CHAPTER 16
“I am fine,lass. And I suspect thatyeare doin’ a good deal better than before,” Creighton observed wryly, trying and failing to calm his breathing.
Desire tore through him, making him shake. He couldn’t recall the last time that he’d been affected so powerfully by anyone. The kisses and touches had just been… well, he couldn’t say what they were meant to be, only that he was so relieved that she’d woken up at all, so glad that she wasn’t going to simply slip away, fading into nothing in her bed.
The relief caught him off guard. He didn’t want her to die, of course not, but ultimately, wasn’t she just a means to an end? This betrothal wasn’t genuine. It was a temporary step toward a peace treaty, nothing more. He should have stayed away from her bedside, instead of sitting there day and night, watching her and waiting for her to wake.
Thank heavens she wouldn’t find out about that, though. He’d be spared that humiliation at least.
Clearing his throat, Creighton picked up a drying sheet and carefully dried his wet hands. His shirt was soaked, water dripping loudly onto the floor.
I should nae have done that.
His desire refused to be quieted, arousal throbbing through his veins, begging for his attention. Fortunately, he was stronger than his own desires. He always had been, and always would be.
With this pointed thought in mind, Creighton turned back to Nora. She had her knees drawn up to her chest again, wet hair slicked back from her face. Wide-eyed, she watched him with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, obviously uncertain as to what should come next.
“Ye should get out before the water cools,” he stated bluntly. “I daenae want ye to catch a chill.”
She nodded a little too energetically. “Aye, that seems right.”
“Shall I help ye get out and dry yerself off?”
He knew he had to offer, knew that she might still be too weak for this. He was already reaching for the drying sheet when she cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly.
“Nay, thank ye, Creighton. I’m feelin’ stronger, I… I’ll be fine.”
He paused, holding her gaze. Her eyes slipped away from his.
What was that in her eyes? Embarrassment? Confusion? Or just regret? Regret would make a lot of sense. They had already crossed boundaries in their pseudo-betrothal, but this was something else entirely.
Enough,he warned himself.Think about that later.
“Very well,” he said aloud. “I’ll go into the other room while ye dry yerself off. Would ye like to put yer nightdress back on, or a new gown?”
“A new gown, I think. Somethin’ loose and comfortable.”
He nodded, letting his gaze slide away from hers. Without another word, he stepped out of the washroom, keeping his back turned.
She appeared about ten minutes later. Creighton had returned his chair to its usual place, well away from the bed. His equilibrium had mostly returned, and the desire had faded to a manageable level. It threatened to stoke up again at the sight of her, with her fresh, damp hair and glowing skin. However, he powered through it, flashing a tight-lipped smile.
“They’re bringin’ food for ye,” he stated. “It will be here soon. Many people in the Keep are glad that ye are recoverin’. Ye have already made a good impression.”
This seemed to surprise her. Her eyebrows flew up toward her hairline. “I didnae think I was so well-liked.”
“This place is full of surprises,” Creighton responded with a wry grin. “I am glad ye are well, because I need to be away for a few days. If ye had died when I wasnae here, I would have had Laird Bryden accusin’ me of arrangin’ yer death.”
He punctuated this with a wry laugh, to show that he didn’t really care.
The laughter rang hollow. The truth was, he should have left yesterday, but had put off the journey to wait for her recovery. The thought of Nora dying, slipping away when he was not here—perhaps being poisoned a second time, without him there to watch carefully over her—made him feel queasy. It made his stomach tighten with fury and panic, made him want to draw his sword and start swinging at nothing.
But that was a good way to expend one’s energy uselessly, so he drew in a long breath and forced himself to be calm.
Nora didn’t seem to have noticed his tension. She was still moving carefully, undoubtedly still weak and uncertain from her long rest, but there was a spring in her step, a brightness which he knew came from one of two things—a hot bath, or a climax. In her case, it was likely both. He watched her move around theroom, already at home in her new surroundings, slipping open drawers and rifling around in them.
“I think Laird Bryden would be wary to accuse ye of that,” she stated lightly.
“Ye think nae? A mysterious poisonin’? Come on, lass, it’s classic. And while I fully intend to catch the perpetrator, the fact remains that I have notyetfound the perpetrator.”
