wasting a moment.
She turned to him. ‘Getting me a gown doesn’t make us even.’
He didn’t say anything.
‘Despite what’s in that big fat head of yours, the dagger is mine and I will take it back.’
He ignored her. No. It was more than that, he just stared straight through her. She knew he was alive by the slight rise of his chest and his occasional blink, and the fact that he opened the door when they heard the two quick knocks.
Malcolm didn’t step in, but pushed a yellow gown and the dagger through the slight opening. Caird threw the gown at her feet.
It was a bright, deeply coloured yellow. With her dark hair she could never tame, she’d look like an overused broom.
She picked it up. The length was good, but it’d be too tight around the bodice. The person who wore this didn’t like food as well as she. There was no hope for it.
‘Will you turn around?’
Caird didn’t acknowledge her question. Instead he secured the gem inside the dagger and placed them both in his pouch.
Watching avidly, Mairead couldn’t believe how close and yet how far she was from the means to end the nightmare she was in.
When he was done, she waited several heartbeats for Caird to turn around; instead, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.
Glowering, she turned her back to change. In her haste, the torn gown ripped further. She’d have to repair it when she returned home. Shoving it to her feet, she pulled the new one over her. It caught on her breasts and hips and was altogether too tight to quickly tug over her and tie the cords around her. No matter, though her chemise was threadbare, it provided enough cover until she could get the fabric over her. She had too much pride to beg a Colquhoun for her privacy.
Still, his presence, and his silence, made her feel like elbowing him in the stomach.
Losing her temper wasn’t anything new to her. Wanting to harm another person was. But nothing had been normal since she’d met Caird. Her reaction to him was... No, she didn’t want to think of her reaction to him. It wasn’t Caird making her crazy with desperation and anger and...everything else, it was the dagger.
‘I know you believe you’re right,’ she said, tugging at the yellow fabric in the vain hope that it would cover more. The colour was beautiful and probably had cost its original owner some coin. ‘But you must see reason on this.’ In their haste, she was sure Caird’s brother had paid too dear for it. If he thought to bribe her with the cost, he was mistaken. Turning to face him, she continued, ‘We must talk—’
She stopped. Caird’s face was no longer impassive. His face was pained, as if she had indeed jabbed him.
He held just as still as before, with his arms at his sides. But he flexed his left thumb and his eyes no longer looked through her.
They consumed her. Wrath, heat and frustration warred in the weight of his grey-green gaze.
She felt his eyes, everywhere. They trailed up her legs, slowly, so slowly that her skin flushed. She’d swear his eyes tore through her gown, sought under her chemise—
Her chemise. Oh, the window. Of course she felt his eyes; her worn chemise hadn’t covered her. Not when she stood in front of the window. The light would have made the thinning fabric transparent. She had not been covered at all. Just outlined and bared to him.
He hadn’t turned around like she’d asked; neither did he lower his eyes.
She tried to calm her tangled emotions, but the gown, too tight by far, constricted her breathing. And he dared to be angry with her?
‘Doona watch next time,’ she scorned.
She picked up and threw his tunic as hard as she could at him. It billowed to the floor slowly, which didn’t help her mood.
He snatched up the fabric at his feet, removing his gaze and releasing its hold on her. ‘Doona want to ever look at a Buchanan.’ Without turning around, he unwrapped his belt. ‘Tell the truth and you can leave my sight.’
His animosity seared her, but she wouldn’t cower before him. No, she would turn the tables. Since he hadn’t turned his eyes whilst she dressed, she wasn’t turning hers.
But she wished she had. Oh, she truly wished she had because the moment Caird reached for his tunic and began to put it on, her stomach changed places with her knees and she felt the need to sit.
As she watched, shock and something she didn’t want to guess at flushed her skin.
She knew he roughly pulled on the tunic. However, to her, it seemed agonisingly slow as he raised the soft fabric above his head, and his arms, lithe and corded, flexed as he bent each one into the sleeves. But worse, and an instant hindrance to her ability to breathe, was when he stretched those muscled arms, and the chiseled planes of his stomach rippled and contracted.
It wasn’t fair such simple movements bared more flesh, more alluring strength, than one woman should be witness to.
His chest couldn’t have been bared for more than a few breaths, yet the sight was almost as stunning as his kiss.
Her stomach didn’t settle back in place until he lowered his head to wrap his belt around his tunic. Even when that was done she still felt unsteady.
And ashamed.
And angry, frustrated and incredulous. Had she hated him just moments before? Now, she hated herself.
She desired a no-good arrogant red-headed Colquhoun!
He lifted his head too soon for her to avert her eyes, so she narrowed them to hide her reaction.
He reached behind him to open the door, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.
She felt like running out of the room, retreating and hiding, anything to avoid his all-too-knowing gaze. Instead, she pulled up whatever was left of her pride to confront him.
‘You expect me to follow you out of that door,’ she said.
He stared, but there was nothing of his thoughts in his gaze now.
‘Is your silence supposed to be aye? Well, I won’t be going with you.’
Caird’s frown deepened.
She gestured with her arms in frustration. ‘Silence again. Silence still. Barely a word out of you this morning when last night...’ She didn’t want to think about last night, nor his words and the way they made her feel. ‘I can’t care. Whatever you’re thinking it isn’t true; the dagger is mine and I want it back. You can keep the gem. Just give me the dagger and you won’t see me again.’
He tilted his head until his eyes met hers. ‘Nae.’
Her fingers curled. ‘Because you Colquhouns believe we are without honour?’
He sneered. ‘It doesn’t matter. The result will be the same.’
‘What
