He tore his gaze from her again and fixed it stubbornly on the already neat blankets.
He lay back at last. The stone floor was hard beneath him, but he quickly embraced it, his ears catching every movement as Marian climbed into bed.
The rustling of her dress did nothing to ease the aching tension in his chest, and he could not dare to close his eyes, lest more images come rushing in.
He stared at the wooden beams above him, counting them without purpose, and losing track almost immediately.
God help me.
He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled sharply through his nose.
The silence settled again.
Marian lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling as though she could will her thoughts into submission.
It did not work.
Her actions betrayed her composure as she turned slowly, against her better judgment. She adjusted her position just enough to see him, and her breath caught in her throat.
Gracious…
Lachlan lay stretched out across the floor, one arm thrown over his head and the other lying freely at his side. The dim light traced the line of his shoulders beneath his loose tunic, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was far more pronounced now that the room had fallen quiet.
He looks… different like this.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. A tinge of guilt stirred as he shifted slightly against the hard stone, and she swallowed.
He must not be comfortable.
But she knew better than to suggest sharing the bed again. Not when she could barely make sense of her feelings as it was, despite the space between them.
Perhaps it is for the best.
Her heart fluttered at the sight of his sharp jawline, and that same unsettling warmth coiled low in her belly before she could stop it.
I cannot look anymore.
She turned onto her back again, swallowing hard. “Lachlan?”
His name slipped past her lips before she could think better of it.
“Aye?” His voice was tight.
“You are staring at the ceiling as though it has personally offended you.”
For a moment, he did not answer. Then she heard a slow exhale.
“I’m thinkin’ this room was a terrible idea,” he said at last.
Marian nodded, though he could not see it. She clasped her hands together over her belly as her gaze fixed on the beams overhead.
“On that,” she admitted quietly, “we agree.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Breakfast was enough to ease the lingering tension in Marian’s shoulders.
Her eyes lit up immediately as she stepped into the hall, taking in the spread of colorful dishes Anna had prepared.
