Noah resisted the urge to stretch out his muscles, which had tightened a little. “As strong as I have to be, aye.”
“I think ye may even be stronger than my faither,” she said in a faraway voice. Apparently, the drink she claimed she hadn’t had was hitting her again. “Now, if I were a man, I wouldnae want to get into a fight with someone like my faither. Have ye ever fought before? Wit’ a sword, I mean?”
Noah went to a chair, close to the bed. “Aye.”
“Did ye win?” She burst into sudden laughter. “I suppose ye wouldnae have been chopped down at the knees and left for dead, else ye wouldnae be here!”
Noah stared at her for several moments, wondering if his bride had been replaced with a madwoman on the walk to the bedchamber. She shuffled back on the bed and squinted at him through one eye, pinching her finger and thumb together.
“Ye’re an imp,” she declared, giggling wildly.
He struggled not to laugh at her odd antics. “What in heaven’s name are ye doin’?”
“Tryin’ to squish yer head. Did ye ken ye have a strangely shaped head? ‘Tis like a pumpkin, or maybe a very,veryfine turnip. All round and well defined. I could just dice ye up, put ye in a soup and eat ye—do ye ken that?”
“I wasnae aware my head was anythin’ unusual, nor that ye were the sort of lass to dice up a man and make soup out of him.” He watched as she threw herself back onto the bed, stretching out like a star. Despite himself, he found her very endearing, and although she had managed to get under his skin, he couldn’t remain irritated with her for too long.
She yawned loudly. “Ye ken, now that I’m in here, I think I’m a bit tired.”
“At least get yer shoes off,” he scolded as Saoirse tucked a pillow against her body and cuddled into it. “Let me help.”
She glared at him over the top of the pillow. “Tickle me and I really will make ye into soup.”
“I’m nae a bairn, Saoirse. I daenae tickle people.” He tried not to think of how sensitive her skin might be, if she hated being tickled so much. What would a light kiss against her stomach do? How would she writhe and thrash in delicious torment if he were to trace his fingertips up her inner thigh? Would she gasp if he kissed her neck?
Shaking off such thoughts, Noah went to the foot of the bed and tossed the hem of her skirts up to her ankles. It flew further than he’d intended, landing almost at her knees. The sight of so much of her bare, smooth skin, stopping just short of creamy thighs that he itched to caress, made his heart leap into his throat.
Daenae do it. Daenae do it!his mind screamed, but his fingertips were already on her slender calves, stroking gentle patterns across her silky skin. The more his mind told him to cease, the more he wanted to touch.
“That feels wonderful,” Saoirse mumbled, hugging her pillow tighter. “Yer fingertips feel like fairy wings flutterin’ over my skin.”
Noah pursed his lips together, trying not to let out a chuckle. He had already suspected it, but it was at that moment when he realized that she was no ordinary girl. Contrary to her earlier protestations, shewasnaïve and foolish, but in the charming manner of someone who hadn’t seen much of the world. An innocent girl who’d walked into this marriage with hope, full of wonder and imagination—an imagination he once had, before the world made him cynical.
Just then, a soft snore escaped her lips. Tilting his head, he couldn’t help but smile.
“Ye’re a mess. Remind me that ye and sweet wine daenae associate well,” he mumbled, as he stared at Saoirse and proceeded to untie her shoes.
One of her eyes cracked open. “Ye’re one to talk,” she mumbled through another yawn. “Yer hair is desperate for scissors or a comb at least, ye clearly cannae decide if ye want a beard or nae, and yer shirt is all wrinkled. It’s like my uncle’s face. He’s all wrinkly. Did ye ken that?” Her head shot up a moment, catching his attention before plopping back down onto the pillow. Her hair was wild, spread out like tendrils.
“Aye, I think I’ve seen the man and he does have a furrow or two.” Noah’s gaze lingered over her body which he doubted had a single flaw.
Listening to the sound of her steady, sleepy breaths, he placed her shoes neatly by the bed and perched on the edge. Waiting until he was certain that she was asleep, he whispered, “Have ye ever loved anyone before? Do ye ken what love even is?”
“I ken,” she mumbled, startling him. “I ken… it’s somethin’ I’ve been… waitin’ my whole life for.”
Noah gingerly leaned closer to check that she was asleep. Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell with every soft snore. With any luck, she wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning.
“And what if it’s nae somethin’ worth waitin’ for?” he said quietly, more to himself than to her. “What if it’s painful and terrible instead? What if ye wish it never came to ye?”
“That’s… nonsense,” she whispered, her words fading into her pillow.
He gazed at her a while longer, not sure if there was some wisdom in her drunken, sleepy mumblings. The longer he looked, the more amusing the scene became: his wife, passed out in her wedding dress, hugging a pillow instead of her husband. He mustered a small laugh. Yes, she was going to be a handful, that much was certain. But her charm could be dangerous.
I’ve never met a lass like ye. Ye’re stubborn and willful… and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.He dropped his chin to his chest. She deserved more. She deserved a man who had the heart to love her; a man with the same hope that she had not yet lost, of having a happy marriage filled with the love she’d been waiting for. But Noah had lost his heart and had nothing to give that would satisfy her hope.
“I’m sorry, Lass,” he breathed, wishing it were different.
He nearly fell off the edge of the bed as Saoirse suddenly shot up and shrieked, “The jig! I must nae miss the jig!”