I touched the fire. Just for an instant. Less than an instant, really. A splintered second. Perhaps Hannah is a little like that. A rush of flames that warms me skin, a desire to touch, even though I ken in me heart that it’ll hurt.
His eyes opened slowly.
Nay. That’s nae right. She’s nae the fire. I am. I am the one who’s going to burn her. And neither of us can do a thing to stop it.
Hannah had to admit a hot bath was a luxury she hadn’t had in quite a while. She was fascinated by the soap they had and the way it didn’t sting her skin, and delighted by its scent—roses.
This is much nicer than I thought it would be.
And she definitely, absolutely,certainlydid not mean the way Aiden had touched her, pressed his mouth against her, and moved her body around in that easy, delightful way as if she weighed no more than a kitten. No, she only meant the bath. Absolutely. Thebath.
She dried herself off and returned to her kirtle and stockings, feeling pampered.
Shortly after she dressed, a knock sounded at the door. “Aye?”
The same maid who had escorted her to see Aiden opened the door and smiled at her politely. Hannah returned the smile. “Dinner is ready. I can show ye the way if ye like.”
“Oh.” Hannah wondered if Aiden had planned on her staying already or if he had an impressive cook who could prepare an extra portion on the fly. “That was fast.”
The maid just smiled.
Hannah followed her down the stairs, still marveling at the size and appointment of the place, trying not to be too obvious about it. “Have ye worked here long?”
“Aye, two years, me Lady.”
“Ye can just call me Hannah. What’s yer name?”
“Sarah,” the maid said, glancing back at her. “Me Lady.”
Hannah got the point and just smiled at her. She didn’t want to get the girl in trouble with anyone, even if being calledMe Ladymade her feel like an imposter.
When she entered the dining room, she paused, impressed. It was appointed beautifully, and the carved wooden table was bigger than it had any business being. She supposed that was because it was meant to be used for a group, not just two people.
She admired the beautiful craftsmanship on the table and chairs, which had likely been carved before she’d been born. A beautiful chandelier flickered overhead, made of wrought iron. There were two place settings next to each other on the table, and after a moment, she made her way to one of them.
She hesitated, unsure if she should sit or wait for Aiden.
Mercifully, he saved her from having to make that decision by arriving just a minute after her. He was fully garbed now in a belted kilt and tartan, cutting an impressive figure and making her feel like she was underdressed.
“Did ye wait long, lass?” Hannah shook her head, and he pulled a chair from the table. “Here ye go.”
She lowered herself into the chair, and he moved to the other, sitting down and watching her.
As if his taking a seat had rung some kind of bell, the door opened, and two footmen came in bearing trays. They set down bowls of thick soup in front of them and glasses of whiskey, which Hannah immediately recognized as her blend. The soup she didn’t recognize at all, so she glanced up at Aiden.
“What is this?” she asked curiously, scooping up a spoonful.
“Cock-a-leekie,” he said. “Which is a fun way to say chicken-and-leek soup. I think ye’ll like it.”
He was watching her closely, and she supposed he was waiting to see if she was impressed.
After a couple of spoonfuls, she nodded. “It’s good.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he dug into his own soup. He lifted a spoonful to his lips and slid it into his mouth.
Hannah had probably lost count of the number of times she’d watched someone eat a spoonful of soup, or eaten it herself, but this time she could see nothing excepthim. More specifically, his mouth. His lips wrapped around the smooth wooden spoon, throat working as he swallowed.
I wonder what I tasted like. Is he thinking of that now? Of me?
