She was right, of course. But she didn’t know he’d lose his ability to breathe if anything happened to her. Knowing she was alive and well was more important than food and water.
“Aye. It does. In fact, I want ye to stay in this room. The way here was hard on yer back. Ye still need to heal.”
“What? Take your room?”
“Aye.”
“And”—she swallowed—“will you sleep here, too?”
“Nae. I’ll sleep in the great hall with the clan warriors. ’Tisna a bother, dinna fash. I’m used to sleeping whenever.”
“Where would I have slept if not here?”
“Probably with the maids, somewhere on a mattress on the floor. Let me take a fresh tunic, and I’ll leave ye.”
He took off the English tunic and walked shirtless to one of the chests in the room. He picked up a tunic and froze as he noticed her watching him. Without breaking the eye contact, she walked over to him. Her sweet scent brushed against him, and all his senses heightened. Her lashes trembled as their eyes locked.
Take me into your arms, her eyes begged. Kiss me…
Oh, he really wanted to. His body reacted before his mind could stop him. He took her into his arms. Her breasts pressed against him with each heavy breath she took.
Her lips were right there. Just reach down and taste their lush sweetness again, lose yerself in her scent. Cup her face and the feel of her smooth skin.
His bed was right there, too. The room had shrunk to the size of a box. How easy would it be to pick her up, take two big steps, and put her there on the mattress. To lie down next to her and undress her and worship her body.
His father’s words came to mind. “If ye’re wrong, we’ll lose everything.”
Giving in to his desires now would cloud his head. He’d be more likely to make a mistake and therefore endanger his mission.
He tensed his arms to stop from running them up her shoulders and neck and burying his fingers in her hair. He wanted to take her face between his palms and kiss her so hard she would forget her own name.
She put her hand on his chest, her palm burning his bare skin. He held his breath, unable to move. If he lifted a finger, his self-restraint would burst. The perfect seductress, she ran her hand up his chest, causing blood to flow to his cock. He cursed inwardly—such a simple gesture, and he was ready to go.
She reached his neck, where his wound pained him. Without touching it, she went up and cupped his face. Her lips were so close, and she reached up to kiss him.
He wanted to, so much. But if her lips touched his, he’d be lost. He gently removed her hand from his face, hating everything about rejecting her. He released her and stepped back.
“Ye should stay away from me, lass. I am nae right for ye.”
Amber’s eyes clouded with hurt. His heart clenching at seeing her like this, he picked up a fresh tunic and pulled it over his head.
“You’re unbelievable,” she hissed.
Like a coward, without looking at her, he left his bedchamber. He wouldn’t let his clan or his king down by giving in to the distraction of a beautiful woman. He’d stay focused and redeem himself, even if it meant losing Amber forever.
Chapter 21
“May I come in?” Amber asked.
Amy lay on her bed, and an old woman touched her belly. The bedroom was round and rather spacious. There was a narrow window with open shutters that let light in, and flames played in the fireplace. Chests stood around the room, as well as several chairs.
Amy looked up and beamed. “Hey! Yes, of course.”
Amber came inside and stood by the bed. A lavender canopy was suspended from the ceiling above it, and four posts stood at each corner of the bed.
The old woman straightened and looked at Amber, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity. She was small and dressed in a simple brown dress and a white kerchief on her head. Her face was leathery and wrinkled.
Amy sat up. “Amber, this is Isbeil. She’s Glenkeld Castle’s healer.”
Isbeil leaned over the bed and picked up her basket. “Another one from yer time?” she asked casually.
Amber was rooted to the spot, not sure she’d heard the woman correctly. Amy chuckled. “Yeah. She knows. Nothing can get past Isbeil.”
Isbeil gave out a small, humorless chuckle. “I can practically smell the faerie magic around ye two.”
“You know about faeries?” Amber said. “Is that who Sìneag is?”
“Oh, aye. ’Tis the faerie that plays with destinies.” She looked at Amy, and her eyes softened. “Yer babe is fine, and ye’re, too. ’Tis a little early for the womb to tighten like so, but ye’re still closed. Dinna fash yerself.”
“Thanks.”
Without saying another word, Isbeil left the room. Amber watched her in fascination. The woman looked ancient and yet appeared full of energy and moved swiftly.
“How does she know?” Amber said when the door closed behind Isbeil.
“Your accent. But she’ll keep her mouth shut. I trust her. One thing about the Middle Ages is that people live so close, everyone’s in everyone’s business. They think I’m a weirdo, but they’re good people and have accepted me.”
Amber smiled and shook her head. “Yes, these times are so different from what I’m used to. Makes you appreciate more what we had, the freedom, the conveniences, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes. But no conveniences in the world would make me abandon Craig. What we have, the happiness—no modern conveniences could ever trump that.”
Amber chuckled politely. Lucky her. Deliriously happy with Craig, having a family with him. Jealousy stung Amber. Amber was falling for Owen, but unlike Amy, she’d never be with the man she loved—not with anyone. She just couldn’t depend on a man. Or trust him. Especially one like Owen.
Besides, he’d said she should stay away from him. Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment as she remembered her pathetic attempt to kiss him. She shook her head to get rid of the thought. “Speaking of conveniences, do you happen to have any spare clothing? I’m still in this stinky English uniform, and we were on the road for days.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll give you a few of my dresses.” She stood up and threw an estimating glance at Amber. “Though I think they might be a bit too short for you. But I can ask my maid to make a dress in your size, no worries. You want to try something on?”
Amy leaned over one of the chests, and Amber pulled the tunic over her head.
“You have a maid?” she said.
Amy sighed. “I know. I have a maid. Sounds so posh. But you get used to this stuff. I refused in the beginning, but with time, I realized I couldn’t weave cloth, make dresses, do the laundry—and make no mistake, you have to wash everything by hand in cold water. There’s also running the kitchen, doing the cleaning… It’s a lot of work. Besides, it’s nice to know I’m giving a good girl the opportunity for honest labor. Here.” She handed Amber a blue dress, a pale-red dress, and a couple of undertunics.
“Thanks.”
Amber turned around to put the dresses on a chair so she could try one on, and she heard a gasp.
“Amber, what happened to your back?”