He hoped to Hades it wasn’t a lie.
For days, he’d battled his craving for this woman. After today, she was even more out of bounds. Now he knew she was another man’s wife, and she’d given him even fewer reasons to trust her than he’d had befor
e the Grants took her away.
But every time he was with her, he learned the bitter lesson that principles and propriety offered no defense against desire.
“I still don’t know why you should,” she said, and he cursed the husky edge to her voice. It put him in mind of her murmuring seductive promises in bed.
“Save your questions for when we’re safe.” With her so unsteady on her feet, he kept hold of her slender waist. “I’ve got the landlord’s wife doing her best to keep your kin downstairs, but I fear they’re no’ men to linger over their dinner and leave their captive unsupervised.”
Her lips tightened. “No.”
“Are ye able to stand without help?”
He hoped to blazes she was. Touching her like this tested every ounce of his willpower.
“Aye.”
He let her go.
She staggered.
He caught her arm. “Damn it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nae need. You’re still no’ recovered from the wreck.”
“I can make it. I can make it to wherever you take me. Please…” The delicate throat moved as she swallowed. Desperation glittered in her eyes. “Please don’t leave me here.”
Despite everything, a smile tugged at his lips. “Whisht, ye daft lassie. I’ve gone to all this trouble to find you. I’m nae going to abandon ye because you’re a wee bit rocky on your feet.”
“You’re a fine man, Diarmid Mactavish.” Her expression remained grave. “Better than I deserve.”
Shame twisted in his gut. If she guessed how she made him hunger, and her another man’s wife, she wouldn’t say that, by God.
“Save your breath to cool your porridge.” He glanced around the room. “Do ye need anything?”
“Only my freedom,” she said. “Let’s go.”
He took her hand before he carefully opened the door. To his relief, the corridor remained empty. Rose had told him the inn was full, but at this hour, most of the guests would be downstairs at dinner.
He drew Mrs. Grant—how he loathed calling her by that name—outside. Her grip on his hand tightened, silent confirmation of her trepidation. After shutting the door, he turned back to her. She looked pale but determined.
“We just need to make it down the stairs and into the stables.”
“I’m ready.”
They’d reached the end of the hall when he heard someone coming up the main staircase.
“If we dinna stop on the way, we’ll be home tomorrow night,” Allan was saying.
“Do ye think the besom will last another hard day’s travel?” Thomas asked.
“She’ll have to. If she’s uncomfortable, it’s her own damned fault. Once we get her home, I’ll show her what uncomfortable is, the insolent witch.”
Diarmid heard Mrs. Grant muffle a gasp as he hauled her into a dash for the backstairs. She managed a few steps before she stumbled.