Page 53 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"I was joking."

"I wasnae." He pulled off his boots, setting them aside. He stood, moving to the wardrobe to retrieve his sleep clothes. "I'm nae yer faither, Elinor. I'll nay leave ye wantin' fer basic comforts."

Silence stretched between them. When he glanced back, she was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read, something between wariness and wonder.

She pulled the blankets higher, though her eyes never left his face. He climbed into bed beside her, careful to maintain distance.

"You're not freezing," she said.

"I'm gettin' there."

She bit her lip, and he saw her internal debate play out across her face. Then, with obvious reluctance, she pushed about a third of the blankets toward him.

"There," she said. "Now we're both moderately warm."

"How generous."

"Don't push your luck."

David settled under his allotted blankets, his body already beginning to relax into the mattress.

The day had been long—the journey, the introduction to the clan, the dinner, the confrontation with Fergus, the walk in the gardens. He was exhausted.

But even through the exhaustion, he was acutely aware of Elinor beside him. The sound of her breathing. The faint scent of lavender from her hair. The small space between them that felt somehow both vast and impossibly small.

"David?"

Her voice was soft, tentative.

"Aye?"

"The room you're going to give me. Can it have windows?"

He turned his head to look at her. She was staring at the ceiling, her profile pale in the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

"Of course. Why?"

"My room at my father's house didn't have windows. He said they were a security risk." She swallowed. "I haven't seen morning sunlight in my own space in years."

The casual cruelty of it made David's hands curl into fists beneath the blankets. Years without morning sunlight. Years in a room that was essentially a cell.

"Ye'll have windows," he said, his voice tight with suppressed anger. "As many as ye want. Facin' whatever direction ye prefer."

"East," she said immediately. "So I can see the sunrise."

"East it is."

She was quiet for another moment. Then: "And books? Can I have books?"

"As many as ye like. I'll have the steward bring ye a selection from the library tomorrow, and ye can choose which ones ye want."

"Your own library?" There was wonder in her voice.

"Aye. Me maither also loved books. She collected them from all over—Scotland, England, even some from France and Italy." He felt his chest tighten at the memory. "When I became laird, I made sure they were properly catalogued and preserved. They're yers too, now."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then dinnae say anythin'." He closed his eyes. "Just sleep, lass. Ye're safe here."