“Is that a yes or a no?” Conall stepped closer and seemed to wait to see if she would accept his proximity. Holding her feet still, given they wanted to continue closing the distance, she waited for his next move.
His hand lifted again, but instead of dropping, it took one of her curls between his thumb and forefinger. “You think with your heart and for the bairn. Such wisdom awes me.” He continued to rub the strand of hair and contemplate her request. “She will have a bag of silver. I would nay be responsible for a bairn’s death.”
“You aren’t responsible.” Her comment was met with a soft chuckle.
“As laird, she is my responsibility, given she sleeps under my roof. Kenning you would fash over her well-being is reason enough. For you, Sarah, I will place a bag in your hands to gift her on the morrow.” His fingers let the hair fall from their grasp. “Does your heart have peace?”
The warmed hair brushed against her chest and she shivered despite the fire. “Thank you.” At his ready smile, she sighed. Ease filled her mind for the first time since the events in the hall. “I should let you get back to sleep.”
Though he nodded, neither of them moved. A little voice that reminded her of Rachel whispered in her mind. If the place went nuts over a kiss, just think about what they’ll say if you’re caught in here. Or maybe I’ll tell Mom you’re hanging out in a boy’s bedroom.
Sarah grinned at her imaginary brush with Rachel, who would likely say exactly that. “Good night, Conall.” Ignoring her skin’s tingling desire to touch him, she forced her feet to move to the door.
“Would you tell me if I upset you with our kiss? I have spent hours pacing my chamber wondering if I should seek you to apologize.” The voice that asked didn’t sound like Conall. It was reminiscent of an unsure man.
Hook, line and sinker, she was caught with his phrasing: our kiss. Decisions came quick, as if they only sought the excuse for contact. With a pivot, she faced his uncertainty. In three steps, she stood close enough to feel the warmth of his bare chest radiating toward her skin. For seven glorious seconds, she relished the intensity and the way her body flared to life on a cellular level. Then she cupped his bearded face and pulled his head down to hers. Meeting him on tiptoes, her lips brushed his while holding his head in place. Kiss two is going to be much better.
Part of her knew better than to get carried away, given that they were only several feet from a large inviting bed. Her body recalled the almost year without physical contact with each lingering touch her lips offered, offers that were met with a light moan from his throat.
Forcing herself not to lean against his, she met his soft mouth one last time. Certainty filled her that if she gave him the chance to respond, gossip would indeed have new fodder. Hey, it’s Sarah. I’ve been here a few days and am already sleeping with the laird while his former fiancée rests across the hall. While not prudish, morals had a place and time. But he is so hot and mostly naked. Plus, this kiss has started nice and slow with a lovely erotic, sensual undertone.
Forcing herself to surrender the soft whiskers, she pulled back and bit her lower lip to prevent making a sound when his heated gaze locked on hers. If I don’t leave now, I never will. She stepped back even as the tingles racing up her spine demanded she step forward. “Are you angry with me?” Not sure if she was proving a point or offering a dare, she waited. Later, I’m going to blame this on sleep deprivation and stress. And maybe those insane tingles that flare to life from merely being in the same room with him.
The voice that answered came out as a delicious rasp. “Nay.” His eyes practically glowed in his head, filling her sight with electric green.
“I should go,” Sarah said as she stepped backward, suddenly questioning what type of scenario she had begun. Wanting him is one thing, but he’s leaving soon. Plus, he was engaged until only hours ago.
“Aye, Sarah, you should go.” His whisper left chills creeping over her skin, not in threat, but with unspoken promises.
She had nearly left the chamber when his hand covered her shoulder. Soft breath floated over her ear. “On the morrow, promise me to have the evening meal at my side. ‘Tis much I would share with you. I would have all witness you at my right.”
Hearing innuendos she couldn’t fathom, she nodded.
“Until the morrow, Sarah.” His hand fell away leaving her skin to chill.
Chapter 13
“Lady Elspeth, we should set out.” Peter’s voice forced Sarah to relinquish her hold on the young woman.
“Take care of yourself and please promise me you will be careful.” Sarah’s voice made the parting comment a plea she was certain Elspeth ignored, given the quick turn for the bridle in Peter’s hand.
“Aye, Sarah. I shall anticipate hearing the news spread.” With a wink and a boost from one of the stable boys, Elspeth sat mounted and ready to depart. She turned the horse to hold her gaze. “My thanks for making the arrangements to allow me to say farewell to Gordain and for assisting with my packing.” The girl’s wide grin added to the sincerity.
Sarah had arranged that meeting with Peter’s help. To her it had seemed unnecessarily cruel that the pair be parted without a chance to see the other one last time. Who am I kidding? Those two knuckleheads likely spent the time planning for their reunion. Plus, she had personally tucked the pouch of silver coins into the girl’s trunk.
Peter leaned over to whisper. “What news is Elspeth expecting?”
“No clue,” Sarah answered quickly.
Bella left her side and trotted over to welcome Lena. After quick greetings, the housekeeper spoke to Sarah. “I had hoped to find you. Conall has asked that I go over the running of the household, though given the feast he has called for the evening, we shall spend the day seeing all prepared.”
Peter’s brow furrowed. “There’s a feast planned for tonight?”
“Aye, one on no notice. The kitchen is none too pleased but will deliver a fine meal for all.” Lena went on with additional explanations of the warriors and their families to be present, along with the household, and Neville’s attendance to tattoo Evan. When Peter remained silent, Lena added, “You have yet to speak with Conall.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’ve been stuck babysitting Gordain since yesterday.” His gaze swept over the outer building that housed the prisoner. “I had hoped to see him before I left today.”
“Conall has spoken to me regarding you. You are to be back for the feast, which means you had best depart quickly. ‘Tis a hard day in the saddle you face.” With that spoken, Lena went to Elspeth with what Sarah assumed would be a goodbye.
“What the hell have I missed?” Peter’s harsh whisper caught her off guard.
“Like I know?” The glint of anger in his gaze had her on the defensive. “This is my third day down the rabbit hole.”
“Then why are you being shown how to run the keep?” Peter challenged her.
Why am I? But she didn’t give away the uncertainty. “You tell me. Is it that I need to learn to be useful or something else?”
Peter held up a hand to silence the impatient warriors who would be riding as escort to Elspeth. “I need to leave in just a minute but fill me in on what I’ve missed. Maybe I can piece this together.” When Sarah held her thoughts, Peter blew out a ragged breath. “Remember me? I’m the guy who’s claimed you as family. Whatever impacts you, affects me. We are together in everything whether you like it or not.”
Acquiescing to the request she couldn’t argue, Sarah filled him in on her time with Elspeth and her insane plan, Conall’s gift of silver to the young woman and the late-night visit that accomplished the feat.
“Tell me what you left out,” Peter demanded.
Sarah chuckled at his keen observation and then spilled the details on yesterday’s kiss in the courtyard and Elspeth’s assumptions. She left out the kiss that she instigated in Conall’s chamber. The details were a bit embarrassing in the light of day. Must have definitely been caused by sleep deprivati
on. Or maybe those fantastic tingles are too hard to resist?
“Shit,” Peter spit out. “Do me one favor and stay away from Conall until I get back. Can you do that?”
“He’s not even here.” Sarah knew Conall wasn’t nearby, given the lack of her skin humming with his presence, a fact she left out given that she didn’t understand it. And that he’ll think I’ve lost it. No one feels another person’s presence like this.
“Did he tell where he planned on spending the day?”
“No. I haven’t seen him since late last night.” But I felt him leave early this morning. It seemed like he left as soon as I woke up.
Peter put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in. “I don’t have time to give the details. Let’s just say that nothing, and I mean nothing, can happen without my permission. There are some unspoken rules, and this is one of those.”
“What are you talking about?” While Peter hadn’t made a lot of sense since they’d met, a whole new level of madness had taken over with his terse assertions.
Instead of a direct answer, Peter shook his head. “All bets are off with the proposed marriage being cancelled. He doesn’t have to stay away from you and he knows it. Conall is here on borrowed time and may have a plan he’s not explained to me, which given the circumstances, pisses me off.”
Sarah tilted her head as she attempted to follow his reasoning and irritation at the same time. “Are you saying he’s attempting to ask me out?”
Then Peter laughed, long and hard. “We really need to talk, but I have to leave so I’m back in time.” Letting go of her shoulder, he took her hand and led her to his horse to appease the men who waited. “Spend the day with Lena and learn how to function here. Tonight, I’ll talk to Conall, make certain we’re on the same page and then explain to you. Deal?”
Without a better option, Sarah agreed. “Deal. I think I need you. There are clearly details that I’m missing.”
Hoping up to mount the horse, Peter chuckled. “You have no idea.” Then he called the men and the party left.
Sarah glanced down at Bella who sat at her feet. “That was rather obtuse.”
Unfortunately, the dog didn’t hold any answers either.
Chapter 14
Lena’s gaze met hers for a fraction of a second before turning back to the women gathered around one of the far tables. Given the packed hall, Sarah found it disturbing that the last person she wanted to acknowledge had to be the one who stared at her. Since the women seated with Lena roared with laughter, the topic of their banter seemed safe to guess. Ignoring the hilarity that threatened to destroy what remained of her pride, she lifted the cup and took a deep swallow of the potent contents, wondering when it had lost its flavor.
To call the day with Lena a disaster would have been an epic understatement. Sarah had failed every test set before her. The women in the kitchen hadn’t approved of how slow she chopped. Screw them, I am perfectly able to chop veggies. Not my fault the kitchen knives handle like machetes. Hey ladies, news flash. Someday, you’ll been replaced by grocery store rotisserie chickens and salad bars. But then no one had offered to teach her a better method to improve her skills.
Lena had been hurried and rushed as she explained the cataloging process as provisions for the feast were removed from the storage in what Sarah deemed the basement. Unable to question the woman, given her disappearing act, Sarah had failed there as well. Laugh it up, bitches. Grinning at her internal diatribe, she mentally added a side note. I mean bitches in the nicest possible way. You know, instead of saying chicks or something lame.
Sarah’s final failure had been in being unable to mend a tear in a tablecloth. I can’t sew. But I have a Master’s Degree and earn enough money to pay the nice lady at the dry cleaners to fix my shit. Suck it, all of you.
Then to top it all off, Lena had berated her for not being able to dress herself. Oh yes, because a gown that ties in the back is easy to put on. Who designs this crap? Though hostile with her failures that seemed to be fuel for mass entertainment, Sarah had to admit she loved the dress. The spectacular gown in sapphire blue silk fit as if made for her full figure, which it had been. Even the coordinating shift was made from silk, dyed a paler blue. Who makes custom gowns in a day? And why couldn’t I manage to fix that damn tablecloth.
The bath had been the only part of the long afternoon that made sense. Given the horrendous day, she no longer mourned the loss of hair conditioner. Her hand lifted to investigate her unbound hair that felt like frizz on steroids mixed with out of control curls. Knowing the insanity ran over her head and down her shoulders had ceased to matter. She had bigger problems: no useful skillsets for the time period.
The cup again lifted to her lips and she downed another one. This makes sense. The best part was she wasn’t drinking alone.
The evening had taken a far better twist. Sarah marveled at the jovial air during the evening meal. The tables were packed with families, all raucous and boisterous over the lack of the Campbell clan and Conall’s ended betrothal. A state of being she could selfishly mirror. She might have even lifted her cup to acknowledge a toast that celebrated no Campbells. Given everyone else whooping it up, I doubt this makes me a bad person.
Sarah took the pitcher from the overly eager serving girl and shooed her away from the table. Not that she could blame her, but the pitcher on the table remained half full. Plus, there was another full one waiting to be consumed. But she calculated that several had been consumed during the evening at her table and many more by those still in the hall. Staring at her once again full cup, her head buzzed pleasantly with the side effects. But then, she had better objects to ponder and admire. To hell with Lena’s gossip and to hell with no relevant skills.
On the other side of the table sat the two most perfect specimens of manhood she had ever seen in person. She decided the photos on social media couldn’t begin to compare to the real-life versions of half-naked Scotsmen. I am really good with how they celebrate life.
She’d never seen anyone receive a tattoo, much less with archaic tools. An older man continued to poke a pattern into Evan’s arm, hence the reason he sat in the hall without a shirt. While a bit too young for her taste, and Evan had yet to fill out his frame, his body held sculpted muscles and golden skin that were hard to ignore.
Neville had declared that he needed to see the original one, given that it had been a decade since he had done the last tattoo. So, she had the pleasure of ogling the man who had kissed her in front of a crashing sea, like a scene straight out of a movie or a dog-eared romance novel. Oh yeah, the naïve kiss is beginning to become epic, or is that the whiskey talking? But she’d walked away and then teased and been taunted with the are-you-angry game. Thankfully, no one had mentioned the kissing to her, making her think Elspeth exaggerated greatly.
I still think he sees me as the embodiment of legends. Every time he has said anything to me, he mentions those damn legends. I don’t want to be legendary. Taking another swig of the potent liquid that resembled scotch, but definitely wasn’t, she let the amber liquid burn down her throat, wishing it would take away the sensation of his lips on hers; a tingle that the passing day had failed to evaporate.
Yet her eyes kept going back to him, to Conall seated across the table sans shirt. Envy filled her that Neville touched him, to turn his arm to view what he needed to see. Each slight twist highlighted muscles that rippled and danced in the candlelight. Her gaze started at his left wrist where the head of a dragon started. The creature wound up and around his incredible arm like a serpent to peek over his shoulder that had felt like hard stone covered in hot flesh even through his shirt. The dragon ended on his shoulder with another head. Like the one on the wrist, its mouth opened but held no teeth.
“Pour me another, Sarah.” Evan grimaced, pushing his empty cup in front of her. “Quick, before I decide I have no wish to continue.”
Sarah laughed and filled the cup, confident in mastering the simple task. “Drink, there’s plen
ty more.”
“You whine like a wee lass,” Conall chuckled, then ducked his head. “Forgive the jest, Sarah. Few women would dare to battle an armed man.”
She shook her head and let her crazy hair fly free, careful to keep it away from the candles that burned on the table for Neville’s use. While she had let her hair take over after her bath, she noted that Conall had done a bit of grooming before the evening meal. Before her sat the man without the beard and an elbow sized bruise graced his rock-hard jaw. Taking a cue from the odd celebratory air, she teased, “That’s what you get for sneaking up on me in a fight.”
His eyes twinkled in the candlelight and he lifted his cup. “A toast to the lass whose bravery may have spared my life, and whose keen sight saw what ‘twas hidden.”
The men and women in the hall cheered, but she waved it away. Her gaze stuck on the bruise and the small scar on his jaw that did nothing to erase his perfection. Then her eyes slid lower to the telltale white lines that spoke of larger wounds, battle scars that danced over his chest, stomach and back. The thought of the pain he endured hurt her heart even as she had inspired notions of running her tongue down each and every one of them. Maybe I should slow down on the booze. Then another thought took hold. Screw that. I’ve lost my home, my family, and my career. I deserve a good drunk.
The room came to a practical halt as Peter entered the hall. His trip to the convent had taken longer than planned. Given the way he searched for her, she couldn’t fathom why he visibly sighed with relief when their gazes met. But it was Conall that rose to greet him and those present waited to see what type of reception he would receive. She simply admired the half-naked warrior stalking across the room. His tush is damn fine in those tight leather pants. Love the way his muscles bunch on his back with each and every step.
The Draig's Choice Page 15