He turns to me, and I take an involuntary step backward. I flinch when I realize I gave her my shoes.
“Where the fuck are the shoes I gave you?” he mutters, clearly even more angry than he was before.
I point to the house, then remember my mobile in my pocket. I send him a quick text.
Gave them to your nan when I pulled her out of the smoking kitchen.
I frown at him when he reads it. His scowl deepens.
“Get over here.” He reaches for me, and I freeze, remembering her admonition to “get laid,” but he’s only heaving me up into his arms so he can take me back to his home across the rocky ground.
It’s the second time he’s carried me, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. No. Iloveit. There’s something deliciously protective in the way he cradles me to his strong, muscled chest. I feel the warmth of his arms around my back and under my legs, and I’m so close I can smell that clean, masculine scent I will forever associate with the mountains. And for one brief second, maybe two… I let my imagination roam.
I imagine I’m a damsel in distress, and my prince has come to rescue me. He’s carrying me out of the burning building, to take me home, so we can marry each other and live in a castle and live happily ever after. He’ll fight to the death for me, and I won’t ever have to worry about anyone hurting me again.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he mutters, not even winded as he ascends the hill to the house.
I nod, and wish for a moment I could tell him everything. How much I enjoyed myself, how good she was to me, how I could sit and listen to her forever.
“I’ll have another caretaker with her by the morning.” My heart sinks. I like being with her.
We walk in silence up the steep incline, and when we enter the house, he still doesn’t put me down until I tap his shoulder and point to the floor.
“Don’t want me to carry you anymore?” he asks, and I swear his eyes dance a little. Is he amused by me? I shrug, my cheeksflushing pink.No, I want to tell him.I very much want to be carried by you.
I know I shouldn’t let my imagination play these games on me. The more deeply I sink into daydreams and make-believe, the harder it is for me to face reality. I know this from years of experience, and yet it’s still my go-to to relieve stress and help me cope.
“Ah, Cairstina, there y’are.” Islan stands in the hall, and she’s got Bailey on a leash. “Someone’s been looking all over for you.”
Bailey strains at the leash, yearning to see me. Islan looks to Leith, and he nods. She lets him go, and Bailey runs to me. I drop to my knees and gather him up in my arms, burying my face in his neck while he laps my cheeks.
“Someone loves you,” she says with a smile. “Leith, we put the things you asked us to buy upstairs.”
Honest to God, maybe Nan is right. Maybe he should—Oh, God, no.I don’t look at him, though, but bury my heated face in Bailey’s neck again, as if he’d read my thoughts if he could see me.
“The guest room,” he says. “Where Cairstina’s staying?”
She snorts. “You mean that cell of a room where you damn near gave her hives? Hell no. The nicer one on the second floor.”
“Islan...” he warns. I know that look of his, how he gets all broody and angry. I get to my feet and reach for his hand, tugging him toward the steps, then remember my mobile. I text him.
It’s fine, I don’t want to stay in your room anyway and would much prefer the secluded one, please. I’m happy to take my own things up.
I give him what I hope is a haughty look.
He reads the text and growls. “I’ll bring them myself.”
You will not.
“I will, too, and don’t you dare —”
Fine.
He scowls. “Fine!”
Islan blinks, looking to the mobile in my hand and back to Leith.
“Oh my gosh,” a voice says, as Paisley rounds the corner and enters the hall. She’s staring at a book in her hands, so intently she doesn’t see me and Leith at first. “Islan, you must read this!”
