“And why precisely dae ye think I have anything of a choice in my own matter?” Jane drawled. She turned her head to look at Lorna again.
“Ye arenae being forced tae marry a husband ye loathe and be an ever obedient wife,” Lorna huffed in a choked voice.
“‘Tis not as simple, Lorna. If I had a choice, I wouldnae have been brought tae this castle in the first place.”
She sighed. “I understand how ye feel.”
“Aye, ‘tis a difficult world for us, women. It might nae be my choice tae come here, but I’m so pleased that I did meet ye.”
“I am too,” Lorna moved closer to the bed and reached to squeeze her hand. “I’ll miss ye after ye leave.”
Jane laid her other hand over Lorna's. “I’ll miss ye too. ‘Tis quite odd, really, but I'd never felt quite attached tae anyone else like I am tae ye, except my own sister, of course.”
Lorna laughed and then leaned down to hug Jane for a long while. “Me too. I am glad ye came, albeit the bizarre circumstances that brought ye here.”
Jane hugged her close and smoothed her hand over her hair before slowly drawing away.
“I will miss ye, lass. I hope the men are able tae put their pride aside and settle amicably so that we keep visiting each other.”
“Of course.” Lorna was delighted and clearly happy. “Aye, Jane, we must keep seeing one another. And I have the feeling we’ll become much closer in the upcoming days.” Her tone had grown a bit more serious, and a pleased smile appeared on her face.
“Why do ye say so?”
Lorna sprawled on the bed, and rested her chin on her arm. “‘Tis just a feeling, but a strong one nonetheless.”
Jane looked out at the moonlight shining brightly in the sky. “I hope every little thing will turn out well.”
“I hope so too,” Lorna sighed.
They both lay in the bed and stared out at the bright sky as the clock struck the sounds of the hours late into the night.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
It was well past midnight when Darach and his men rode back into the courtyard. In spite of being dirty, bloody, and tired, they were jubilant after such an easy victory. They had watched from a hill as the MacThomas soldiers retreated from their lands, and now that they were back in the keep, a celebration would ensue.
Darach didn’t feel like celebrating. Kenn was still very much out of his grasp and worried about MacThomas’ statement that his trusted advisor had found a way to escape the dungeon. His threat of retribution as he walked out of that tent burned like sour ale in his belly. The man had sounded sincere, and Darach would have trusted him months ago. But because of what he’d done the night he had them in his keep, he was less inclined to believe him.
Surely if the man could insist on fibbing about Kenn stealing things from his study, this could also be a grand kind of trickery to get his daughter back without delivering his men to him.
Darach gave orders to his men to increase the watch. He’d watched MacThomas’ men ride through the pass to the exit, but wasn’t about to give any chances for a surprise breach. MacThomas was a strong opponent, and there was much to be done in light of how their confrontation had ended.
The keep’s defenses would have to be strengthened, and the need for new alliances was more important than ever. Even with all of that weighing down on him, his primary thought lay with Jane. He regretted the fact that she wouldn’t be able to earn her freedom yet, but he was also slightly glad she was still with him.
He’d kissed her. At that moment, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Right then, in the abbey, she’d looked so vulnerable that he wanted to find the person who had hurt her and tear him apart, limb by limb, and when he couldn’t bear staring at her pain anymore, he’d kissed her.
He didn’t feel guilt. Guilt was for when mistakes, and this was not a mistake. Darach knew he didn’t kiss her by accident. He’d done it because she’d set a flurry of unexpected pleasure and excitement coursing through his blood, stirring desire he hadn’t felt for any woman in a long time.
Jane fired his senses like no other. Whenever she was near him, his nerves would be on edge, his skin hot, and his breath all too tight in his throat.
The sight of her scar had shown him that she was not just a privileged obstinate lass, and he couldn’t get his mind off worrying about whoever had dared to hurt her. Anger boiled in him so much that he almost considered not ever handing her over to her father.
It was clear the man had failed to protect her, and the thought worried Darach much more than he knew it should.
He took the time to bathe. If it weren’t for the fact that a sweet lass awaited the news of the battle anxiously, with the knowledge that her life hung on it, he’d rather have crawled beneath his bed covers still fully dressed and leave the worries over the mess until the morning.
He went about scrubbing himself down quickly, and after he was satisfied that the dirt and blood had been washed from his body, he quickly dried and put on fresh clothing before mounting the steps toward Jane's chamber. Eagerness drove him. His anticipation to see her came from a mix of feelings. He wanted to tell the lass about the situation in the most tender way possible and know more about how she had come about that scar. Along with all these, he burned with desire to see and touch her. He’d had a taste of her sweetness, and now he wanted to feast on it.
When he got to the door, he rapped on it softly, but there was no answer. Then he quietly opened the chamber door and stepped inside. It was pitch black. Only the coals from the fire gave light as he crossed toward the bed.