My lips twitch at that. “Haunted? Are ya sure?”
Nodding she says, “I heard this horrible moan and footsteps and...” She puts a hand in front of her mouth when a wailing roars through the rooms, “there it is again!”
Letting out a squeal, she runs over to my bed then clasps her hands under her chin, her eyes so wide I can see the whites.
“It is just the wind, lassie,” I say reassuringly, “ya are obviously not used to old houses. This is what they sound like when the northern wind beats against them. And the footsteps...just creaking of the gables.”
“Oh,” she says, glancing at me and her body relaxes visibly and she looks towards the door and suddenly I need to fight down an urge to lunge at her.
“But are ya verra afraid?” I say quickly and she looks back at me. For a second it looks like she’s about to shake her head but then her eyes go to my pecs and I flex them, not being transparent at all.
Looking like she’s calculating something, she murmurs, “Oh aye, a wee bit.”
My heart expands in my chest at her attempt at Scottish and I pat the bed right next to me.
“Hop in,” I say, about to pull up the covers when she stops me.
“It’s okay, I’ll sleep on top of them,” she says quickly then jumps in bed, plunging her head on the pillow. She’s tense but not as tense I am. Looking up at the ceiling she murmurs, “Were you sleeping before I disturbed you?”
“Aye,” I say not telling her the truth about what I was doing but it involved using my hand and thinking about her.
“You’re lucky then,” she murmurs, “I can never sleep the first night in an unfamiliar place...”
That moaning echoes around the house again and she lets out a yelp, rolling her body quickly over until she’s pressed against me. Holding my breath, I look down at her and she gasps.
“S...sorry, I just thought you seemed so safe,” she whispers, having no idea just how safe I am.
“Ya stay tight,” I rasp, carefully putting my arms around her and when she snuggles against me, I do my best to stop myself from opening up her mouth with my tongue. “I won’t let anything bad happen to ya.”
Tensing a little, she whispers, “Why?” Looking up at me with loch eyes, she asks, “What’s so special about me?”
Stroking her jaw with my finger I rasp, “Tell me what isn’t. Whatever room ya walk in, Macbeth ya know how to brighten it up.”
“Really?” she says. “I didn’t know that about myself.”
I chuckle. “Now you do...” I trail off when she absent mindedly starts stroking my chest, her fingertips moving like water over my skin. I inhale sharply, causing her to tense and she gasps,
“Sorry, I should go...”
She gets up, about to leave when I clasp her elbow. “Ya sure? There are many dangers awaiting ya outside this bedroom.”
Raising her brows skeptically she says, “Dangers?”
“Aye.” I flare my eyes in warning. “Hauntings.”
Biting her lip she says, “But you said it was just the weather.”
“I lied,” I lie, “to calm down a frightened wee Americana but there are many things to be afraid of in this house. It has long been rumored that this part of the highlands is haunted by the Bloody Jacobite.”
Curling into bed again to my triumph, Macbeth asks. “Who’s he?”
“Well...I’ll tell ya, but I cannot say it out loud lest he will hear me.”
Frowning, then smoothing out her forehead she curls up closer to me, her ear near my mouth and I can smell her sunny scent on her skin.
“Ya see, lass,” I begin and she shivers, from my breath tickling her, “the Bloody Jacobite is one of the most terrifying figures in all of history. A man so tortured from losing the war to the Englishmen that he takes out his revenge on innocent women.”
“Why?” she breathes.