“And besides,” she added, “I didnae invite ye fer scandal. Only fer peace.”
That did it.
She stepped back into the room and opened the door wider, her hand resting on the latch as she looked at him expectantly. “Just come inside.”
For a moment, he did not move. The attraction between them felt suddenly very real and very present, like a current neither wished to step into first. She could see it in the tension of his shoulders, in the way his gaze flicked briefly past her into the room and then returned to her face.
Then he gave a small, resigned shake of his head. “Ye make a dangerously persuasive argument.”
She smiled. “I’ve been told.”
He stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with quiet care. The space felt smaller with him in it. Elaina moved past him and returned to the bed, feeling the exhaustion she had been holding at bay finally rushing in.
She slipped beneath the covers and glanced up at him, suddenly shy despite herself. “It’s… it’s all right if ye sleep here,” she said, gesturing to the empty space beside her. “But nay funny business.”
His mouth curved. “Ye dinnae want me tae tell ye jokes in the middle of the night?”
She let out a soft laugh. “Ye ken perfectly well what I mean.”
“A pity,” he said lightly. “I have excellent timing.”
He joined her then, lying down with deliberate care. She noticed at once that he kept his distance. His body was angled away fromhers, leaving a careful space between them. It was a small thing, but it mattered. The respect in it settled something restless inside her, and she found herself breathing more easily than she had all night.
Overwhelmed by it all, by the fear, the escape, and the man beside her who had asked for nothing, she turned her head slightly toward him.
“Thank ye,” she murmured. “Fer saving me. And fer staying outside me door.”
He shifted just enough to look at her. “I was nae raised tae leave a woman in danger…”
She heard only part of it. The rest blurred and faded as sleep claimed her at last. Elaina slept then, deeply and without fear, and for the first time since she had fled, the night passed her by without reaching for her.
Duncan woke before the light. It was habit more than intention. It was also the quiet vigilance of a man long accustomed to mornings that demanded readiness.
For a moment, he lay still, orienting himself to unfamiliar warmth and the faint scent of herbs and linen. Then he realized she had moved.
Elaina was lying close to him now, far closer than she had when they first settled. In her sleep, she had crossed the careful space he had kept between them. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and her hand curled loosely against him as if it belonged there.
He did not move. His breath slowed as he took her in. Her hair spilled freely across the pillow and his arm, dark-blonde waves catching the dim morning light. Without the shadows of fear or watchfulness, her face was softer than he had yet seen. Dark, long lashes were resting against her cheeks, and her full lips parted slightly in sleep.
She was beautiful.
The realization struck him with a quiet force that had nothing to do with desire alone. It was the unguardedness of her, the trust implicit in the way she had sought warmth without waking, that unsettled him most.
She stirred then. It was a small movement, as if some instinct had warned her she was no longer alone in sleep. Her brow creased faintly, and Duncan reacted at once. He drew away and sat up on the edge of the bed, placing distance between them before she could fully wake.
“Elaina,” he said softly.
Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she looked disoriented, then she focused on him. “Is it time tae go?”
“Aye,” he replied at once, grateful for the simplicity of the question. “I’ll go and ready the horse. I’ll wait fer ye in the stables.”
He did not give her time to answer. He stood, pulled his cloak from the chair, and settled it over his shoulders with movements that were perhaps a touch too brisk. Without looking back, because he did not trust himself to do so, he crossed the room.
“I’ll see ye shortly,” he added, already reaching for the door.
Then he was gone. Duncan did not slow until he reached the cool air of the yard. The morning was pale and quiet, while the stables were dark and familiar. He welcomed the smell of hay and leather, and the solid certainty of tasks that required hands rather than thoughts.
He set about readying his horse with efficient ease. He checked the tack, tightening the girth, and running a steadying hand down the animal’s neck. The rhythm of it grounded him. Horses asked no questions and kept no secrets. They simply responded to care and command. By the time he finished, the sun had lifted enough to pale the eastern sky.
