Silence hung in the air between them. Something had changed, and not just on account of what had happened the night before. No, this was something else, something different. He had cared for her, really cared for her, and, whether he was willing to admit it or not, there was more here than just a matter of revenge on Isobel and Arthur.
“I shouldnae have spoken to ye the way I did,” he admitted, all at once more the man than the fearsome, mad Laird Fraser.
She shook her head. “No, I should be the one apologizing,” she remarked. “I shouldnae have mentioned Isobel like that. It wasnae fair of me.”
His grip tightened slightly on her hand, like he could sense her slipping through his grip in an instant.
“No, she’s… part of my past now, Innes. I dinnae care for her in those terms. At least not anymore.”
They both fell silent before he went on.
“Not quite,” he added. “I think… I think I can see now what I liked about her was how much she made me feel wanted. Not fer my person, you ken, but for what I could provide to her.”
He shook his head slightly, his dark hair falling into his face.
“I suppose I’ve always preferred it like that,” he admitted. “Knowing what I can do for people, knowing what they can do fer me. No emotion involved, just a matter of coin or lands or whatever else it might be they wanted from me.”
She did not reply, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she took in what he was telling her. It was certainly hard to contend with, in some ways. To believe that he would have done all of this because he liked how Isobel made him feel. But she had no reason to believe that he was not telling the truth, and she did not much feel like trying to argue with him on the matter.
“And what do you think I want from you, Lachlan?” she asked softly.
His eyes seemed to flicker in the light, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. “I dinnae ken if I can say what I want the answer to be, Innes.”
“Then let me enlighten ye,” she told him, leaning forward. “I like the way you make me feel, Lachlan. That you care for me, in yer own way. That you make me feel… good.”
He chuckled. “Ye like the tricks I play with my fingers, eh?”
She glared at him playfully. “Ye ken very well it’s not just that I’m talking about.”
She reached up to cup his face in her hands, guiding his face down to her once more.
“I like… I like feeling that you truly care fer me,” she murmured. “And that when you touch me, ye’re not just doing it to hurt my brother.”
His face softened at once, He half-turned his head to better rest himself into her hand.
“When I saw that arrow in the ground beside you,” he sighed. “I couldnae… I couldnae contend with the thought of losing you. Not even fer a moment.”
He pressed a kiss into the middle of her palm.
“Whoever attacked you, I’ll find them,” he swore. “And yer brother… I’ll invite him to the Keep. As family, not as enemy.”
Her chest released a tension she had not even realized was there as those words came out of his mouth. She wound her arms around him, pulling him close.
“Thank ye.”
It was the most she could do now, just to thank him, but it felt like such a small word compared to everything she longed to express to him. The relief that he was willing to try with her brother, the thought that her family might not be entirely lost to her even amidst the strange ways of her new life.
He drew back and planted a kiss on her lips, slow, unhurried. The warmth spread along her body. Whatever pain there had been was forgotten entirely.
“How long do we have before my dinner arrives?” she whispered against his lips.
He grinned, moving carefully onto the bed so as not to disturb her injury too much.
“Long enough,” he assured her.
And, with that, he kissed her again, and all thought of dinner—or anything else, for that matter—was lost.
Chapter Twelve
