The realization struck him with an uncomfortable force, because a part of him, the part that was inconvenient and deeply human, would have liked very much to take her into his arms, to feel the warmth of her body against his, to bury his face in the soft curve of her neck and discover whether her composure would melt beneath his hands the way he suspected it might.
The thought arrived uninvited and lingered far longer than it should have.
Domhnall forced it away with practiced discipline. Control had been his shield for years. It would remain so now.
Margaret had agreed to the marriage under conditions. He would not break them on the very first night, not when the tremor in her hands told him exactly what she feared.
He exhaled slowly. “I can sleep on the floor.”
Margaret’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened as though he had suggested throwing himself from the battlements.
“Nay, nay, that will nae be necessary.”
The speed of her answer almost made him smile. He tilted his head slightly, not taking his eyes off of her.
“What dae ye propose?”
Margaret hesitated. Then she pointed toward the bed. The gesture was firm, though the color in her cheeks had deepened.
“It is large enough fer the both of us,” she pointed out something he knew himself.
Domhnall followed the direction of her finger. The bed was indeed enormous, clearly designed for ceremony and display as much as comfort. He glanced back at her.
“Just keep yer distance,” she told him.
His mouth twitched faintly. “And?”
“And ye will sleep above the sheets.”
For a moment, he simply looked at her. The command was delivered with such confidence that one might have believed she had been issuing orders to Highland lairds her entire life. Domhnall crossed his arms slowly.
“Above the sheets.”
“Aye.”
“Like a properly behaved guest.”
“Precisely.”
“And if I move?” He refused to admit even to himself that he was having more fun than he had expected to.
“Then I will remind ye of the agreement.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How?”
She glanced toward the hearth, where the poker rested in its iron stand. Domhnall followed her gaze and let out a quiet huff of amusement.
“I see.”
Margaret clasped her hands together, attempting to look very composed.
“It is a perfectly reasonable arrangement.”
He considered her words for another moment, but it was her presence that he could not ignore, and the determination to appear untroubled despite the nervous energy radiating from her.
She was brave, he would grant her that. Brave and entirely unprepared for the effect she had on him, which made it all the more necessary that he maintain control.
“Very well,” he said at last.
