Behind the Plaid (8 page)

I wouldna let that happen. Midnight or n
ay, I had to find out who she was and her purpose. Had to get the thought of her lush breasts from my mind. The thoughts of what treasure was hidden between her lithe thighs. Her wet, pulsing cunny clenching my cock. I groaned aloud as I slammed into the castle, taking the wheel stairs three at a time. This night I’d touch her, quench my thirst by partaking in the pleasures she had to offer.

Spy or nay, she was going to answer my questions and the
n warm my bed.

Chapter Six

Emma

I
n the middle of the night I woke, prickles of fear skidding over my neck. I gasped, eyes wide, but could see nothing. I sat straight up, feeling blind, scared. It took several moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkened room. The fire that had been banked when I’d been put to bed was dead and there were no candles lit. The only light came from the windows, sending slashes of silver to cut across the floor and pieces of furniture. One particular shaft fell over the bed, slicing across my knees, and another by the door…

Illuminating a figure.

A rather large figure, but I could make out nothing other than size in the shadows.

“Who…Who’s there?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the fear from my voice.

The figure took a few steps closer, arms crossed over his massive and imposing chest. Logan. I blinked rapidly, trying to wrap my head around him being in my bedroom.

“You scared me,
my laird,” I admitted.

He didn’t speak.
A rather imposing and sensual man looming in my doorway.

Shivers stole over me, taking my breath once more.
I pulled the covers closer, seeking their warmth, for there was no protection in the fabric, nor in the humongous four-poster bed. What could he possibly want? Had he come for me to…attend him, as his maids had assured me he would? The thought was tantalizing, awoke some part of me that had lain dormant for years. But at the same time I was filled with terror. What if he found me lacking in beauty as Steven did? What if he thought my body too thin and boyish? The red curls between my thighs repulsive?

“I
needed to speak with ye,” he finally murmured.

“What time is it?” Not that it mattered, but I’d lost all sense of time and place.

“After midnight.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the big question—what was
so important that he chose to wake me in the middle of the night? Instead, I settled for trivial conversation. “Thanks for the delicious meal and the bath.”

“I was glad to see to your pleasure.”

A different type of shiver stole over me—electrifying. Why did his words have to sound so…wicked?

“This chamber is…nice.” I didn’t want to say huge, masculine, imposing. I felt stupid for saying anything
at all, but the silence was killing me, and I tended to speak when nervous.

But in that instant I saw the flash of his white teeth in a sliver of light as he stepped forward. I was again reminded of what a handsome man he was.
His chiseled features even more pronounced in the moonlight and with a dark shadow of stubble across his strong jaw.

“I’m glad ye approve. Apologies for waking ye.” His voice was soft, sincere. “
I had much to deal with after the attack and I’d not intended to find ye asleep—or to come so late.”

“Do you often stay up past midnight?” I asked, curious about his habits.

He shrugged, the motion drawing my eyes to his muscular torso once more. “Only when I have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you have a lot on your mind?” I had a particular feeling that whatever thoughts he had on his mind had to do with me—but not in a way that was cruel or resentful.
Logan was nothing like Steven. The two differed in nearly every way.

“Aye. Ye in particular.”

Logan uncrossed his arms and bent by the hearth, stoking the deadened embers and obviously taking note there was no life left in them. He added peat logs and lit them with a flint. Wafts of the earthy scented smoke reached me, having an almost drugging effect. The light of the fire gave the room a warm glow, and better outlined Logan. It looked like he’d had a bath—his hair was damp. He wore no linen shirt, only a plaid wrapped at his waist. A short sword was at his hip, but he appeared otherwise unarmed.

My gaze landed on his eyes, still shadowed with his back to the fire. I wished I could see them more clearly, to know what he was thinking. To prepare myself for whatever it was he would say. Instinctively I knew he wouldn’t berate me as Steven did
. But even still, despite not having known him long, I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“What is it you…needed
, my laird?”

He took in a short draw of breath at my question. Perhaps it would have been unnoticeable to anyon
e else, but my eyes were glued on him, my nerves tuned in to each of his movements, reactions.

“What is it ye’re willing to give?”

What a question. To which I had no reply. “I’d not thought about it,” I answered honestly with a frown.

He chuckled. “Shall I tell ye
, then?”

I nodded
, even though part of me dreaded what he might say.

“Ye are a stranger here. From a faraway place. The moment ye graced my door, enemies attacked. I want ye to give me the truth, Emma.”

The way he said my name was a dark stroke over my insides. It wasn’t threatening, even when it was demanding. I liked hearing him say it, the way his brogue caressed each letter.

“I can give you that.”
Or a version of it.

“Tell me then. Who are ye? Why did ye bring the enemy to my doorstep?” Logan came around from the foot of the bed to the side I sat on. Standing just a few feet in front of me, he leaned a hip on one of the thick posters, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. With his face now only half in shadow, the other half dancing orange from the flames in the heart
h, I could better assess that he looked merely curious.

I shook my head, held my hands out in supplication. “I truly had no
knowledge that men were coming to attack. I’ve no idea who your enemy is, or why they were here. I can promise that I didn’t bring them, nor do I have anything to do with them.”

He studied me, eyes roving over my face, my chest—
my nipples wickedly growing taut as his gaze hesitated there. I bit my lip as tingles zinged from the two naughty peaks, pulling at some place deeper within.

“Why did ye come here
, then?”

“I was…” I had to tell him something. A version of the truth. Sticking to what I knew would help me keep my story fresh in my own mind. I wasn’t one for lying, and Steven always said that my lies were fully visible on my face. Like I was a book, anyone could read through me. “I was running away.”

“Running away?”

I nodded. “Away from my…life.”

“Ye were not happy?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t. I was miserable.
Tears prickled the backs of my eyes, my throat was tight and I forced my fingers to stop trembling by digging them deep into the blankets.

“
Why?”

I couldn’t answer. Didn’t know this man, and certainly didn’t want to share with him the embarrassment of a nearly a decade of
being told I was worthless.

Seeing my hesitation, he continued, “
What were ye hoping to gain here?”

“I—I don’t know. I saw the gate, the walls, the keep. Remembered that it was Gealach and so I ran toward it.”

He seized on my words, his own coming out clipped and suspicious. “How did ye remember it was Gealach?”

Honesty.
“I was here…before.”

His darkened gaze bore into mine as though he would see inside my soul.
“When? I dinna recall seeing ye.”

I shook my head, nerves whizzing around like crazy, feeling completely out of control. One misstep and he might throw me out into the wild, or worse, into his dungeon. I’d see
n the dungeon of Gealach when visiting with Steven. Seen how dank and dark it was. A hole in the deepest bowels of the castle. No light entered there. No way to get in or out. I would simply be tossed with the rats, spiders and God knew what else.

I
was making a muddle of it. But sticking to the truth was the easiest thing, and so far I hadn’t lied at all. Willing myself to gain some calm, I spoke in a surprisingly clear voice, “Well—“ I searched for something. “We didn’t come through the gate.”

“We?”

“M—“ I was about to say,
my family
, but I didn’t want him to ask me about them, to try and find them. He’d never have any luck. But if he knew of their existence he might try to locate them—however futile.

When I didn’t speak again, he prompted,
“Merchants?”

“Yes.” An obvious lie, as my eyelids lowered and I tried to hide from it. Logan’s gaze shifted
a bit, seeming to let it slide, surprising me. “We weren’t here long.”

“Long enough to like what ye’d seen?”

“Long enough to know that you are a good laird and that your people respect you, care for you.”

His chest puffed a little at my praise, but still he kept his gaze guarded. Logan was an intelligent,
shrewd man—however suspicious. “Aye, they do.” He shifted closer, his hip resting on the mattress.

My heartbeat skipped and my temperature went up a notch. But I didn’t know if that was from his closeness o
r the growing warmth of the fire. He was so large, powerful, filling up my personal space and owning every breath.

He stared at me for several assessing moments.
“Do ye want to stay then, Emma?”

I licked my
dry lips. My throat swollen with a lump. “Yes.” My voice came out a hoarse whisper.

He came a little closer, this thigh brushing against mine as he leaned against the bed. I had to tilt my head to look up at him.
“I want ye to stay.”

He did? My eyes widened. The words floated between us. His admission. My admission.
It seemed we were both in deep, but
in what
, I didn’t know. Couldn’t fathom. Felt at a complete loss for what
this
was. All I knew were the blanket facts that anyone could guess. But then again, I had seen a part of Logan that made me trust him. A part that connected my soul to his. He was compassionate, intense, and though he knew nothing about me, was willing to allow me to stay and offer me his protection.

“I dinna want ye to be unhappy.” His words, while simple, edged deep. Steven had never cared about my happiness. Even
I
had not cared so much about my happiness over the last eight years. Just that short phrase, that short desire to see me pleased had an incredible effect on me. One I was sure Logan wasn’t even aware of.

“
But what am I to do with ye?” he asked, his gaze once more traveling over me.

My toes curled, and I squeezed my thighs tightly together. I could tell what he wanted to do with me. I just wasn’t sure I really wanted it. My body did. My mind was another story—one that was slowly opening up to the possibilities that Fate had given me.
“I don’t know.” Honestly.

“I have an idea.” His voice was a soft caress, enticing.
“I’ll keep ye for myself.”

“For yourself?” I
swallowed hard, past the lump lodged right in the middle of my neck.

“Aye.”
He sat beside me, his hip touching mine, heating me thoroughly. “I can see the pulse beat in your neck.” Reaching out, he touched the exact spot. The calloused tip of his finger was warm and my heartbeat increased at his touch, as though the beat would leap out just for him. He leaned closer, his face an inch away. I inhaled his scent—clean, salty—and closed my eyes. His breath on my face, warm, smelled faintly of whisky and spice. His lips, firm yet lush, brushed over mine.

His kiss wasn’t demanding
or overpowering. It was light, sensual, seeking permission. His tongue teased in a touch and withdraw pattern against the corners of my mouth. Logan tasted, but didn’t require entry. He was leaving it up to me how far he’d go. For now I was content to press my mouth to his and feel the soft flicks of his tongue on my lips. To take in his masculine scent, to be the one with the power to alter the kiss from sweet test to carnal exploration. He didn’t touch me otherwise. His hands rested on the mattress beside both of my hips, the deep depression of his weight caused me to tighten my muscles to stay upright.