“I must say, yer housekeeping might nae be up to much, but yer cook is truly wonderful,” Meredith was saying now, licking the last of the crumbs from her fingers and twisting around until they were face-to-face once more, her body still nestled comfortably — for her, at least — against his. “One of the best, in fact!”
“Is that right?” he replied, trying not to smile. “Well, I’m pleased to hear ye’re happy with something, at least. I was starting to think I’d have to take ye right back home at first light tomorrow; ye were that displeased with everything.”
“Och, nay,” said Meredith, her green eyes laughing at him. “It takes more than a bit of dust — or an inhospitable host — to bother me! I’ll have this castle of yers sorted out before ye know it.”
She probably would, too, Ryder thought — if I let her.
“I can well believe it,” he replied earnestly. “It’s why ye would want to bother yerself with it — or with me — that I struggle to understand. I know yer family have many troubles, of course, troubles that an alliance with me could help solve.”
“That’s nae why,” she cut in quickly, her eyes downcast. “Well, I mean, maybe it was to start with. It’s why I agreed to meet with ye, at least, and to give some thought to the idea of a union between us.”
He nodded, understanding. He did not blame her for her pragmatism in agreeing to enter into a marriage — or at least consider one — purely to help her clan. He’d have done the same in her position. He did, however, admire her frankness. Many lesser women would have tried to flatter him, to convince him that they’d only been interested in his affections and not in his power or protection. Meredith, on the other hand, appeared to be unwilling to tell a lie — not about his home, and not about anything else, either. Her honesty might be uncomfortable for him at times, but there was no denying it was part of her attraction.
“And now?” he said softly, pulling her closer against his better judgment.
“Now?”
“Ye said ‘to start with’ it was just about yer family and yer clan. Which makes me wonder if ye’ve changed yer mind since then. I know it’s not me castle yer interested in, after all…”
He knew she had changed her mind. He could feel it in the way she moved closer to him, leaning into his chest as if for warmth, even though the fire in the hearth was still blazing away merrily. But — for reasons he didn’t understand or want to admit to himself — he needed to hear her say it.
“Aye,” she said bluntly, looking him in the eye. “Aye, me mind changed as soon as I laid eyes on ye, and nothing ye’ve done since has managed to change it back. Not even yer dusty old castle and yer habit of ignoring almost every word I say to ye. And I’ve a notion ye might feel the same yerself.”
Her eyes flashed, challenging him. It’s almost as if she can read my mind, he thought. As if she knows I want to scare her away — but also knows how completely incapable I find myself of actually doing it.
Ryder hesitated, feeling his resolve to scare her off melting away in the face of such boldness and hating himself for his weakness.
“A man such as meself cannae afford to feel such things,” he said, at last, his voice harder than he intended. “Which leaves me with a problem.”
She flinched slightly at the roughness of his words, the movement making him harden again under her legs.
“Me, ye mean? I daenae intend to cause ye any problems, Me Laird,” she said, making to stand up and giving a small gasp when he pulled her back roughly towards him. “I’m sorry indeed to hear that’s how ye think of me.”
Ignoring the statement, Ryder simply pulled her closer still, his hands clasped tightly around her waist.
“Leave me be, why daenae ye?” she hissed, frustrated when he failed to let her go. “I daenae understand ye, one minute yer as nice as can be, the next yer warning me off ye, and then right after that, ye want me to sit in yer lap?”
She trailed off, her voice shaking. Ryder looked at her thoughtfully. She was right. There was no denying it. It wasn’t the lass’s fault that he found himself so conflicted in his emotions towards her, after all, and he wasn’t being fair to her by blowing so hot and cold. And he didn’t know why, but, in the short time he’d known her, her opinion had already become important to him. He wanted her to think well of him — even while he tried to push her away.
“I beg yer pardon,” he said gruffly, unused to issuing an apology. “Maybe ye can tell me how I can make this easier on ye? What would ye like me to bring ye to make ye more comfortable? Something for yer chamber, maybe? Or some more of that cake ye liked so much?”
* * *
Meredith simply stared at him, exasperated.
“This isnae about cake!” she said at last. “How can ye even think that?” She squirmed uncomfortably on his lap. She badly wanted to stand up — to put some distance between them and be rid of the tingling sensation that had lit up her body as soon as he’d pulled her towards him.
Being close to him made her aware of every part of her body. Every brush of his hand on her waist and every slight movement that made his strong arms curl even more tightly around her. The longer their conversation went on, the stronger the sensation became, until it reached the point where she almost felt like she couldn’t quite think straight.
He was saying something else — something about that damned cake, she was sure — but she barely heard him, so aware had she become of the hardness of him, pressing firmly against her legs, as she sat on his lap. She wasn’t quite sure now whether what she really wanted was to move away or to sink closer to him, but she decided to choose the first — and undoubtedly safer —- option.
The moment she stood up, however, quickly crossing the room to where the fire now burned lower in the grate, under the pretense of warming herself before it, he was on his feet and coming after her, his tall, broad-shouldered figure suddenly making the room seem small.
“Ryder —”
He paused for just a second, but whatever she had intended to say next — assuming she even knew — was forgotten as his lips silenced hers, his hands in her hair as he pulled her roughly towards him, kissing her passionately, until her mind was full of nothing but him. His lips, his tongue, his body, as it pressed insistently against hers. She murmured incoherently, but his response was simply to deepen the kiss, the softness of his lips contrasting sharply with the strength of the body that pressed against hers.
The room is much too hot, Meredith thought, abandoning herself to the kiss and enjoying the sensation of his hands in her hair, the thumbs softly stroking her face. Either that, or I am.
The thought brought her sharply to her senses, and she pulled quickly away, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked at him, her eyes wild.
“We… we mustnae,” she said at last. “We are but betrothed, it… it wouldnae be right.”
A moment’s frustration flashed across Ryder’s face, and he made as if to reach for her again, stopping himself just in time.
“As ye wish,” he said curtly, moving away from her, his tone carefully neutral.
“It’s nae that I daenae want to, ye understand,” she called after him, realizing that the look of frustration on his face was merely hurt in disguise. She had offended him — which was the last thing she had intended. She took a step towards him, reaching one hand out imploring, but it was too late; her fingers brushed the sleeve of his shirt at the same moment that he opened the door and stepped quickly through it, not bothering to look back.
The door banged shut behind him, the sound loud in the small chamber.
He was gone.