Page 46 of Ghost of the Ton

“Here,” he said, “take the pie and let me help ye.”

She nodded and reached for the pie. Their fingers brushed, and Hamish caught his breath at the tiny spark of desire deep inside his center at the feel of her warm, delicate little fingers on his. Her eyes widened and his cock swelled with want as she parted her lips in surprise.

Would those lips taste as sweet as they looked?

He curled his fingers around her hand and drew her close, his cock surging with delight as she gave no resistance. Then he inhaled, slowly, savoring the sweet, rich scent of her—of honey and innocence. What might it be like to dip into that innocence and claim her sweetness?

“Lass,” he breathed.

She flushed a delectable shade of rose, a sweet pinkness that gave a promise of pleasurable pinkness elsewhere.

Her eyelids fluttered as she blinked and her eyes darkened, the pupils dilating as she exhaled and shifted closer. He had only to dip his head and claim those lips as his own, and he had only to lift those skirts to claim her sweet body…

Holy ballocks—what the fuck was he doing?

He jerked back, the heat rising in his cheeks at the bulge in his plaid where his cock pressed eagerly against the woolen material. A moment longer and he’d have tossed up her skirts and fucked her against the wall, his knees abraded by the harsh stone while he roared out his pleasure like a stag in rut, claiming his woman, biting her neck to mark her as his so that no other male could take her.

Mumbling an apology, he shoved the pie into her hands and retreated. She caught the pie and cradled it to her chest. Her body trembled with distress, her eyes glistening with moisture. Then, overcome by shame, he turned and fled.

Chapter Fourteen

“Pockmarked hag!”

“Devil’s spawn!”

Harsh voices engulfed Mia’s mind, against her senses, while her head throbbed with pain.

“Burn the witch!”

Hands clawed at her, circling her arms like ropes, cutting into the flesh. The stench of oil and smoke filled her nostrils. Then came the crackle of burning wood, followed by a low, steady rumble that increased to a roar as demons danced around her twisted, deformed body…

Mouth open in an airless scream, Mia sat up. The darkness dissolved and light flooded the world around her. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them, blinking to let them adjust to the light.

Where am I?

She glanced about, but there was no sign of a pyre, nor the demons. She was in a chamber, filled with sunlight, surrounded by stone walls that glistened as if they contained tiny diamonds.

Mia lowered her gaze to the blanket covering her body—the thick woolen fabric woven into the pattern of a plaid, with shades of green and blue accented by flashes of red. She ran her hand over the wool, then recoiled at the memory of yesterday—the plaid in the same pattern worn by the man who had paid her a visit.

The man who found her so disgusting that he couldn’t endure more than ten minutes of her company.

Mia slipped out of the bed and approached the washbowl that she’d filled from the river last night. She dipped her hands into the water, ran her fingertips over the skin roughened by pockmarks, then sighed.

No wonder she disgusted him.

After drying her hands, she made her way to the kitchen. There was still plenty to do—sweep the floor and clear out the fireplace, which was filled with soot and ash that bore the footprints of some kind of animal.

A deer, perhaps? She’d woken up earlier to the sound of something moving about outside, but when she peered through the window there was nothing to see save the river glistening in the first light of the dawn. Perhaps old Mrs. MacLennan had come to absorb her sins.

Her gaze fell on the remains of the pie that Hamish had brought over. He’d been right in that it was the best pie she had ever tasted—flavorsome meat balanced with sharp berries in crisp pastry—but he hadn’t wanted to share it with her.

“Still,” she said to herself, forcing brightness into her voice, “all the more for me.”

Once she’d managed to get a fire going, she could accompany her breakfast with a hot drink. Mrs. Bron had given her a jar of tea and promised to ask the cook to set aside a jug of milk for her daily. Perhaps after she cleaned the kitchen she could venture over to the castle, provided she didn’t encounter—

Mia startled as she heard a knock. She made her way to the main entrance and the door opened to reveal a woman carrying a basket.

The woman was a beauty. Dressed in a bright-blue gown, she looked out of place compared to her surroundings. Though the material of the gown was a little threadbare at the hem, the woman reminded Mia of a hothouse orchid in a dull garden, or a bird of paradise escaped from an aviary that found itself in a chicken coop.