Page 58 of In Bed with a Highland Brute

“Ye?” Murdoch shook his head, baffled by the words. “Ye were in my father’s estate, Eloise, and ye were attacked. That is nae yer doing.”

She hung her head, looking down at her lap as she fidgeted with her gown. There was something about seeing her in this way tonight, this demure and nervous look that affected him strongly. He leaned toward her a little.

“What happened tae the men?”

“Yer brother killed them,” she whispered. “Yer father searched the ground fer any others, but there was nae one else. Yer father thought they may have been from the Douglas clan, but…”

“Who can be certain,” he whispered, finishing the sentence before she could.

His head tilted to the side as he watched her. He felt strangely at ease, even with the pain in his shoulder.

“I’ll live just fine, will I nae?” he asked.

“Aye. Thank God,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She avoided looking at him, her eyes on her lap as she fidgeted. “Callie and Wilson say we staunched the wound before ye could lose too much blood. They have hope ye will recover fast, as long as ye dinnae dae anything too active in the meantime.”

“Active, eh?” He sighed and sat back on the pillows, placing the cup down on the table beside him. “I’ve heard such orders all before.”

At his words, Eloise’s eyes shot to his chest again. He realized in his new position that the candlelight must have fallen much cleaner on those scars, revealing all the white jagged lines. Eloise moved a little along the bed, coming closer to him. Murdoch masked the way his breath caught in his throat at her movements.

There was a heat beneath his skin at her coming so close when he wore so little.

“How did you get this one?” She raised a hand toward him and laid her fingers on his good shoulder. He breathed in deeply at her touch, shocked by the effect her light fingers could have on him. He looked down, seeing the deep white gash that ran from his left shoulder down to the middle of his chest.

“A sword strike. In a fight fer Laird Chattan,” he said softly. “One of many.”

“And this?” She moved her hand down his chest. It was a fingertip brush. He breathed deeply once more, feeling a stirring in his body, not wanting her to stop. She halted in the middle of his chest.

“That is a burn mark,” he said, not needing to look at his scars. He looked at her face instead, marking the way her lips parted in wonder, before she frowned.

“So much pain,” she whispered, her voice quiet indeed. “Ye have suffered so much, Murdoch.”

“I never regret me scars,” he assured her. “They are a mark of the extent I was willing tae go tae keep another safe.”

She smiled, rather sadly, as her fingers continued to drift down his chest. When she stopped near his abdomen, that stirring in his gut grew greater still.

“What of this one? What caused this?” She ran her fingers along a deep slash across the lower part of his abdomen, just above the line of his trews.

“That was a wayward dirk from a man in a fight,” he said, his voice now so deep that he barely recognized it himself. “I…” he couldn’t stop that stirring feeling. He watched as her eyes widened, her gaze shooting further south still. “I cannae stop that.” He sighed, knowing now that she had seen the way his length had hardened at her touch. He was protruding against his trews and the blanket, standing tall. “Ye are running yer hands all over me, Eloise.”

“I am barely touching ye,” she whispered. Her hand flattened more to his stomach, and he inhaled sharply, not wanting her to stop.

“The touch is enough,” he murmured, leaning toward her off the pillows. “Ye are curious about me.”

“I couldnae hide that, even if I wished tae.” Her eyes still danced over him. He felt strangely admired at that look, a sensation he’d never had before in his life. He usually felt like a fool, an illiterate brute, but the way Eloise looked at him made him feel entirely different. “Thank ye, Murdoch, for what ye did today.”

“Getting stabbed?” he asked in a light tease.

“Being willing tae have another scar, tae save me,” she whispered, her gaze lifting to meet his.

Something in that look shook him. He figured that maybe the sedative had had a stronger effect on him than he’d realized after all as he found the truth falling from his lips.

“I couldnae bear the idea of ye being hurt, Eloise.” He reached toward her, without thinking much about it and gently took hold of her head, steering her lips to his. She made no sign of pulling back, allowing him to take a kiss.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Eloise didn’t pull back from that kiss. One of her hands moved up Murdoch’s chest, trying to maintain as much contact with him as possible. He deepened their kiss, angling her head to the side and taking her tongue with his own. It was such an intimate kiss, one so deep and slow that her body shifted toward his, not wanting it to end.

An arm raised across her waist, pulling her closer to Murdoch still, then he shifted the two of them, lifting her so she fell back on the bed beside him, and he moved over her.