Page 9 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

“Calm down,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

“What do ye mean, calm down ?” she shot back, as her hands balled into fists. “Ye snuck into me bed before me! What kind of person does that?”

“Do ye think I wanted to do this?”

“Oh, I would never put it past ye, Laird MacRay ,” she snapped. “Ye have practically done everything possible to make sure I am yers again, have ye nae? Including snatching me away without me permission.”

She could see the slight shift of his shoulders and the faint dip of his head. He was rolling his eyes, even if the dark covered most of it.

“Och, this again,” he muttered.

“Of course I have to keep bringing it up, when ye do things like this,” she said, her voice rising. “Hiding in me bed until I arrive.”

The thought hit her with a jolt, and she stumbled back a step, her hand flying to her mouth. “God… did ye watch me change, ye bastard?”

“Watch yer language,” he warned, his voice sharp enough to cut the air between them. “And I had nay idea ye’d be in here. I was already asleep. I only woke up when I felt ye on the bed.”

“It doesnae make it any better.”

“Well, it’s still the truth.”

Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths. “And I daenae believe ye. Are ye really that desperate to have me as yer wife that ye have to get in bed with me on me first day in the castle?”

“Will ye let me talk, for the love of God, Lily!”

The room fell into heavy silence, broken only by the rhythm of their breathing. Outside, the moon crept from behind its blanket of clouds and shone directly into the window. It outlined him there. He was broad-shouldered, bare-chested, still and watchful.

Lily swallowed.

He moved, sitting forward with his forearms resting on his knees, his eyes still fixed on her. “I suppose the maids arranged this without askin’. They probably didnae think we’d want to sleep in separate rooms, seeing as we are husband and wife.”

“For the last time, Alasdair, I am nae yer wife. Ye need to stop sayin’ that.”

“We were handfasted.”

“Aye, and ye ran away. It has been ten years. For the love of God, stop thinkin’ that still binds me to ye.”

“‘Tis nae that simple.”

“‘Tis as simple as anythin’ to me.”

“Nay,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Believe me, it isnae.”

He stood now, the moonlight illuminating his figure. She saw the slope of his shoulders and the lines of muscle across his chest. Her eyes settled on the faint dusting of hair there. The sight alone caught her off guard and made her knees weaken for the briefest of moments.

She swallowed again and immediately tore her eyes away.

“Ye daenae think I could’ve had ye on the journey?” he asked, his voice quiet but edged. “In the forest, after ye stabbed me in the thigh?”

“If ye’re expecting me to apologize for that?—”

“I ken ye better than that. What I daenae want is for ye to keep livin’ in denial.”

“I daenae want ye! How is that denial?”

“Surely ye are aware of the contract.”

Her brow creased. “What contract?”

“The one that says ye belong to me.”

She scoffed, the sound sharp and disbelieving. “Is this a jest? I belong to ye?”

“Aye.”

He stepped past her and walked toward the small table by the far wall. Lily watched with keen interest as he picked up a rolled piece of parchment with worn edges and walked back to her.

“Here,” he uttered, handing it over.

She stared at it before snatching it from his hand. The seal cracked under her thumb as she unrolled it. By the moon’s pale light, her eyes settled on the inked letters.

The first thing she saw was the date at the top. It was the day of their handfasting. Below it were two names written in bold strokes.

Captain Randall Blackwood and Alasdair Shaw.

Her breathing slowed as she read further, each line striking into her like a stone in a river. The words were plain and undeniable.

By right and law, she was his wife.

She blinked before turning back to him. “This means nothin’,” she said, her voice cold enough to freeze the air between them.

Her hands trembled, but she kept them steady enough to roll the parchment and fling it aside. It struck the wall with a soft thud before falling to the floor.

“Me faither would have burned this the day ye left without a word.”

“Well, I didnae burn mine.”

Her eyes flashed as they met his. His jaw was set, and his gaze locked on her with an intensity that made the blood pound in her ears.

She wanted to call him a liar, to tell him that no piece of parchment could bind her, but the words stuck in her throat.

The moon grew even brighter, and the light crept over his face. He looked stern but not smug. He wasn’t gloating. He believed every word he’d said.

That alone made her feel like screaming into a pillow.

“It might have been me choice to marry ye back then. But it is me choice again nae to do that now. Ye have to fix this with the maids, or I’ll have to sleep somewhere else. I’ll sleep in the open air if I must.”

Alasdair scoffed. “Ye will do nay such thing.”

Lily’s fingers curled tight at her sides. “Do ye still nae understand me? I cannae stay in the same room as ye.”

Alasdair’s mouth quirked up at one corner, and he folded his arms across his chest, looking even more magnificent. “Ah, who cannae control herself now?”

Oh, good Lord.

Her glare sharpened anyway as she struggled to keep her eyes on his face. “I daenae care what that scroll says. Ye daenae own me, and ye’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

He tipped his head slightly, studying her. “Ye do ken we daenae have to do anything, do ye nae? We can just sleep on opposite sides of the bed.” His gaze flicked past her to the floorboards, then to the rug. “If it would make ye more comfortable, I will sleep on the floor.”

Lily swallowed, the anger in her still roiling. This was all a game to him, wasn’t it? She could tell from the smug smile on his lips. He was toying with her, waiting to see if this was going to break her or not.

Before she could speak again, his eyes flicked to the wardrobe. “Did ye like the dresses I got ye? I spent a lot of time making sure that they fit. Ye daenae ken how hard it was to guess yer size.”

“Why nae? Ye probably had one of yer guards spy on me for days before ye abducted me from the market.”

“I would never do that,” Alasdair stated, placing a hand over his chest. “Ye’re well kent across the Highlands. It wasnae hard to get a description of ye.”

“This isnae like ten years ago,” she said, her voice steady but edged. “Ye cannae just worm yer way into me life, thinking ye could buy me one or two thoughtful gifts, and all will be well.”

One of his eyebrows rose. A smirk spread across his face. “So ye thought the dresses were thoughtful.”

She exhaled.

“I am just glad that ye think so, that is all.”

“This is nae the point,” she snapped.

“Then what is?”

“The point is that ye’re in me room. I daenae want ye in here.”

He stepped forward, the shadows moving with him. “Why?”

Her mouth opened. “Because…” she trailed off.

She didn’t know what to say, not when he stood before her looking like that.

His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Ye’re nae afraid of what I might do, are ye? Because believe me, I would never touch ye if ye daenae want me to.”

She lifted her chin and swallowed. “Nay.”

“Nay,” he repeated, softer this time. “Ye’re nae afraid of that. Ye’re afraid of what ye might do. Ye daenae think ye can control yerself.”

“Alasdair—”

“Ye arenae worried about me. Nay. Ye’re worried about yerself.”

“Nay. Please?—”

“Can ye control yerself when I do this?” His voice dropped as his fingers brushed against her lips, feather-light.

She shuddered, her breath catching. Words swelled in her throat but refused to leave.

“Or this,” he murmured, sliding a hand to her waist and pulling her against him.

Their bodies met, and an unmistakable hardness pressed into her. The same warm, intriguing pressure she had felt on the horse right before she stabbed him.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

“Or this…” he purred, his hand moving slowly up her neck before returning to her mouth, his thumb coaxing her lips apart.

She parted them without thinking, letting him in. His fingers lingered, brushing along the seam of her lower lip, tracing the corner where it curved.

He ran them slowly along the side, then back again, as if committing the shape of her mouth to memory.

Her breath caught, the warmth of his skin a deliberate, maddening tease. She hated how her body leaned forward as if it had a mind of its own.