It happened in an instant, so fast that Emma didn’t have time to understand what had happened or why. All she could understand was that Thomas’s fingertips were whispering along the line of her jaw, gently but firmly tilting up her chin towards him. His lips were on hers, soft and tasting of ale and something sweet that she couldn’t identify. The stubble on his skin grazed hers ever so slightly, and the scent of freshly-cut grass and sweet ale was almost overwhelming.
He was kissing her.
Laird Thomas MacPherson was kissing her, Emma the healer, a nobody from nowhere, and the idea of that was almost as intoxicating as the reality of the fact.
Aside from a few drunken, disgusting kisses men had stolen at the pub, she had never been kissed before.Thiswas nothing like any of those awful experiences.
Thomas was gentle but just firm enough to stop the kiss from melting away to nothing. He pulled her close, their bodies fitting together as if they were meantto be that close, and the simmering, coiling thing in her body increased and rejoiced. She wanted something, and while the details of what that something might be were hazy, she was sure that she could find it here.
His palm rested flat against her back, warm and reassuring. The touch began to slip down and sideways, cupping the side of her ribs. Another half-inch and his fingers would begin to skim the swell of her breasts.
Much to her own surprise, Emma wanted him to touch her.
What would it feel like? Perhaps…
Then, just as quickly as the kiss had begun, it ended.
Thomas broke away, backpedaling from the doorway so that he stood in the light of the main chamber.
Emma sucked in a breath, feeling that she hadn’t breathed for at least ten minutes. Her lips felt strange and tingly, in a good way. Thomas’s eyes were wide, and for once, there was no trace of his usual complacent smirk on his lips.
“I shouldnae have done that,” he said.
It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over her face. She felt too hot and ridiculously silly all at once, and her legs were like jelly.
Of coursehe was shocked at himself. What laird would lower himself to kiss a healer? Pretty, chirpy maids were one thing, but a healer with green-stained fingers and mud-stained skirts?
Emma cleared her throat, smoothing out her apron, searching for something to say. Should she tell him that it didn’t matter? That she wouldn’t tell anyone? What did he want from her?
Thomas dropped his gaze, shaking his head furiously. “I promised…” he began, then broke off. “I’ll go. Thank ye for…” Trailing off again, he held up his nettle-stung arm, which was shiny with salve, and made a dash for the door.
She stayed where she was, blinking and trying to absorb what had just happened. The door opened and closed with a slamthat reverberated around the room. The noise woke Delphine, who started in her armchair and blinked blearily around.
“Oh, did I doze off? Silly of me, eh? I’ll not sleep tonight. Did Laird MacPherson already leave, then?”
9
Thomas strode through cool, dark hallways, his mind buzzing.
Had he really just kissed Emma? The chief healer’s apprentice? Right afterDelphine had made him promise not to lay a finger on her?
Guilt made his cheeks redden. He ought never to have put her in that situation. Not asking her to pretend to be his fiancée—he was pleased withthatidea. Who better to choose than a woman like Emma, forthright and outspoken, who was so eager to prove that she was immune to his charms?
Had she even kissed him back? He could hardly remember. She hadn’t struggled or pulled away, that was for sure. Thomas was not the sort of man to push a kiss on an unwilling maid, not in the slightest. He was sure that Emma would have struck him or pulled away if she didn’t want to be kissed. But… well, it hadall happened so quickly. Perhaps she’d frozen in panic. Perhaps she’d been confused.
The guilt swirled in the back of his mind, and he resolved never to put her in such a position again. What was more, he would never puthimselfin that position again. Arousal and frustration simmered together in his gut, displeased that nothing had come of that kiss. A tiny, sly voice in the back of his mind suggested that he go back to the Healer’s Chambers and do his best to seduce the plucky little apprentice. He’d thought of it more than once, ever since she had arrived. The thoughts arrived with a regularity and intensity that frightened him at times.
Perhaps if he bedded her, the feelings that plagued him would recede, letting him get back to the business of running his clan and Emma to her work of healing the sick.
He wished he hadn’t thought about bedding her because now his mind was throwing up some very specific images.
Not to worry, though. A brisk walk through the cold, unforgiving Keep would cool him down. If not, his planned visit to the dungeons would do the trick.
He groaned aloud, raking a hand through his hair. “Wretched lass,” he muttered.
Thomas stopped before a seemingly ordinary wall with a wide, high tapestry spread over it. The tapestry itself was a hideous thing, made for some bloody victory won by a previous laird. The tapestry depicted a battle scene, with various men and animalsdying grotesquely, immortalized forever in faded embroidery thread.
He hated it, but it served a purpose. Two soldiers stood on guard on either side of the tapestry, and he gave them a brief nod.
