“That’s a fair point. Will ye tell Dominic about…”
Thomas gave her a Look. “No, I’ll not be telling Dominic that we did this in his office. As to him sleeping in his office, we ought to find him a wife.”
“Or get him a bed.”
Thomas laughed softly at that, his expression turning speculative and hungry again. Emma felt wrung out and had a strange feeling that her legs might not support her if she dared to slip off the edge of the desk and try to walk.
Thomas tilted his head to one side as if he could read the thoughts going around in her head.
“Are ye tired?” he asked, his voice low and soft.
As if he… as if he cared.
Stop it.
The ripples of pleasure were slowly leeching away, her normal self now beginning to return.
Did this mean anything? Was Thomas just swept up in the knots of jealousy, angry that Peter dared to flirt with the woman hehad brought with him?
In a rush, Emma remembered that she and Thomas were betrothed. Well, they hadtoldeveryone they were betrothed. It wasn’t a real betrothal.
None of it was real.
Swallowing hard, she forced a smile. “I feel… I feel a wee bit tired, actually. Do ye think I could maybe go home? I don’t want to seem rude.”
Thomas’s expression turned unreadable, not helped by the guttering candlelight. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Of course, we can both go home together in the carriage,” he said lightly.
“I can walk or ride if ye would like to stay longer,” she offered.
Thomas gave a low chuckle. “That’s kind of ye to offer. Ye are a kind lassie, Emma. But no, I’ll leave when ye leave. Come on, let’s go, eh?”
He offered her his hand. Emma hesitated, not entirely sure why. It wasn’t as if anything bad would happen if she took his hand.
She reached out gingerly, feeling his warm, sure fingers close around hers. He pulled her effortlessly to her feet, a firm and immovable counterpoint to her jelly legs.
She had the strangest, irrational feeling that all would be well. Everything would be all right if she could just stay by his side.
Emma gave her head a little shake. These were not good thoughts. She needed to remember who she was, who hewas, and think accordingly.
“Thank ye, Me Laird,” she said lightly. “I think I am ready to go home now.”
Thomas was watching her with that same inscrutable expression. “Very well,” he replied.
17
They made their way together through the crowded pub. After the quiet and stillness of the little office room, the noise and heat made Emma feel a little more woozy. The ale she’d drunk was finally starting to affect her, and she clung onto Thomas’s arm tighter than was necessary.
They wound their way through the crowds, heading towards the exit.
“Keep yer head down and try not to make eye contact with anyone,” Thomas murmured. “Or else, they’ll try to talk to us.”
Emma had to smile at that. She was still reeling from what she’d done—whatthey’ddone together—and was looking forward to some peace and quiet to think it all over.
They reached the doorway and stepped out into the blessedly cool night air. She breathed in deeply, tipping back her head andclosing her eyes. When she opened them again, she found that Thomas was watching her, a strange expression on his face.
“It’s a wee bit hot in there,” she said by way of explanation, and he smiled.
