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T he knock on her door had her sitting up straight. She ran a hand through her unbound hair and cleared her throat.

She knew it could only be the Laird at this hour. She had been expecting him since her mother’s lecture, but he came much later than she had expected, judging from the dimming embers in the grate.

He opened the door before she could bid him entry and stepped in, immediately crowding the small room with his large frame.

She had noticed the differences between them before, but now that she had a vaguer idea of what to expect, she knew what could happen between them.

“Me Laird,” she greeted, rising to her feet.

She had felt foolish in the sheer gown she had worn when her mother had been with her and had hoped to change it, but she had also hoped it would please him. With the frown marring his face now, it was hard to tell.

“I see ye’re still awake,” he said, not moving from the door.

“Aye, Me Laird,” she answered. “‘Tis expected. How may I serve ye?”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, not knowing what else she could ask.

Was she being too forward by asking him so openly?

His frown darkened, and he stepped closer to her till there was only an inch between them. He smelled of wine and whiskey, as though he had indulged in a private brew after the festivities. The combination made her heady, as if she had been the one drinking.

Her body thrummed with the heat radiating off him, and her legs quivered.

He ran a hand through her hair before lifting a strand to his nose.

“Why do ye have to be so bonny?” he growled, breathing her in.

She felt the sound deep in her soul, and everything tightened in response to his caress. She hadn’t known her hair could be so sensitive.

He thinks I’m beautiful?

She didn’t know how to feel about his compliment, as she had never quite received such effusive praise from anyone before. Her sisters were the ones always getting compliments from others.

She lowered her eyes, wringing her hands as her nerves rose.

She somewhat knew what to expect, but she was still grossly unprepared for what would happen between them. He hadn’t answered her question, and she didn’t know what to do with her hands. Or was she supposed to wait for him to touch her?

Why couldn’t her mother have been a little more specific with her instructions?

She leaned into him as his hand skimmed her waist. But then it moved higher, making her breath catch in her throat.

His heat called to her like a moth to a flame, and she could only hold her breath as his hands traveled higher to places no one had touched before.

Her nipples had hardened into points, and there was an incessant throbbing between her legs, causing her to squirm and squeeze her thighs together.

How could he fire up all her senses with just a scant touch?

“Why can I nae stay away from ye?” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “Ye make me forget that I shouldnae touch ye.”

Was he perhaps feeling the same sensations? This same irrational fire in her body?

She dared a look up at him and his impossibly dark eyes. The way his body tensed, as though he was holding back, was answer enough.

Her eyes widened, unable to look away.

She felt something akin to pride rush through her, which made her step closer. She remembered how the women in novels spoke of the feeling and how they used it to bring men to their knees, and her mother had said that men liked their women bold.

“Why can I nae resist ye, lass?” His voice was strained, as if speaking was torture. “What spell have ye cast on me?”

Perhaps she wouldn’t play the timid mouse tonight.

He dug his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and leaned in. But just as her heart thrummed in anticipation of the kiss, he stopped short of her lips and turned away.

“Me Laird?” she questioned. “Have I displeased ye?”

“Nay,” he answered, stepping back. “But I cannae do this. I cannae claim ye. I willnae.”

“But… ye kissed me,” she forced out. “Ye said… Ye said it was expected of me.”

“It was never supposed to happen,” he answered with a frown. “I had a lapse in judgment. I apologize for confusing ye.”

His eyes darted to her lips, then her eyes, then back again. He groaned, stepping forward till his warmth crowded her.

Was he about to kiss her?

Why couldn’t he decide what he wanted?

His struggle, while it made her feel powerful, made her feel nervous in equal measure. If they didn’t consummate the marriage, would they be truly married?

A lone finger trailed down the side of her face, stopping at her lips before he pulled it back to his side.

“I find it hard to think when ye’re near,” he admitted, which stunned her. “Ye’re too tempting, but I cannae give in to ye.”

“Why?” she asked, feeling emboldened by his admission. “I am yer wife.”

“I kissed ye to scare ye away,” he murmured. “Ye didnae seem to want a marriage, but I needed to be sure. Ye werenae supposed to kiss me back. I expected ye to push me away in fright and nae lean into me or kiss me.”

“And now ye have yer answer,” she finished for him. “Have ye seen me sincerity?”

“Aye,” he answered coldly. “I now ken that ye will do anything for the bairns.”

“I didnae mean that,” she protested, stepping closer to him.

His eyes widened a slight fraction, but as soon as they had, he schooled his features into a blank mask.

“Do ye believe now that I wanted to marry ye?”

“Aye.” His voice was thick, and his eyes darkened.

The air between them was charged, and she knew he was struggling to control his desire.

The whole conversation had filled her with a confidence she had never felt before. That a man as powerful as the Laird would struggle against his desire for her.

She bit her bottom lip, trying to ignore the tingles that raced across where he had touched her.

His eyes were impossibly dark and threatened to swallow her whole. Would it be so wrong if he gave in?

She lifted a hand to touch him, but he stepped back, the spell broken. He cleared his throat and adopted a serious look, as if she were to blame for the situation they were in.

“I expect ye to fulfill yer wifely duties,” he stated.

“Dinnae that include giving ye heirs?” she asked, feeling her cheeks flame at her words.

“I already informed ye that I married ye for the bairns,” he told her. “I have nay need of heirs. The boys are me heirs.”

Mabel tried not to let her disappointment show, yet her face fell. She didn’t entirely dislike the notion, but she had assumed that he might have reconsidered, having kissed her in her chambers before they had wed.

She didn’t know why she was so displeased by the prospect when she had only decided to marry him for the bairns’ sake as well.

“I only require yer help with bonding with Connor and Ollie. They still fear me, but I need them to trust me. I cannae train them if they cannae stand me presence,” he added. “And I believe ye will perform yer duty?”

She nodded, blinking.

“Good,” he uttered, turning away after giving her lips one last longing look. “I bid ye a good night, then. We shall begin on the morrow.”

“Goodnight,” she said breathily to the empty chamber.

Her mother’s fears had been unfounded, after all. There would be no ravishing, beastly or no, in her future.

Sighing, she lay back in bed, unsure of how to feel about her current predicament.

If the Laird insisted on having such a marriage, then she would do the same. She hadn’t come with the intention to serve a husband, let alone love one, so she would put all her focus on raising the boys.

Even if it left her lonely, soon all her time would be filled with caring for the bairns, and she wouldn’t even think too much about the man who erased all rational thought with a mere glance.

She would only have to train her body to be calm when she had no choice but to be in his presence, as she had promised she would help him bond with the boys.

For now, her challenge would be trying to fall asleep with the heat simmering in her blood and the throbbing between her legs.