Page 8 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Hellion (Auctioned Highland Brides #4)
Callum hated how frightened they were of him. There had once been a time when he had imagined carrying them around the castle on his shoulders, playing with them around the lake, being a real uncle.
Now, all they were left with was an embittered beast with no clue how to connect with them at all.
Eilis and Amy exchanged a worried look, their expressions apologetic as they fidgeted in place.
“Go to bed,” he growled, holding back a groan as they stiffened and scampered away through the door behind him.
He wished he knew what to say to young children, to understand them, but this was like traversing a foreign land—he kept getting lost along the way.
Callum’s gaze moved to Lydia. Her spectacles were missing this evening, and it gave her face a different look. He liked the wire rims, perched on the end of her nose, but without them, her eyes looked brighter.
She was staring at the floor, the tips of her ears having turned red from being caught.
He stepped forward, and her breath hitched, but she still didn’t look at him.
A desperate need rose inside him to see her face upturned toward him again, just as it had been in the study when he had trapped her against the wall.
Something about seeing her beneath him had set a fire burning between his legs like nothing ever had.
What am I thinkin’? She isnae goin’ to want to get close to me. I even told her that I didnae have any interest in her.
“If ye wish to ask questions, then ye can ask them of me. Nae the wee bairns, and nae the damned servants.”
Lydia chewed at her lip, her hand coming up to clutch at the neck of the robe she was wearing.
Then Callum’s mind caught up with the picture in front of him.
Lydia’s hair was dark, yes, but also molded to her back in thick, bunched curls. The robe around her shoulders was thin, sticking to her body in places as if her body were wet.
She just got out of the bath, I’d wager… and she has nae clothes on underneath that thing.
He swallowed, a surge of lust and need taking him by surprise. Not an hour before this, he had been telling her that he did not have any interest in any woman, and here he was fantasizing about ripping the thing from her back and having her against the wall.
“I’m sorry,” her little voice broke him out of his fantasy. “I didn’t think. The children surprised me, and they were asking me questions. I didn’t mean any offense.”
“Ye didnae mean any offense?” he asked, taking another step forward, so she was forced to back away from him again. “And what dae ye think callin’ me a beast will dae exactly?”
Those defiant green eyes turned upward, and Callum’s groin throbbed at the way her mouth parted, as if she was fighting not to pout.
“I didn’t call you a beast . The girls merely quoted the servants doing so. I apologize for entertaining the discussion, but it was not something I planned.”
Callum’s eyebrows rose, surprised by the apology.
Lydia’s eyes moved over the scars on his face again, and it was unlike anyone else doing so. It was as if he could feel the touch, a finger running over his face. Gooseflesh rose over his skin as he watched her examine them, and then his anger spiked as she looked away, worrying at her lip.
“So how come ye are avoidin’ me gaze now? Dae ye see me as a beast?”
Lydia was only a few inches from the wall now, her gaze firmly on the floor, her breath harsh and short.
“No,” she said firmly. “But you can be a little overbearing at times.”
She gave him a meaningful look, frowning at him as he towered over her, but he made no attempt to move away.
Without thinking, he raised a hand to her face, wanting to feel the softness of her skin, fresh from the bath. She pulled away, her back finally connecting with the wall as she blushed furiously.
“Ye shouldnae dae that, lassie,” he said.
I cannae stand her pullin’ away from me.
“What?”
“Ye shouldnae run from me. Beasts love the hunt, after all.”
Her slim fingers pulled at her robe again, and Callum had to wrestle against his body’s need to drag her against his chest, put her over his shoulder, and march her to the bed.
“I am not running,” Lydia murmured. “I am just confused. You say that you don’t want to spend time with me, that you don’t care for an heir or a bride, but here you are trying to touch me.”
Callum moved closer still until their chests were almost touching one another.
“And who says I need to care for ye to touch ye, lassie?”
“I do!” she protested.
“Och, aye? So, if I were to kiss ye now, ye would stop me, is that what ye are tellin’ me?”
Her eyes darted to the door as though she meant to escape, but her breasts were heaving, lust banked in her eyes. Callum’s heart began to pound in his chest.
I can smell the wild heather again. That scent is enough to drive me mad.
He pushed against her, pressing her body against the wall as her hand fell from her robe, her palms flattening against the stone behind as he trapped her there with his hips.
Slowly, Callum brought his hand up and took hold of her chin, lifting her chin to look at him. He waited until their gazes locked and held.
“Would ye scream and pull away?” his voice was a rumble now. “Or would ye lean into me touch as a good little wife should?”
A tiny hand gripped his wrist, her fingers barely able to grip it as her mouth parted on a low moan that set Callum’s whole body on fire.
“My Laird,” she whispered. “Please.”
He didn’t know what she was begging for; he just knew in that moment that he had to taste her.
With a growl at the base of his throat, Callum bent his head and captured her mouth with his own in a desperate, wild kiss.