Page 27 of The Laird who Craved her

Claire stood barefoot on the freezing floorboards of her bedchamber, her heavy wool blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Sleep had abandoned her. Every time she had closed her eyes, she was thrust right back onto that balcony, feeling Finn’s mouth crushing against hers, his large hands gripping her waist as if he wanted to devour her entirely.

I am losing me wits, she thought, pressing her warm forehead against the icy glass of the windowpane.It was a moment of madness. A slip of control. He is a warlord, and I am a temporary problem. I must stop letting me mind wander back to the taste of him.

A shadow moving across the damp cobblestones of the courtyard caught her attention.

Through morning mist, a lone figure emerged from the keep: Finn, in a dark tunic and MacRae plaid, with black hairblowing in the wind. He crossed the yard to the stables, strides purposeful.

A few moments later, he led his massive black mare out into the yard, securing the leather saddle straps with sharp, forceful jerks.

Claire's heart gave a sudden, violent kick against her ribs.

Before she could reconsider, Claire turned away from the window.

She threw off the blanket and put her traveling cloak on over her day gown. She shoved her feet into her boots without bothering to lace them fully, and hurried out the door.

She slipped out the side door, the freezing morning air hitting her face.

Finn had just swung his massive frame into the saddle when she reached the edge of the stable yard.

"Running away before the sun rises, Laird MacRae?" Claire called out, her breath pluming in the cold air.

Finn pulled back on the reins instantly. The black mare danced sideways, her hooves clopping loudly against the stones. He looked down, a flash of genuine shock breaking through his chiseled features before his jaw locked into that familiar,unyielding line of stone. In the pale light, the exhaustion etched around his green eyes was impossible to miss.

"I am leaving," he told her immediately, his voice a low, rough rumble that sent an unwanted shiver straight down her spine. "Get back inside before ye freeze, Claire. We will speak later."

"We willnae speak later," Claire countered, marching directly up to his horse’s side. She tilted her chin up, refusing to let him see how wildly her pulse was hammering in her throat. "Ye were planning to avoid me all day. Daenae insult me intelligence by pretending otherwise."

"I am inspecting the perimeter," Finn said flatly, his large hands tightening on the leather reins until the leather creaked. "And ye have nay cloak pin. Ye are shivering already."

"At this hour? Without Douglas or yer vanguard?" Claire arched a brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I daenae need an old lady to tell me when a man is fleeing."

"I am nae fleeing," he growled, the muscle in his jaw feathering dangerously.

"Then prove it. Wherever ye are going, I am going too." She stepped closer to the mare, planting her hands on her hips. "We speak now, Finn. I willnae spend another day locked in this fortress while ye brood in the mountains."

"Claire…”

"I am coming with ye," she interrupted, staring up into his face with absolute defiance. "Unless ye plan to trample me to get out the gate."

Finn stared down at her. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the nervous snorting of his horse. Claire watched his gaze drop to her sleep-tousled hair, trace the stubborn line of her jaw, and finally lock onto her eyes. She could see the internal battle raging behind his emerald gaze, the desperate urge to push her away warring with something entirely different.

Tell me no, her breath hitched as the tension thickened.Order me back inside like the arrogant brute ye are.

But Finn didn't order her back. Without another word, he let out a harsh, defeated sigh, kicked his boot out of the iron stirrup, and offered his large, leather-clad hand down to her.

Claire looked at his palm, her stomach doing a dangerous, weightless flip, before she placed her hand in his.

His fingers closed around hers with absolute strength. In one effortless motion, he hauled her up. Claire let out a sharp gasp as she was lifted off the ground, her skirts tangling before he settled her sideways across the saddle.

The physical contact was overwhelming. Her back was pressed against his chest. His large thighs framed her hips, caging her on the saddle, while his heavy arms reached around to grasp the reins.

It was a trap, and she had walked into it willingly. She reminded herself she was only here until the harvest ended, until the roads cleared and she could ride north to Leo’s safety.

But the rhythm of his heart felt far too synchronized with her own. Did he feel the jolt of it, too, or was she just a convenient shield? She remained rigid, terrified that if she leaned back into his strength, she would never find the will to leave at all.

"Hold on," Finn murmured, his breath brushing the shell of her ear, sending a wicked pulse of heat straight through her.

He spurred the mare forward, and they rode out through the iron gates of Rosewood.