The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,50
mouth he dug himself deeper. “Because I cannot bear to see anything bad happen to you.”
“Put me down.”
Ciar obeyed.
Wrapping her fingers around Albert’s collar, she walked in a circle, took a few steps, then stopped. “It appears I am entirely at your mercy.” A tear slid down her cheek. There she stood, the bravest woman Ciar had ever met, and she was devastated.
Because of him.
She wanted an adventure. She wanted to be reckless, as she’d put it, be free of the shackles of her disability. And now he’d smashed her dreams and made her feel undesirable.
I should be strung up by my thumbs.
He took her hand, trying not to squeeze it too hard—not to let his emotion show in his touch. “It is myself with whom I am angry. You stirred a fire deep within me, and it would be wrong of me to take advantage…of you.”
* * *
“These oatcakes will fill our bellies,” said Ciar, his spatula tapping the iron hob over the fire.
Emma picked up two wooden plates from a basket by the hearth. “I wish I were able to help with that.”
“You have. You mixed the oats.”
She pursed her lips as she set the table. Any other woman ought to be able to manage the cooking, but she’d been involved with only meal planning at Glenmoriston. “Where did you learn to prepare meals?”
“A man must eat when he’s driving cattle to market. If he doesn’t learn a few tricks, he’ll starve.”
“But do your men not tend to the cooking when you’re droving?”
“Aye, mostly. Though when I was a lad my da ensured I prepared most of the meals whenever we were away from home’s hearth.”
“You’re lucky.”
He chuckled. His deep, resonate laugh always made her feel warm inside…even if he didn’t like her as much as she adored him. “Few would see it that way.”
As soon as Emma sat, Albert put his head in her lap. Petting him made a wee flicker of warmth spread through her insides. The dog had a way of lifting her spirits, bless him.
“You’re managing to find your way around the chamber well,” said Ciar.
“As I mentioned before, Albert and I counted paces after you left this morn.” She should have opted to bathe first; then she would have been finished before Ciar returned.
Good heavens, it had been a day of mortifying humiliation. As least she ought to be mortified with herself. Truly, Emma had been embarrassed half to death when he’d found her stark naked. But he didn’t seem to notice her awkwardness. His actions were so incredibly gentle, his voice soothing. She couldn’t recall a maid being so meticulous, so careful or tender with the donning of hose. Rolling stockings up one’s leg was an everyday occurrence done with efficiency if not haste.
But when Ciar helped her, it was as if someone opened a window on a spring day to the beautiful songs of birds, and scents of fresh flowers and rain. If she allowed herself to believe it, she would say Ciar applied himself to the task with affection. But perhaps she had imagined it.
Yet it seemed so genuine, did it not?
Bubbles floated in Emma’s stomach. Her breasts tingled along with a yearning deep inside her body, one she couldn’t describe. The same yen had been overwhelmingly intense when they’d kissed in the corridor at Achnacarry. Goodness, that fleeting, stolen moment seemed so long ago.
She tapped her fingers against her mouth. Why were her lips still buzzing from the delight of it?
Emma mustn’t allow herself to dream. What promised to be wonderful had ended badly.
I’m so confused!
Why had Ciar grown so angry after she’d asked him to kiss her? Yes, he said he was upset with himself, but was he truly? Emma knew she’d broken every etiquette rule imaginable in being so forward. And she must never, ever do so again or risk infuriating him all the more. Oh, dear, what if he thought her an insufferable trollop?
She pondered the idea while she shifted her fingers from her lips to her neck. If he was not attracted to her, then why had he kissed her in the first place? Also, his words had directly conflicted with his actions. Something greater than a frivolous kiss had passed between them. She knew it. You stirred a fire deep within me. Those words affected Emma more potently than anything he’d ever said to her.
Did Ciar have any idea of the enormity of the bonfire he stirred within her breast?