Page 27 of Highland Seduction

Tor laughed. “Much tension indeed.”

“As we speak of tension, did I mention a man I met in Calais knew yer father?” James spoke of the man’s ties to Clan MacRob, and his desire to return to Scotland. Tor’s thoughts wandered back to the woman who waited for him.

He thought of all the reasons he should not touch her. Should not kiss her. And certainly should not make love to her.

’Tis just a simple kiss. Would ye have another man be her first?

With that thought, he finished his ale, slammed the mug on the table between them just as James finished his tale, and stood. “Well met, my friend.” James stood with him and stuck out his hand. “But I believe ’tis time for me to retire.”

James’s laugh followed Tor as he left the drinking and tales to others. When he reached the stairs, Tor took them two at a time, his heart hammering as if it were he, and not Ainsley, who’d never been kissed before.

Finally, his hand touched the knob on the door of their shared room just as he remembered it would be locked. Except that it wasn’t. Thankfully he’d been watching her from below, but Tor would still speak with his wife about just how unsafe it was to leave her door unlocked in an establishment such as this. Any man could, and would, walk straight inside if they’d any hint she was in there alone.

Sucking in a breath and attempting to gain control, he pushed open the door.

Chapter 15

When Ainsley opened her eyes, she could not place herself for a moment. ’Twas not her bed, certainly. Neither was it the hard ground with Tor by her side. She sat up suddenly, remembering.

His promise.

Her worries about whether or not she should allow it.

Ainsley’s resignation that, whether a fine idea or not, she would have difficulty refusing her first kiss from such a man.

And then, the wait. Ainsley wringing her hands, watching the door. Lying on the bed and closing her eyes for just a moment. ’Twas the last she remembered. Sitting up, she looked around the room, though Tor was nowhere to be found. She jumped from the bed, lest he return at any moment and see her in a shift, and moved to the window. Opening the wooden shutters, she could not tell night from day, except for the movement down below. Despite the darkness, it was apparent she’d slept the night away and dawn was soon about to break.

Moving quickly, Ainsley made use of the fresh scented water and dry cloth next to the bed. She chewed a piece of mint left there and, after dressing, considered leaving the room herself to make use of the privy.

Thankfully, just as she packed her shift inside the bag that housed Ainsley’s other gown and boots, the door opened. Their discussion flooded back to her, and she found herself staring at her husband’s lips.

“I slept.” She indicated the bed. Ainsley attempted to form a thought that was not nonsense. “And now ’tis morning,” she said, failing in her attempt.

Tor’s slow grin did not help her cause. “Shall we go? It will be another long day of riding.”

She nodded. He said naught of kisses, and Ainsley supposed it was better this way. Tor picked up her bag, and she noticed his was gone already. Likely secured to their mounts already waiting for them. Following him from the room, she chided herself for a disappointment she should not feel. She did not want him to kiss her.

Except that . . . she did.

Tor said naught more until they were prepared to mount the horses that, as she expected, were waiting for them. He untied both as Ainsley watched, the sun having just begun to rise.

“Lady Ainsley,” an unfamiliar voice said as the door to the inn opened behind her. She spun, immediately taken aback. Ainsley was certain she’d never met the man who stood before her. She would remember. Nearly as handsome as Tor, his hair much darker, his grin just as wide, the man introduced himself. “James Scott.” He nodded to her husband. “I am a friend of yer husband’s.”

That he knew they were married meant Tor had likely spoken to him last eve after she’d gone to bed. He approached and, taking her hand, lifted it to his lips. Every maid she knew would be entranced by the warrior.

Except she.

It was his voice, the one that approached now, that elicited the shiver that ran through her. “An early start for ye,” Tor said to Scott. “It didnae appear ye’d planned to retire when I left.”

So Scott had been with Tor last eve, as she suspected.

“I require little sleep,” Scott said. “Though I am no’ alone in that, if I can remember. The campaign near Licheford, do ye remember it?”

“I do,” Tor said, an odd look on his face. “I recall sleeping little, eating less, and shivering often in the bitter cold.”

Why does he continue to look at me so, as if I’ve said something amiss?

“And victory,” Scott said.