intimate, and her attire even more. The flickering candlelight cast playful shadows all around them, dancing across the curves of her nightgown, only adding to its allure. The atmosphere was charged with a magnetic pull.
“Aye.” He nodded, taking another sip from his glass before continuing. “We’ve been friends for a few years now. We actually met just when he married yer friend, but our alliance has never been officially declared until now. What about ye? Are ye here to find a husband yerself, like yer friends did?”
“What?” she gasped, frowning. “No, of course not. I’m here merely visiting them. Nothing else.”
Laird MacCurtney was known for many things, and one of them was being good at reading people. So, when Keira replied so hastily that she was here merely visiting her friends, he was absolutely certain that there was more to this story. It amused him more than he was willing to admit.
“Just because I read a lot about Scotland, it doesn’t mean that I am desperate to marry a Scot,” she growled one more time, then downed her drink completely, slamming the glass against the table.
He grinned, raising an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. Another one?”
Her lower lip trembled a little before she replied, “Please.”
“With pleasure.” He nodded, then proceeded to pour her another glass. “As someone might have mentioned to ye already, I’m nae the smoothest conversationalist.”
“Oh, really?” she asked so funnily that he almost burst out into a chuckle, but he managed to resist the temptation to do so. Instead, he merely changed the subject.
