But you are talking to me.
“That’s not what I mean. I want to hear your voice. I want to have a real conversation with you, not one that’s relegated to texts or gestures. I have so many questions for you and so few answers.”
She nods, then texts again.
Ask me anything. I have nothing to hide.
“Were you always mute?”
She hangs her head, her lower lip sticking out just a bit. Sometimes, she can’t control her reactions, I realize. She’s inexperienced in the art of masking feelings for the sake of the public eye.
No, sir. I was not.
I wonder why sometimes she slips into formality and sometimes she doesn’t.
I also wonder why she doesn’t tell me what caused her to become mute.
My phone buzzes again, but it isn’t a message from her, but Islan.
Islan: Leith, are you two coming down for dinner tonight? The staff is setting the table. Set two more places?
I text her back. Aye.
I glance at the time. I asked they serve dinner right at six, and need to be as prompt as I expect everyone else.
“We need to get ready and go to dinner,” I tell her. “We’ll talk later tonight.”
She smiles broadly at me, her eyes bright with hope and expectation. What is it that pleases her like this? What is it that makes her so eager?
She nods, and quickly scurries past me. I stifle a fucking groan. Why the hell did I have her sleep naked? I’ll be hiding a fucking hard-on like a goddamn teen-ager going downstairs.
She pauses, then sends me another quick message.
Will we return here to your room to talk later tonight?
Jesus. As if I could let her stay apart from me for another night.
“Yes. Leave everything here. Just get dressed to go downstairs.”
I head to the toilet and stand by the sink, splash water on my face, then go to my dresser and grab a clean shirt. I tug off the one I slept in and toss it in the clothes basket, when I realize Cairstina is standing in the doorway, staring at me.
I freeze, my t-shirt still bunched in my fists, and watch her expression. She’s nothing short of enraptured.
“What is it?”
She takes her mobile and sends another text.
You’re amazingly muscled and handsome.
I look down at my chest as if seeing myself for the very first time. We’ve dwelt in the mountains all of our lives, doing hard, back-breaking labor as a matter of routine. Every one of us is large and muscled, inked with the trademark ink of the north, like the McCarthys of Ireland.
I give her a sheepish look. “Thank you.”
She giggles and covers her mouth with her hand. I’m surprised to see she’s already dressed, but she’s missed a button at her neck. “C’mere,” I murmur, quirking a finger at her.
She walks over to me, her head bowed shyly. I gently spin her around, brush her hair off her shoulders, and fasten the little button. Before I release her, I bend my head to her neck and give her a little kiss. She closes her eyes at the feel of my mouth on her neck, her fingers gently grazing her collarbone as if to hold onto this moment so she won’t forget it.
I don’t want to take her downstairs. I don’t want to share her. I want to keep her in my room, all for myself. I want to get to know her better, ask her more questions and have our odd but blatantly honest conversations the way we do.
But I have obligations. We need to go.
“Tonight, you’ll spend the night in my room. Back in my home,” I whisper in her ear. She lifts her mobile and her response is nearly immediate.
I'd like that.
* * *
Chapter Ten
Cairstina
I don't even know what to do with myself. My attraction to Leith baffles me, but it’s something so refreshing, so exciting, I don’t want to overanalyze it to death.
I want to enjoy it, for what it is, for however long this lasts.
I shouldn't be attracted to this man, but how could I resist someone like him? It isn't just that he's hot. I mean, I’m a typical red-blooded female and even the most discriminating would find it hard not to find that large, powerful body and dark, brooding eyes sexy as hell. He’s intriguing and complex, and I knew it from the very first moment I met him. People like me learn to observe, to really truly see people.
He wars within himself, so much so that I wonder why no one else seems to notice. He's torn between his duty and wants, between what he should be doing and what he wants to do. He's curious about me, but hesitant. I wonder why. Is he afraid? If so, what is he afraid of? That he’ll hurt me?
Wounded people recognize one another. We know when we look into the eyes of someone who’s been hurt, and deeply. And I know, without a doubt, that Leith is wounded… like me.