He watched me for a moment, fierce and direct. “I’m not undecided about what I want to do with you.”
I looked into his eyes, and I could see both sureness and worry in them. Again, it frustrated me that I didn’t know the depths of him well enough to read the layers of his emotion. I wanted to discover and learn all the intricacies of him, so I could banish his pain and his fears, to soothe him and comfort him. But my own worries were rising up in equal measure, and they were dark and biting, yet hopeful, too. More hopeful than they had ever been before. Which made the dark doubts seem all the more spiky.
Voices spilled into our tense little bubble, causing Wilkie to step back and look away.
“Wilkie?” It was Wilkie’s sisters. “Roses? Oh, there you are.”
They were there, sensing the tension and attempting to defuse it. “Are you finished talking?” asked Ailie.
“Nay,”said Wilkie abruptly.
“Because Knox has asked that you return to the meeting,” said Christie.
Wilkie looked at his sisters, and he said, “Tell Knoxthat I must respectfully decline returning to the meeting this evening. Tell Effie that Roses has been detained. And—” to Christie “—Roses will not require a chaperone until I call for one.”
And with that I was swept into Wilkie’s arms, tight against his big, warm body and carried to his private chambers.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ASSOONASWEENTEREDWilkie’s rooms, he set me down gently on his bed. His temper had been calmed by the walk and the closeness of our bodies as he held me against him.
Wilkie lit the fire, saying nothing. He took his time, feeding the flame with small, then larger, pieces of wood, until his chambers were infused with the dancing yellow glow, which reflected off his hair, his face and his clothing.
I felt a fluttery moth of joy in my heart at the very sight of him, an inexplicable happiness that we were here together and that we had emerged from our small argument as—almost—equals. I’d succeeded in keeping him with me. To be separated now from him would cause me physical pain. I had never felt an attachment to anyone this strongly—not even to my mother, as a child, since I had once known life without her. I couldn’t remember even a single recollection of my life before I’d been delivered at the Ogilvie keep, but I had always, perhaps because of my mysterious early years, had a strong sense of independence. So it seemed strange now that I would yearn like this. And burn like this. The sight of Wilkie, with the curves of his muscular shoulders straining against the fabric of his tunic and illuminated by the firelight, it lit a different kind of fire. In me.
“Warrior,” I said, and my voice sounded softly husked. “Come here.”
He stopped his movement, catching a note in my tone that grabbed his attention. He walked to the bed, his gaze direct and darkened.
“Warrior,” I said, reaching for his hand. “Please forgive me. I’ll wait here for you, if it pleases you. I will do anything for you, anything. I will heed your every command, as I promised I would. I acted that way only because I wanted so desperately to have you and to give everything of myself to you, now and always. I told you once that I wasn’t good at following orders, and ’tis true. I’ve had every need, in the past, to defy. It was how I protected myself and kept true to myself. Sometimes I forget myself, with you. I forget that I don’t need to do that with you. I’ll try harder, I promise. I’ll devote myself to pleasing you. ’Tis all I want to do. I don’t want to defy you, Wilkie. Please forgive me.”
He sat next to me on the bed, stretching out his legs over the furs, putting his arm around my shoulders so I could lean against him. “I don’t want your blind obedience, lass.” He carefully unwound my braids, stroking and smoothing the long strands with his hand. “’Tis me who should be apologizing. I have no idea what’s come over me. You drive me daft with your golden beauty. To have you seen and looked at—”
I paused and leaned closer to him. I kissed the corner of his mouth.
“I will allow you to work with Effie,” he said. “But you will not venture out-of-doors. At all. Unless I’m with you. I’m being as open-minded as I can, Roses, but ’tis not safe for you to be overly visible. Ogilvie’s men are looking for you. For now, we need to keep yourpresence here quiet. Already there’s a risk that you were seen, when you first arrived. It could endanger your safety if word gets to him.”
I thought about this. It could endanger many people’s safety, if Ogilvie ordered his army to invade Kinloch to get me back. Was his pride so very offended by the small uprising of a servant? I certainly didn’t want to aggravate a battle, and in fact, the thought horrified me for many reasons. I wouldn’t be allowed out-of-doors, to watch Wilkie train. Or to visit the open gardens.
“I am your willing captive,” I said.
I meant it to tease him, almost, and to apologize for my earlier refusals, but his eyes turned stormy at the comment, and I regretted my words. “Don’t be angry. I want to be with you, warrior. The thought of you leaving me, while you train, at all, it makes my words unruly.”
He frowned. “I’m no better than Ogilvie, keeping you captive, here in my bed. ’Tis a strangely powerful urge I have, to keep you close to me. It clouds all my judgment. It burns in me like I’ve never burned, Roses.” He was troubled by this.
Wanting to ease away his distress, I sat up to face him, thinking about what I could do to distract his frown.
In fact, I felt quite lively, as if the effects of my injury and the stress of past days had lifted almost entirely. I was here with him against all odds, and was invigorated by the discovery that my warrior could pleasure me in confoundingly powerful ways. My energy seemed to hum from within me, as though the spark of the argument had livened me, now that it was over. I felt playful, and it was a feeling I hadn’t felt for some time. I climbed onto him, carefully, straddling him. “Warrior.If I can assure you of one thing, let it be this—you are nothing like Laird Ogilvie.” I kissed his lips, but he remained still and impassive, still frowning at me. “I want to be here, with you.” I let my fingers glide across his shoulders, down his arms, across his stomach, tickling him. He squirmed a little. “I like your touches. And I want to heed your commands, every one.” My fingers traced across his chest. And I leaned closer to him, so my breasts pressed against him. I took care not to hurt him. I licked his lips open, very gently, with my tongue. “Give me a command, warrior. Anything.”
He watched me, and there was wariness in his eyes but also hunger. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breath. Straddling his hips as I was, I could feel a hard pressure underneath me, the part of him I was curious about. Still kissing him lightly, licking into his mouth, I moved my body on his, rubbing myself against his hardness ever so slightly. My fingers continued to glide across his skin.
“I want to soothe my warrior,” I whispered to him. “To ease away his frown with my kisses. I want to do everything he tells me to do.” He was kissing me back now, and I drew his tongue into my mouth and played it, gently suckling.
Wilkie gave a small sound of agonized surrender. Then, in a sudden movement, he adjusted us, and laid me back against the pillows. He might have aggravated his injury again, because a fleeting grimace crossed his face.
“Be careful, warrior. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I’m almost healed, lass. All the more quickly from your soothing attentions.”
