“’Tis settled,” he whispered as he climbed onto the bed. “Bruce has cancelled the betrothal.”
She wasn’t surprised. “But Evan…”
“His father has that in hand. He confirmed Evan only wanted to wed ye out of spite. He joined the rebellion for the same reason.”
It was what she suspected. “’Tis hurtful, nonetheless,” she lamented.
He took her into his arms and tucked her into his chest. “But, now, ye’re free to wed whoever ye like.”
“I like ye,” she whispered as her eyelids drooped.
He kissed the top of her head. “Ye’re tired. We’ll talk about our future this evening. After my return from the Tolbooth.”
Her eyes flew open. “The prison?”
“Aye. Bruce has offered to do what he can to free Giles.”
Yawning, she nestled into him. “Ye’ll be warmer if ye climb under the cover, though it doesna smell too sweet.”
“I think I’d better stay where I am,” he replied.
It was the last thing she remembered before tumbling into sleep, safe in his loving arms.
* * *
It was difficult for Ambrose to lie abed with a woman he desired and not act upon his instincts. Yet, knowing Eala was now free of her obligation to Evan Bruce filled him with a peaceful serenity.
He buried his nose in her silky tresses, inhaling her female scent. The swelling at his groin was inconvenient, yet not unpleasant. He couldn’t make her his, but the time would come, and he relished the prospect.
Despite the all-night vigil, he felt invigorated. He’d balked at the notion of traveling to Perth, but, had he refused Giles’ request, he would never have met Eala. Mistress Fate clearly had her own plans for his future.
It was astonishing that of all the women he’d ever met, Eala was the one. He knew it. She knew it too. The chances of their meeting were almost non-existent. Now, his mind was busy working out the details of when and where they could marry. They’d have to discuss going to Kilmer to meet his parents. Would they stay in Ayrshire once they were married? He’d always planned to practice medicine there. But, perhaps Eala would prefer to live in Perth where she’d been born and lived all her life.
After lying awake for more than an hour, he decided to go to his own chamber and take Bruce up on his offer of a bath. He’d insist one be provided for Eala too, although where they’d fit a tub in the cramped storage quarters she’d been given…
He stared at her for long minutes. She was sleeping so peacefully, it would be a shame to wake her.
“Still,” he whispered, scooping her up into his arms. “This isna a suitable chamber for a worthy lass.”
Holding her close, he picked his way carefully through the maze of junk.
* * *
Eala blinked open her eyes, then closed them again quickly. She thought she’d seen Ambrose wearing only a towel fastened around his waist. But what was he doing in her cupboard? Exhaustion was making her see things. Perhaps she was still dreaming.
“Wake up,” he said. “I have to leave soon.”
She risked a peek. Ambrose was rubbing his hair dry with a second towel, his broad chest and well-muscled arms exposed to her view. She gaped. Her throat was suddenly as dry as the eastern plains in tales of yore. He looked like a Roman god newly emerged from the baths.
She should be scandalized, but the urge to reach out and sift her fingers through the dark hair on his chiseled chest was overwhelming. Desire swamped her when he opened his arms and smiled seductively. “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “They havena brought my clothes back yet. Bruce is having my shirt laundered and my outer garments cleaned.”
She raised up on her elbows, realizing she was lying in the huge bed of an opulent chamber. “How did I get here?” she asked in a squeaky voice she barely recognized.
“I carried ye,” he said, draping the damp towel across his shoulders.
She stared at the riot of wet curls and tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “But I have to get back to my chamber. They’ll be outraged to find me in yer bed. And, besides, ye’re…” She averted her eyes.
He perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m what? Clean?”