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“I canna explain it,” she replied. “Ye’ve become essential to my happiness. But how can ye feel the same for a lass who wishes another dead?”
He gathered her into his arms. “That isna true and ye canna burden yerself with guilt. Ye would try just as hard to save him as I would. His death isna the answer to our predicament.”
They lay together for long minutes, watching the gray streaks of dawn creep into the room. Despite the difficulties they faced, Ambrose felt content. He had the right woman in his arms. Somehow, he would find an honorable way to make her his.
He rose to let Ollie in when the lad shouted from the landing. “Breakfast, Dr. Pendray.”
He took the tray, making sure to block the servant’s view of Eala getting out of bed. He might wonder why they were both still fully clothed.
Ollie accepted the coin Ambrose gave him, craning his neck to see into the room. “I can take the dishes from yestereve,” he offered.
“Nay, I’ll fetch them down later.”
Ollie made no objection. “Trust ye slept well, sir.”
“Aye, though ’twas a mite chilly,” he replied, cringing at the lie.
“I’ll fetch more blankets.”
Ambrose gritted his teeth as he kicked the door closed. Just what he needed. More linens.
* * *
Eala yawned as she sat down in the armchair by the hearth and surveyed the empty plates from last night. “I dinna remember eating anything.”
Ambrose chuckled, making room on the table for the bowls of oatmeal. “I fed ye.”
She sighed, counting herself fortunate to have found such a caring, thoughtful man. “My thanks. I slept well.”
He raised a brow. “Aye. Like a log.”
Her face heated. Phreine claimed her mistress sometimes snored. Surely, she hadn’t. “And ye?”
“Nay too badly, all things considered.”
She scooped a spoonful of steaming oatmeal and blew on it, determined not to ask, but out it came anyway. “Did my snoring keep ye awake?”
She swallowed the oatmeal, angry at herself.
“Nay. ’Twas more to do with being abed with a woman I love, but canna yet have.”
She put down the spoon, lest her trembling hand lose its grip. “Ye truly love me?”
He looked into her eyes. “Ne’er doubt it, Eala Calhoun. Ye have me besotted.”
Eala had grown up with a selfish father who never showed the slightest bit of affection. She’d come to accept she was unlovable. Evan had treated her with friendly respect but she’d never seen the glow in his eyes that she saw now in Ambrose’s needy, admiring gaze.
“Ye’re making me blush,” she whispered, sounding to her own ears like a simpering maiden.
His gaze fell to her breasts. “Are ye blushing there, too?” he asked, trailing the backs of his fingers across the swell of her bosom.
A vision of a life filled with the sensual delights to be enjoyed with this man dangled just out of reach. “Aye,” she replied hoarsely, deeming it more prudent to keep silent about the peculiar things happening to her nipples.
Dog Bite
Ambrose piled all the empty plates and bowls onto one tray, anxious to leave the room before his rampant tarse made him forget he was an honorable man. “I’ll take these down,” he said. “See the lay of the land.”
At the foot of the stairs, Ollie appeared from nowhere and relieved him of his burden.
